A Marvel Supervillain finds themselves in the DCU

Zebediah Killgrave, The Purple Man, had never knew such pain.

It had all started out so well. After breaking him out of jail, The Leader had come up with a scientific treatment to bolster his abilities and it seemed to have worked beautifully. His commands lasted now for weeks without him having to be in the same room as his slaves but that wasn't enough. Leader had also come up with a strange new device in the form of a headband that he swore would make it so his victims would follow his commands "thinking they were their own idea" but it hadn't yet worked. Even so, the benefits as they stood were wonderful. They'd conquered damn near the entire world, which didn't matter much to a hedonist like him, but it did lead to new pleasures. He'd indulged himself with She-Hulk and several other beauties . . . right until everything went to hell.

Just one hour ago he'd had some of the world's most beautiful superheroines on their knees sucking his cock. Now, the Hulk was here and had beaten him nearly to . With the very first blow, his jaw was practically obliterated, leaving him unable to speak to use his powers. All his bones were nearly broken and he was bleeding from multiple wounds.

A massive roar came from the emerald giant holding him like a rag doll and he knew hew was about to die when the explosion from one of Leader's inventions rocked the underground facility.

He felt himself being released and flung through a strange portal, crackling energies filling the headband on his head and making it explode, his consciousness mercifully retreating at this last sting of pain . . .

"I think he's waking up." came a distant voice as his eyes fluttered open slowly.

"Jesus, he's lucky to be alive. If you hadn't been the first one on the scene, Dr. Mid-Nite, we'd just have had to bury the poor guy."

Unfamiliar faces in costumes stood around him as he heard a medical monitor beep. A man in green goggles and black leather leaned in to look him in the eyes. His whole body ached in pain and his jaw was wired shut. A hiss of agony escaped his lips.

"Sir, don't try to talk or move, you've had nearly all the bones in your body broken. I'm Dr. Mid-Nite, you're in a safe place now. Just rest."

He felt an cold rush in his left arm and a corresponding numbness as a sedative took him back to unconsciousness. The last thought he had as he stared at the unfamiliar people is that they somehow had no idea who he was.

Days and then weeks passed as he stayed conscious for longer and longer periods. Slowly, he came to realize that he was in the headquarters of some kind of superhero group calling themselves the Justice Society of America . . . but none of them were anyone he'd ever heard of in his entire life. They left the television on for him and he slowly picked up names and faces from the news that made it abundantly clear that this was not his Earth.

Zebediah sensed a huge new opportunity.

His right hand had been mercifully unbroken and so, despite his shattered jaw, he'd been able to communicate slowly via writing. He played it cagey, saying he didn't remember anything beyond his first name ("Zeb") and that he was human, which seemed smart. At first, only the man going by Dr. Mid-Nite visited him but soon he had other visitors as well. A terrifying green man with glowing red eyes - a Martian, of all things, if they were being literal - tried to read his mind but whatever Leader's headband had done it seemed to make him impervious to telepathy, thank goodness.

A few other people came by briefly to let the doctor know he was needed elsewhere but eventually two others came in who grabbed his attention. They were cute little teen girls, maybe early twenties. One a leggy redhead in green with long socks that reached her thighs, calling herself Cyclone, would come in to read novels and newspapers to him, oblivious that he was staring hungrily at her thighs the entire time she nattered on. The other one, his favorite, called herself Stargirl and would play checkers with him, answer his questions about this new world and sometimes generally assist his doctor. She was a luscious blonde with a heart-shaped ass, perky little tits and a penchant for tight blue and white spandex who always carried some sort of yellow metal rod. She'd caught him ogling her once or twice and had blushed but didn't stop visiting him. He got the weird feeling that people in this world didn't acknowledge what a hot piece of ass she was for some reason, maybe her age? Stupid of them - the little slut was begging for it. If his jaw had been working, he'd have had her riding him Reverse Cowgirl in minutes.

His jaw wasn't working however, not for months. For once, he had to learn a skill he'd never had much use for before - patience. Slowly but surely, Zeb gained the trust of the others in this facility, slowly meeting and getting introduced to each member of the Justice Society and other unknowing heroes and heroines. Learning their strengths and weaknesses from the oblivious, nattering Cyclone. Only one member of the facility distrusted him as he played the helpless amnesiac, the blonde alien known as Power Girl, probably because he couldn't stop himself from leering at her. Christ, she had the biggest tits he'd ever seen on a woman and that was saying something. If she didn't want men to look, why have the cleavage window?

It hardly mattered now. After nearly half a year in bed, he was now able to move again and more importantly, speak aloud. He could finally do what he'd been waiting to do for so damn long and it was going to be sweet. This whole world was going to like taking candy from a baby.