The hallway just outside the med-bay was a pretty convenient place to be dropped. Doc would have wanted to go there anyway given the state he was in when GLaDOS finally spit him out, still smoking, in an unceremonious heap on the floor. He sat up slowly, looking himself over, patting a few places to be sure they were out before finally slumping against the wall opposite the one he'd fallen through, a slightly hysteric grin on his face beneath the mask. After a moment's stunned silence he began to laugh. "Hah...haha.... ROBOTS CAN'T CATCH YOU IF YOU'RE ON FIRE EITHER!!!" he finally shouted, throwing his arms up over his head in victory and then promptly flipping the bird at the wall. "SUCK ON THAT ANGRY TESTING LADY!"

The feeling that he wouldn't be out of Medbay for long was a hard feeling to squash, but he wanted to stay away as long as he could. He hated doctors. That was what he was getting closer to, though, his breakout from Cadmus and the half-remembered times right before it when he'd been poked and prodded and dressed up in a Superman uniform. He felt his life dissolving away like sand through his fingertips. For a while, he tried to ignore it, striking out on his own and trying to have fun. He had a good fly through the city, surfed in the Sensoriums, made the flirty eyes at any girl he happened to pass by in the hallways. He was the Kid. He was young and carefree, right? Not a worry in the world.

It was during one of those lulls where a good portion of the ship's crew was asleep that he left his room. Good ship Stacy's version of Letterman time. (Scratch that: more like Conan-time). He was wearing the sweatpants Rory gave him and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and not much else.

Taking a seat floating in the air there, he looked outside. The view outside the viewing window really was beautiful. It was dazzling. Distracting.

"Way to go, Superboy! Staring pensively out the viewing window. You're not being a walking cliche at all."

Only angsty people stared pensively out the viewing window. Seriously. He was too cool for pensive viewing window staring. Cliche or not, though, he needed it. Sometimes you needed that perspective. That's what he figured. He needed to see...exactly how small he was compared to the rest of the universe. A universe that'd go on without him, if he shrank away into nothing--

Yeah, okay, maybe this wasn't actually helping him feel some cosmic one-ness that took away his growing fear.

"Now entering Maudlin City. Population: You."

Talking to himself like he was the main character in a comic book or a TV show or something like that was a habit that'd taken him years to break himself out of and thus a habit he'd reverted back to, but hey, who didn't like to pretend sometimes that their life had the kind of stories people would want to read about?

The question was: with this, with something he couldn't fight with his fists, would he still have a story for much longer?

So a dragonman walks through the city with a corpse in his arms.

There's no punch line. The Chancellor doesn't see anything funny about it as he gets the body to medical and sets it on one of the beds there.