An almost been actor, a fly-by-night production company, an experimental make-up, an electical storm, and the metagene. Stir thoroughly and what do you get? Clayface, and other characters belong to DC, the Comic Retcon was Lilith's idea. Thanks for letting us play. The image is from Wikipedia. All mistakes are mine, all mine.

Basil Karlo sighed as he looked over the contract. He never thought he'd be working for a company like Arkham Productions, of course he never thought he'd go six months without an acting job either. As he skimmed over the contract he thought back over his career.

It had all started well. He got bit parts, usually as a body guard or generic thug. He died a lot in the beginning. Slowly though he was building his resume, he finally got a break as a mob hitman. He wasn't the star, or even the costar, but he did make the primary cast list. That role got him some notice and opportunities. His roles got better, until he was up for the role of the Scorpion King, which he lost to some fucking professional wrestler. His next audition went to an exfootball player, then a martial artist that couldn't even speak English.

The next thing he knew, he was back to playing thugs for 30 seconds of screen time. Finally it had come down to this, playing something called the Swamp Man Thing. He'd read the script, his lines were grunts and moans. He wanted to cry about it, but he was down to eating Ramen noodles again. He was too old to be eating Ramen noodles. The pay sucked, but it would keep him going for a bit.

He showed up the first day of shooting for him at four AM for makeup. Another reason to hate the job. He sat down in the chair, and watched as the makeup crew opened up a couple of boxes with a name he hadn't remembered seeing before on makeup. 'When the hell did LexCorp start making makeup, and how the hell did this crappy company afford it,' he thought before asking, "What kind of makeup is that?"

The head makeup artist paused and looked at the boxes; Cosmetic, Latex, Adjustable Electrically. "It's experimental, it reacts to electrical stimulation to change shape. From the name, we're calling Clay. It will allow us to make your face ripple and change a bit on camera. It was all in the contract." He handed Basil a copy of the contract with that part highlighted.

Basil quickly read it over and wondered what he got himself into. "OK, let's get this over with. Wouldn't that be easier to do in post production special effects?"

"Sure if you're Lucas," then he mumbled quieter, "or if you have a competent CGI team." The makeup team worked quickly and competently hooking up a small receiver and electrodes before layering on the makeup. With makeup done, Basil made his way down to the set, or rather the swamp where they were filming. He was surprised to see a couple of 'good ol' boys' with rifles staring out at the swamp, not paying attention to what the production company was doing. He asked a couple of the crew who they were. "'Gater men. They're here to make sure no one gets eaten."

'This job just gets better and better." Surprisingly that days shooting went well. Without lines, he just had to follow stage directions, and with all the makeup, he didn't even have to worry about facial expressions. The makeup moving around his face felt weird though. Shooting ended for the first day, and he was glad to be out of the makeup.

Two days later, the last of his shooting, the makeup team was talking about the announcement from yesterday from someone they called "Jade."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Huh. Didn't you hear? Some woman all glowing green and flying made an announcement about something called the 'Metagene.' Apparently people are going to change into comic book superheroes soon."

"Yeah, and I'm really the Swamp Man Thing."

"Well either she was working for Lucas, or she was really glowing green and flying. Anyway, there's not much anyone can do about it."

Basil sat back as the makeup team did their magic for the last time and thought, 'Great, if what they are saying is true, I probably won't even be able to get these roles, because someone out there will look like this.' He just listened to them talk about what kind of powers they would like as they worked. He had to stifle a chuckle as their dreams kept getting wilder and wilder.

That mornings filming went well, and they only had a couple scenes left for the afternoon. Just as they finished up lunch, it started raining. It wasn't heavy, and the director thought it would add to the atmosphere of the movie, ignoring that it hadn't been raining during the rest of the shooting. He did send everyone that wasn't necessary back to pack up and head into town. That left about eight people out in the swamp; Basil, the 'hero,' the ingénue, director, cameraman, lighting person, and the two 'good ol' boys.'

The rain steadily increased and finally there were lightning flashes starting. Basil could see the guy running the lighting arguing with the director, then he heard what he had been dreading. "'GATORS!!" The other actors began running up away from the swamp, and he began trudging his way out. The costume and makeup made it hard for him to move quickly.

As he made his way out of the water, he heard a couple of sharp cracks, and realized that the 'good ol' boys' were shooting into the swamp. He hoped they remembered not to shoot him. Near the edge of the water, an incredibly bright flash of lightning blinded him, and the next thing he knew something slammed into his shoulder and knocked him over. He didn't even notice the jolt of electricity from the light stand go through his body.

One of the two swampers yelled, "We oter here. Dere's 'gators comin' an' we can't see 'em."

The director yelled, "Wait where's Basil? BASIL?!" He listened for an answer but heard nothing. "BASIL!"

A flashlight lit up and shined around the set, it lit up the light stand. 'That was about where Basil was,' the director thought, and then he saw an alligator just beyond it. "RUN!"

As they ran back to where their trucks were someone yelled, "What about Basil?!"

When they stopped, "We'll come back when we can see. There was this huge alligator out there, and we won't help him if we get attacked."

Back in the swamp, Basil sat upright as he felt something bite into his leg. He screamed and instinctively reached down and grabbed the thing that bit him. Surprisingly he pulled the jaws apart easily and the pain went away almost as quick.

A few hours later, along with the sheriff, the director and much of the crew went back to where they were filming. They brought more lights and began searching for Basil. They searched until dark and returned the next day. Search parties from the area looked for weeks, but no trace of Basil was found.

Six months later, a nondescript, disheveled young man walked into LeBeau's diner. He sat down and told the waitress he had no money and didn't know where he was. She called the local sheriff and gave him a bowl of gumbo. While he was eating the sheriff came by and started asking him questions. He answered them as best he could. He and three friends had gone out into the swamp a while ago, the boat got dumped and he managed to wander out of the swamp and into town. When asked his name, he gave it as Donald J. Yarmy, and said he was going to school at Southern Illinois University. They continued talking for a while, and the sheriff went off to arrange a search party to look for Donald's 'friends.'

When it came time for him to leave, the waitress told him not to worry about the bill. Before he could get out the door, a lady showed up with a small bag, she gave him a ride over to the local hotel, and told him that they arranged a room for him to stay, until they could arrange for him to get home. The bag had some jeans and a t-shirt in them. He thanked her, blubbering a bit the generosity of the town.

In the privacy of his room, he sat staring at the mirror. As he sat there his mind wandered back to the waitress, and watched as his face and body shifted to look like her. She shook her head and shifted back to her generic man. He didn't know what had happened, but he was fairly sure whose fault it was. Well there was two people, but he wasn't sure he could get to Lex Luthor, but he knew just where Lee D. McScott had his offices.

He ended up spending a few days in that dinky town, the food was cheap, but free. The room was cheap, but clean and free. He got a few more shirts and pants for free, thanks to the local churches, and finally a bus ticket 'back' to Illinois. He thanked everyone for the generosity and promised to pay them back. They told him not to worry about it. In Birmingham he asked around for where he could himself a blowjob, with directions in hand he went out to find a hooker.

He asked the hooker where he could find score some pot, and slipped her a five from the lunch money he was given in Louisiana. He found the corner where she sent him, and saw several dealers at the corners, and chose a different one. In the alley, he quickly knocked out the dealer and a minute later he had a wallet, ID, and a wad of cash. He changed to look like the dealer and came out of the alley, headed down the street and around a corner. Once he was out of sight he slowly changed his appearance.

He spent the rest of the evening robbing convenience stores, he didn't get much at each one, but by the end of the night he had collected a couple grand. The police spent the night looking for a half dozen people that didn't exist for more than fifteen minutes. A stop at a Wal-Mart and he had a bag and clothes. A cab ride to the airport, and he was on his way to LA.

In LA he was on his home turf, that made his life a lot easier. He knew where the dealers were, he knew where to find what he needed and it didn't take him long to set up his revenge. Some eight by ten glossies of a big breasted blonde, and a fake resume got him a private 'audition' with Mr. McScott.

Basil sat there looking like a big busted blonde waiting for them to call Marianne Michelle Morrison, wondering if they would recognize the name. "Miss Morrison. Mr. McScott will see you now."

"Thank you," she said as she made her way to McScott's office. She went in to the office and took the seat that was offered. While being interviewed, she subtly adjusted her top to expose more cleavage. With him completely enthralled, 'Marianne' got up and walked around to the side of the desk and said, "All right, Mr. McScott, I'm ready for my close-up."

Mr. McScott didn't even blink although his breathing did get more rapid. 'Marianne' wanted to shake her head, she had just delivered one of the more famous lines in cinema history, and he didn't even recognize it. For that alone he deserved to die.

Marianne knelt down and began to caress his groin, while looking up at his face with her eyes big. He sat motionless as his penis got larger and harder. When she undid his pants and released his penis, he let out a soft gasp. As she lowered her mouth over the head of his penis, he leaned back and closed his eyes. He tried to jerk forward as something clamped over his face, cutting off his air.

She thought it was bad that he didn't know why he was going to die, she supposed that he could ask God or more likely the Devil if either existed. With his mouth and nose covered, she cleanly bit off his penis and swallowed, and then wondered whether he would suffocate or bleed out first. A few minutes later she knew. Blood was all over her, but some quick rippling of her body and it had all been absorbed.

Marianne quickly rifled through the desk, and grabbed McScott's wallet. Then he did something that he had been practicing just for this moment. His body rippled and formed two humanoid shapes holding hands, slowly one became the image of 'Marianne Morrison' and then the other Mr. McScott.

He left the office looking like two people, "Ah, Miss Tessmacher I'm going to finish this audition on 'set.'" The female head giggled at this. "You can have the rest of the afternoon off. I'll see you Monday morning." With that the McScott body led the Morrison body out the door, her free hand waving goodbye.

The office cleaning crew found the body, and called the police. They examined the room, and found the she had left, 'Clayface Productions." The address on the card was that of Wrigley Field, the phone number was Pi, and the security footage at the printer showed that Lon Chaney had bought the business cards. After interviewing Ms. Tessmacher, the police suspected her of being in on the murder, but the security footage showed just what she said happened. The local police passed the info up the stream reporting the murder as an act of a metahuman.