Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the writing and some plot ideas.
EXTENDING CHALLENGE DEADLINE TO FRIDAY!
Challenge that really doesn't involve any hard work beyond imagination:
If you enjoy this story, or my Enough series, and there's something you really want to see happen, I don't care, like a fluffy Wally first meets Barry, or angsty what happened after Jason died/nearly died, feel free to ask away.
Request by reviewing or PMing. If I have time (and judging from the way this week is shaping up, I probably will~!) than I will write them.
The best two ideas for sure will get written. Maybe top three. For each story. Or maybe just best two per story, or two for one and three for the other, no idea, I don't really think this stuff through
Being in the Bat-Cave with his dad was infinitely the best mission ever. After Wally had started as Kid Flash, his schedule had become pretty hectic between his trips to Central and Gotham. The time differences alone made it hard to see his dad every day. Sometimes they'd go a full week without being able to talk to each other. Wally didn't blame the Batman for it. He was after all CEO to a conglomerate business that spanned multiple nations during his days, play-boy philanthropist with a family the size of Quidditch Team, and then at night, the dark crazy Gotham knight who fought psychopaths without twitching and a city relying on them for the ability to go out past nine o'clock at night with the semblance of safety. It was exhausting just thinking about all that responsibility.
Still though, one on one time with his dad was always welcomed. Add science to it, and it was excellent. Of course, the reason didn't escape Wally. He'd just witnessed a man die, sustained a heavy injury, and was probably traumatized. And his dad wasn't really the hot cocoa and a late night talk sort of guy. That was Alfred's responsibility.
"So where do I start?" asked Wally, eagerly bouncing on his heels as he followed his dad through the cave.
The Bat-Cave was the sleekest thing Batman owned, and if you've ever seen the Bat-mobile, well, that says a whole lot. The computers were all touch-screens, with several large screens all displaying various reports of crime from Gotham at every hour. Alongside Gotham reports of crime, there were various watches on Lex Luthor, the League of Shadows, and other large multi-national criminals activities. Not to mention the Justice League reports that trickled in as each member filled them out. It was just another reminder of how busy Batman was.
"I've already isolated the samples. I had Robin deliver a sample to Zatara, his report will be delayed since he was drafted into a mission an hour ago. He'll figure out how to contain this thing. I've got residual samples from the scene that need to be analyzed, as well as samples of the substance itself. Clay-Face is a pretty apt term. The physical sample resembled clay itself, but I suspect magical interference," said Batman as he moved to the lab benches.
The lab benches in the Bat-Cave were ordered directly out of the military catalog. Fire-proof, acid-proof, water-proof, bullet-proof, grenade-proof, and pretty much proofed against anything. Even Jason-proof. But not quite Jason and Tim proof. The sleek black counter-tops balanced over dark grey cabinets. They called to Wally like sirens must have called to the sailors in the ancient years or in those scary stories Diana encouraged. Already the clay-sample was stored in a thick safe under the lab bench. Test-tubes and flasks were set up in an elaborate arrangement that was actually pretty useless for analyzing this compound but looked awesome as non-lethal, household chemicals and pharmaceuticals flowed through them. With the right arrangement, Wally mused, he could probably convert the set-up into a meth lab. That would probably get him banned from the Bat-Cave for a month and earn a seal of approval for life from Jason. Wally was proud to have created the arrangement last night while waiting for his brother to get off patrol. Maybe he'd set the meth-lab tomorrow night during Batman and Robin's patrol.
"If it's got magic, why am I needed?" asked Wally, a bit disappointed. Magic was out of his domain.
"We can break the compound down with science and see if there's any scientific weaknesses," said Batman with a small smile, "That's why I need your help. We have residual samples to take apart, as well as the main sample itself. Which do you want to handle?"
"Main sample," said Wally firmly, "Have the initial toxicology reports brought up anything?"
"Signs of Lazarus interference, but to what extent is yet undetermined," said Batman, grabbing the reports from the Bat-Printer (it was just a Wayne Tech printer that had a Bat drawn on it in sharpie. Wally had a lot of spare time waiting for his family to come home at night). "This is the computer break down of the substances in the sample. As far as it looks, it's pretty much clay. It shows no attachment to it's original owner, so I concluded that without the main mass, the rest of the substance is harmless."
"But he regenerated from the main mass, and he can get bigger or smaller. That means the cells can do spontaneous mitosis and probably regenerate at will. But how does he control that? Is it a genetic mutation, physical triggered with automatic injury, requires neural signals, or the magic? Whatever the case, physical injuries don't work on this guy," said Wally with a hint of glee. He lived for these moments.
"That's what we have to break down. At the least, we need to stop the main mass from being able to regenerate if we want any way to keep this guy down long enough to arrest and contain," said Batman with a nod, as he moved to the residual samples to break down for further analysis.
"What else can he do with his cells if mitosis is controllable? Is he able to control the aspects of his mutation? And how does he reverse the process? Is he reversing the process at all?" continued Wally, speeding to the other end of the lab and grabbing his tablet and pen to scribble notes. Automatically they were uploaded to the other members of the Wayne family, who could add their own notes and comments.
Already, in bright red ink came a message from Red Robin under his orange writing.
Check the molecular composition and isolate the DNA.
Fuck that, blow it up. Reduce the thing into a pea and arrest that.
Red Hood's an imbecile. Go to sleep Hood and work off your hangover while Red Robin and I discuss actual methods that could work. You said there was Lazarus interference? To what extent?
Wally grinned at his brothers, as the last bit of green writing faded and Batman muttered something from the other end of the room, probably from reading the conversation. Wally wouldn't be surprised if Jason's blood would suddenly appear in the Bat-Cave for drug testing. It happened every so often. Ignoring the raging debate on Jason's alcoholism that had grown out of what was supposed to be notes for a lab, Wally moved over to the lab and began to follow Tim's advice, as he slid a sample under the microscope to get a better look and then use a pipette to draw the nucleus out. Another sample was slid into the mass spectrometer to be vaporized for the molecular composition. In silence, he moved across the lab.
His goggles doubled as safety goggles, his costume far more protective than any lab-coat or gloves. There were a thousand lab rules that needed to be followed in regular school labs or even in industrial labs that Wally's speed compensated for. It was only in the comfort of the Bat-Cave that Wally could escape those rules and be himself. Be the scientist that was limitless. His hands moved ten times quicker than any tool, working effortlessly to draw out the DNA from the sample he'd collected. Or at least, what sufficed for DNA.
The shape was like nothing Wally had ever seen before. It was far too thick and long to be normal human DNA, but when he put it through the scanner, the results came up with the annoying error code. Luckily, each error code served a purpose. Any error code above 500 usually meant it had magical origins.
The mass spectrometer report would be able to clear up some of the confusion of the magical origin. Used to profiling unknown substances, it was programmed to state recognizable error codes and possible original sources. Normal reports wouldn't have done so, and for the longest time, neither Batman nor Nightwing had bothered upgrading the machine to recognize the codes, but Tim had taken it as a personal insult during his tenure as Robin, so everything was always updated. Maintenance was run by Red Robin even while he was in San Francisco.
But for now, Wally was going to take a break. He'd only broken so much of the creature down. And Alfred had brought them hot chocolate, tea and cookies. He could afford a break.
Living with Alfred taught a man the art of subtlety. Everything about the butler was subtle and had a deeper intention. Never did Alfred do anything without a purpose. It was an annoying habit Bruce had picked up from the man. Talia had thought it endearing. Selina thought it was interesting. Vicki had thought it annoying. The many women in between had their own opinions on the matter. But for Bruce, it was a life-saver.
If Bruce wasn't so well-attuned to his own body, he'd never have been able to grasp the subtle nuances of Alfred Pennyworth. He probably wouldn't have survived the teen years and the bachelorhood and the early days with Damian without being able to pick up on Alfred''s cues.
When Alfred quirked an eyebrow, it meant he severely disagreed with your opinions and if you didn't rectify your course of action, he'd probably make bland dinners for the rest of your life until you complied with his wishes. Conversely, when Alfred tensed his shoulders just enough to stand a little taller, it meant he disagreed of the course of action, but your heart was in the right place and if things went well you'd probably not have to worry about salt-and-pepper chicken for dinner every night. If Alfred brought you your tea with the sugar already mixed in, it meant he was worried for your health and wanted you to stay home or he would probably drug your next drink with sleeping pills and then blame it on your own exhaustion. Despite being Batman, Bruce had yet to find proof of this, but he wasn't going to let the wily old man get away with it. If he brought you a snack with your tea, it meant you had just done something that pleased him very well and you should probably continue this course of action and anticipate your favorites for dinner.
Not that all of Alfred's little nuances involved food. That would mean the British man was going easy on Bruce. If the house had a slight layer of dust in the areas that were commonly used, it meant that Alfred was very upset with your choice of house guest for the week and they needed to go immediately lest the dust become a permanent fixture. If the silverware's polish was just a little duller than usual, it meant that one of the boys had done something wrong and Alfred was planning to suitably punish them and Bruce would be better off not enquiring about the details lest he wanted to be reminded just how much silverware the Wayne family owned. If the laundry was drying outside it meant that Alfred had caught on that you wanted to discuss something and was awaiting you to confront him by faking a good mood. If the garden was a little unruly, it meant that Alfred was actually starting to feel unwell and should probably be given a day or two off to compensate. And every so often, he'd change the routine up to throw Bruce for a loop and he'd have to relearn the process.
So when Alfred brought the snacks and beverages, Bruce couldn't help the automatic part of his brain he'd dubbed the 'Alfred-Analyzer' from watching his every move like a hawk. The roundest cookies, with the most chocolate chips, were thrust into Wally's hand, with the two, slightly more smaller-than-the-average-round cookies coming to Bruce. Wally's cup was stirred eight times instead of Alfred's usual loving four.
"How goes the research Master Wally?" asked Alfred, stoic and calm as ever, not even another twitch in his body as he moved to stir Bruce's tea. It was only where the boys were concerned that Alfred was so open about his emotions, despite the concern only being betrayed by his eyes.
Bruce's cup got the regular four stirs, the spoon cutting off from completing it's final full circle and staying in the cup as he laid it before Bruce. Normally, most would assume that because Wally had started babbling Alfred had done such a thing out of politeness to concentrate full attention on the lad. However, they obviously did not share the deeper understanding that was the Batman and his butler's relationship. That was a very glaring message.
The curved silver handle of the spoon, chosen specifically to resemble an arrow head judging from the pointier-than-normal tipped handle, was directed at Wally. The message could not have been clearer. Talk to him or your next drink will come cold. Or maybe his shirts would be ironed an hour in advance so that they were slightly crinkled when he got to wear them. Alfred left with the tray merely minutes after. He made sure to leave behind the one cup. Damn stoic butler. If only he wasn't so irreplaceable, Bruce would have fired him ages ago. That being said, Bruce made a mental note to try and lock up all the criminals before the next birthday or holiday. It would get the older man to back off if he was slightly pleased to see the family at home and Bruce making attempts. Apparently not talking to Wally about puberty and grief was enough to be black-booked by the butler. He hadn't had any of his favorite dishes in a week. Heck, Bruce would even try and avoid arguing with Jason if it meant no more slightly salty meals. No promises about the Damian or the others at this stage, but he'd probably get desperate if this treatment continued.
Clearing his throat, Batman glanced at Kid from the corner of his eye. Best try and start now. Wally was staring at his father in obvious surprise, but his attention was fully on him. Good. Now how exactly does one start these things?
"Good hot chocolate?" asked Bruce rather lamely. Eloquence was much easier to portray to a crowd of floozies than his own son.
"Yeah," said Wally, setting the cup down with slight concern across his face.
"I- I wanted to talk to you," said Bruce finally, "About how you were feeling. With the last mission, and all the things that came up in between, we've not really had a chance to talk about it. Cass told me you were feeling better, but well, feeling better isn't always the same as feeling good."
Wally gaped at Bruce in understanding, and then blushed as he fumbled for the right words. "I'm totally fine dad! I swear! I mean- Cass and I talked about this. I got my PTSD under control."
"You have PTSD?" asked Bruce, slight concern unable to be contained.
"It's just an expression," deadpanned Wally, reaching out to pet his knuckles with those thin fingers of his.
"I see," said Bruce with a nod, "So, it doesn't bother you witnessing what you did?"
"I- Well, I mean," began Wally hurriedly, "It did, but then Cass said Mr. Nelson wanted me to be happy, so I'm being happy. That's okay right?"
"Of course," said Bruce, wrapping an arm around the thin shoulders of his son, "It's perfectly okay to be happy. But being happy and faking happy aren't the same thing. Are you happy?"
"I don' know," said Wally quietly, as the machines began to whir slightly louder, their cacophony beginning to signal the slowly building end to their discussion. "I mean, I liked the guy, he was real nice, like Jay. But his wife had died, and he wanted to be with her, but because he died and nobody became Dr. Fate, he doesn't get to see her until someone else wears the Helmet."
"Do you want to wear the Helmet?" asked Batman quietly.
"No! I told Cass that too when she asked," said Wally firmly. In a softer tone he added, "I just- I don't want him to have to be a part of that Helmet forever."
"Nothing is forever," said Batman in his most gravelly and knowledgeable tone, one that after six children and a team of superheroes consisting of Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen, he'd managed to master said tone like Alfred had subtle refinery, "Every day something in our lives change. Someone changes. We become new people. It doesn't take more than a minute for life to present you with challenges that make or break you. That's why we're here, dressed the way we are, doing what we do. It's not fair to Mr. Nelson, yes, but he knew what he was risking. He made that choice to put the Helmet on, and to stay with it. And if there's anything you should respect in another person, it's commitment. If a person can commit to something with their lives, above all else, then that's admirable. And you shouldn't pity them for that, ever."
Wally listened carefully to his father's words, basking in that knowledge as he felt the hand draw him just a shift closer. It was the best his father could do to initiate hugs while dressed as Batman, something Wally had never understood, but appreciated nonetheless as he wrapped his own arms tightly around his father's waist.
"But why?" asked Wally softly, feeling a sudden lump rising in his throat, "What about if he didn't deserve that? What if he should have been happy? Why can't he just be happy?"
"You can't save the world Kid," said Batman softly, holding his son to his chest, "That's something we learn the hard way. Putting on the mask, the cowl, the cape, the helmet- all that means is that we agree to honour our duties to helping others. Above everything else. I know it hurts, for him, but that's okay. It's okay to hurt. Hurting just means you've got something to fight for the next time life knocks you down."
Wally sniffled. There were no tears, he'd already cried out after hearing the news the first time. But it was enough for his father to ignore the initial beeping sounds from the spectrometer and just be held in that ortress of warmth that was his father's arms in the cool kevlar costume. And revel in feeling secure. In feeling safe. In feeling okay.
By the time Kid Flash and Batman had synthesized a temporary solution, they were on their way to the warehouse. Judging from the presence of the Lazarus Pit in such a high concentration, the Batman had gone through every ancient tome about the Lazarus in the small library in the Bat-Cave, trying to find a temporary cure. There was no permanent cure for this mad creature, but theoretically speaking, the composition of the Lazarus mixed with the condition of the man suggested that his composition was entirely like living clay. Which meant the solution was just that. A solution.
Batman and Kid Flash had managed to deduce that to get to Clay-Face, they'd need to soak the monster in as much water as possible. While he'd still be in control, they'd electrocute him. Whatever organ-like systems he had would be attacked by the electricity thanks to the water flowing inside of him and hopefully, he'd pass out and be able to be scraped into an air-tight steel barrel. Batman had cornered his location at a warehouse where the Team had managed to enter and detain him. But their communication with the team had been cut off almost ten minutes ago.
That was never a good sign.
Wally raced to the warehouse on foot, ahead of the Bat-mobile. He had to get the sprinklers on and soak this thing until Batman came and electrocuted the monster. Clay-Face was going down.
Entering the warehouse, Wally was most definitely taken aback at the sight. Clayface was suffocating M'gann and Superboy and Kaldur. Robin was knocked unconscious and slung up in the air beside Artemis as the monster cried out.
"I have done it master! I killed the baby sidekicks!"
Wally's breath hitched. He went a little nuts. He couldn't see straight. The monster was killing them and he'd been too late. Only this time they were actually dead. Not like Nelson. They were dead and there was no way Wally would ever see them again. No possibility.
That moment where I rant for a second:
So, first off, just reminding everyone to check out the challenge at the top of this page if they have requests!
Second, I really enjoyed writing Clay-Face, which was why I split this chapter up. I never imagined he'd get so ruthless and nuts and well, amazing. But he did, and this is what I present my darlings! Whaddya think?
Also, I'm so sorry we got to twenty five chapters without romance. I was not intending that originally. This was supposed to be a minor affair. Apparently I'm too much into the long-term commitment.
Review Replies:
ichiberry-tan: Yes he is :) After the next chapter is a major development, which is all I will say.
Red Lightning Bolt: Heee :) More suspense! That's not really the answer to your question, but well, it's all here. And Kaldur is stuck with the group as well. He may have disobeyed orders in the last chapter and rushed in without assessing the situation... And I love you! I haven't downloaded the comics yet (I'll do so when I can read them) but thank you! They are going to be immensely helpful to the whole plot developing part of this story!
AMMO121: Thank you! And more cliffies to go! But on the brighter side, I have those bunnies saved :)
Snowdevil the Awesome: It's totally fine, I'm just glad you're reading! As for what Clay-face can do, I can't reveal that. But he is sort of enjoyable to write in a crazy way.
MythologyGirl: I loved it too! The author is really great, I love her JLU fics as well, though some are a bit heavy to read. And I'll keep an eye out on my end for any good pairings/fics you may like! As for the last chapter, well, this chapter only adds more drama... Sorry this is short, battery dying and I want to post the chapter before it goes and so I can go to sleep.