Wally clumsily tumbled into his hideaway, taking shallow breaths and listening carefully for any sound of pursuit. The muffled voices and footsteps faded off, heading back towards where he knew the cars were parked, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He was safe, for now. But this was the sixth chase he had dealt with this month. As much as he didn't want to, he was going to have to skip town. Staying any longer might just get him caught, or worse.

But all my notes. He picked himself up gingerly and looked at the pegged up equations on his wall, the permanent marker formulas forever imprinted on the attic roof. His hand trailed along the thin wooden board he'd used as a shelf, displaying his 'souvenirs' from different targets. An old leather wallet, a metal charm, a cheap necklace, a ratty flash drive… I'll have to leave it all behind. The boy wanted to cry at that thought. He had spent four months in Gotham, which was the longest he'd ever managed, since this whole mess started, since his parents… and Len…

He could think about that later, a lot later, like never. Wally rubbed his arm as an early winter breeze passed through. Yeah, it'd be best for him to migrate to a warmer climate. Better revenue in the winter too, all the tourists would head south and he'd probably be able to eat well for quite awhile. Where had he put that flashlight?

He groped around blindly until his little hand connected with the cold plastic handle. He flicked the on switch, but didn't get any light. Grumbling under his breath he started to shake and hit the temperamental item.

A light thump echoed behind him, and Wally whirled around to face the darkness, eyes wide. He had lived in this abandoned church for months, he knew every sound it made, and that was not a normal sound. "H-hello?" his voice managed to squeak out. He hit the light a little more frantically, relieved as it finally flickered to life and he pointed it where that sound had come from.

Nothing.

He let his breathing slow a bit as the light trailed through the rooftop's interior. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was his imagination, maybe-

A scuffle came from right behind him and he turned in shock, frightened green eyes connecting with the suddenly illuminated domino mask. Oh no, not him!

"Heya, kid."

Wally instantly threw the light at the older man's face, turning on his heel and vaulting for the broken window he used as his entrance. Forget his stuff, forget everything! It had been a trap, they had chased him home-

"Oh no you don't." Before he could reach his way out, a black gloved hand managed to grab his collar and gave a rather unforgiving yank backwards. He fell with a cry, mind whirling in panic. "You've been giving my men the slip for too long, so I decided to come handle this personally." Dressed in his 'work clothes', the man looked slightly demonic in the shadows cast by the waning flashlight. He was frowning, eye brows drawn close together as he glared at the little red head. "How the hell you've managed to avoid getting caught this long is beyond me. Interesting decorating choice, by the way."

"L-let go!" Wally tried to gather his courage and struggle free, knowing that if he could just touch the ground, just get a running start, he'd never be caught again.

"Do you know why I'm here, fleet feet?" The older man was dangling him off the ground with one hand, the other sitting on his hip like he was some exasperated parent.

Actually, Wally didn't know, but he could hazard a guess. One month ago he had been sifting through dumpsters in the back of one of the Ritzier hotels. It wasn't easy climbing those fences, but the practically new food they tossed was always worth it. That night while he was finishing off some perfectly good chicken, though, gunshots and screams started ringing from within. Wally was just about to skirt out of there quick as lightning when two burly men barged out of the back door, holding a struggling person between them.

Wally quickly hid back behind the dump, shaking as he took note that both massive thugs were packing heat. The one they had a hold on didn't seem too hurt, but he looked frustrated and slightly panicked.

"Quit your wriggling, brat. Lucky the boss wants you alive, because I'd love to put one of these right between your pretty little eyes."

The man glared furiously, the side of his face swelling from where he was obviously punched. He had blue irises and black hair that matched the once immaculate suit. For some reason Wally recognized him, but he didn't know why.

"You know Croc, he ain't allowed to go to the boss dead, but it wouldn't hurt to subdue him a bit, don't you think?" The second thug has a Mexican accent and was grinning viciously. "We'd be doing the boss a favor, after all."

"Heh, I like the way you think, Bane." Wally had watched as the man slowly withdrew his weapon, casually placing it against the man's hand. "You'd be pretty useless to your group if you had this blown right off, now wouldn't you?" He chuckled darkly as the stranger struggled even more, trying to move his hand out of range. "Now hold still, this is going to feel like a bi-"

An old tin tray left his hand before he knew what he was thinking, and the man named Croc howled as it collided perfectly with his nose. Instantly he released his grip on the man to clutch his bleeding nostril. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

Bane turned, his furious eyes connecting with the street rat's, and instantly Wally threw whatever was in his hand at the time. Unfortunately, chicken bones only aggravated the man further as they bounced harmlessly off his face. Suddenly Wally was facing down the barrel of the man's pistol. But before he could squeak, or even think to duck, the man they had taken acted.

Instantly his free arm drove under the assailant's chin in a mean upper-cut, loosening his grip on the other hand enough for him to wretch himself out and grab the gun, dragging it down and then letting the bullet be released into the man's foot. The man screamed in pain even as the tuxedo wearing man kneed him in the stomach, dropping the heavy like a rock.

Food entirely forgotten, Wally had raced to the opposite end of the fence so fast he didn't even realize he was there until he reached the top of the barrier. For a brief moment when he looked back, his eyes connected with the black haired man. He took a step towards the fence. "Wait!" But Croc had grabbed his leg, and he had to turn around and subdue the second thug as well.

Wally bolted after that, terrified out of his mind.

He never heard if that guy made it out or not, but he was guessing he did, because after that gang members were trying to intercept him left and right. This guy, the one everyone called 'NightWing' (after the crimes and heists he pulled in the night while practically flying across the rooftops), had personally sent out a video order to every thug's phone demanding he be caught (which he found out about on his third pursuit, when they had thought he was cornered and showed it to him gloatingly). Wally could only conclude those two heavies's boss was out for some revenge, and he really didn't want to deal with that.

Especially from NightWing.

"Well, kid?"

"I said lemme go!"

Nightwing sighed, as if Wally had disappointed him. He scrutinized the scrawny figure in front of him with a grim frown, and Wally couldn't help but shake a bit in fear. This criminal ran with the 'Justice' gang, ironically named because it was rumored the founders of the group set up shop to take revenge against society, to get justice. Anybody from that clan could be considered a loose cannon, and Wally was staring at one of the high level members.

"Do you have a name?"

Wally clenched his fists. How dumb did this guy think he was? Thinking he would give out his name?

"Kid, when is the last time you ate?"

Three days ago. And it had only been a half-eaten corn dog and fries, but he really didn't feel like chatting about his daily living with a murderer. He glared down defiantly at the domino mask, hoping he didn't look as petrified as he felt.

"How old are you anyway?" He leaned closer, "Twelve? Thirteen?" Wally, seeing his opportunity, kicked out, aiming for the man's head. It hit solidly, and with a cry the man released him. The moment Wally hit the ground his feet took him to the way out, leaping out and turning just in time to see the widened, shocked lenses of the night prowler. He realized he had just kicked Nightwing in the face.

"For the record," Wally growled out, "I'm ten." With that he released his hold, quickly speeding away into the night.