Walking on a Battlefield

by YSHFNDISUM

Centuries in the future, the U.S. is run by the Council of the United States. Slowly the government has been manipulating and abusing their powers, and the citizens of the world have no idea. Except for the rebels. This story follows one of the leaders of the rebels, Wally West, as he and his friends fight through the war. No super powers. M for language and sexual themes.

2. The Asylum

AN: Hello again! Sorry this chapter is short, the next ones will be longer to make up for it. Also I'm going to be posting the story onto Archive of Our Own since I think it'll get more view there (hopefully). If not, there's a likelihood the story will be discontinued :( On a sidenote, responding to the reviews YES this will be ConnerxWally (SuperKid) which is slash. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

The cell was bitterly cold, and his given clothes were scratchy and filled with holes. Some faint stains were on the cuffs and on side of the shirt, a hole in the center. Likely a shiv wound. If people still used those in jails. Wally knew that they definitely didn't in the most secure lockdown in the country. There were only a handful of criminals in the asylum, and one of them was him. Wally lifted one of his hands and reached for his head. He still had all of his hair, which meant that they hadn't bothered to plant a brain-chip into him again. The Council probably figured his teammates would find him by tracking a chip. Or they were planning on killing Wally soon.

But that thought was, absurdly, too good to be true. He knew what was going to happen in the days to come. They'd give him enough food so that he could walk a couple feet each day, keep awake for a couple hours, and still be able to scream when they tortured him for information. Classic.

Taking in his surroundings, the redhead's hand felt the surface of the cell. It was a simple design, including bars on the door for him to talk through, although they probably didn't intend them to be used that way. But he would. Despite the simple structure, the materials were all highly indestructible, even for someone with immense strength. Wally had barely any with his scholarly stature, so there was no way of breaking out of the cell like that. He would have to manage something during a time when he was being transferred to an interrogation room or something similar. Until then, Wally would have to spend as much time as he could getting to know the hellhole he now resided in.

That lead him to the next point of interest, his guard. Despite the impossible odds of Wally escaping, they had a guard stationed to the side of his cell door. Peering from the bars, Wally couldn't see much. The guard was taller than high by at least a head, and had the typical look of a guard. Vacant stare, tense shoulders, and tight lips. Obviously muscular. After a couple of minutes of staring, the guard fidgeted uncomfortably and glance at Wally. The ginger caught the icy blue of his eyes and the nervousness they revealed. The guard was young, probably only a couple years older than himself. Probably hasn't been a guard for more than five years, and not all of the years were spent in the lockdown asylum.

To sum up his thoughts, the guard looked to be the nervous and gullible type. Easily manipulated. Oblivious the the cruelties of his society. The basic tool of the Council. He was also considerably handsome. If they were on the streets of a city right now, Wally would have started flirting. That was unfortunately not the reality, though. He decided to introduce himself anyways. "Hey, can you hear me? The name's Wallace. Call me Wally though. Do I get to know the name of my lovely keeper?"

There were several long minutes of silence. Wally didn't move from his spot by the bars of the door. The guard was frozen, the only sound from him was his shallow breathing. After the sixth minute of waiting, Wally asked again, softer this time, "could I please know your name?"

As to be expected the guard said nothing for the entirety of the day, except for when he told Wally to back up so that he could slide some food through the door. The guard was smart enough to have his hand completely out of reach, and once the redhead had grasped the tray the guard quickly released the tray. His voice was a low monotone, but not unpleasant. Wally simply sighed as he ate his meager meal of bread and orange slices. Neither were really edible, with an obvious genetically generated taste to them. He always hated the fabricated food people seemed to covet so much. To him, it tasted like swallowing a lie. Hard to get down and keep down, and never quite settling well. The day ended slowly, but Wally remembered to whisper goodnight sweetly to the guard before curling onto the beat up mattress on the floor and drifting to sleep.