"Enough is enough, Master Bruce. You cannot keep him here any longer."
The butler holds no grudges against West for his actions; basic human freedom is something to be sough and fought for. Regardless of Bruce's contrary preoccupations he is confident the meta meant no harm and truly did seek primarily to come to the aid of Batman and Robin. Dick echoes his actions where born from a worried impulse rather than a bid to be free. Bruce is not so easily convinced no matter what or how hard West argues in his defense.
His disbelief affronts West, but that changes his actions none
"You took advantage of the situation" He growls through a deep black grimace.
Took advantage of Alfred's trust and hospitality.
"That wasn't it!" West snarls back, outraged but lacking the focus to direct his emotion into convincing argument
"'Sides; where do you get off bein' angry with me! I'm the one been' stuck in a box for the last month -!"
2 weeks, but time seems to travel differently for West
He punches the wall of the enclosure in ire then sharply retracts his aching fist. His speech impediment has greatly improved, though the overly slow pace at which he takes to speak each word implies this is not without effort.
"- Okay, Yeah! Maybe I did take advantage a bit, but'cha can't just lock me up like a prisoner n' not expect me to want out! I've done nothin' wrong!"
He scrubs his fingers angrily though his gleaming red hair before jabbing an accusing finger forward at the Bat on Bruce's chest. "You're a real piece'a work, you know that Bats?!"
His anger is real enough, but his actions have disturbed the tenuous understanding –almost resembling trust – that has served them mutually until now.
"Lemme' out. Lemme' out. Lemme' Out. LEMME' OUT!" He rages, climbing up into Bruce's personal space with bared teeth.
He can't take it anymore.
Then he's rushing around the enclosure in but a blur of motion, slamming his weight into the walls in the desperate hope something will give.
"Talk about stir-crazy" Dick mutters to himself as Bruce emerges from West's cell. He observes the flurry of activity through the cell's one-way glass, belatedly realizing he too has grown to think of it as a cell to hold; no longer a haven to heal. He agrees with Alfred, and spares no time in telling Bruce so in no uncertain terms.
His opinion only serves to make the Batman's lips pull into an even grimmer scowl.
Alfred too is watching the high-speed display with stoic sympathy.
So easily could it have been any one of his household on the receiving end of those collisions; yet they remain safe and untroubled by the meta's abilities.
West is a good lad and keeping him here so clearly against his will is starting to creep with cruelty. He makes the decision.
"Your game of catch and release is at an end, Master Bruce" He tells the Batman firmly before leaving to make the tea.
Bruce recognized the tone of voice.
Used so many times thorough his troubled childhood and adolescence; it is the voice of the father Alfred truly is too him, reining him back from inappropriateness or foolhardiness.
To rail against it is to deny the sun from rising. Should he not take the appropriate action Alfred will turf West loose of his own accord – risk assessments and threat reports be damned.
"Feed him,"
Say Goodbye
"Then initiate failsafe protocol E"
Knockout gas
Robin nods.
Batman sweeps away without any doubts it will be done.
He has clothing to bug, shoes to chip and will need to modify the trackers to successfully interpret West's location at extreme speeds.
If planted in a city West would only run further. He will allow the meta freedom to roam for now. He works to prepare this all in record time.
In a few hours, West will receive the most rude awakening of his life.
He does.
West remembers the profound feeling of confusion, then betrayal as the room filled with gas; vents he'd never noticed before spewing it like venom into the tiny space of the cell. Then nothing.
He groans as he comes around, the harshness of the unprovoked attack pouncing onto his immediate thoughts before he can open his eyes.
The floor beneath his body is thready beneath his fingertips and fragrant with an unmistakable aroma.
Grass.
He jolts to sit upright – the revelation hitting like the impact of a sledgehammer to his spine. He's up on his feet before he can think, a nearly holy swell of wind rippling across his body. A euphoria he's thirsted for as if adrift for weeks in salt-water.
His nostrils greedily suck in the fragrances caught on the breeze: the grass at his feet punctuated with tiny daisies, the damp soil wet from recent rain, the vague smell of ash vault and fumes from some not-too distant road. With the feeling of the earth at his toe-tips he has a moment of such intimacy with the world around him that Pocahontas and her colors of the wind ain't got nothing on him.
…But at what cost?
He pivots on the spot, confirming the heavy feeling caused by the stone of suspicion in his gut.
He's alone.
Only the tree-line of the small wooded clearing peers back at him.
Bats?
"Okay Bats! Ha ha; you're a real comedian!" He shouts hopefully at the empty void. A few birds stir from their nests at the abrupt noise.
A pause.
"Bats?! Comon', I'm sorry" And he is; he really is. He steadfastly ignores the note of hysteria creeping into his voice.
Silence is apparently his newest friend. One that invites itself to a get-together it isn't welcome at and makes everything tense and awkward.
An undeniable feeling of nervousness has him lapping the clearing twice at super-speed before the reluctant reality of the situation slowly rolls in like a rainstorm over a barbeque.
Okay.
OKAY!
No need to panic.
This is what he wanted right?
Right!
Itch bees; he's a young adult male white guy in America. Even with nothing else he's got that going for him!
He's got – Okay, what has he got?
He does a quick inventory check, brushing his hands down his body to frisk himself. At least they redressed him in a real pair of shoes and that same red tracksuit before dumping him in the middle of nowhere. Trying to explain away running around barefoot in his pyjamas would have been embarrassing.
The same pair of red goggles that once stared at him from his bedside are now around his neck. The lenses have been mended and the frames polished to a gleaming scarlet. His pockets are lumpy like there's something in them and he pulls out a wallet that's dark brown. It's soft and smells suspiciously like actual leather – like, from a cow – not a conveyor belt.
Ain't that just great.
'Imprisonment by the Batman; book now for your complementary Italian leather wallet – subject to availability while stocks last ect'
Fan-tucking-fastic.
Inside are two credit cards, a typed note of their corresponding pin numbers, 500 bucks cash and a passport painting him as 18 year-old Wallace West from California.
Ooo, Just like Katy Perry.
When the hell they took the photograph he has no idea, but it's unmistakably him. Probably from camera footage.
Crap.
Of course they'd have cameras in the room. He hopes not in the bathroom though… Not after he jacked off in there all those times.
Eww. What a thought.
Pushing that aside, the wallet contains no driver's license so he supposes he's running from here on out. He can't bring himself to complain. Not about that anyway.
The other pocket has become the home of a glossy black cell phone. It's not one of the new ones, but one of the chunky old ones that are made to be dropped and abused without breaking. He's not sure if that's insulting or not.
No contacts, no texts, no voice mail or missed calls. Typical. He's not sure what he was expecting
"Hope u lik abandnmnt ishus lol luv Bats xxx"
In conclusion: he has no idea where he is. He has no idea who he is; but he knows for a fact Batman is a dick.
Could be worse.
Waiting around here will do him no good. This isn't a prank. Bats isn't playing with him. He feels bad for annoying the guy so much he'd rather kick him out than keep him (like his folks?)… But he's also kinda' pissed off by the whole thing.
If he ever sees the guy again there's gonna' be some serious retribution. Like, really irritating retribution. He'll be all over the guy like a tropical rash.
He bends down to make sure his sneakers are laced and tight before glancing around. Without any notion of location or direction one ways just as good as the next. His legs don't waste any time with indecision before he's shooting off, dodging through the sparse trees until the horizon's clear enough for his feet to really fly.
There's some vague notion of not stopping until he comes across a highway and then following it until he can find out where he is, but honestly he can't bring himself to be too bothered at the moment. His feet seem to have a better idea of what's going on than he does and he just lets them lead. Turns out he can't seem to muster the effort to worry about his situation once he's up to speed.
Seems so inconsequential when the world is but a swirl of color around him.
From the shadows of the trees Batman watches West take off through the lenses of his binoculars. He was expecting him to take a little more time to acclimatize to the situation, but West is nothing if not surprising. There is an animalistic surety in the confidence with which he breaks from the clearing; like releasing a captive bird of prey back into the sky that it rules.
He retreats a mile to where the Batwing is hidden. Back to the beginning of this strange escapade. By the time he'd reached the cockpit and reviewed the signals erratically reporting in from West's trackers the meta has already made it to the nearest interstate, traveling at speeds far beyond anything observed in the gymnasium.
Bruce can just imagine the ridiculous smile on his face.
AN:
Wasn't intended but I'm beginning to read hints of accidental BatFlash in this : / I know Wally isn't from California, but I couldn't exactly have Batman randomly guess Nebraska out of the blue. Nothing of Flash's past is ever really shown or mentioned in the JLU animated series so I'm using that freedom as an umbrella.
This fic will probably wind down to a close over the next couple of chapters.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed!