The true story of my birth has for many years been shrouded in mystery, a veil of secrecy so total that those who dared to speak out were dead before thsy could finish opening their mouths. But now, due to recent developements in the former Soviet Union, the true story of my origins has emerged.
My father, we'll call him "John" to protect his identity, was a mad scientist, a genius in that obscure field of research where genetic engineering meets quantum fluid dynamics meets a lust for power. He had his laboratories in the forgotten catacombs beneath REED college. There he would have spent his mutant days in obscurity if not for a fateful meeting in the world above.
On a foraging mission for agar for his petri dishes "John" saw a vision of loveliness, a woman with whom he fell imediately and madly in love. 'She's perfect for my experiments!', he thought to himself, and then he jumped out from behind the podium (he liked hiding behind podiums) and applied a few hand gestures taught him by his father - the great Cecil Mesmer, greatest hypnotist of all time.
'Will you marry me, say yes.', he said.
'Yes. . .', she replied, and then collapsed into his arms to be whisked away into the swirling funnel of the future. The year was 1967, and before the year was out I, Blake, was pleasantly plumping inside an incubator fashioned from the rusting guts of an abandoned nuclear submarine.