Age of Heroes

Part five of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Note: I'm using the layout for the Arkham Asylum video game here, which I found particularly interesting since it's an island. I don't think we ever actually see Arkham in Young Justice so hopefully this is okay...

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, Young Justice or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs to DC, Warner Brothers, and associated parties.

"Many people think it's in bad taste to advertise for an insane asylum...but come on down. We're going crazy."
~Colin Mochrie

"So, what do you think?" Wally asked with a grin, as he and Superboy stood on Gotham City's decrepit docks one late afternoon and stared out over the water at the foreboding-looking island. He'd known where they were heading for weeks, but had kept the details to himself, mostly so he could see Connor's reaction when they first set eyes on the refuge settlement.

Superboy looked skeptical as he eyed the island and the gothic-looking buildings atop it. "That's the settlement? It's...it's very..."

"Impressive? Amazing? Terrifyingly awesome?"

"...Not what I expected."

"It's because it's an insane asylum, isn't it," Wally said, with mocking disapproval.

Arkham Island, and the infamous Arkham Asylum that it played host to, was admittedly still an imposing structure years after Z-day—in a large part due to its conversion from unconventional medical facility and prison to one of the last purely human strongholds on the East Coast. Its official name now was technically 'Arkham Refuge,' or sometimes 'Arkham Tradepost,' depending on what part of the country you were in and how well their communications held up. But some smart-ass had decided to paint over the 'Welcome to Arkham Asylum' sign ages ago with New Batcave in bold red letters, and the name had stuck with the locals ever since. It was a fitting title: New Batcave was one of the most defensible, most advanced, most equipped, safest refugee communities in America, second only to the military communities on the West Coast, and it was the most successful civilian-created community in the country, period. And Wally could say that with certainty, because he'd been to many of them, and nothing held up to New Batcave when it came to preparedness, in his opinion.

It was sort of strange to think about—foreboding, twisted Arkham Asylum turning into one of the safest places in the world to be—and Wally supposed if somebody were to beam in from another world somehow that fact would probably make them realize just how dark this world had become. But it made sense, honestly, when one looked at the history of the past four years. When the initial outbreak had begun and the dead began to feast on the living, things had been chaotic. Arkham's inmates had taken that chaos as a prime opportunity to stage an enormous breakout, and had almost gleefully made their escapes while Arkham's staff was stretched thin, as its guards and doctors volunteered in the defense against the zeds.

Unfortunately for the prisoners, their stroke of good luck turned into an even worse stroke of bad luck, and they'd escaped into Gotham only to run straight into the rapidly growing infestation of zombie hordes. Many of the super-villains, and the majority of the 'regular' inmates, had died or were turned almost right away. The survivors hadn't been seen again either, even to this day; they were either smart enough to escape or had simply died out of sight and out of mind. Either way, they'd never returned to Arkham again, and with life like it was there was little opportunity to hold an already dying world hostage or wreak further havoc. The Age of Heroes might have been something of the past, but it had, thankfully, at least mostly taken the Age of Super-villains with it.

With the Asylum sitting wide-open and abandoned, a few opportunistic survivors with their eyes on the future had seen its new potential, and moved on in. The island was reclaimed, the few zombies that had managed to wander in and not find their way out again were destroyed and disposed of, and the bridge leading to the island was blown. And suddenly, Arkham was a fully defensible fortress of sheer cliffs sitting in the middle of a protective body of water, with all of the necessary space and facilities a colony of survivalists might need. In the past three and a half years since its reclaiming rulership had been established, systems had been hammered out, supplies had been gathered, and defenses and necessities were repeatedly improved upon, until it was what it was today: a fully operational settlement of hardy survivors with a human-controlled foothold, and a tiny sliver of hope at the chance of a better future.

Of course, for newcomers to New Batcave, the thought of living in an insane asylum was still a bit...troubling, at least at first. Superboy was no exception, and frowned as he said slowly, "I...the information in my head doesn't exactly have good records about Arkham Asylum. The statistics are a bit...bad."

"Don't worry about it!" Wally told him cheerfully, slapping him on the back as he idly scanned the harbor for the New Batcave watchers. "I know the guy in charge; he says about ninety-five percent of the time they don't deal with crazy people there anymore. Or make new ones."

"So what happens to the other five percent?"

Wally shrugged. "Well, I mean, you always get some interesting cases during zombie apocalypses. Some people just can't take the heat, y'know? There's a whole new mess of traumatic stress disorders related to zombies. People would probably be studying and making breakthroughs in them right now if they weren't busy running for their lives."

"So if Arkham's now for people who aren't crazy...then where do those people go?"

"Dunno. They're probably still on Arkham too somewhere...getting what passes for treatment. Or maybe some studying. It's an insane asylum, you know."

"This really isn't reassuring," Superboy told him flatly.

Wally laughed, but then added more seriously, "I know it sounds kinda strange, Supey, but I've been around a few settlements by now while searching for my family. The ones that usually last are set up in prisons and military facilities, or sometimes schools. They're some of the most defensible locations, but they still have access to a lot of the stuff you might need."

Superboy shook his head a little. "It's been a month," he said, "But sometimes this world still makes no sense."

"Not gonna argue with that, and it's been way longer for me," Wally told him. "Ah, there we go!" he paused and started waving his arms at the small sailboat that had appeared in the distance, circling around New Batcave. The island defenses included a number of regular patrollers in the water that were active night and day, keeping an eye on Gotham City's coastline for potential zombie threats and living travelers alike. Wally kept waving to flag this one down silently—shouting wouldn't help, and it might attract zeds, even though New Batcave was also pretty efficient at at least keeping the city's docks relatively clean. He was rewarded a minute later, when the boat shifted suddenly and began to speed towards them.

And speed was the keyword, Wally realized a moment later, eyes widening. The craft was moving for them quickly and without the use of its sails, which he realized were not even unfurled. He'd have guessed it was a motorboat, except he hadn't seen one of those working in a long time, due to a lack of fuel to keep them running.

"I think somebody's pulling that," Superboy said, frowning a little. Wally blinked at him and turned back to look, but he couldn't really tell. He decided to trust Supey on this one, since he'd long since discovered the Kryptonian had much sharper vision than him, and that wasn't even counting when he cheated with infrared vision for things like hunting.

The boat was closer now, and abruptly began slowing to a halt as momentum stopped being supplied by...whoever was moving the craft. It drifted closer to their dock, but stopped a good ten feet away, bobbing on quiet swells of water. There was nobody in it. Baffled, Wally was just about to open his mouth and ask what exactly Superboy had seen...when he caught sight of it himself, in the form of a pair of bright silvery eyes watching them from beneath the dark water.

"Geez!" Wally yelped at an embarrassingly high pitch, and backpedaled away from the edge of the dock. The pale eyes continued to watch him, reminding him of a shark, and his heart thumped as, for one terrifying moment, he was sure zeds had finally learned to swim and this one was hungry. Superboy let out a low, rumbling growl that Wally had learned usually preceded a fight. And if the situation weren't quite so serious, he'd have actually laughed at the way the clone shifted himself defensively, sidling an inch to the right to better put himself between Wally and the watcher.

Then Wally's head and common sense caught up with him, and he hissed, "Knock it off, man! They came with the boat, they're probably allies, right?"

"Probably?" Superboy questioned. His voice still rumbled dangerously, and his entire body was tense, still between Wally and the watcher. "I thought you'd been here before!"

"I have," Wally said. "This is new though—oh! Um...hi?" The watcher had bubbled up to the surface suddenly, head and shoulders now above the waves as he effortlessly tread water.

"Good afternoon," the figure said, in precise, formal English, as though it wasn't his first language. "My apologies for frightening you. I thought it best to be cautious before approaching; it can sometimes be...difficult...to distinguish living humans from undead ones."

Wally blinked at the way the person made particular note of humans versus zeds, and as the figure leapt easily out of the water to join them on deck it was suddenly apparent why. He was dark-skinned, fairly tall, and barefoot, but his most striking features were the gills on his neck and the paler webbing between his fingers and toes. "Oh, duh," Wally said, now feeling like an idiot. "You're an Atlantean, aren't you?"

He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice at the question. Atlanteans were extremely rare on the surface these days, and most people didn't even know about them; Wally only did because he'd at least gotten a few stories out of Uncle Barry, and been around the East Coast when the outbreak started. When Z-day hit and most of the League had gone down, Aquaman had been one of the confirmed casualties. The Atlanteans had not taken kindly to their king being killed in a human conflict, and became even more enraged when they discovered it might have been avoided—if proper cooperation and coordination in a united effort had been used, as the League had suggested.

Their response was to retreat to their homeland under the sea completely, often refusing to acknowledge distress calls or attempts at negotiation. It wasn't an entirely unwarranted response, especially since Atlanteans were mostly safe from the zombie threats in the ocean. Zeds would walk along the ocean floors in search of prey, and a careless Atlantean could still be caught and killed, or even turned. But it was rare, since they were far more maneuverable in the water. Additionally, Atlantis was located so deep in the ocean that the water pressure would typically crush any wandering zeds long before they reached its outskirts, making it the only city on Earth completely, one-hundred-percent resistant to the human varieties of walking dead.

Wally had never even seen an Atlantean before, let alone met one face to face, so this was sort of exciting. Not to mention, if Atlanteans were working with New Batcave's defenses, then that had huge implications for relations between Atlantis and at least one human stronghold.

"I am," the figure answered. He said it with a quiet, calm sort of pride, but also regarded Wally carefully, like he wasn't entirely sure how the human would take the answer. The same careful look was given to Superboy a second later, who was still crouched somewhat defensively, looking ready for a fight.

Wally elbowed his companion in the ribs (and regretted it an instant later—stupid invulnerability) and said, "Sweet! Sorry, you just caught me by surprise is all, I've never met one of you guys before." The Atlantean stiffened slightly, and belatedly Wally realized that maybe that hadn't exactly come out quite right—there he went again, mouth too fast as always. "Crap, I didn't mean it that way, I'm not trying to sound rude or anything, I just—y'know what? Take two. My name's Wally. Nice to meet you." And he stuck out his hand.

The other figure hesitated for a moment, but then slowly reached out to shake (it was a bit of a strange experience when webs were involved). "I am Kaldur'ahm," he introduced himself. "And your companion...?"

Wally was about to introduce his friend himself, but Superboy beat him to it. He'd drawn back into a regular stand at Wally's warning nudge, still looking wary. But when the conversation turned to him, he hesitated only briefly before suddenly rattling off something in another language. Wally blinked—that didn't sound like anything he knew, other than the 'Connor' he'd heard somewhere in there—but Kaldur'ahm looked shocked, and a smile crept slowly onto his face. He responded accordingly in the same language before switching back to English, saying, "It is a pleasant surprise, to find somebody on the surface world that still speaks our tongue. You are, perhaps, the most...interesting...travelers I have met since coming to the surface world."

He was markedly more friendly with them after that, portraying a calmness and level-headedness that was remarkably refreshing after some of the more cut-throat varieties of people Wally had gotten used to meeting. As the Atlantean turned to draw the boat closer to the dock for their benefit, Wally hissed under his breath, knowing Superboy would hear it anyway, "Dude, what did you do? He was ice cold until you said...whatever!"

"It's a formal Atlantean greeting," Connor muttered back, leaning close enough that Wally could still hear him. "It's supposed to show respect and no intent for aggression."

Wally shook his head in disbelief. Superboy, showing no intent for aggression? And when the clone had said he knew at least ten languages via brain downloads, he hadn't mentioned one of them had been Atlantean. He'd figured it'd just be French and Spanish and German and stuff. "Nice call," he muttered back. The ghost of a grin passed over Superboy's face, but he said nothing.

Kaldur'ahm had returned by then with the boat in tow, now secured by means of the rope in one of his hands. "Get in," he instructed warmly. "I will take you to the island personally and with all speed." They obliged, tossing their packs into the bottom of the boat and clambering down afterwards while the Atlantean held the craft steady for them.

Once they were ready, Kaldur'ahm tossed in the rope as well and climbed in himself with all the ease and fluidity of the water around them, and pushed them away from the mainland docks. He waved his hands over the edges of the boat for a moment, and then the craft turned quickly and shot towards the island in the distance with the same surprising speed as before. Wally looked around, but saw no hint of motors or paddles or anything else that might be doing it, and finally said, "Hey, uh, Kaldur'ahm—"

"You may call me Kaldur," the Atlantean interrupted, with a soft smile. "All my friends do."

Wally grinned back at him warmly. "Kaldur it is! So, uh, where are you getting the speed? You're not even using the sails!"

"Magic," Kaldur answered. His hands made another quick pass over the edges of the boat, and it sped up for a moment, as if it had just been paddled forward. Wally blinked and glanced over the edge, carefully so he didn't fall in, and saw the water roiling beneath them as if it were alive, glowing just slightly. "I have studied at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis for many years. Hydromancy and hydrokinesis are of particular importance to my people."

Wally looked skeptical, and opened his mouth to argue against the existence of magic and perhaps find a more logical, scientifically feasible explanation for the water manipulation. But Superboy elbowed him hard in the ribs, this time—Wally was sure he was now going to have that bruise for a week—and glared at Wally so hard he could almost feel the burning holes in his face, even though they'd long since established the clone was heat-vision-less. The message was clear: do not question the magic. Well, Superboy was the one with the Atlantean language download; Wally would trust him on the cultural significance of superstitious nonsense as well.

Thankfully, Kaldur was seated at the front of the boat with his back to them as he directed the craft, and had not witnessed the exchange. Wally covered up his pained grunt at the super-powered elbow to the ribcage with a faint, "Sweet," and once he'd recovered his breath, added with more genuine interest, "So, uh, things all going alright down there, then?"

Kaldur glanced over his shoulder for a moment and frowned. "Yes," he said slowly, "Things are going very well in Atlantis." The response sounded clipped, guarded, and just slightly bitter.

Wally winced. "Ah. Uh. Sorry. Didn't mean to like, pry or anything..."

But Kaldur shook his head. "My apologies. I did not mean to be curt with you. Atlantean politics have been...strained...of late." After a moment of hesitation, he added more softly, "Most of my people believe our isolationist policy is to our benefit and live comfortably below, as though the world above is not dying. But not all of us agree that this is right."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that's why you're hanging around New Batcave?"

"Yes. I, and a few others, are hoping to make a difference." Kaldur sighed, and glanced back over his shoulder, this time towards the ruined Gotham skyline. "Though I fear we may have made the decision a bit too late."

"Better late than never," Wally told him, with cheer that wasn't entirely forced. Beside him, Superboy nodded quietly.

They switched to lighter topics for a short time, as Kaldur guided the craft closer to the island. Wally enthusiastically asked about how things worked below the surface, which the Atlantean answered with patience and the occasional amused smile, and he in turn asked questions about the surface—what it had been like before, and what it was like now. Connor, for the most part, remained quiet, although he occasionally volunteered his own opinions or observations on the things he'd seen since being woken. Not that either of the mentioned that part.

Then at last they had arrived. Kaldur carefully shifted the boat up next to the makeshift single dock that had been built at the end of the natural, rocky road leading up to Arkham, where the destroyed bridge had once connected it to the mainland. He helped them out of the boat, handing them their packs carefully, and then leapt up onto the docks after them one last time to say his farewells.

"I have been working in concert with New Batcave and its leaders for several months now, as have my companions," he told them. "It has been the most agreeable, most accepting colony we have found so far, and of course its ocean front suits us. We will be here for some time yet. I do not know how long the two of you intend to remain here, but if you require assistance in the future—perhaps transportation to a safer part of the coast—do not hesitate to ask. I would be happy to assist."

"Wow, Kaldur, that's real nice of you," Wally said. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but any reason why?"

Kaldur shrugged. "Adapting to the surface world has been...difficult," he explained. "It is no wonder; your people are frightened and worn, and most of them have never seen Atlanteans, or distrust us because they believe we abandoned them. It has been a pleasure to meet travelers with a more positive outlook on life."

Well, that certainly explained the wariness earlier. Kaldur had probably been expecting ranting or outright rejection from weary, frightened travelers. "Oh. Well, y'know. Anytime!"

Kaldur chuckled. "It has been good to meet you, Wally," he said, and then said something to Superboy in Atlantean. Superboy responded in kind, and Kaldur nodded before diving off the dock and vanishing into the water with barely a splash. The boat twisted in the water and zipped off to return to patrolling rounds a moment later, leaving them standing alone.

"Okay," Wally said, "That was pretty cool. Now I really can't wait to talk to my friend here, I've got a lot more questions for him than I first thought." He shouldered his pack and gestured for Superboy to follow after him.

Back before Z-day, Arkham Island had possessed a jutting point almost like a land bridge on its northern end, that reached towards the mainland. Years and years ago a mechanical bridge had eventually been constructed to link the mainland to the island, and this was destroyed when Arkham was reclaimed and slowly converted into New Batcave. It still possessed a short road leading up to its gates, though—cracked and worn, but still providing an obvious enough path up to the entrance. Once upon a time the road had been lined with spooky-looking gangly trees, Wally knew from photos, but those were long gone now, chopped down to provide lumber for New Batcave's various construction projects. It made the entryway look a bit barren and dead, and Wally almost wondered what would have been more preferable, the gothic graveyard visuals or this post-apocalyptic wasteland look.

It also meant there were absolutely zero obstacles to obscure vision up to the gate, meaning the guards were waiting for them when they finally approached. There were eight of them on the ground, waiting underneath the old sculptures of ominous-looking robed figures carrying lanterns that stood on either side of the gate. Several more were up on the reinforced walls, where the decorative but largely useless barred gates had been replaced a long time ago by stronger—and taller—stone partitions. All but two were armed with various models of bows and crossbows, and the last two more impressively with hunting rifles, all of which were trained on Wally and Connor as they approached. There were also two dogs, large well-muscled specimens that looked like crosses between a german shepherd and a rottweiler, each one standing next to its master with the air of well-trained police animals. None of them made a noise, just waited as the two travelers approached.

Wally was aware of the low rumbling noise in Superboy's throat very suddenly, and realized his companion was tensing again, looking like he was preparing for a fight. "Woah, Connor," he hissed warningly, reminding him who he was supposed to be at the moment, "Relax, everything's okay! They just guard the place, make sure no zombies get in. They just have to make sure we're not zeds or zeds-in-waiting. Just stay calm and do what they tell you, alright?"

Superboy did not look happy with this order, and clearly did not enjoy having the weapons trained on them like this. Or rather, Wally realized after a moment, he didn't seem to like that they were trained on Wally, which he supposed made sense; Superboy would survive getting shot by everything here, after all, but Wally would be turned into swiss cheese pretty fast. It must have worried him, but it was misplaced. Well, he'd just have to show Superboy it was okay before he did something too rash.

Grinning with as much cheer and charm as he could muster, Wally stepped forward into speaking range, holding up his hands slowly to show he was unarmed. "Hey guys," he said, being very, very careful to accentuate the fact that he could speak as well, "Just a couple travelers stopping in for some trade and a chance to rest safely. No dead heads here."

The guards nodded to show they had heard him, but did not lower the weapons just yet. "Your friend?"

"Go ahead and introduce yourself, Connor," Wally told him—stressing the name again between them, just to be safe—and then to the guards he added for Connor's benefit, "I found him running it solo down south, figured he could probably use the rest, but he, uh, hasn't been around people for a while. Bit jumpy." Well, it was mostly true, anyway, and it wouldn't be the first time newbies had been shocked and nervous about New Batcave's security.

Sure enough, one of the guards nodded, and said sternly but not unkindly, "Just give us yer name, okay, kid?"

Superboy grit his teeth and glared at the guards a little distrustfully, but after a moment said, "My name is Connor. I'm not a zed."

This seemed to be enough for the guards to lower their weapons, although the bowmen kept arrows nocked if not drawn, just to be safe. "You can come forward to be searched," the lead guard told them, gesturing with one hand as he set aside his rifle.

"Searched?" Superboy questioned, still sounding distrustful.

"They just have to make sure we weren't bitten," Wally assured him hastily. "Or that we're not carrying anything that could infect people. They don't want to let anybody in that could turn while inside the walls. One zombie on the inside could ruin everything they've worked for."

Wally stepped forward and handed over his pack, and then dutifully obeyed the instructions of the guards, shrugging off his jacket so they could check him for tell-tale bites or bloodstains. They worked quickly and efficiently to look him over, while another guard looked quickly through his supplies and trade goods and then set it down for the guard dog to examine. Nothing was found on Wally or in the pack, and just as quickly the guards handed him back his jacket and repacked his possessions, returning them without any attempts at bribery or theft. New Batcave ran a tight ship with its guards, which were extremely well-trained, disciplined, hand-picked by the head of security, and given regular evaluations to make sure they weren't engaging in any dangerous or unethical practices. A breakdown in security would put the entire island at risk, and New Batcave's leaders were determined to prevent it from even becoming a problem to begin with—not to mention they were clever enough to learn from Arkham Asylum's previous experiences.

Superboy still hadn't come forward for his own search, and did not seem pleased with the precautions. Wally winced a little inwardly. He'd been wondering how Superboy would react to other people that weren't him, and had hoped after meeting Kaldur that he'd handle it okay. But apparently being trained to be a living weapon, followed by four years of isolation in a pod and then a month of apocalyptic survival training, were not really things that helped one develop social skills. Superboy was not comfortable with the situation, and when he got uncomfortable he also had a tendency to get violent.

"Connor," he said, "It's fine. Seriously. Just takes a few seconds. Relax, we've got nothing to hide, remember?"

It was a subtle reminder to not cause trouble because if they did people would start looking closer, and if they started looking closer they would realize Superboy looked awful familiar and maybe was not entirely human. Connor got the message, clearly, because although he grit his teeth and his frown was so deep it was almost scary, he grudgingly came forward and handed over his pack. Just like Wally, the search was over quickly, but even so Superboy was tense the entire time and clearly was not fond of people being this close to him or touching him.

"There ya go, kid," the same guard as before said—again, not unkindly—as he handed the bag back. The men seemed to think Superboy was one of the more shell-shocked zed survivors, dazed or frightened by too much human contact, and were at least attempting to make things easier on him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd met civilians so unused to people or kindness after surviving that they didn't know how to handle it, after all. "Doing just fine. Just the dog test and yer done."

"Dog test?" Superboy questioned, giving Wally a quick look.

"Just gotta walk past the dogs," Wally supplied for him quickly. "Remember how animals out in the wilderness could tell when zeds were around and they'd run or go quiet? Well, people figured out you can train dogs to do the same thing. If we were infected they'd know and start freaking out, barking and stuff. But they won't, because we're not."

He gestured for them to move forward when the guards signaled they were ready, with one dog set up on either side like a primitive biological metal detector. The dogs sat there placidly, unconcerned, although the one on Superboy's side gave him a quizzical sniff at the unfamiliar scent of Kryptonian before tentatively licking his hand. Connor blinked, but gave the dog a careful pat on the head in return, smiling faintly. Wally thought it was kind of funny, and a little sad, that Superboy did better with the burly, scary-looking zed-dogs than other people, but kept his observations to himself.

"You're good," the guard leader said to Wally, as Superboy left the dog and came to stand behind him. "You need instructions or references for inside?"

"No, I know where I'm going and who I'm speaking to," Wally assured quickly. "Been here a few times." The guard nodded, and signaled to several of the others up on the walls. A moment later the gate creaked open just enough to let a person slip through, and Wally led the way into New Batcave proper.

The idea of turning Arkham Asylum into a zed-refuge was ultimately what gave me the incentive to start writing this fic...the irony was just too delicious to pass up!