Age of Heroes

Part ten of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, Young Justice or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs to DC, Warner Brothers, and associated parties.

"Sometimes I think that's where most of us are. Fighting off the crazy as best we can. Trying to become something better than we were. It's that second bit that's important."
~Cold Days, Jim Butcher

They spent the next week as personal guests of Dick Grayson at New Batcave.

Waiting around so long made Wally more than a little fidgety, he had to admit. Ever since the outbreak he'd always been constantly on the move, traveling from one place to another working on leads to his family, and being forced to stay put for any length of time always drove him a little crazy. But Dick had a point—it was beyond stupid to head out into the zombie-infested wilderness with serious storms heading their way. So as frustrating as it was to be stuck on the island for a week, Wally stayed without complaining (too much, anyway).

Besides, it wasn't as though he was sitting around and twiddling his thumbs. New Batcave was a hub of post-apocalyptic civilization, which meant there was always something to do there, and plenty of people to interact with. He spent a lot of time down on the grounds, wandering through the makeshift streets, talking to various travelers and civilians, and (his personal favorite) hitting on girls. Pre Z-day he'd only been twelve and was only just getting to that stage where girls were interesting and not covered in cooties, but the rules and tricks for getting a girl's attention back then were way different than they were now. Back then he'd have been an undesirable geek and the girls would probably have tittered behind their hands at his attempts at pick-up lines. Now he was considered a veritable badass because he'd been surviving out in zed territory for four years and had the stories (and the scars) to back it up, and girls ate that stuff up.

Also, it was significantly easier to get their attention when Superboy wasn't trailing around behind him. Because apparently lone-wolf personas and unfairly huge muscles were still in, Z-day or no, and beat out 'survivalist badass' every time. Especially when said lone wolf with too many muscles was also a survivalist badass.

Completely not fair, that.

But Superboy didn't like heading out to the crowds much, so Wally didn't have to worry about competition there, at least. Even if it did feel sort of weird, to not have his half-Kryptonian, half-human, all-clone shadow wandering around after him, after over a month of traveling with company. Connor didn't seem to know what to do when Wally hung out 'downtown' for the day, either—but this was hardly surprising, since Wally had pretty much always been around for what was, in essence, Connor's entire life, all one month of it. And chronologically speaking he was only, what, four? So Wally supposed a little separation anxiety was pretty normal. As was the anti-social behavior, which Wally was starting to think was more or less attributed to being locked in a pod his whole life, and less the early stages of zed paranoia (which was a good thing, because if Superboy snapped and went postal in the middle of a settlement, that could be...very, very bad).

So while Wally headed down to the crowds and the heart of what passed for civilization, Connor tended to stay behind at the generator complex where it was quieter and less intense. Dick, at least, could be trusted to keep a sharp eye out for him while still making it look completely natural. He had a knack for working with people subtly and skillfully while still making them feel comfortable, and within the first day had already figured out a number of ways to make Superboy feel like a part of the family, without becoming overbearing and invasive about it. He'd gotten Superboy involved in a few tasks for repairing the generator, figured out exactly which buttons of Superboy's to push without him completely flying off the handle, let him read through the tiny collection of books he'd managed to save over the years, and even gave him a few basic combat lessons, because Dick wasn't Robin anymore but he still practiced every day all the same.

Not that Wally let him get around with hanging out at Dick's house the entire time they were there. Admittedly, a vast portion of their time was spent hiding indoors, because the thunderstorms that ripped through the New England area were fierce, with booming thunder and daylight-bright flashes of lightning and violent winds and sheets of rain so thick you could barely see more than a few feet in front of you. You had no choice but to stay indoors, then; everyone did, and it was the only time the grounds were cleared of people, when everyone retreated indoors to the dorms or below ground to the grottos and catacombs that had existed below Arkham for ages. In between the storms wasn't all that better, with gray skies and dreary (but lighter) rains, and when people did come out they were crabby from being locked up so long.

But on the rare days, or in the rare moments, when it was brighter and sunnier and the people crawled out of the dark and popped up on the grounds like they'd never left, Wally would sometimes drag Connor out with him, just to try and get him a little more used to the people. He was careful to pick his targets carefully; throwing Superboy into the midst of argumentative tradesmen, aggressive teenagers trying to prove a point, or a gaggle of giggling girls was sure to invite trouble. But there were other places on the island to break the clone in to socialization, slowly.

Once he took him down to the small animal farm adjacent to the Botanical Gardens. The location was fenced off carefully and also posted with guards, so that the civilians couldn't harm the much-needed animals or get it into their head to steal one. But Roy had equipped them with passes for their duration on the island ("to prevent you antagonizing my guards further, West," he'd growled in irritation, when he handed them over) and it was easy to get in. Connor's fascination with animals outside the walls of New Batcave extended to the more docile ones inside, enough that he actually willingly engaged in conversation with the few animal handlers as they dutifully answered his questions. He helped with feeding some of the animals once given instructions, gently stroked a rat-catching tomcat feigning disinterest in him when it came up to investigate, and bemusedly rescued Wally from a (positively vicious, sadistic, evil) rooster that crowed angrily and attacked when they got too close to its harem of hens.

"Only thing those are good for is eating," Wally muttered, safely thirty feet away from the nasty birds.

"They're not so bad," Superboy said, watching the rooster as it finally gave up on trying to peck him to death and strutted off importantly.

"Says the invulnerable guy," Wally muttered. "And I bet your human donor was a farmer too, you animal-hugger."

Connor was just enough of a jerk to smirk at him.

Working off the theory that Superboy was less likely to react badly to tiny things like chickens, Wally decided to take him down to visit the New Batcave 'orphanage' during another lull in the weather. It wasn't really much of an orphanage; if anything, it was more like a community thing set aside in a part of the mansion, where all the abandoned kids on the island that couldn't look out for themselves were put. Mostly it consisted of the youngest tykes that had miraculously managed to survive Z-day somehow—via a parent or sibling or (sadly more common) a total stranger dropping them off, or more rarely from their own luck—but hadn't been hit with heavily debilitating anxiety and stress disorders or mental instability in the process. (The last part was depressingly common, and those kids were housed in the medical facility). There were a few staff members always on hand to look out for the abandoned kids, but a pretty steady influx of volunteers that dropped in on a regular basis to assist as well.

It was a pretty depressing set-up even so—there were a lot of abandoned kids there. And that wasn't even counting the ones with backstories like Wally's or Dick's, the young kids that might have been only nine or ten or eleven when Z-day hit but were mentally going on twenty or thirty and had figured out how to not just survive, but help others survive too. Those kids had their own places in New Batcave society as workers and soldiers in training, were veterans in their own right, and weren't insulted by being treated like they were useless when they weren't. These kids in the program, these were the ones that were alive by the grace of God or luck or somebody else's rare kindness, and wouldn't have made it long before becoming zed food if they'd been on their own.

But Dick was the one in charge of the island, and he knew what it was like to be in that position, so he'd done his best to make life as decent as he could for these brats. They always had regular food, they were sheltered in the most normal building possible in the insane asylum's complex, they had access to all the medical care they needed, were given the basics of an education, and staff members were carefully chosen based on their genuine desire to give a damn about the kids in their care. Dick also made sure they didn't grow up afraid, terrified of everything outside the walls—they were instructed on the dangers of the zombies, but it wasn't the only thing they knew, and they weren't jaded with realism before they were teenagers. They had hope. Dick was also well-known for visiting at least once a week to play with the kids, when life permitted it, and most of them adored and looked up to a kid just like them who could do so much. It was the Robin complex all over again, except this time it was Dick Grayson that was the role model and the hero.

Wally usually made an effort to stop by at least once himself, whenever he visited New Batcave. If things had turned out differently it wasn't hard to imagine himself landing here, and he'd have hated it. Some of the younger kids didn't know anything different—they'd only been infants or toddlers when Z-day hit—but some of the older ones could still remember their old lives and their families and understood just enough to know that they weren't around anymore, and that hurt to see. So he'd usually do his best to show up and entertain them for the day—and this time he brought Superboy with him.

Wally had been a little worried how introducing Superboy to the kiddies would go over, but he needn't have bothered; Connor was an instant hit, much to the clone's chagrin. Kids, Wally was reminded of yet again, had an innate sixth sense regarding people, and these apocalypse brats were no different. They instantly zeroed in on the fact that Superboy was a safe person that would protect them, were not intimidated in the least by his perpetual scowl, and were monkeying around all over him within the span of five minutes once they realized that 'Mr. Connor' was strong enough to support half of them without batting an eye. Many of them begged for shoulder rides or to be carried, awestruck by his height and strength. One little boy even begged to play 'Superman,' which had startled both Wally and Connor until they realized the kid didn't recognize Superboy's appearance, but rather just wanted to be held up high to pretend he was flying.

In fact, Wally soon came to realize, the weakest link was Superboy himself, who initially seemed nervous interacting with the kids, afraid of harming them accidentally. At first he handled most of the orphans like they were made out of glass and he might snap them in half without trying. Which Wally supposed was a fair enough concern, considering Connor's rather impressive car-tossing, wall-crushing, zombie-stomping super strength, and he'd never had to handle anything quite as fragile as a human child out in the wilderness. In fact, most of the fragile things he had handled, like rabbits for dinner or partially deflated volleyballs, did tend to get broken pretty fast. But the kids didn't give Connor much of a choice in the matter, and as Superboy got more used to restraining his own strength around them he also became a little more confident and markedly more friendly in his interaction with the little twerps.

So that visit ended up being even better than Wally had expected.

Another time, after one of the violent thunderstorms had blown through and damaged some of the buildings, Dick had requested their help with repairs. Wally had agreed immediately, and although Connor hadn't been too thrilled at the prospect of working with a lot of other adults and teenagers, he clearly respected Dick enough by this point to agree as well. Connor had gotten still more practice in holding back on his strength, until he appeared to be merely a particularly strong human and not a super-humanly strong partial Kryptonian. Even that strength was remarkably helpful, allowing him to assist work teams with transporting heavy stones and planks to repair workshop roofs and damaged walls, and he had enough endurance that he could still keep going long after others had taken a break—endurance believably backed up by all those muscles. In one particularly notable contribution he'd even managed to save one of the construction workers from being crushed when one of the workstations collapsed, by hearing the foundations starting to go long before human ears could, and pulling the man out of the way. A lot of the workers had praised him for his efforts and help and slapped him on the back, invited him to dine with them in the mess hall, and offered to recruit him for future projects (and better trade rewards as a result) in the future if he was ever around again.

Superboy had seemed...perplexed...by the entire encounter, and brought it up later, when they were having dinner privately with Dick and Roy back at the cottage. "They didn't even know who I was or what I was," the clone said, "but they still treated me like...I don't know. Like a hero. Just for helping build some things."

"You did also save a guy's life," Wally pointed out through a mouthful of chicken (he hoped, vindictively, that it was that rooster). "That's definitely bona fide heroism material."

"They did it before that too, though," Superboy said.

"Heroism has a different definition these days," Dick explained quietly. "Running around in capes and masks and iconic symbols, that's long gone. People aren't expecting the Justice League to show up and fix their problems anymore. But people putting their all, using all the skills and strengths they've got, to help others survive and make things better? That's new-age heroism."

Roy nodded in agreement. "Speedy is dead," he said flatly, "but people trust Roy Harper to protect them here. Robin is dead, but Dick Grayson keeps everybody alive. I doubt these people will ever know who the hell 'Superboy' is, but today Connor just proved he's dependable."

Superboy frowned at that, but it seemed more contemplative than anything else. "A different kind of hero," he murmured thoughtfully, and was almost completely silent for the rest of the night, barely engaging in any other conversations.

But eventually life moved on and the week drew closer to its end. The storms became less frequent, and although Dick checked the satellites regularly he never reported anything new and dangerous coming their way. Soon it was time to start preparing to leave. And although Wally was still impatient to get going, he was careful this time to not rush through things, knowing that a single screw up could cost him badly on the outside if he messed up.

First and most important was earning a little bit of credit for trade. Dick was his friend and in charge of the whole damn island, and therefore could easily pull rank and get him all the supplies he needed for free. But Dick hated abusing his power like that, and Wally would feel terrible if he essentially stole necessary supplies from these hard-working colonists, and made his friend do all the dirty work for him. So he typically traded in all his potentially-useful-to-a-settlement goods to Dick or Roy, establishing what was basically a line of credit. They could estimate how much the goods were worth, integrate them into the community and make sure everything got to its proper place, and resupply him with traveling goods without anybody feeling guilty over it, because it was legitimate business. Wally helped New Batcave, and New Batcave helped him; as win-win as a situation ever got in the apocalypse.

In this case, Wally had a lot more than usual to trade in, since he'd had Superboy as a traveling partner and Connor was not really limited by weight at all. He smugly handed over the batteries, hand-held tools, first aid kits, medical drugs and supplies, cans of fuel, and firearm ammunition they'd collected between Cadmus to New Batcave, and even Roy's normally impassive expression shifted to one of impressed surprise once it was all laid out.

"Think it's enough to get me supplied?" Wally asked with a smirk.

"It's enough to get six of you supplied, Walls," Dick said, poking through the goods with disbelief. "I can't believe you managed to get all of this here."

"Super-strength helps," Wally said, gesturing to Superboy, who snorted at his inclusion. "There's plenty of stuff out there, it's just hard to move unless you're traveling with a Kryptonian." He snapped his fingers. "Which reminds me, set aside some of this trade credit for Connor. I mean, he did do a lot of the work, so he might as well get half the benefit and put it towards whatever he wants here. A quieter dorm, maybe? Or the supplies to add an extra room here, I mean, he's pretty quiet, you'd barely notice him, not like he'd get in the way. Or maybe his own pet chicken because he likes those stupid things—"

Dick and Roy exchanged glances, and Superboy growled, "Wally, what are you going on about? I'm coming with you."

Somehow this had not actually occurred to Wally. Apparently his dumbfounded feelings extended to his face, because Dick outright laughed at him, and Roy said dryly, "You really are an idiot, West."

Wally glared at the two of them sullenly, and then looked over at Connor. "Uh, not that you're not welcome or anything, but I kinda figured you were staying here? Because, y'know, that's what I promised when I found you, I'd get you here so you could get some answers and figure out what you wanted to do with your life—"

"I got my answers," Superboy interrupted. "I'm still working on that other part."

"But not where civilization's at, I take it?"

"Anywhere's as good as here. Might as well follow you. Besides, I did promise Dick I'd keep you from doing something stupid. That's what friends do, right?" He gave Wally a pointed look. The conversation was blatantly familiar—nearly identical, in fact, to when Superboy had asked him back in that pod room why Wally was bothering to help him at all—and Wally knew he'd done it on purpose.

Dick smirked, and in one of his usual attempts to be as unhelpful as possible to Wally at precisely the wrong moment, said with obnoxious cheer, "He is right, he did promise me he'd keep you out of trouble."

"Supey? Keep me out of trouble? Please. I'm the one that's been getting him out of tough scrapes since I found him in that pod," Wally said with a scoffing tone. Inwardly, though, he was sort of touched. He'd have been lying to himself if he said he'd be fine going it solo again, after a month of having a little brother to look out for. Having a traveling companion you could trust with your life was nice; it made the endless searching and moving through terrifying, monster-infested territory a little more bearable, a little less lonely, and a little more worth living for.

But he also felt a few traces of worry, and more than a little guilt. Superboy could handle himself out in zed territory, Wally knew that. He'd trained Superboy for it personally, and Supey'd been a good student through all of it. But for the past month they'd been working towards a mutual goal, reaching a settlement, and Wally had been focused on getting his adopted brother to safety. Superboy coming with him now would be different. Connor would be putting his life on the line traveling for a purpose that wasn't his own, in one of the most dangerous zones for dead-head infestation. Superboy had no reason to look for Wally's family, but the risk would still be high—and he was doing it out of an obligation, a promise. Wally didn't want Superboy to feel obligated to look out for him, especially not if he had his own goals and his own rebuilding of a new life after the apocalypse to work towards. Wally would hate it if somebody stood in the way of finding his family; he didn't want to be that guy for Connor.

Ultimately it was Superboy's choice, and Wally wouldn't stop him if he wanted to come. He couldn't, anyway, even if he had wanted to—half-Kyrptonian only or no, Superboy could still thrash him seven ways from Sunday, tuck him under one super-shoulder, and point-blank insist he was coming anyway. But Wally was concerned all the same, enough to offer a back door out, just in case Superboy really was acting on an unwanted obligation.

"Well...I kinda figured you'd want to hang around this settlement specifically, since you're part of the team and all and it's the only one with confirmed heroes hanging around." He gestured to Dick and Roy before moving on. "They'd probably be a little better at helping you figure out how to adjust to all this stuff, and work out what you want to do with yourself now. But if you really want to come, then okay, sure. Just remember, it's gonna be really dangerous. There are a lot more zeds and a lot less safe zones, heading out west. It's totally fine if you'd rather stay here."

"I'm coming with you," Superboy repeated, very firmly. "And zeds don't scare me. Bring'em on."

Wally shook his head in exasperation. "I know they don't scare you. I wish they'd scare you more. You'd better remember, just because you made a dumb promise to Dick here doesn't mean you can take stupid risks, either!"

"I won't. I know what I'm doing." He sounded more serious than usual when he said it, and crossed his arms in determination, staring Wally down as if daring him to argue further.

Dick cut in before it could go any farther, still smirking a little in that obnoxiously smugly satisfied way. "Well," he said, "I'm not gonna lie, it would have been nice to have a Kryptonian around here to help. But hey, SB, it's your life and your choice, after all." His expression turned more serious for a moment. "Just keep each other alive, okay? I meant what I said before, I don't want to hear about any more of my friends getting themselves dead." And before Wally could address that, the smirk was back, and the youngest teen finished with, "So—supplies for two, then?"

"Yes," Connor said. "And a bigger pack for me if you've got it, then I can carry way more than before. Weight's obviously not an issue."

"That can be arranged," Dick said. The four of them spent the rest of the day compiling a list of necessary supplies for the journey, with each of them offering suggestions and bringing up valid points. With Superboy's super strength added to the mix, they were able to be a little more liberal with their supply choices, meaning they didn't have to pare everything down to bare necessities alone.

When they were finished, Roy took the list, along with a written note of permissions bearing Dick's personal seal, and handled the transactions downtown for them. Over the next two days he obtained everything they needed from supply caches and trade merchants around the island, while allowing Wally and Connor to rest up for the journey. By the time those two days were up, a large collection of dried, smoked, and other preserved foods, first aid supplies, warmer clothes, some hiking and mountain gear, blankets, hunting snares, fishing gear, swiss army knives, a compass, matches, and a dozen other things were piled in the corner of Dick's cottage, waiting to be packed away. And, true to his word, Roy had also supplied them with a package of ripe, fresh strawberries out of his own pocket, which just proved that he cared no matter how much he enjoyed imitating a scowling rock these days.

They packed everything up carefully, and when one last check of the weather satellite showed nothing but sunshine for the next week, Wally decided it was time to take off. They stayed one last night as Dick's guests, getting the last night of guaranteed solid, refreshing sleep they could, and the last filling, relatively fresh dinner. Roy woke them bright and early in the morning and offered to personally escort them down to the gates, so they could leave without any hassle.

Which left them at the most awkward part every time Wally left New Batcave: the goodbyes. Wally hated the goodbyes, because he really did enjoy Dick's and Roy's company, and for all its crowds and strict rationing and fortress-like setup it really did feel almost like a home. He hated leaving it and his friends behind, especially when he knew they would be worrying about him once he was outside the safety of the walls and water. But he couldn't stay, either. Until he had answers about his family, he couldn't stop searching for them, not even for safety or what passed for a home these days.

Dick and Roy both knew that as well, which was why they never objected to Wally's leaving when he announced he was searching again—just made sure he was as well prepared for it as he could be. Wally respected them for it, which was why it was almost harder to leave now.

"Thanks for everything, man," he said to Dick, who had insisted on being woken early enough to see them off, since he couldn't come with them to the gate. "Really. Both of you guys." And he nodded to Roy as well, who nodded silently back in his own taciturn but meaningful gesture.

"Anytime," Dick said. "I mean it. And Wally—I'd better see you back here again at some point. You'll have to report to me on that settlement, after all." Wally caught the underlying message easily: Don't die. You're not allowed to die, got it? No matter what you find out there.

"Sure," Wally said with a grin. "I'll write a whole essay on it for you. My teachers would be jealous." If they weren't already dead. But don't worry—I'm not going down for anything, I'll be back.

Connor hefted his own large pack easily—it was too heavy for Wally to even budge, but he still made it look like it was just stuffed with cotton—and nodded to Dick and Roy as well. "Me, too," he said after a moment. "Thanks for finding those answers for me."

Dick smirked. "Are you kidding? It was nice to have a challenge for once! And hey, if it helps somebody out from the old gang, so much the better." His grin faded and grew more serious. "Oh—but, Connor. One more thing I wanted to tell you."

Wally blinked in surprise at this; they'd been here a week, and he hadn't really been expecting much more from Dick. They'd all discussed a few old stories several nights ago, a rare moment in which talking about their dead or missing mentors and guardians wasn't considered taboo and had held more fond than bitter emotions, but they hadn't really discussed Connor's origins since. What could Dick possibly be bringing up now, as they left?

Superboy looked genuinely curious as well, and said slowly, "Yes?"

Dick seemed to pause a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. Then he said slowly, carefully, "Back when Z-day hit I managed to download a lot of the Batcomputer's files that I figured might be important, and as my system grows I've been slowly managing to incorporate some of that high-tech stuff back into my own original tech." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the closed and locked back room.

"Okay," Superboy said slowly, brows drawing together slightly as he tried to figure out where this was going.

Dick took a deep breath. "Back when I was Robin, we...Batman...had files on most of the Justice League. Nothing major, just ways to keep track of everybody, just in case of emergencies. That was one of the things I managed to download. At the time I figured it might help me get back in contact with them or...or something." Or figure out how to stop them if something went wrong, or they got turned, Wally heard in that momentary hesitation, but he didn't voice it out loud. "Anyway," Dick went on, "The point is, the files also had information on a lot of the League's secret identities. I've always kept from sharing them with anybody or asking around too closely for those names; it might be the apocalypse, but those heroes still have the right to their privacy. But I think in your case, you have the right to know about at least one of them, since you're basically family..."

Superboy blinked slowly, and then said suddenly, "You know Superman's secret identity."

Dick nodded. "Don't spread it around," he warned, with a quick glance at Wally and Roy, who both nodded back in understanding. "He still deserves respect, even if he...well, anyway. His name was Clark Kent. He used to work as a reporter in Metropolis before Z-day hit." He looked Superboy firmly in the eye, and added softly but with conviction, "He was a good guy, and not just because of the cape and tights. I know we're all encouraging you to make your own place in this new age, Connor, and you shouldn't have to live in his shadow—God knows that's hard, I can relate—but, just so you know, he really would have been proud of you."

Connor stared down at him for a very long time, and then said so softly his voice was a raspy whisper, "Thank you."

Dick nodded once almost solemnly, understanding.

Wally didn't want to leave on that note, though, so as he hefted his own pack—also stuffed full, but not nearly so heavy as his companion's—he took the opportunity to elbow Connor in the side again, and grin. "Connor Kent, huh? Has a good ring to it."

"Only because you like alliteration, Wallace West," Dick said with a laugh.

"You really want to play the 'let's make fun of names' game? Because you're gonna lose that one every time, Dick."

"Please. Like I haven't heard it before."

"I like it," Superboy interrupted them. "Connor Kent. It feels...right."

"Good," Dick said. "Because it fits. I meant what I said—keep him out of trouble for me, okay?"

Superboy grinned. "I promise...but it might take a little work even for me."

"Hey!"

They laughed, and Wally scowled at them theatrically. Roy shifted forward subtly a moment later, indicating that they really needed to get moving, and they finally—if somewhat reluctantly—shifted for the door. There was one last set of shouted goodbyes, and then they were outside in the generator complex once more, leaving the former Boy Wonder behind.

Roy paused only a moment, to give instructions to the guards he trusted to keep an eye on Dick until he was back to personally handle the unofficial leader (Wally noted with distaste that Artemis was amongst them—he'd seen her around a few more times and they never seemed to get along). Then he led them relatively silently away from the complex, through the semi-permanent streets of New Batcave's grounds, and to the towering gate they had first entered by.

Superboy growled a little when they caught sight of the gate and all the guards swarming it topside; even understanding the necessity of it, he still disliked his last experience with it, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. Fortunately (and ironically), getting out of Arkham was a lot easier than getting in. There was no need for complex search procedures or dog checks. Everybody in New Batcave was already zed-free, which meant the guards just had to do a quick identity check to make sure people leaving weren't on a watch-list trying to escape, or attempting to make off with stolen necessary supplies. And with Roy with them, they wouldn't even need to deal with that procedure either, since Roy's word was law as far as security was concerned and all of his guards both trusted and respected him to make the right calls.

Roy stopped them before they were in ear-shot of the wall shift, though, and turned to the both of them. "Thanks," he said, and at their questioning looks he added, "For helping him out. He seemed a little happier this week than he has been in a while. I don't know what it was...knowing you were still alive," he glanced at Wally, "or learning that there still are a few miracles out there," his eyes flicked to Superboy, "but either way, thanks."

"Admit it, Roy, you were happy to see us too," Wally said, grinning broadly.

"Maybe I was," Roy shot back, "But you'll never catch me admitting to it." And to Wally's surprise he smirked, just barely, and for a moment he didn't look like a hardened bodyguard or a head of security, but just like a relaxed teenager joking with his friends.

"Stay alive out there," he added a moment later, and the kid was gone, replaced by the bodyguard once more. "I mean it. Dick isn't the only one getting tired of everyone disappearing on him." And before Wally or Connor could respond to that, he strode forward between them, barked an order to the wall guards, and stood impassively as the gates began to creak open.

Wally clapped Roy on the shoulder as he passed him to head for the gate. "Thanks, really," he said. "And you hang in there too, Roy, and I mean that. Zeds aren't the only danger these days." Superboy nodded in agreement as he too passed the bodyguard, following Wally, and after a moment Roy nodded slowly back.

"Yeah. I know."

And then the gate thudded shut behind them, leaving them with safety at their backs and a beautiful view of the broken, dead Gotham skyline ahead of them across the water. And all Wally could think was, This is crazy, going out here again, but all the same, it feels like it's just where I belong.

Roosters are evil.