Age of Heroes

Part six of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Note: The interior is, again, largely based off of Arkham Asylum's layout. Look up a map from the game if anything is confusing, but I did my best to describe everything accurately!

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.

"The place where optimism most flourishes is the lunatic asylum."
~Havelock Ellis

"I didn't like that," Superboy growled, glancing distastefully over his shoulder as the gate snapped shut behind them again. He still looked a little anxious, with leftover discomfort that caused him to be a bit snappish and surly as a result. "They could have shot you. Or made a mistake. Or taken all the things we scavenged."

Wally sighed. "I don't like it either, Supey, but it is necessary. And they're strict about it here—this is the only way in, those gates lead to sheer cliffs about a hundred yards in either direction, and everybody gets checked, every time. Better to just deal with it, especially since New Batcave is pretty good about having decent guards."

Superboy did not look appeased. After a moment, though, he asked, "What would have happened if one of us got infected?"

"They wouldn't get to come in," Wally said, rather evasively. It wasn't a topic he wanted to pursue further. He'd seen the results, here and elsewhere, and it was always haunting and unpleasant: infected victims, or their terrified family members or friends, begging, pleading, sobbing for the victims to be let inside. It couldn't happen—a single infected victim could spread the Z-plague quickly and suddenly through an unsuspecting community, and they couldn't take the risk. But it was still sick and terrifyingly wrong to watch those people be torn away from their families or denied their last shred of chance at hope and comfort. And sometimes it was worse. At New Batcave, they simply turned infected victims away. Wally had heard of—and, to his horror, even witnessed—a few shoot-on-sight policies at other colonies. In some places it was considered a mercy, but to Wally it was just plain sick and wrong all the same. Those memories were some of the many twisted things that haunted his dreams at night.

Superboy caught the darker tone in his voice quickly, and didn't push further, for which Wally was grateful. He really did not want to discuss this with Superboy right now. Instead, he gestured to the landscape in front of him and said, "Well, here we are. Bat-colony Sweet Bat-colony. What do you think?"

If New Batcave was impressive on the outside, it was even more so on the inside. The northernmost point, where they were situated, had once been a mass of withered trees, followed by wide-open grounds with watchtowers and guard stations. The trees, like the ones outside the gate, had long since been cut down and converted to lumber, but the towers and buildings remained; some were still used as watch points and security stations, while others had clearly been converted to storage sheds or workshops. The ground was almost invisible by now—the wide-open courtyards and lawns had long since become an intricate system of semi-permanent weaving streets, stalls, work stations, and lean-to shelters, where visitors rested, traded for goods and news, gossiped, and earned their keep. On the far side of the island, spreading from west to east, were the major buildings that had made up the original Arkham complex, and still served as vital parts of New Batcave today.

There were people everywhere. And while many of them had the haggard, tired, dull-eyed looks of people barely pulling through in the apocalypse, there were just as many that were bright-eyed and energetic, working confidently or going about their day without that air of inevitability hanging over their shoulders. Life was hard, here, but not impossible, and the people had some degree of hope.

Wally had been to New Batcave several times, now—he liked to check in with his friends and trade for supplies here in between trips—but it never ceased to amaze him. He was pretty sure it had one of the highest populations out of the major colonies, but even so they managed to keep a stunning amount of order here at the same time, and the people actually felt, if not happy, at least somewhat content here, and safe. They weren't living in terror of zeds or distrust of their fellow humans; they were surviving, there was a community, and there was control, which was better than most of the world at the moment.

A quick glance at Superboy told him the clone was equally amazed by what he was seeing, although perhaps not for the same reasons. Wally appreciated New Batcave for the potential good future it offered, and for being granted the ability to see some semblance of society again. When he spent most of his time wandering the world alone, it was always nice to see people, just to remind yourself you weren't the only one left in the world. Superboy, on the other hand, had never seen this many people gathered together before in one place, and appeared a little overwhelmed by the crowds and the rush of sights, smells, sounds, and general feeling of life everywhere.

"There's so many," Superboy said, almost weakly. "And they're all...none of them are..."

"All alive," Wally confirmed. "No zeds. Yeah, I know, it's a little weird seeing this many live-ers after dealing with big packs of dead heads." He gave Superboy a gentle nudge on the arm, as if to say chill out, it's all okay, and noted the tenseness in the clone's muscles when he did. Okay, maybe this wouldn't be as easy as he thought. "C'mon, let's go."

He lead the way through the improvised streets, shifting through the myriads of people with Superboy in tow. New Batcave was divided into three parts, Cave North, Cave East, and Cave West, and everything Wally was presently looking for was on the Eastern side. He moved with the ease of somebody who knew precisely where he was going and what he was doing, reveling in the displays of people as he passed. Most people spoke English, but he heard smatterings of other languages or strong accents here and there. There were splashes of color and hints of old fashion in some of the clothing, since it was a safer community and not everybody had to be outfitted in survival gear or whatever they could find in their size. Most people were willing to smile and nod at a passing stranger too, which Wally often returned, and only rarely did he get a distrustful, watchful looks from vendors when he glanced at displays of tradable merchandise spread out on blankets or in makeshift carts. And there were girls, which Wally saw far too infrequently these days; he grinned and winked at a number of them as he passed, and managed to mostly conceal his seething jealousy every time said girls eyed his companion more than him.

Superboy, for his part, didn't seem to like the looks—or anything else here, for that matter. The press of bodies and constant movement seemed to make him tense, and Wally suspected the constant barrage of noises from people building things, shouting for trade, calling for families, occasionally playing music and singing, or just generally chatting, was probably a bit much for his super-sensitive hearing. Connor stuck as close as possible as he could to Wally, keeping a wary eye around them at all times as if he was expecting to be attacked at any moment, and his default frowning stare was so deep it was actually scaring a few of the locals (if the way they backed away was anything to judge by). Wally occasionally gave him a pat on the arm or a reassuring grin just to keep reminding him the place was safe. It did seem to put Superboy slightly more at ease whenever he did, for a short while, but it never lasted long. Wally just wished he could tell if his companion's discomfort came from the first stages of zed-paranoia, or if it was because he was just naturally anti-social.

Superboy was paying attention, though, and after pushing their way up the narrow makeshift streets for half an hour he finally slid close enough to mutter in Wally's ear, "There's so many people our age...way more than fully grown adults. Why is that?"

Wally winced slightly. It was a bit of a bitter topic. "The child-to-adult ratio here is pretty screwed," he explained slowly, pitching his voice low so the others around him wouldn't hear; nobody really needed reminding of this. "When Z-day first hit things were pretty messed up. Lots of adults volunteered for the defenses, either fighting the zeds or helping with treatment and behind-the-scenes stuff. We didn't really know how to fight the dead heads when they first showed up, so a lot of the original military reserves were overrun pretty fast. The adults just knew it was dangerous, so while able-bodied volunteers headed towards the zeds, they started organizing other volunteers to ship kids off to these so-called safer camps to be protected."

"Like Operation Pied Piper, in World War Two," Superboy observed. "When thousands of children were moved to outlying areas of England to protect them against potential massive bomb strikes from Germany."

"Yeah, might've even been the inspiration for this mess," Wally said, voice still low. "Didn't work near so well though. All we really got were more dead adults and lots of abandoned kids. I actually got shipped to one of the child camps myself, just outside Gotham—it was scary as hell. When the zeds attacked there weren't enough adults to hold them off, and too many kids. Most of us didn't know what to do or how to fight or survive. I was one of the lucky ones, I figured it out—lots didn't." He shrugged tiredly.

"Anyway, there are plenty others like me that did figure it out, and that's what you're seeing here. Lots of people that were older kids, teenagers, people in their lower twenties, that banded together and figured out how to last long enough to get someplace safe. Lots of kids from those camps grew up way early and started looking out for others. There are adults here, too, I'm not saying they were all wiped out, but you'll probably see soon enough nobody really cares about age anymore. A seventeen year old girl that gets a whole pack of smaller kids to safety is just as much of a veteran as a thirty year old soldier who fought in the early outbreaks, and gets just as much respect." Wally grinned, and added almost as an afterthought, "She definitely gets way more respect from me."

Superboy rolled his eyes at that last part, but then added, "I'm guessing that's why I'm not really seeing any intact family units, either..."

"Lots of people got split up," Wally said dully. "I'm not the only one. Lots of people started forming surrogate families too. Older people that lost kids start looking after younger brats that can't find their parents, stuff like that. There's no real official adoption system right now, I expect it'll be a real nightmare to work out on paper if anything ever gets better. And can you imagine the networks of new not-really cousins and siblings-in-laws and aunts and uncles? Confusing!"

Superboy fell silent at that, looking contemplative underneath his frown, as he watched the bustle of people around him with a wariness that was now slightly edged with curiosity. Wally figured he'd given the clone something to think about, although he couldn't imagine what—the complex community system was just a much larger extension of the brotherly relationship they had right now, so it couldn't be that hard to get, right?

He shrugged to himself and continued navigating the improvised streets, and when they started getting closer to and passing the large buildings on the island, he gave Connor quick visual tours as they passed them. "Right, so, that there's the Intensive Treatment center—they used to put the real crazy Gotham villains in there back in the day, but obviously they aren't around anymore. Now it's used mostly as an industrial center for manufacturing supplies and weaponry and stuff, but I think there are some dorms in there for the workers and security staff—y'know, the cells." He turned to point behind him. "The penitentiary over there acts more like civilian dorms, it's got more converted cells than IT does. And waaaay back there in Cave West there's the medical facility, which is probably one of the best places for medical treatment in the country right now. Weird, right, since they used to screw things up so bad...but they gave it a major overhaul, it's pretty well-stocked with medications and stuff, and they've even got access to some tools you can't find anymore without risking hordes of dead heads."

They crossed through a small man-made tunnel with metal doors that were currently slid open, with a pair of guards standing at ease on either side, acting more like quiet police presence than immediate defense. Wally waved to them as they went through (one saluted back with his bow cheerfully) and then continued the tour when they reached the other side. "That huge building taking up that whole side, that's the mansion. I guess it used to be offices and stuff before. Now it's mostly the mess hall for community meals, but I think some of the leaders also live there and have their offices there too, so it kinda acts like a town hall as well. And that building there, that's the Botanical Gardens. I don't even know what they used it for when this place was still a mad-house but they use it to grow crops and stuff now. And that space next to it, that's for some smaller livestock and things, y'know, pigs, chickens, sheep, couple cows. Fresh food, Connor, it's amazing."

He paused to let his mouth water at old memories of tacos and grilled chicken and takeout. God did he miss real food. You got used to dried rations and wild rabbit but nothing would compare to a Chicken Whizee or a Double Chili Cheeseburger. He could almost smell the delightful aromas...and then he realized he really could smell them, or at least, he could smell something that was almost heavenly. Grinning, Wally realized they'd entered the more-or-less bazaar section of the grounds, where there was a higher concentration of food more than anything else. Perfect timing! "Hey, Connor...I know you're anxious to meet my buddy, but how about we stop for dinner first? I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

Superboy scowled, and glanced around distastefully at the crowds. He was still sticking pretty close to Wally and had clearly not come to adjust to all the people yet. "It'll be impossible to forage or scavenge with all this mess," he said, "and there can't be anything to hunt here with everybody scaring off the game."

Wally laughed. "We're in civilization now, Connor! Or what passes for it, these days. We don't have to hunt or scavenge right now." He took a sharp turn and followed his nose, and then his eyes, to the fire pit one of the civilians had set up carefully along one of the makeshift roads. Connor followed him, looking a bit confused at the declaration. Wally found it a bit sad, that the only thing Connor knew, was able to know, was survivalist mode.

Well, Wally would give him a taste of something new, for the moment. Literally, even. He approached one of the civilian vendors by the fire pit, and gestured at some of the man's offered goods. They bartered fiercely for a few minutes—a skill Wally was pretty decent at, considering how little time he actually had to spend around people—and shortly after Wally handed over several cigarettes in exchange for two skewers of seasoned beef chunks and fresh vegetables, grilled to near perfection over the fire. He handed one over to Connor, who had watched the exchange with interest, and said cheerfully, "Bon appétit!" before digging ravenously into his own meal.

"This is what we scavenged for?" Superboy asked, blinking down at his dinner.

"Sorta," Wally explained through a mouthful of grilled beef and pepper, "it's all for trade, you can use it however you need to. For food or more supplies or whatever. If we were gonna live here and we found some great stuff we could even use it to buy into a dorm or get a space out here." He ripped off another hunk of seasoned meat and nearly cried for joy; it had been way too long since he'd eaten anything this flavorful. "C'mon, eat up, enjoy!"

Connor eyed the skewer for a moment, but then carefully set into his own meal. His eyes lit up with surprise at the taste, and Wally watched in amusement as he devoured it rapidly and even licked his fingers afterwards. "Good, right?" Wally said with a laugh, as he finished off his own. "Crazy what a few spices can do. Or, y'know, a guy who actually knows how to cook. Far cry from my burnt venison and burnt rabbit and burnt cans of vegetables."

"I'm still not sure how you managed to do that."

"You know what? Shut up, dude. Just shut up."

Superboy smirked, but then added more seriously, "But it was good. Is this...how people ate all the time?"

"More or less. Better even." Connor frowned a little, and Wally said apologetically, "I'm sorry, man. That you had to come back to...this."

"Not your fault," Superboy said. But that deep frown was back all the same.

Wally hated seeing the poor guy down, especially when he felt a little guilty about causing it, so in an effort to cheer the clone up he hunted through the market place until he found a suitable vendor. The opportunistic and highly clever woman had managed to create a collection of miniature fried fruit pies, sprinkled with sugar (where on earth had she gotten sugar? Grown, maybe?) which were in high demand and particularly expensive due to their rarity. Wally had to trade an entire pack of cigarettes and the bottle of drinking alcohol just for two little folded pies the size of his palm, which was a scandalously outrageous overpriced ripoff if he'd ever seen one. But it ended up being worth it, when he handed off one of the treats to Superboy, and the clone got his first taste of dessert and actually smiled with real enjoyment at it.

There you go, Supey, Wally thought to himself, not all bad, right?

Superboy's mood seemed to improve even more just as they finished the pies. By then it was starting to get dark, with the sky turning deep reds and yellows, and under normal circumstances by now they'd be in severe danger by virtue of not having found a shelter yet. But Wally didn't rush them off to find a place to hole up before they ran out of light, and it became obvious a few moments later, when several makeshift stadium lights snapped on from above on the watchtowers. Between those and the bonfires lit everywhere by the citizens, the lighting remained decent even as the sky began to get dark.

Superboy looked stunned. "There's electricity here!"

Wally grinned. "Yup. In the buildings, too," he added, pointing to the mansion up ahead, where a few dim and flickering but still obvious windows were lit up. "See, this is one of the reasons New Batcave does so awesome—they've got access to stuff a lot of communities out there don't. The electricity is rationed pretty carefully—it's mostly for the medical facility—but they make sure the grounds are lit up and safe too, and every building has emergency lights. Plus it gives them heat in the winter, 'cause winter in New England can really suck otherwise, and they've worked out a way to get running water too."

Superboy looked a little more impressed than before. "You weren't kidding, when you said this was civilization, were you?"

"Nope! They've really thought things out here," Wally said, still grinning. "Look, you can even see—all the buildings have solar panels and things on them, and they've got backup plans and stuff to keep it running. And they make sure the place is sanitary too, thanks to the running water and plumbing they've still got working, so illness and disease is way low here compared to other places. They're as on top of things here as you can get in the apocalypse."

"New Batcave, huh?"

"Kinda fits, doesn't it?"

"More than I realized. No wonder you thought your friend might be able to help me out here..." Superboy looked thoughtful.

"Oh, right." Wally felt like face-palming a little. "There was a reason we were heading this way, wasn't there? Now that we've eaten we can go see him. It's kinda late, but he's always been a night owl anyway, I'm sure he won't mind. C'mon, let's go." And he gave Superboy a quick tug, before leading him for the far south of the island. Connor, with a raised eyebrow and a suspicious look, followed.

Most of New Batcave's open space had long since been claimed by refugees and civilians, and gradually converted into makeshift streets for all manner of workshops and shelters. Towards the south of the island, though, and still a bit of a walk from the mansion, was a small enclosed space that nobody was allowed through without clearance. The reason why was fairly clear: there were two buildings, both looking fairly new compared to the rest of the architecture on the island, walled off with fencing and plastered with signs warning civilians to stay clear in a number of languages. The signs also made note of sensitive electrical equipment that could potentially be dangerous, and that it was a severe violation to progress beyond that point. If the signs weren't deterrent enough, the guards usually were: they were posted all along the fence, and down the dirt path leading to it, constantly alert. They were polite and nonaggressive whenever they were forced turn a wandering civilian away, but also unrelentingly firm about doing so: no trespassers, no exceptions. Each and every one of them was armed with bows and possessed a quiver of arrows over one shoulder, and every single one clearly knew how to use their weapons.

Superboy frowned at the high security and gave Wally another skeptical look. "Your friend lives out here?"

"Would you believe me if I said he was a very private person?" Wally asked hopefully.

"No."

"Alright, well, that's a lie anyway. He really is a people person. He's just gotta be on-hand for the important stuff."

"You're not making any sense. And how are we supposed to get past all those guards, anyway? Fight them?"

"No!" Wally looked horrified. "Hell no. No fighting people. Bad Supey." Superboy scowled at him, as if to say answer the question already, and he flashed a grin, saying, "I've got connections."

He did, actually, and it was obvious soon enough. The guards out here were part of a particularly special security rotation, which meant most of them were familiar with Wally and recognized him right away. They waved him on through, some grinning, and if a few gave Superboy suspicious looks, a quick "he's with me" was enough to get the clone past as well.

Wally did, however, run into complications at the fence gate, and the last checkpoint before getting into the smaller complex. He didn't recognize the guard here; she was clearly new, since he hadn't seen her last time he'd visited. She was dressed in army fatigues, had blonde hair that was just getting long enough to tie back, and held her green bow like she knew how to use it and would, which was normally a good thing for this particularly security force. Unfortunately she also had a pretty nasty temper and point-blank refused to let Wally through the gate. "No entry."

"What!" Wally gave her an incredulous look. "Look, I don't know what they told you—"

"Nothing except the rules. You're not mentioned in them. Go away or I'll make you, and don't think I won't!"

"What were you saying, about connections?" Superboy growled at Wally, giving him a look.

"Dude! Not helping. Just...shut up a minute." Turning to the girl, he added, "Alright, look, babe—"

"Do not babe me, you son of a—"

"Okay, geez, calm down! Look, whoever you are, I know your manager personally, so if you could just let me through—"

"Yeah, like I've never heard that before." She put her free hand on her hip and glared at him. Wally got the distinct impression that he was now on her hit list, and also that she was trying way, way too hard to do her job right. Definitely a newbie. "I don't even know how you got down here. What were those other idiots thinking? Listen up, turn around and walk away now, and I won't have you reported to island security for trespassing and thrown on the ban-list."

"What!" Wally repeated, angrier this time. He was starting to get ticked now. "That's a ridiculous punishment just for walking up a path!" Superboy made that barely-audible growl next to him, and Wally slid between him and the bow girl hastily before he did anything stupid, trying to force his own anger down. "Look," he grated, "There's obviously a misunderstanding here, so just call your superior and I won't report you for being an obstinate—"

"Do not even think of finishing that sentence!" the girl snapped at him, glaring furiously. "If you don't like the rules, you can turn around and—"

"Artemis!"

The girl jumped with a start, looking alarmed, and glanced over her shoulder into the compound. Wally jumped too, but a moment later a smug smile grew on his face as he spotted the person approaching, and he crossed his arms. There was a young man, approximately nineteen or twenty, stepping out of the gate. He was dressed practically in a hunting uniform and boots, complete with jacket even if the heat was still sweltering, and there was a deep red bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. What little skin was visible was tanned, but his most notable features were his reddish hair and blue eyes, which were currently narrowed at the girl.

"Enough," he snapped. "West is good. Remember that! And let him pass."

Wally's smug grin grew wider at the girl—Artemis—and her incredulous look as it began to dawn on her that he really hadn't been lying. "Thanks, Roy," he drawled, with deliberate casualness. "I really didn't want to be out here all night."

Roy merely snorted in response.

Artemis looked displeased, but also determined to do her job right in front of her superior, because she asked sharply, "What about his friend here?" She glared at Superboy next, who scowled and stared back stonily. Wally could all but see him tensing under the scrutiny.

Please don't do anything stupid for just a few seconds, Wally pleaded internally. Out loud, he said, "Connor, here, is also fine."

Artemis gave him an I-don't-believe-you-for-a-second look and glanced over at Roy, as if waiting for orders. Roy ignored her, and turned his attention to Superboy, studying him intently. Wally felt like sweating bullets—Roy was, and had always been for as long as Wally had known him, security-paranoid, and he was smart. It made him a formidable opponent and a great head of security, but it also meant he might not take kindly to Superboy—especially if he recognized some of Superboy's most notable, and familiar, features. And if anybody would recognize them at all, it'd be Roy.

Roy didn't say anything at all now as he studied Superboy, and Connor grew, if possible, even more tense under the scrutiny, glaring back defiantly and nearly baring his teeth in a grimace. He did not like being sized up like this, and he did not like the implications that he couldn't be trusted; that much was obvious. It was clearly taking him everything he had to remain quiet and not react violently, and even then that was probably in a large part because Wally was still strategically situated between the clone and Roy.

But after a very, very long and tense moment, Roy said, "Are you sure you trust him?"

Superboy actually growled at this, and the way he shifted suggested he dearly wanted to start something now. Wally intervened as fast as he could, but even so when he spoke it was full of absolute confidence and not a shred of hesitation. "I trust him with my back."

Roy shifted his gaze away from Superboy for the first time, glancing down at Wally. He understood what Wally had really said: I literally trust him with my life, and have done so in the past. I am willing to turn my back on this person and know without a doubt that he won't stab me while I'm vulnerable and run off. And he trusts me to do the same. Superboy seemed to get it as well, because he quieted and relaxed just slightly, and at the very least looked like he wasn't about to jump at the head of security anymore.

Roy stared at him a moment longer, but Wally was equal to that, and stared right back. He wasn't lying and he needed Roy to understand that. It would be easier when they were inside for more private conversation, but for now he had to know that Superboy was okay. It worked; after a moment Roy finally nodded and said flatly, "He's fine too. Come in."

Wally grinned and elbowed (carefully this time) his companion once more. "See? What'd I tell ya? Connections."

"Sure." Superboy shook his head in exasperation, but followed after Roy into the compound. He walked a little stiffly, like he was still tense, but at least he didn't look like he was going to start anything anymore. Wally followed after him, pausing just long enough to give Artemis a satisfied smirk, and stick his tongue out at her in victory. She made a furious, spluttering sound and glared at him, but then the gate closed, and they were in.