For the next fortnight Dick watches as West's locator signal ping-pongs from one city to the next. He never remains more than a single night in each. Bruce has put him in charge of watching West's transactions for any suspicious activity. So far it's nothing but a hit-list of cheap motels and a smattering of each city's greasiest fast-food joints.
His identity as a meta is his own to protect, and so far he seems to be doing so as default. He never eats an overly suspicious amount at any one eatery before moving on to the next and has taken to sprinting down highways at a speed too fast to be caught by the human eye or traffic camera alike.
He zig-zags without much purpose across the country. New York, Chicago, Vegas, Memphis and New Orleans. Then he dodges north west up into Kansas.
He seems to have no logically discernible destination in mind, straying randomly in whatever direction he happens to be pointing in as he departs one city for the next. So far he's doubled back twice - Dick suspects by accident rather than intention – and managed to get himself lost for a little while in the Nevada Desert a few days back.
Robin of all people understands the joy of a life on the move, but this high speed wanderlust seems a little excessive. Bruce doesn't seem so bothered... not by West's lack of destination at any rate...
Since West's trek began a record number of car-accidents haven been occurring on the roads he traverses. No fault of West's own, granted; but the distracting presence of a strange whistling streak of colour as been cited in many of the insurance claims made by drivers whose ill-placed rubber-necking has created road-wide chaos.
Bruce is notably irritated by this. So far there haven't been any casualties. Robin hopes it stays that way.
He isn't sure what action the Batman will be forced to take if not.
Robin is not the only one watching...
-/-
"Can you proof read this? I can't decide if its a little too hammy."
The print-out of Lois Lane's latest story is elegantly yet insistently shuffled under Clark's nose and across the breadth of the keyboard he types at. With a sigh and the acknowledgement he could use a break the paper commands his full attention; as does it's authoress She regards Clark with expectation.
Clark pushes his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose as he directs his focus to the draft article in front of him. "The Blur?" he questions curiously, reading only the headline and first few lines before sneaking his gaze upwards to Lois.
"I know; hammy right?" She frowns in frustration.
Her nose is wrinkled like a rabbit in a manner Clark finds vaguely adorable, the same way it always does when reduced to running sub-par stories.
The internal corporate machinations of the new secretary their boss is fooling around with has bumped the news hound down to bit-pieces after the two women took an instant (and blatant) dislike to each other.
Puff-piece or not, her findings catch the attention of Superman. Especially with the blur's last known sighting hitting so close to home. With a 117% rise in traffic accidents following sightings of this blur its only a matter of time before someone gets hurt.
It'll be tough to catch if the estimates Lois has but together of it's average velocity are accurate, but he's perhaps the only one equipped to do so.
This does indeed look like a job for Superman...
The end of work rolls around soon enough. It's short notice but Ma and Pa are delighted as ever at the prospect of a visit since he'll be in the area. The thought of catching up with them later tonight brings a smile to Clark's face.
Still, business before pleasure and Superman flies out of Metropolis with the sunset on his back to track down Lois's blur.
To say it's hard to find would be a lie. Local traffic reporters with little else to do out in the wilds cover it's appearance wherever it pops up and within only an hour of dedicated searching he's triangulated where it's likely to be; heading into Missouri towards Jefferson. Even illuminated by the full moon he'd guess this blur needs to be able to see to know where to go, it's probably getting desperate for the break.
He sets down a little way's down the quietest stretch of road he can find - the less chance of the general public becoming involved the better – and waits.
The first thing Clark becomes aware of is a high-pitched whirling noise, like wind whistling through a narrow canyon. Suddenly the empty horizon isn't so empty, a tiny dark dot rocketing towards him like a missile, his super-vision the only thing able to distinguish the pump of the speeding form's track-suit clad arms and legs.
He's not had enough time to truly debate a method of catching it beyond simply trying to grab it as it races passed before the conundrum is solved for him. The person – man? - slams his heels into the earth in a sloppy make-shift braking system.
He grinds to a halt mere feet away from Clark; wide-eyed and disbelieving, shuddering with heavy breathes as he stares up at Superman in absolute and unbridled awe. Slim, pale and crazy red hair to boot.
"D-Dude!" he stutters, arms suddenly waving wildly as if in an attempt to fly away. "-You're Superman!" He explains flabbergasted to Clark's cocked eyebrow; as if the Man of Steel himself was unaware.
It coaxes a gentle but hearty chuckle from the Kryptonian. He was expecting a fight, not a fan. It's so rare to meet someone not intent on causing him bodily harm on one of these investigative outings.
"Yes, I am" he confirms with a small nod and a smile. "Do you know me?"
Clark instantaneously berates himself for saying something so silly. Ma and Pa Kent didn't raise any fools and who hasn't heard of Superman?
The young man nods rapidly at a speed Superman can only just perceive. That's some meta-mutation he's got.
"From TV! And the news and stuff!" Behind his pair of thick red goggles the younger man's eyes have grown to the size of dinner plates and dart about trying to take it all in as though not sure which part of the Kryptonian to look at first.
He squints at the blue of his costume as if it's too bright, his gaze turning abruptly contemplative. He fixates on Superman's red cape as though it's an oddity. Strange, Clark thinks to himself, people usually love the cape. After a momentary frown he quickly recovers his wide smile. Superman regards his barefaced glee carefully but in good humour.
The meta returns his gaze to Superman's own grinning like he's won the lottery.
"So what's up Big Blue?"
He seems to mean well enough and Clark feels a modicum of regret answering "You."
"Me?" the meta parrots dumbfounded, glancing down at himself briefly as if expecting to find something bodily wrong with himself.
"You've been running around a lot?" Clark prompts gently.
"S'what I do!" He puffs his chest out proudly with a salacious smirk. Bit of an ego on this one, no doubt.
Clark sighs.
"You've been causing road accidents."
The smirk drops. "W-what? Road accidents? What road accidents?!" the meta seems upset at the idea, which will either work to his advantage or, well... not.
"You've been distracting drivers on the freeway"
"I've never seen any road accidents!" he defends petulantly, still latched onto the initial accusation. He sounds affronted and a little angry. Clark holds his hands open in a peaceable gesture.
"Not on purpose-" He soothes calmly "-you run past so fast you probably don't look to see what's happening behind you."
The meta opened his mouth and raised a finger to argue then apparently thinks twice, the finger bending back down before retracting fully.
"- So... you here ta' beat me up then?"
Clark sputters.
"Beat you up? Why?"
"Cos' you know; been' troublemaking" the meta murmurs with a grimace. Clark could barely imagine such a thing; the kid's so scrawny it looks like a good shove alone would break him
"It was an accident, right?" He prompts softly, the meta staring up at him with a new look of uncertainty that doesn't sit well on his face. He nods more slowly this time, before an invisible bellows seems to pump him full of bravado.
"What can I say; s'only natural!" He coos, jabbing a thumb into his own chest in exaggeration. "When I run passed all the ladies loose their grip on the steering wheel, ya know?" He wiggles his eyebrows at Superman with a wolfish grin. Clark doesn't really have the heart to burst his little self-deluded bubble.
"Uh, yeah sure."
Wally is less sure of Superman now, understanding how easy it was for a man - who's sneeze could snap him in two like a pretzel - to hunt him down... but the clear blue eyes shining back at him in the moonlight are those of a friend. His gut tells him this, and so far his gut hasn't been wrong. It also hasn't been very helpful though.
He beams at Superman, who manages to smile back weakly despite the hero's obvious awkwardness with his last statement."Ya know, your al'right Supes'"
"...Thanks?" Clark rubs at the back of his head "So...where are you headed anyway?"
The meta shrugs his angular shoulders. Thus far he's roamed more or less wherever the road has taken him; boring city from boring city to boring city. Even Vegas was boring and he didn't ever think he'd say that. Yeah it was loud and bright and looked cool, and Chicago had some awesome food and New Orleans had some awesome accents... but somehow they just don't seem any... fun? They don't really have any pull to keep in within their limits. It's really starting to get him down.
It feels like -
Well, it feels like it is...
Like somethings missing.
Clark watches the meta's expression sour for a few seconds. Superman isn't sure what to make of it.
Abruptly super-hearing proves to be both a blessing and a curse as a far off scream of distress pounds in his eardrums. He turns in the direction of the source of the noise, easy-going expression fading into seriousness.
"I've got to go."
The smaller man regards him inquisitively as he turns back to address him, holding his gaze and the totality of his attention. Emphasizing the importance of his next words.
"-You cant keep running around like you have been. People are going to get hurt". Their incredibly lucky no one has been already.
The meta frowns at the implication but remains silent. It's like scolding a child. "-Just try and settle somewhere soon, okay?"
The youngster both looks and sounds glum in equal amounts as he answers with a vague pout.
"Yeah. Okay."
"Good" Superman answers appraisingly with reassuring smile and a soft nod. "Who knows, maybe I'll see you around some time."
"Really? Ya'think?"
"Sure, why not? Till' then" and with a cursory wave Superman takes back to the sky.
Wally is held absolutely still as he beholds him leave; it's like watching a shooting star.
Holy friggin hell! He totally just met Superman!
-/-
Dick's vigilant watch over West's tracker signal continues.
The meta ends up spending the night in Jefferson before darting into some industrial wasteland named Keystone; it's a proportionately minor jog in comparison to the other distances he has recently covered.
The behavioural anomalies continue as West spends the following 3 days there – the longest time in any one place yet – before taking an evening to hop across the Mississippi into Central. Robin recognises the location from the White Hole incident and corresponding photograph, and apparently so does West as he stumbles onto the city's main high street.
He sniffs around Central for just under a week before using the hard cash Bruce left him to put down a deposit on a cheap and nasty apartment. At this point Bruce forbids him from tracking West any longer; now that the meta's wandering has come to an end.
The Joker has re-emerged from whatever pit he has hidden in since taking the lives of those children. Batman cannot afford for Robin to be distracted.
AN:
This fic isn't over yet! I just lost my enthusiasm for a bit; sorry for the confusion. I've re-jiggled some of the ages in previous chapters (Robin's now 13 to coincide better with the age he joins the Teen Titans at and Wally's passport now says he's 18). And now in the previous chapter Bruce also abandoned him with his Kid Flash goggles which I completely forgot about. R & R!