Die a Hero Chapter 12: Connections, a young justice fanfic

Dick Grayson

Gotham Academy

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

"Good morning everyone," Mrs. McKendrick greets cheerfully. About half the class responds, some of them cheerfully, but most of them mumble something in a tone suitable for the first morning back from a break. My head throbs and I take a drink of water from the bottle on my desk. Babs casts a worried glance at me, but I'm just dehydrated. Really, dehydrated.

"I hope you all had a nice long weekend. Did anyone do something fun?"

Being Gotham Academy, a lot of people went away to their houses in the Hamptons or Martha's Vineyard. One girl just got back from an impromptu trip to Prague that she missed a week of school for. When Mrs. McKendrick gets around to me, she grins.

"You look nice and tan. I'm guessing there was a beach involved?"

I manage something halfway between a grin and a grimace and say, "Well, there was definitely a lot of sand," before taking another long drink of water. Mrs. McKendrick smiles.

"I'm glad you brought that up, Richard. How many of you were also at a beach this weekend?"

Most of the class raises their hands.

"Great. For the rest of you, I'm going to assume you've been to a beach before, so you all know what sand is like. Now, before we start our class today, I want you all to imagine that you're farmers in the 1930's, living down in Oklahoma. To grow crops, you need a couple of things. Anyone want to guess what those are?"

"Water."

"Sunlight."

"Seeds."

"Money."

"Tractors."

"Water."

"Mark already said that."

"No he didn't!"

"Yeah he did!"

"Alright class, let's get back on track. You're all right. These are all things you need. But… you're missing the most important thing that you need to grow things."

Babs raises her hand.

"Yes, Barbara?"

"Soil?"

"Right! You can't grow anything if there's nothing to grow in, and the nutrients in the soil are just as important as water or sunlight. Now let's go back to our Oklahoma farmers. Have any of you ever been to the Midwest? The soil out there is fluffy and rich and packed with nutrients, unlike the rocky dirt here in New England. Farmers in the Midwest had historically been incredibly successful, and the surplus they produced during World War I led to economic prosperity and the widespread adoption of new agricultural technologies."

Oh. I know where's she's going with this.

"After the war ended, farmers were left with huge amounts of surplus, but there were no armies to sell the crops to. The supply of food went way up for the general population, sending prices devastatingly low. Farmers lost enormous amounts of money and became crippled with debt. And then things got worse. All the years of over-farming drained the soil of nutrients and water, leaving already poor farmers with dust to try and grow crops in. Between a severe drought and wind erosion, the farmers ended up with what we now call the Dust Bowl."

She explains how there was a mass displacement of farmers out of Oklahoma and the Midwest and how huge farms ended up buying out most of the small family-owned farms, and what the government tried to do to help. I tune out by the time she starts describing what it was like to get caught in a dust storm because I've had more than enough dust, dirt and sand for a lifetime, thank you very much.

My phone buzzes as she starts handing out copies of 'The Grapes of Wrath' and I look down to see a text from Slade.

'I have a coding project for you. Hardison will be available from 10-2 to help.'

I grin. Hardison's coding projects are just training exercises, but they're a lot of fun. Plus, he doesn't really get how good I am at hacking, so it's even more fun to impress him. Forget Steinbeck, finally there's something interesting to do.

Babs kicks my ankle under the desk and raises an eyebrow. I shake my head at her, telling her not to worry about it. She rolls her eyes at me and throws my new copy of 'Grapes of Wrath' at me.

'Damn. I thought you were kidding when you said thirty minutes,' Hardison types.

'28:57.' I type back, fighting back a smile.

'Kid, when I was your age, if I could get onto the Olsen Twins' MySpace I felt like hot shit. That's a replica of the system the navy uses to secure top secret transmissions. And you found a loophole in thirty minutes.'

'MySpace? How old are you, Hardison?'

'That's right, you weren't even alive back then. I bet you're in school right now.'

'Yeah. Study hall.'

'Middle school?' Hardison jokes.

'Why does everyone think that?'

"Hey Dick!" I hear someone call down the hallway.

'Gotta go.'

'I'll send your boss an update. Good work, Gray.'

I turn to see a mop of blonde hair and a wide smile as Bette Kane sits down next to me.

"Hi Bette."

Bette Kane is a year older than I am, and she does gymnastics with Babs. We're friends, but she's much closer to Babs than she is to me. I think her aunt had some stint as a vigilante. Bruce won't tell me the details about "Batwoman," but that hasn't stopped me from wondering if Bette will turn up in costume one day.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks, gesturing to the empty hallway, "People normally go to the library during study hall."

I nod at the wifi router on the ceiling above us.

"I'm doing a coding project. The wifi's better here."

"Ooh! Are you hacking the school's system to give yourself A's? Or turning the air conditioning on remotely so the whole school isn't an oven?" she raises her eyebrows and grins like she's in on a big secret.

"Nope. Just finding backdoors into the CIA's mainframe."

"Of course! That's what I meant to say," Bette corrects, assuming that I'm playing along with her instead of realizing that I'm completely serious, "You should join the coding club. I think they made it to nationals or something last year."

I snort. Another club is literally the last thing I need right now. Besides, I think I'm a little beyond making programs that print "Hello World."

"I think I'm busy enough."

Bette frowns at me, "Are you okay, Dick?"

"Um… yeah? Why?"

"You look exhausted."

"Wow, thanks."

"How late do you stay up?" she presses.

If I don't have patrol or a mission or training and I've managed to get all my homework done? 1. If I do, 3, maybe 4.

"Not that late. I've been trying to get some more sleep, though," I lie blandly.

"Good. Look, Dick, you're only a freshman and you work way too hard."

"What, are you worried about me?" I tease, "I'm just a freshman right? Aren't you supposed to ignore me?"

"Oh, shut up."

"That's bullying."

She laughs, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "I did actually have a question. Have you seen Babs anywhere?"

"Yup. She's in the cafeteria with Josh. They have biology in ten minutes."

"I knew you'd know! I've literally been running around the entire school. Our coach's birthday is coming up and we're throwing her a surprise party. If you see her, tell her she needs to sign the card."

"No problem."

"Thank you!" she stands up and dusts off her skirt, "See you later."

"See you."

Bette pauses, turning back to look at me, "Seriously, though. It's okay to take it easy once in a while. A little self-care goes a LOOOOOONG way."

I nod, lifting a hand to wave goodbye as she wanders off towards the cafeteria.

Take it easy.

I'd love to. Somehow, I don't think there's a lot of space for me to cut back.

Wayne Manor Library

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012

The heavy oak doors swing open and quiet footsteps make their way across the hardwood floor. The steps are almost silent, but from the way the old floorboards creak and shift, the walker is heavy. The sound is also accompanied by the smell of fresh baked cookies and warm chocolate.

"Hey Bruce," I call.

"Alfred baked cookies and told me I had to bring you some," Bruce holds out a plate, "He also said something about getting off the computer and interacting with a human being. Don't worry, that part was meant for me. I think."

I laugh and snag a cookie off the plate. The cookies are still warm, and they have a perfect doughy-chewiness ratio.

"Phank you!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the corner of Bruce's lip twitches up. He grabs a cookie and sits on the couch next to me, "How's the… essay going?"

"Journal entry. And not great," I tell him with a frown.

"What's it about?"

"We're supposed to pretend to be Oklahoma farmers during the Dust Bowl."

"That seems at least mildly insensitive," Bruce shakes his head amusedly. I snort.

"Do you have anything written so far?"

"Uh… well, I was trying and I couldn't think of what to write, so I was trying to just get something down on paper and…" I scroll up to the top of the document and start reading, "Life has taken a turn for the worst. We expected the storms to last a week at most, but the dust just kept coming. Nobody has seen anything like it. Our farms have been devastated, and there is little hope for any crops to make it to the harvest. People have left the town in droves. The Kents left just yesterday, and if they can't stick it out, what chance do the rest of us have?"

Bruce snorts.

"Clark will be proud to have a cameo."

"I was more thinking Grandma and Grandpa Kent," I grin, then continue, "We're setting out at dawn. California is far, but already it's one of the only places that will take us."

"It sounds good so far," Bruce says.

"Yeah, well then, I got to the part about getting caught in a dust storm and wandering aimlessly, and well…" I clear my throat and read him the next part, "and then we were stuck dragging our friend ten miles through the sand because he has gills and he can't survive in the desert while the only person who can fly your spaceship home runs off to rescue your other friend who's being tortured by evil scientists. And that's why deserts are bad."

Bruce is quiet for a second, looking equal parts guilty and like he's trying very hard to fight back a laugh.

"Well, you're not exactly wrong," he says finally before glancing down at his watch, "You have to leave for training soon."

"Good call."

"Do you have the service group after?"

"Yup."

"Are you sure you don't want to skip tonight? It sounds like you still have a lot to do."

"No, it's fine. I can rephrase a couple things and use what I have, minus the whole, 'aliens, fish people and evil scientists' thing. Plus I have all the analysis done for the assigned chapters and I can throw that in the end," I look down at the time on my laptop. I really have to go. My phone buzzes and I frown, "Jake can't go tonight. He's coming down with something. Could I take a cycle when I get back from the Cave?"

Bruce blinks.

"Alfred or I could take you."

"I know, but it would be faster for me to just take myself! And it's only a fifteen-minute drive from here! Please?"

"Alright," Bruce looks confused, like he suspects some ulterior motive but isn't sure if it's something bad or if I just want to drive a custom motorcycle that I'm not technically legally allowed to drive but am completely licensed and trained on anyways, "But if you get pulled over, you don't touch it again until you're sixteen."

"Aye aye. See ya!" I run out of the library, making a bee-line for the kitchen. Alfred is slicing carrots and celery sticks for Cassie, who's sitting underneath the kitchen table with a coloring book, "Alfred, can I take some cookies for the Team?"

"By all means, Master Dick."

Alfred piles the cookies onto a plate and hands me a foil-wrapped package.

"You're the best!"

"Nonsense. Now get going, I won't have you be late on my account."

"I'm going. Bye Cassie!"

Cassie opens and closes her hand at me without looking up. It's hard to be less important than a piece of paper and crayons, but I think I manage okay. I head down to the Batcave through Bruce's study and do a quick-change to get my costume on. Then I make my way to the zeta-transport.

"Recognized: Robin, B-01."

In a flash of light, the Batcave disappears and Mount Justice's control room appears. In another flash, Kid Flash zooms to my side and slings his arm around my shoulders, trying to tug the cookies out of my hand.

"Is that what I think it is?"

I laugh, holding the cookies away from him and fending him off with my other hand.

"They should call you Kid Nose. And back off! They're for everyone!"

"Rob, come on! I'm part of everyone! Aaaaand I'm your best friend, so I get first dibs."

"At least let me get to the kitchen."

Kid Flash grins.

"Now you're speaking my language."

Before I can stop him, he picks me up and the world blurs for a second. Then we're standing in the kitchen.

"Speedster Express, at your service."

"You couldn't wait two minutes?"

"For Agent A's cookies? Nope!" Kid Flash grins. He drops me and pops a cookie into his mouth in the same motion, before putting the plate down on the table. I sit on the counter and grab one, savoring the chocolatey-gooey perfection.

"I love Miss Martian," Kid Flash mumbles through a mouthful of cookies, "But man, she does not know how to cook."

"Compared to Agent A, nobody can cook."

"My mom can. She makes the best pot roast ever," he responds, pouring himself a glass of milk while simultaneously stuffing another cookie into his already full mouth, "So? Anything interesting happen today?"

"Well, my English teacher asked if I'd been to the beach lately. Apparently, I got a nice tan in Bialya."

"Too soon," Kid Flash winces. I snort in agreement.

"At least I didn't get a mask tan."

"What do you do when that happens?"

"Stage makeup," I shrug.

Kid Flash holds up another cookie as a toast and scarfs it down.

"Also, unrelated, I learned that if you kill someone in international waters on an unregistered boat and then throw the body overboard, they can't trace it back to any one legal system so you can't be prosecuted for their murder."

"…how did you learn that?" he asks.

"Are you sure you want to know?" I grin, "Plausible deniability and all?"

"Fine, then. Don't tell me. See if I come to your defense when the judge is about to send you off to Lian Yu."

"Please," I scoff, "Lian Yu is basically a vacation destination. Green Arrow's sent so many people there that there's probably an entire tourist industry."

"Recognized: Artemis, B-07."

"Speaking of…"

"Anybody home?!" Artemis' voice echoes.

"Kitchen!" Kid Flash and I shout together. Artemis walks into the kitchen a few minutes later, throwing her bow and quiver onto one of the stools across from the counter. She reaches for a cookie and asks, "Did M'gann make these?"

"I brought them," I answer. Artemis freezes, frowning suspiciously.

"What did you do to them?"

"Try it."

"Hard pass."

"Arty, just eat the cookie."

"Don't call me that."

"Try it!"

"Fine," Artemis takes a bite. Her eyes go wide, "Oh my god."

"Right?" Kid Flash grins like a maniac on a sugar rush.

"Holy shit! You made these?"

"Nope. Compliments of Agent A."

"Batman's butler," Kid Flash whispers loudly.

"Batman has a butler?!"

"Recognized: Aqualad, B-03, Superboy, B-05, Miss Martian, B-06."

"Duh. He's a cave butler. They come standard," I tell her in the most matter-of-fact tone I can.

"Shut up."

"The Arrow Cave doesn't have a butler? Huh."

Aqualad walks in, Miss Martian and Superboy behind him. He takes one look at the counter and his face lights up. He grabs a cookie and takes a bite, eyes closing in delight.

"Please send Agent A my regards."

"You knew about Batman's butler?!" Artemis demands.

"Batman has a butler?" Superboy blinks.

"Of course. Butlers are standard features in most caves and large caverns," Aqualad tells her solemnly.

"Guaranteed he already knew about your regards and sends them back," I answer Aqualad. He grins.

"That sounds about correct," he turns to Superboy and Miss Martian, holding the plate out, "You should try these."

Apparently, Aqualad has more credibility than Kid Flash or I do, because they both take cookies without hesitation. Superboy bites into one and his eyes go wide. Miss Martian's feet lift off the floor.

"Wow! This is incredible!"

"Right?" I grin. Superboy still just looks stunned.

"How can a cookie taste like that?" he asks.

I shrug.

"There's some secrets not even I know."

"Ready for training?" Black Canary asks, tossing her jacket on a stool and cracking her knuckles. We all groan. Or at least, Kid Flash and I do, and Miss Martian looks hesitant. Superboy always looks like he'd rather punch a bridge down than train, even if he's enjoying it, so he doesn't count.

"What's going on with you guys?" Black Canary asks. I debate whether or not its worth grabbing another cookie. If I do, I might feel sick after an hour of intense conditioning, but if I don't, they'll be gone by the time I get back. Black Canary spots the plate of cookies and sniffs once.

"Agent A sent these?" she asks. I nod.

"Well, I guess we could go over recent mission evaluations…" she says, reaching for a cookie herself.

"This would be a good opportunity to bring everyone up to speed," Aqualad answers.

"You're finally going to bring us up to Speed-y on your mission with Roy?" Kid Flash jokes.

"He prefers to be called Red Arrow. And yes, I believe the information will be helpful."

"Great. Alright, guys, gather around," Black Canary waves us over to the couches. I sit in my usual spot next to Kid Flash with Miss Martian on my other side. Artemis takes the spot next to Miss M and Superboy sits on the arm of her chair. Aqualad sits in the chair across from her, next to Black Canary at the head of the circle.

"I'm sure you're all aware by now that the League has been involving you in more individual missions instead of full squad missions. Smaller projects that require specific numbers or skills. I know the rest of you have also been busy with your mentors, but when it comes down to it, the six of you are a team. The more you know about each other's activities, strengths and areas for improvement, the more cohesive of a unit you'll be."

"Nice pep talk," Artemis snorts, but she's grinning underneath it.

"Or, we can put the cookies away and go back to training. I've got some hard stuff planned for you guys this week."

"No, it's okay, I'll take the pep talk."

Canary grins, winking at her, "I thought you might. So… last two weeks. Who wants to start?"

"I can," Miss Martian offers, "Superboy and I went undercover as the Terror Twins to try and figure out why so many villains were pushing to end up in Belle Rev instead of juvenile centers, asylums, or lower security prisons. We were there during the attempted jailbreak, which we… well mainly Superboy managed to stop. Icicle Sr. was in charge of mobilizing the inmates but we don't think he was the mastermind behind everything."

"I spent a lot of time with Icicle Jr. He didn't know most of the specifics, but he knew his dad wasn't the one calling all the shots," Superboy says.

"I couldn't get as close to anyone as Superboy did, but I picked up on a lot of conversations," Miss Martian continues, "Tuppence and Tommy are near the bottom of the social ladder and Killer Frost cared more about that than Icicle Jr. did. I think that's why this breakout was so bizarre. The Terror Twins had a three-year sentence at a juvenile rehabilitation center for property destruction and disturbing the peace. They're not hardened criminals. But they were in on an 'ice villain' plan."

"It seems far-fetched to claim it as a mere coincidence," Aqualad offers. Kid Flash snorts.

"Well it's no secret that all the Central City rogues work together. Captain Cold is the boss, and even if he's not behind everything that happens, they all report back to him."

"Do you think there might be some kind of copycat thing going on?" I ask Black Canary.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Justice League has been around for a couple years now. It wouldn't be the dumbest idea in the world if the villains decided to make their own League."

"You mean like the League of Shadows?" Artemis deadpans.

"Bigger," Aqualad cuts in before I can say anything, "Although, according to Red Arrow's intel, they may well be a part of it."

"We have suspected that the Shadows might be expanding their reach," Black Canary says.

"Like Sportsmaster being on Santa Prisca during Kobra's takeover," Miss Martian offers.

"Or the Shadows attempting to assassinate Luthor during the Rhelasian peace talks," Aqualad adds, "Although, considering how lucrative his new weapons contracts are, I am unconvinced that he was truly in danger."

"That's got to count as some kind of insider trading, right?" Kid Flash points out, "Staging an assassination attempt to convince multiple governments they need to buy your merch?"

Black Canary sits up straighter suddenly.

"That is… a very good point, Wally."

Kid Flash winks, "Been known to happen. Ow!"

I feign innocence as he rubs at his arm where I just elbowed him.

"So basically we're sitting on a giant conspiracy," Artemis says.

"Right. The breakout was planned on every level, outside and inside. They had prison staff who helped them move supplies in, get into the offices and have everything in place. Even though there wasn't a mass escape, there's something wrong with Belle Rev. We shouldn't trust the way it's being run or that villains who get locked up are going to stay there," Superboy answers.

"We just don't know who's behind it," Miss Martian starts, "Superboy and I were talking about the missions we've been on and we can draw patterns for all of them. Cadmus was working on Project Blockbuster, which Robin and Kid Flash's analysis showed was a derivative of Bane's Venom. The Cult of the Kobra took over Bane's island, and the League of Shadows was after the Venom too. That's four separate groups who want the same thing. Even without counting the Ice villains and their 'friends' or the inside job at Belle Rev, I don't see how it could be a coincidence."

"But you're correct. We don't have any solid evidence about who could be behind something like that," Black Canary nods, "That being said, I think this is something the League will definitely want to discuss."

I look at Aqualad. He nods at me, before turning to Black Canary.

"I do not know if I speak for the others, but I would greatly appreciate a hard training session at this time."

The Haunt

"Again."

Chest heaving as I try to pull air into my lungs, I climb back onto my feet. I take three gasping breaths before curling my hands into fists and lowering myself into a fighting stance. I nod slightly and suddenly Slade is a blur of motion. I duck, sidestep and dodge Slade's fists, keeping my weight centered, my knees bent and my body low. Slade's fist glances off my shoulder, sending a shock-wave of pain down my side. I hiss but don't lose my focus. If the hit had landed, it would have dislocated the joint.

"Use your speed," Slade coaches, his attacks never faltering, "You're small and quick. Your opponent shouldn't land a hit."

He keeps moving forwards, pushing me back towards the wall the same way he's done six times already. I'm not going to make the same mistake again. Slade's leg raises in a sideways kick, but before his foot connects with my stomach I drop to the ground and dive through the space he left, putting his body between me and the wall. Slade turns, lowering his hands. He stares at me with his piercing, unblinking eye. His mouth twitches up into a partial grin and there's a gleam of pride in his eye.

Then, before I can feel too good about myself, he repeats the dreaded word.

"Again."

His voice is tinged with unspoken challenge. He knows I'm exhausted. He knows this is the twenty-third round. He wants to see what I'll do, how I'll react.

I don't know whether he says it to goad me or to relieve me, but he adds, "This is the last one."

I glance longingly at the water bottle on the ground at the edge of the mat. My arms protest the motion from sheer exhaustion, but I raise them anyways. With a grin, I say, "Bring it."

My motorcycle weaves smoothly through the streets and twists through alleys before I pull out onto the main road near Josh's apartment. If Bruce wonders why community service runs so late, he'll check CCTV feeds and think I went hang with Josh after. Wayne Manor is eight miles outside the South Village, so it takes me a little more than twenty minutes to get home. I pull the cycle around the back and sneak it through a small hole in the fence that goes around the back of the estate. I get to one of the back entrances to the garage and pull out my phone, accessing the security network. I type in my code to temporarily freezes the perimeter security and door alarms and unlock the door to the garage, and the automatic door raises with a quiet hum. I pull my bike into the garage and the security system resets behind me.

I park my motorcycle between a black Mercedes and a dark gray Aston-Martin. It's one of Bruce's favorites. It was designed for the newest James Bond movie, and there are only ten in existence. It's Cassie's favorite too. She loves playing driver in it. I move towards the hall, tucking my helmet in its cubby as I pass it. I hold my breath before I open the door into the Manor.

No sign of Alfred.

He hates when I stay out hours later than I said I would, especially on a school night. The coast is clear though. Yawning, I make my way towards the Great Hall, passing the ballroom. The double doors are wide open and I see lumps in the middle of the floor. Stephanie must have left her beanbag chairs in there again. I poke my head in and the lumps are a lot bigger than a beanbag chair. I move closer, trying to keep my sneakers from squeaking against the polished floor. When I get close enough to see, I press a hand over my mouth so my laugh doesn't wake them.

Steph, Tim and Cassie pulled together their beanbags, pillows, blankets and stuffed animals, forming a pile of cushions and sleeping kids. Cassie's thumb is in her mouth and Steph's arm is wrapped tightly around Timmy's shoulders. Checking to make sure that the flash and sound are off, I snap a quick picture. Alfred will kill me if I wake them up, but it's worth the risk. I yawn again and I almost decide to drop right next to them, but I still need to shower and change out of my workout clothes.

I rush out of the ballroom and up to my room, fingers crossed that I don't see Alfred. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he caught me, but he'll be annoyed at me tomorrow if he finds out I was out until one. I glance at the clock on the wall above my desk. It's one-twenty. It's Thursday morning. School starts in six and a half hours, and Bruce and I are definitely going on patrol tomorrow… no wait, tonight.

I groan.

This is going to be another long day. I pull my hoodie and cargo pants out of the towel and throw them into my laundry hamper, sticking an extra t-shirt on top for cover. I shower in record time, and throw back the covers of my bed. I collapse onto the soft mattress and I think I'm asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

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