Disclaimer: See chapter one.

Chapter Fifteen

"What are you doing here, Bart?" I barked out as I passed him.

"Got Vic's phone call," he answered simply.

"That was for Wally."

"I know. He wasn't around, though, but his frequent flyer card was. You know, he actually has so many miles I got to ride here first-class, for FREE! Once they told me that, I took 'em right up on it." He grinned widely and I rolled my eyes.

"And how exactly do you plan on helping Vic and I?" I stopped and asked.

Bart just stopped beside me and shrugged. "All I heard was you needed Wally's help. Wally wasn't there, so I decided to come and help. Not really sure where it goes from here. Maybe dinner?" The last part was a hint and he smiled at me.

Typical Bart. Never thinks anything through. He obviously doesn't know how dangerous this can be.

"What happened to school?" Or Mia? Couldn't she keep him busy for a while.

"Oh, I dropped out. When you have a photographic memory, do you really need school? If I had the time, I could probably read every book in the local library and remember everything each one said."

"Bad grades?"

"No, my grades were fine. I got all my papers done on time and everything. It was just too boring."

"When'd you drop out?"

"Today, after Vic called."

My God.

"What about Mia? Don't you think she'd be pissed about this?" I'm running out of cards. I doubt he'll take this one.

"Nah. Because Wally, Roy, and Donna have been such good friends over the years, I've known Mia since she first moved into Ollie's place. She's used to me doing things like this, and – now – she's gotten to be pretty okay with it."

"Good for her." Bad for me. I'm stuck with an almost-twenty-year-old guy that acts like he's ten sometimes.

Yeah, I know I grew up to fast, but Bart's growing up too slow. He still sees everything like it's a game and whenever he's tired of playing he can quit.

He's gotten in way too deep with this one, though.

We took a taxi to Vic's hotel and once we got to the room and knocked on the door, he opened it a crack before literally grabbing us and pulling us in. He didn't seem to notice that it wasn't Wally who was with me until after he finished locking the door.

Once his eyes landed on Bart, they widened before he groaned. "What the hell are you doing here, kid?" he asked Bart outright.

"Got your call and decided to come by and help," Bart shortened his story while glancing around. His eyes landed on the large desk in the opposite corner of the room and he immediately walked over to the blueprint that sat on it. "Hey, what's this?"

"The car that's gonna take Rancid down," Vic told him. "Don't mess around with that print. It's the only one I got." With that he turned to me and began to whisper, "That car just got brought in today. We gotta go pick it up and make sure this Rancid guy doesn't get his hands on it. It's literally the fastest car in the world."

"What's it doing here?"

"My boss wants to show it off and see who'd like to buy the print and copyright. Figures once he sells all of that, he'll be able to retire early."

"Well, doesn't that make my job easier."

"Hey, if it was me you know I wouldn't do something as stupid as this. I've seen firsthand how hard your job already is, especially in Gotham, but he's the one that writes the checks, you know."

"Yeah, I know, Vic. So, you only have one made so far?"

"Yeah and it's a beauty, buddy. Like I said, my boss wanted it to be tested out here. He didn't say who had to test it and what the situation had to be."

I chuckled. "Finally starting to learn from me, Vic."

"Maybe." He smirked and shrugged at me before glancing at Bart. "What are we gonna do with the kid, though. You really don't plan on having him come help us, do you?"

I glanced over my shoulder at Bart before turning back to Vic. "Why don't we drop him off at the track. Let him watch the races. That'll keep him busy while we go pick up that car of yours."

"Works for me. I could have a few buddies watch him while we're gone."

Bart seemed alright hanging out with Vic's mechanic friends while we were gone. I ended going in a complete circle all day. From the airport, to Vic's, then to the track, and back to the airport.

The car had been put on a truck and was heavily guarded. Vic and I followed the truck all the way to the track and watched as they unloaded it into a private garage near the track.

Once the door was locked, and Vic and Dick were the only ones in the room, Vic pulled off the tarp revealing a black sports car, outlined with white stripes.

"Colors will vary," Vic told Dick as the detective stepped around it. "Paint won't chip, though, and the whole frame is bulletproof. Reason it's in black and white is because, originally, it was supposed to be a police car. Then, my boss told me he wanted it designed like a sports car, but made to protect like a police car."

"That way he could make more money off of it," I surmised.

"Pretty much. Anyway, when Rancid hits that track, there'll be no way in hell he can outdo you in this baby. It's even got a radio for communication purposes. I can talk you through what to do the whole ride." Vic paused and checked his watch. "Next race will be an hour from now. Wanna grab some lunch then we can come back and I can give you a little more detail on this ride."

"Works for me. I'm starving," I replied, smiling.

He laughed as we left the garage, making sure to the door behind us.

We walked through the large crowd and over to a hotdog vendor and started talking about how things have been since Roy passed away. That was the last time we had seen each other.

Of course he asked how Kory was doing, and I asked about Karen and Allen, his son.

Allen was doing well in school and Vic puffed out his chest with pride when he mentioned that his son had joined the flag football team as a running back.

I find it kind of funny that the son of a man that stood over six feet, was actually the smallest in his class. Sucks how family genes end up being the luck of the draw.

You could have a dad and mom that are over five-ten, but if they had people in their family that were shorter than five-two, you could end up at that height yourself.

Seems unfair but what can you do. It's nature. You can't fight it; you can only embrace it.

Just as we started over to go see Bart and the pit crew, there was a loud roar on the track. Vic and I glanced to our left to see a black and red race car speeding our way, we both jumped onto the grass to see the car speeding around the track again.

"Time to get the car," I called out to Vic just as Rancid came past us again.

"Don't think that'll happen. The way he's speeding up he'll keep going around us until he blows his tires," Vic replied. "If we try to get to the other side, it's likely one of us won't make it, and then he'll try to run over the other."

Dammit. "Did he work on that car himself?"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't that fast before he stole it and gave it a new paint job."

Then the tires won't blow out for a very long time. Johnny Rancid loves improving cars. I know he's slapped on some pretty strong ass wheels that he created just for this. But if we can't get to the car, how can we stop him?

"Oh shit," I heard Vic mutter and glance over to see him staring at his pit crew who were looking at the racing car in confusion. "Where the hell is Bart?"

A loud roar of an engine answers his question as the black and white prototype bursts through the outer wall of the track.

Oh fuck.

"Where's that radio?" I ask Vic, shouting over the noise as I watch Bart switch lanes, trying to get a hang of the steering. Rancid was trying to come up and ram him from behind, but every time he got close, Bart would switch lanes again.

"Follow me," Vic told me, running to the pit where his crew stood. There was a wooden bench set in-between two large toolboxes. On the desk was the radio and he quickly sat in the chair behind it, tuned into the correct frequency and spoke into the microphone.

"Bart?" he questioned. There was a few minutes of silence before he continued, "To talk back to me you gotta click the blue button on the radio, track star."

"Oh, I got it!" Bart cried out happily. "What's up Vic?"

"How the hell did you get into that car?"

"Oh, I got the key from one of the guards. Told him I was a friend of yours."

"Great," I mutter. "Seems like we need more protection around here."

"Well how'd you know how to start the damn thing up?"

"Figured it out from your blueprint."

"You have the print."

"Yeah, it's right up here in my brain. Not that good of an instruction manual though. Think you could send one over to me for a quick read. Or I can just hit the brakes and-"

"No! I'll talk you through it, alright. Right now, you've gotta try and stop the car that's behind you."

There was a short pause before Bart replied, "Okay. If you say so."

Vic and I glanced at each other in brief confusion before we looked up to see Bart turn the car so the hood was facing the grass, while hitting the brakes. The car started to spin out of control and it looked like either Rancid would slam into it or it'd spin like a helicopter rotor until it crashed into the wall behind it.

"No! Don't do that!"

The screeching stopped and the car came to a complete stop facing Rancid's.

"How the hell did he do that?" I asked Vic, gaping openly.

"I have no idea," Vic replied before we saw the car drive straight toward Rancid's. "Oh shit he's gonna ram it! Bart! What the hell are you doing? Start thinking, man!"

"Well what do you want me to think about? Cars? People? Politics?"

"How 'bout how to stop Rancid without getting yourself killed?"

"But where's the fun in that?"

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"You gotta start trusting me! I know what I'm doing! I think." His last sentence was faint but caused both Vic and I to groan.

We couldn't do anything but sit there and watch as Bart drove straight at Rancid.

Seems to me like they both thought they were playing a game of chicken. Whoever backed away first would lose and be called a chicken; a coward.

From the way they were both going at each other, it didn't seem like either could be called that. They'd be called stupid.

Bart would be a stupid kid with a good heart. Johnny would be just plain stupid.

I forced myself to watch as the cars finally looked like they were about to come to a crash.

Time slowed and I could see Bart moving the prototype car inch by inch to the right of Rancid's. If he could get away from it in time, Rancid would crash through the outer wall and into the solid one behind it.

There was no entrance or exit ramp on that side of the wall. He'd crash and burn.

I felt my legs move more to the right so I could get a better look at Bart's car. I could already see half of it showing past Rancid's.

He could make it. He could make it!

Just like that, things were back to reality again, and Bart pulled away just in time to barely miss Rancid, his left-side mirror being taken off.

There was a screech and I started running toward Rancid's car just as it crashed through that thin first wall.

The door popped open and Rancid popped out before his car slammed into the brick wall. I was able to just make it to him when his car blew up.

Searing pain in my back. That's all I could feel.

Why the hell is it usually my back or my legs that get injured? A few more years of this and I probably won't be able to even walk anymore. Either my spine will be completely messed up or my bones will break to the point where I'll end up having to get a bum leg or something.

"Johnny Rancid," I mutter as I get up from the ground and place my knee on his back to keep him down. I pulled out my handcuffs and grabbed his arm before wrapping the cool metal around his wrists. "You're under arrest for breaking out of jail, car theft, assault, and let's not forget the biggie and, most recently, attempted murder…"

As I read him his Miranda rights, I glanced over to see Bart get out of the car, shouting happily, and then starting to do some crazy little dance.

The kid actually did good. He deserves this one.

A/N: Yes, it's been a very long time since I updated, but at least I got this one out before Thanksgiving! A nice little present for those that live here in the States. Happy Thanksgiving to my readers here in the States. I hope everyone enjoyed this.

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