Author's Note: Here we go with another chapter! Written at the very end of my break, ugh. I wanted to get more writing done over break, maybe give you guys a few extra chapters since you waited for a while, but my muse died somewhere during finals season, so the chapters for all my stories are a little slow coming. Ah, well. Read, review, and enjoy!
WWWWWW
Wally sighed uncomfortably. From the seat next to him, Nick gave him a sympathetic grimace. It was nice to see that Nick was still alive. He'd slept in the bunk under Wally's bed for almost a year and a half before he'd died. Wally and Cameron always joked that Ben and Nick were the older versions of themselves: Wally and Nick were the experiments and Cameron and Ben were the workers, and they had the same kind of bond with each other. Nick and Ben spent just as many nights sat in Ben's bed whispering to each other as Wally and Cameron did in Wally's bed.
In Wally's memories (memories? Dreams? Visions?), Ben had been broken by Nick's death. Wally would never forget the broken wailing when Ben had gone over to where Nick was sleeping one morning and the metahuman had been cold, stiff, and very dead. He'd died in his sleep, early in the night from what the guards had said. The scientists had muttered something about an experiment gone wrong, Nick the unwilling victim. The metas in the barracks would never even know what experiment it was that killed him.
But that wasn't here. Nick was still alive. Wally blinked the sight of Nick's still, dead body out of his mind, shook the sound of Ben sobbing out. Nick raised an eyebrow, "You okay, kid? I know we've been asking you a lot, but we're really starting to get concerned. You've been acting really weird, spacing out more than usual, getting lost somewhere."
"Weird dream," Wally murmured back before wrinkling his nose, "Couple of weird dreams, actually. They're throwing me off, that's all." His memories/dreams played on repeat every night, reminding him that he didn't belong here, that this wasn't what was supposed to be happening, that something was wrong. He told Cameron about the dreams every morning, but Cameron seemed convinced that it was just a long term thing that the scientists were pulling, convinced that it was no big deal.
Wally wasn't so convinced. What kind of drug would do something like this? What kind of drug would give him repeated dreams that illustrated the exact same memories, ones that he had even when he was awake? It didn't make sense that this was be an experiment gone wrong. Something deeper was going on, something bigger than a botched experiment. Wally just didn't know how to prove it. All he had going for him was a gut feeling and the memory of the team he'd created. There was no proof for him and nothing to disprove everyone else.
Nick nodded sagely, "I know about weird dreams messing you up. When I got my powers? Whatever thing that bit me to give me the powers gave me weird dreams while the powers were developing. Messed me up for days. Couldn't tell which way was up half the time."
"Why can't you tell us things like that when we ask? Why do we have to overhear you telling each other about your power developments?" A scientist complained. He was the new scientist, the chatty one that none of the experiments were sure how they felt about. He treated them almost like they were people and not just test subjects. It was weird. It made it harder to dissociate from the situation. It was also… kind of nice.
"You gotta wine and dine me first, Johnny," Nick commented mildly, leaning his head back against the seat he was strapped to as one of the other scientists efficiently inserted an IV into his arm.
Johnny – Dr. Peril to most people – huffed out a quiet laugh as he hooked Wally up to the same kind of IV, slipping the needle into him with practiced ease. Wally didn't even wince any more as the needle slid in. He grabbed an alcohol wipe from a pile, swiping it over the junction between Wally's neck and shoulder, pulling out a syringe and sliding it into the spot he'd cleaned. Wally stared ahead determinedly as he felt the liquid slide like acid through his skin. It crept into his body, spreading fire in it's wake, leaving muscles twitching and clenching.
Wally gasped out a breath, whole chest constricting for one heart-stopping moment (and, for a second, it really felt like it was going to be heart-stopping, like this thing was going to push his heart too hard, pump it till it stopped) before it settled slightly, muscles twitching in different moves. He could feel the muscles in his stomach rippling, his heart beating out an erratic rhythm. His other arm started twitching, the feeling shifting down into his legs, setting his feet pressing unwillingly against the straps, burning him from the inside out. It felt like all of his nerve endings were trying to jump out of his skin, away from the burning.
Wally's eyes watered, and he tried to take in another breath, lungs fluttering painfully. He just had to hold on for a couple seconds before whatever monster liquid this was worked its way out of his system.
Except, it didn't.
It continued to burn and spread and throw him completely off. Still frantically trying to pull in something that resembled a breath, Wally mumbled through clumsily responsive lips, "H-hey, Doc. W-what is th-is, uh…, stuff?"
When Wally made fleeting eye contact with Dr. Peril, he saw the man watching him in undisguised interest. Peril's eyes were sharp and focused on Wally's spasming limbs, a timer counting up next to him. There was no soft interest there, no huffing laughs and small jokes, no sign that Dr. Peril considered Wally to be anything more than another fascinating experiment. Wally felt his breath catch in his throat for a different reason than the drug pumping through his system. Dr. Peril had been doing this on purpose. He'd purposefully made himself out to be approachable and gentle and soft compared to the other scientists. It was his way of making the experiments more accessible, more likely to slip and give up information, less likely to fight back against the really bad tests.
In an effort to distract himself, Wally tried to remember if he'd known this about Dr. Peril, if his weird set of memory-dreams had any recollection of this evil side of Dr. Peril. He tried to remember if there had even been a Dr. Peril. His muscles twitched painfully again, throwing his thoughts off. He let out a small whimper.
He could feel Nick glancing over at him, eyes dark and sad as Wally twitched against his restraints, bitten out sounds of pain increasing in frequency as the pain intensified. He desperately tried to distract himself again. Dr. Peril. Was he in Wally's memories? Where was he? Did he really exist? Was he just a machination used to distract Wally from his memories of the future?
Wally couldn't remember him. He had zero recollection of a Dr. Johnny Peril. None at all. What did that mean, though? Was it proof that Wally was right? Did it prove that Wally was going insane? What did it mean? Who was Dr. Peril? What was going on?
In the end, Wally didn't come to any conclusions about Dr. Peril's place in his delusions. In the end, all he was able to think about was the pain. It spread and burned and didn't dissipate out of his system in seconds like most poisons or drugs they tried on him did. It messed with all of his muscles – they had to eventually put him in a breathing apparatus because his lungs were struggling. He didn't know how it affected his brain or if it affected his brain. As he let unconsciousness wash over him, he hoped the drug messed his brain up enough to make him forget all of those fake memory dream things.
RRRRRR
Roy growled to himself as he stalked through another empty warehouse. The group of three had decided that the best way to find Count Vertigo would get to go through the drug scene in Star City. Their plan was to burst through the doors of every known drug distribution or creation centre and demand information. The problem was: all of the drug centres had apparently left Star City. Roy, Oliver, and Black Canary were faced with empty warehouse after empty warehouse. It didn't make sense.
Oliver commented cheerfully, "I guess it's onto the next one!"
Black Canary sighed, "This doesn't feel right."
"Wow, really?" Roy couldn't help asking, frustration, boredom, and a lurking feeling of uselessness settling underneath his skin, baying for blood.
Black Canary raised one shapely blonde eyebrow over her mask, an obvious reprimand on her face and in her voice, "Excuse me?"
"Come on, guys. Let's not fight! We've only got a couple more centres left and then we'll be done. It's all good," Oliver interjected, looking half a second away from physically standing between them.
It didn't work. If anything, the scowl on Black Canary's face only seemed to settle further in, her voice cutting out like a whip, "No. I'm tired of this tension and of Red Arrow acting like he's here against his will. You can go back to HQ if you want. I was nice enough to bring you along on a mission I was looking forward to enjoying with just Green Arrow and here you are, grumbling under your breath about it!"
Oliver's expression lit up, "You were looking forward to doing a mission with me?"
Black Canary's scowl slid off her face, leaving behind momentary shock like she hadn't meant to say that before it morphed into embarrassment, "Well, I told you that I'd give you a chance, didn't I? Besides, you aren't half bad looking."
Lips breaking into an excited grin that looked like it'd fit better on a three year old, Oliver tried to pull her in, "Well, a gorgeous girl deserves a good looking guy on her arm."
Chuckling softly, Black Canary tossed her hair, "You have no idea if I'm good looking."
"I can tell! Even through the mask, I can see how gorgeous you are. I know you have beautiful eyes under that mask. You want to know how I can tell?" Oliver asked, leaning in a little further. Roy found himself morbidly interested.
Black Canary smirked, unconsciously leaning towards him, "How can you tell?"
Oliver grinned again, "Because I already know that I love everything about you, so no matter what you look like, it's going to be the best kind of gorgeous."
Black Canary's face was suddenly, dramatically, bright red. She swallowed and turned away, coughing slightly before mumbling, "We should, ah, check out the last places on our list. Um, yeah." She practically fled the room.
Roy snorted as he followed Oliver towards where Black Canary had fled, "Real smooth."
"Hey, it's working!" Oliver protested, "I know I've already got her because she's my soulmate, but I've just got to show her that."
"How many times have you even interacted with this woman?" Roy asked incredulously.
Oliver rolled his eyes, "Enough times! Come on, you were never one to get on my back about girls before. You know how quickly I can fall in love just as much as everyone else, but this is different. It feels different. She feels different. I don't even know what really attracted her to me for the first time. She just… You should have seen her during the split earth crisis we just had. I know you were partnered with Ballistic, but… man. She was a force of nature. She was so powerful and pure and… I don't know. I can't describe it. But it changed something in me, shaped it around her."
Roy had to pause for a moment. For all that he'd seen Oliver fall into and out of love too many times in the time he'd known him, this really was different. This early time period of one of his crushes usually consisted of him gushing about their "hot bod" or whatever. His wooing methods would be to basically get them drunk and throw himself at them until they agreed to go out with him sober. At least, that's how Roy saw it. He was sure there was at least a little more finesse involved, but… not that much.
This? Where Oliver was being as careful as he could be around her feelings and letting her call the shots? It was new. It was completely different. Roy shook his head, "Man, you don't even know this chick. You don't know her name or her history or what she's like outside of a crisis situation. Like she pointed out, you don't even know what she looks like! And she…" Roy trailed off, eyes going wide. Had Black Canary said that Oliver wasn't half bad looking? She had. Roy's mouth dropped open, "Has she seen you without your mask?"
Oliver's cheeks darkened slightly, and he ducked his head, "So what if she has?"
Roy threw his hands up, "Are you serious? Do you even know the meaning of secret identity? Why would you show her that?"
"I had my reasons!" Oliver shouted back, expression turning pained and open. This wasn't someone who felt guilty about what he'd done. This was someone who felt like they'd done the right thing, who really believed that they hadn't done anything wrong. Roy shook his head incredulously. Did Oliver really believe that it was wise to give his identity to Black Canary?
For all that Roy was steadily growing more convinced that everything he'd ever heard about metahumans was wrong, he still didn't feel close enough to this group to reveal who he was. Admittedly, he wouldn't have even revealed himself to the Team if his secret identity wasn't such a badly kept secret in the superhero world (which he blamed Oliver for). But the point still stood. He wouldn't have trusted them with this. They were strangers and killers and kept more secrets than members. They might be good, and they might be right about metas, but it didn't mean that Roy had known them long enough to really trust them.
Oliver was still going, "Why shouldn't I trust Black Canary with my identity? She's not going to give it up!"
"First of all, you don't know that! Second of all, when you trust one member of that team with your identity, you trust all members of that team with your identity! Don't you get that?" Roy shouted, fed up and ready for a fight. The drug dealers of Star City weren't providing, so Oliver was the next best choice.
Black Canary's voice cut off Oliver's argument before it could begin, "Do you really think that of us, Red Arrow? There is a level of trust among our team where, if we believe something could affect the entire team, we will talk to the entire team about it, yes. But why would his identity affect my entire team? If we get important information that doesn't affect the others, then we just tell Supersonic, who'll tell Icicle. They're the only ones who'll know. That's it. Besides, Supersonic was there when Green Arrow told me his identity. And do you really think I'm going to betray him? Do you really think I'm going to give other people Green Arrow's identity when he took the time to trust it to me? When he obviously cares about me? Why are you so insistent on fighting him on his own decisions? It's his choice whether he wants to tell me or not!" Black Canary finished, heaving out breaths and looking two seconds away from screaming.
Oliver was giving her a look like she'd hung the stars and the moon and the sun and the Watchtower. Roy realized with a start that this was the first woman who'd actually gotten between them before. They'd fought in front of Oliver's conquests before – they fought too much for anything else, - but none of the women every did anything about it. They would cower behind Oliver or find somewhere else to be or complain about being ignored if they were of the particularly annoying category. They'd even fought about Oliver's conquests before. The man was rich enough to have, like, ten homes or something like that, but he only had the one penthouse that he brought all the girls back to. It sucked for Roy to deal with the strange women coming in and out of his home, the place he was supposed to feel safe and welcome in. Instead, he got pitying glances and glares or was completely ignored, the little pet project that was as good as a piece of furniture. To all of the gold diggers and rich trash that Oliver brought in, Roy was Oliver's key to looking better for the press and nothing else, not a kid, not a person. Them thinking that about him was made worse by his own doubts, especially in the beginning. Because, for a long time, that was what he thought about himself, about his relationship with Oliver. Having it confirmed by the girls that Oliver just kept bringing back had led to short tempers and a lot of arguments. But none of the girls had ever done anything about. Never.
And now, here was this woman, this person who was so completely different from the other people Oliver had latched onto. Black Canary was a metahuman, one willing to ignore the prejudices of humans and metas in order to take down an enormous criminal group. She was a hard worker, always doing something and making sure that everything worked out. She'd lived a tough life. At least, for the time she was in the camps and the time working with the Circus. She loved gardening and had the whole "mothering" act down to a t. It wasn't just the situation or Oliver's feelings that were different this time. It was the woman herself.
Black Canary glared wildly between the two, "Well?"
Roy abruptly felt himself colour up, feeling like he was being scolded, "Ah, uh… sorry. I… sorry."
With only that, Black Canary settled down, a bird coming down from puffing up it's feathers. She sighed, touching her fingers to her forehead for a brief second, "Look. I don't know what sort of problem the two of you have with each other. I heard from someone that Red Arrow used to be Green Arrow's partner, but that's all I know. But please don't bring me into this." Both men dropped their heads, cheeks and ears heating. Black Canary sighed again, "Red Arrow. It obviously bothers you that Green Arrow gave me his identity. I don't know why, exactly, it bothers you so much, but it tells me that you care about him more than you're trying to show. And Green Arrow. The way you were so excited when you found out it was going to be you, me, and Red Arrow on this tells me that you care about how he feels about me. So, can we just agree that Green Arrow had completely free reign to give up his identity and to feel about me how he likes? You two can figure out how much you really care about each other later, okay? Without me standing in the middle. Or, when Supersonic wakes up, you can have him mediate. He's good at that." Black Canary stood there, looking tired and worn out. Roy was abruptly reminded that her leader was in a hospital bed, another teammate paralysed from the neck down. What kind of alliance had this been for her?
Green Arrow nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I can agree to that."
And, abruptly, Roy was reminded of just why he was angry, "Of course you could agree with that! Well, news flash! Giving away your identity doesn't just compromise you!"
Black Canary cut in sharply, "What do you mean? Why would it implement anyone… else…" She gave him a look of dawning comprehension. Roy felt the colour drain from his face. This was bad. This was really bad. Why had he said that? Why had he opened his stupid mouth? Black Canary practically whispered, "You're his son. Or, well, you know. You're related. So, when someone finds out who Green Arrow is and starts looking into him, they'd see the similarities between your civilian identity and you. Oh, I'm so sorry."
Green Arrow glanced up, "Why are you sorry?"
"Well, Red Arrow's right. This argument isn't just on him. You should have discussed this with him first. You still should discuss this with him. All of it," Black Canary said, giving Green Arrow a pointed look. At first, Roy thought that she meant that Oliver should talk to him about not only the identity thing, but also the love thing and that was a solid no, but then he took in the way Oliver's shoulders tensed and his mouth flattened a little bit. There was something else there, something between the two of them that Oliver didn't want him to know about. Typical.
"Okay," Oliver said, shoulders loosening again, a resigned expression falling over his face, "Okay, fine. Can we get back to hunting drug dealers now?"
Roy grimaced, "As much as I hate to say it, I agree. Can we get back to hunting drug dealers?"
"Just one more thing," Black Canary said, ignoring the commiserating glances the two gave each other, "Fair's fair and, well, through the time I've known the two of you… I think you deserve it." Carefully, after glancing around, Black Canary reached up to her mask and started tugging it off. Roy's eyes went wide, and Oliver made an aborted motion towards the woman. Black Canary pulled the mask all the way off and tossed her head, brilliant blue eyes almost distracting them from the insecurity and slight layer of fear beneath.
Slowly, Oliver moved closer to Black Canary, ghosting a hand along the side of her cheek carefully. He lowered his hand and stepped back a little, just enough to give her space, "See? You are beautiful."
She gave him a slow, careful smile, eyes shining at the reverent comment, "My name is Dinah Lance. I was, well, I was a florist before all of the stuff with the camps went down. I knew how to fight because my mother was a hero. She was Black Canary before I was, actually. One of her old crime fighting partners, Wildcat, taught me the most about fighting, but mom helped a lot. She wasn't a metahuman, but she was still a good hero."
Oliver was giving her his awed face, the one he only wore when he was having a Moment, a moment where he re-evaluated everything. Roy was kind of feeling the same thing. This was huge. He accidentally blurted out, "You're the first metahuman to tell one of us your identity."
Black Cana – Dinah blinked at them, "Oh, you didn't know? Maser and Green Lantern told each other their identities. Well, I'm pretty sure all of us know who Green Lantern is by now. And Icicle told me just before we left that Supersonic and Aqualad gave each other their identities. Oh, and Firehawk told her doctor who she was. So, I'm the fourth actually."
Roy squawked indignantly, "What? I thought I was special! When was all this happening? Why wouldn't Aqualad have told me? I am so offended right now!"
After a second's pause, both Oliver and Dinah burst out laughing, clutching their sides. Dinah had a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the giggles. Oliver had used the moment as an excuse to wrap an arm around Dinah's waist, using her solid mass to hold himself up. Looking at the two of them – hero and meta – standing there wrapped around each other, laughing, emotional walls slowly but surely dissipating over time, Roy couldn't help but think that it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.
Of course, that would be when the League of Assassins attacked them.
They'd come out of nowhere, swarming down from the ceiling and across the ground. The three of them were surrounded in seconds, Dinah throwing her mask on as quickly as she could. Roy wondered how long they'd been there, how much they'd heard. He had a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach at the thought of them overhearing Dinah's life story, her identity.
He didn't have even a second to concentrate on that, however, because, as one, the assassins attacked. Dinah's Canary Cry knocked out a good number of them before Oliver or Roy even got a chance to pull out an arrow, but from there it wasn't such easy pickings. Despite that, the three of them moved like a well-oiled machine, which shocked Roy. When the Circus and the Team first started training together, they were a mess, uncoordinated and in each other's way more than the enemy was. And, sure, Roy had trained with Dinah and he'd trained with Oliver, so it made sense that he could work with each of them, but Dinah and Oliver hadn't worked together more than the one day that the world was split from what Roy knew. Maybe Oliver was right when he said that they were soulmates. It certainly seemed like it the way they fought together seamlessly.
Oliver would be there, arrow notched, kick sent, punch thrown the second Dinah knocked a group to their feet. Dinah and Oliver swirled around each other, two intertwining winds, dangerous and free and connected. Dinah would hold a man while Oliver punched him out and Oliver would trip a man into Dinah's high kick.
Still, there were too many well-trained assassins for just the three of them to deal with. They needed to get out of there and regroup, try to call some people in for help.
They moved as one towards the door, carving a path there as quickly and efficiently as they could. It was slow going and treacherous and Roy knew that he was taking a punch or two more than he wanted, but finally, finally they got out.
Except (of course), immediately outside the door were Sportsmaster and Cheshire. The two looked at each other and broke off into different directions instantly. Roy cursed and shouted, "I'll get Cheshire! You two go after Sportsmaster!"
He didn't look to see if they listened, didn't look to see how they fared or if the assassins had chased them out of the building or not. He had to get to Cheshire, had to take her down. There was something about the assassin that rankled him, that pulled under his skin and made him defensive when she was even so much as mentioned. The kiss in that cell had only made it worse. He wasn't attracted to her. He wasn't.
But he lost her. He got distracted by his own problems and lost her until her voice called out, silky smooth and sensual behind him, "Broken Arrow."
He didn't remember her asking why they were looking through the drug world of Star City. He didn't remember her asking why they spent so long in this warehouse. He didn't remember her asking about the fight between him and Oliver. He didn't remember her asking about Dinah's identity. He didn't remember giving full, detailed answers to every question.
All he knew was that the last thing he remembered was making the break away from the warehouse. And yet… and yet here he was, standing confused and dazed almost a mile from the warehouse, Dinah and Oliver frantically calling out to him.
WWWWWW
Wally didn't get dinner that night. He had to be carried back into the barracks, the guards dropping him off just inside the door as the rest of the experiments filed in after him. The ones who were strong enough to carry him after their own tests lifted him up and carried him back to his bed block. They left him in Nick's bed because none of them wanted to carry him to the top bunk. Nick climbed up into his bed instead.
For about a half an hour, the group of them just dozed on their beds. Some did small stretches before resting, trying to get the cricks out of their joints after a day being strapped down. Some just curled up in balls and tried to keep themselves together. Others didn't even get to go back to their barracks, stuck for a test that requires supervision for more than a day.
Wally just laid in his bed, trying to ride out the waves of muscle contractions, trying to stifle his pitiful moans. Whatever they'd given him was still pulsing through his system although it was significantly less painful than it had been in the morning. Honestly, by this point, most of the pain came from the contractions instead of the liquid fire burning through his veins. His muscles had been contracting and twitching all day and were completely overused and sore. Wally was exhausted.
So, when the guards came back to bring the experiments to dinner with the workers, Wally stayed where he was, unable to even stand. It was a general rule that you couldn't go to dinner if you couldn't stand on your own. It really sucked sometimes because Wally could feel his stomach gnawing at him, reminding him that a day full of muscle contractions worked off a lot of energy.
Twenty minutes later brought everyone back into the barracks. Cameron made a beeline for their bed block, hopping onto the ladder to check the top bunk the second he got there. Wally, from Nick's bed, could see Cameron's shoulders physically slump at the sight of the empty bed. Licking his lips slightly and trying to convince his jaw that it wanted to move, Wally rasped, "H-here."
Cameron's head whipped up before he slid back down the ladder. He blew out a sigh of relief when he saw Wally on the bottom bunk, "What're you doing in Nick's bed?"
It was Nick who answered, thankfully, "He had a rough session today. Guards had to carry him back, but they dropped him just inside the door. The rest of us couldn't get him up to his bed, so he's taking mine for the night."
Wally swallowed again, the motion sending pain careening through his throat. He forced out, "…thanks."
Nick gave him a tired smile, gauze pads settled over his collarbone and wrists, "No problem, kid. It's going to be a whole switcheroo in here, though. Ben's taking your bed, so I don't have to climb up either. I didn't have the best run today either." Wally gazed back evenly, wanting to not to him, but not quite willing to risk the pain.
Nick understood anyways because he gave Wally a thumb's up before falling onto Ben's bed, Ben settling at the foot of the bed afterwards, bending their head together to talk.
Cameron took up a similar position on Nick's bed, leaning back up against the wall, "Yikes. Today was just rough on everyone. We had to do some insane stuff. You know how they're having us build those new barracks? Well, apparently they have to keep every building identical, so we had to put those massive bricks on the outside of the buildings, the same ones that are outside our buildings. But there were a lot of buildings and a lot of bricks. Those things are heavy too! Someone heard one of the guards say that there's some sort of weird metal mixed in with the clay that makes the bricks super hard to break. Harder for a breakout, you know? But I'm exhausted. Why they didn't just have the strong metas work on that bit. I could have… I don't know. Stocked the fridge or the freezer or something. Kept people cool in this unbelievable heat."
Ben called over from his place, "Yeah, well, some of us are strong metas and we still didn't want to work on that bit."
"Hey, pay attention to your own conversation!" Cameron laughed, shaking his head fondly. People butting into other conversations was a pretty regular occurrence. They were all so close to each other and the room carried noises well. Any noise you made was heard by everyone else.
There was exasperation in Ben's voice when he answered, "My conversation partner's asleep already."
"Yikes," Cameron muttered, his steady presence against Wally's leg shifting slightly as he, presumably, looked over at Nick to check, "You know what they had for him today?"
Ben sighed, "Nah, no clue. You know them. They'll avoid talking about it at all costs. Maybe when we've been here for a little longer. If you think about it, even a year and a half or whatever isn't all that long to get to know somebody."
Wally fell asleep to the sounds of the two quietly lamenting their situation above him.
When he woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of Ben's broken wailing. He'd gone over to where Nick was sleeping and found him cold, stiff, and very dead.
BBBBBB
Bruce sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face. The things he'd discovered about the camps… He was still in the fledgling stages of his research, but it was enough to make him furious, to make him sick that something like this had ever happened, that it was still happening.
A young voice called out from behind him, "You coming upstairs for dinner, Bruce?"
Bruce grimaced and tried to quickly minimize the files open on the wall of monitors, desperate to make sure that Dick wouldn't see any of the horrors that had been committed against the metahuman population. He was too slow.
Dick made a choked off sound before he rushed forwards, "What was that? What were you looking into, Bruce?"
"It doesn't matter. Let's go eat dinner," Bruce said softly, standing up from the computers and desperately hoping that Dick would for once listen to him. Then again, he wasn't entirely certain he'd be able to eat dinner after the research he'd done.
Either way, Dick didn't respond, just moving closer to the computer. He quickly pulled up the files that Bruce had managed to close, scanning over each one, flicking through the pictures and reading the material.
Alfred's voice floated over from the staircase, "New mission?" His voice was sardonic and oh so very tired at the same time.
Bruce sighed, "No. After meeting with Supersonic and the Circus, I've been doing some research into the camps, into what they do."
Letting out a small, horrified huff, Dick shook his head, "This is what the camps do? This is what happens to the metahumans when they get put in the camps? The camps are supposed to be helping." His voice was small and heartbroken by the time he finished.
Alfred moved silently closer, letting out a quiet, "Oh, my."
Bruce swallowed, "We all thought that the camps were doing the right thing, that they were equivalent to a rehabilitation centre or a long-term experimental medication centre. We didn't think it would be like this. It's no wonder that the metahumans don't rescue humans, that so many of them are afraid of us. And we had the gall to believe that the metahumans were the dangerous ones. They were fine. We were the ones who were dangerous to them. How many people turned themselves in to metahuman camps in the belief that they would be going there to be cured? How many people turned in family members or friends in order to do the right thing and get them the help they needed?"
Dick winced, "Could you imagine committing a family member to these places and finding out what is really happening there?"
Shaking his head, Bruce put a comforting hand on Dick's shoulder, "We should have researched this sooner. We should have been able to make this better for them before people like Supersonic and the Circus felt the need to escape, risking their lives. We should have been able to help metahumans before so many of them felt like their only chance at surviving, at living a normal life, was to join the Light. We should have realized this was going on."
Alfred opened his mouth, probably to argue with Bruce, to tell him that he shouldn't keep taking blame onto himself. He didn't get a chance, however. There was a brief blaring noise from Robin's comms, which were tucked carefully into his pocket for dinner. Dick grabbed the comms and stuck them in his ear, listening intently. All of the blood drained from his face.
He turned to Bruce and Alfred and whispered, "The Light have Changeling."
WWWWWW
The aftermath of Nick's death passed in a blurry haze. Wally missed breakfast as even through the trauma of Nick's death, he'd been unable to muster the willpower to push past the pain and get up. He'd been forced to watch from Nick's bed (he felt dirty and weird and uncomfortable and so, so sad being stuck in Nick's bed while Nick was dead in the bed next to his) as Ben cried, other men from the barracks rushing forwards and trying to see if there was anything they could do to revive him. They hadn't been able to do anything.
It hadn't been long before the guards had heard Ben's sobs, rushing into the room and shocking everyone when they didn't immediately stand to attention at the sight of the guards. They shocked Ben for longer in punishment for the loud noises he was making. Once the electricity stopped, he went silent, eyes glazed and expression so, so lost.
The guards moved to look at what had interested the metas so much, poking and prodding at Nick's body. One of them rolled his eyes and sighed, "All this noise because of a dead meta. Get it out of here. Don't dump this one like usual. The scientists sent out a new order saying that they're going to do tests on all the dead bodies."
The other guard sighed but nodded. He crouched down and swung Nick's body over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. He jogged out of the room, taking Nick from them. The first guard glared at them before exaggeratedly looking at the watch on his wrist, "You've got six minutes until I come back to bring you to breakfast. You'd better be in line by then." He turned around and stormed out of the room, all the metas stood there frozen while he was in the barracks.
The second the door closed behind him, they burst into action. People who usually used the bathroom whipped into their day clothes instead, knowing they wouldn't have time to use the bathroom that morning, hoping and praying that they wouldn't need it until later that night, knowing they'd have to make do if they did need it. Wally remained where he was, glued to the spot, muscles sorer than they'd ever been in his life, sore enough that every little movement was accompanied by staccato bursts of pain through each muscle.
Buddy leaned over into their bed block, giving Ben a quick shoulder squeeze before he saw that Wally was still lying there. He asked worriedly, "You okay there, kid?"
A lot of the others glanced over at Buddy's question. Wally tried not to be embarrassed by the attention, "Move – hurts." He gasped the words out, sparks of pain chasing his words.
"Still?" Asher asked incredulously. He leaned over the edge of his own bed block, despite the fact that there was no way he'd be able to see Wally from that angle. His tone morphed to concern when he asked, "Doesn't your healing usually deal with that?"
All Wally could do to answer was give out a small whimper.
Asher winced sympathetically. Buddy had started helping Ben at that point, prompting him to get changed into his day wear. Cameron came back and hovered worriedly. When the six minutes were done, though, they were all in line and Wally was stuck in his bed, still wearing his night clothes.
The guards moved through the bed block, watching him with sharp eyes and nasty grins. The guards liked it when the metas couldn't get up, were stuck in bed for some sort of injury or were mandated bed rest by either the scientists or the small on-call medical team. It meant they could go into the barracks and jeer at the meta, mock them and tease them and sometimes even shock them while the meta couldn't do a thing. The guards didn't have to worry about getting the scientists' way or slowing down the workers. They didn't have to worry about riots if they got too nasty. And Wally was going to be stuck here with them.
A scientist was called in while the metas were eating breakfast. Wally wasn't sure if he should be thankful that it wasn't Dr. Peril. The scientist bustled around him, checking his reactions on certain things and taking measurements. He frowned deeply for a second before sighing and hooking Wally up to a bag of nutrients, one of the ones specially designed for metas with higher metabolisms. It still wouldn't replace the two meals he'd skipped, but it was better than nothing.
Then he was gone, and Wally was alone.
That didn't last long. Wally could just hear the metas leaving to their assigned areas when the door to the barracks opened, three or four guards trooping in. Wally felt a little part of his soul shrivel up at the sound.
For a long, heart-stopping moment, the guards just watched him. It was only three of them, two guys and a woman. The woman had a hand on the collar controller and was stroking it idly. Wally closed his eyes and tried to pretend this wasn't happening. Tried to pretend that he was back in the future, back where he had a team, a family. He wasn't here. He got through this, got through the days of humiliation. Wally got through the experiments and the hunger and the deaths. As the guards started jeering, started mocking, started hitting him, started laughing when all he could do was whine pitifully in the back of his throat, Wally believed with all of his heart that his memories of the future were true. Because he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't escape.
Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter is a little off. I'm super tired for no good reason today (and have no other time to write this chapter), so it's rambly and weird. Sorry about that. Hopefully the flashbacks/mind trap thing/whatever makes up for that. Anyways, thanks for reading!
