D.C. Tribune
19 July, 2020
News of Black Canary's protege's being accepted by the Justice League has spread like wildfire. At the League's founding she was predicted to be one of the few Leaguers, alongside Green Lantern, that would never take a protege given their specific power and skill set. Yet, the boy called Nightwing has been officially named just that. Details about the male's mysterious powers, or the extent of them are unknown as of now.
The Cave's halls were quiet, only a solitary person walking slowly through them. The boy hesitated with every step, as though questioning whether he really should take that next step forward. It was hardly noticeable- only barely changing his gait, but changing it none the less as he made his way towards the conference room at the heart of Mount Justice. Dick knew the fastest route he could take, as well as the slowest. Apparently it didn't matter how long he was away; the years he had spent inside the mountain's walls had engrained the map into his head.
A spark of fondness from his early memories of the Cave drew a smile onto Dick's face, something that had once been a frequent sight, but now was rare.
The faint happiness was quickly overshadowed, however, when Dick stepped around a corner and his gut clenched tightly, as though he'd received a blow. His face twisted in a grimace as he thought again of what he was getting himself into. He'd been gone six years, it was a long time for things to change… for people to change. He himself was evidence enough of that.
Dick looked down at his hands, flattening them out and showing himself his palms. To him they were calloused and scarred in some places, to almost anyone else they were different. He didn't quite know what they looked like, but he knew they weren't what he was seeing. No part of him was, because of the small bracelet he wore. His gaze flicked to his right wrist, looking at the black leather band and impression of the blue bird, before darting away again.
It almost made him feel sick, looking at the bird and knowing to what extent he went to remake himself. For a split second he started to reach his hand towards his throat, thinking of the scars that lay there, before he forced the hand back to his side. He refused to start being guilty over the scars or really think about them, despite not having let them be magic-ed away with the new him.
The hero stopped at the next corner, eyes on the floor at his feet. Straight in front of him was a door. He knew exactly what was behind that door. The Team, his old team that once was made of up of his friends and now, to the new him, people who would have to be strangers to him. He couldn't imagine how any of them would react to another person being shoved onto the Team, though he hoped at least he'd be better received than Artemis had been. But that was only a hope, and one that he didn't quite count on. Counting on things is a weakness one willingly makes for themselves.
Dick closed his eyes, muscles tensing in his jaw as he tried to gather up anything he could to make himself move again. Part of him didn't want to though. Part of him just wanted to stay rooted at the corner or backpedal all the way to the zeta-port and leave, do anything that wasn't moving towards that door. His brain was screaming at him to run, to not go through with making himself be a new person.
"Too late," Dick murmured in a voice that sounded nothing like his own as he propelled himself forward, almost flying towards the door.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Dick slipped through the doors and into the room. He couldn't tell if the room had been so deathly quiet before he walked in, but he didn't linger long on the thoughts of it not having been so.
He moved instinctively towards Black Canary, standing beside her, and yet behind her. The words she continued to say were unheard by the nervous teen, his eyes not even lifting from the ground. He could guess what she was saying, and if the tension in the room was any indicator to how the others felt, then he knew what their faces would look like. Or did he, after six years?
Dick's posture shifted, his back straightening and head slowly standing taller on his shoulders. This situation was his own doing. Every single rolling emotion in his gut was put there by his own choices. He decided to leave. He chose to become someone new. He wanted to come back. The guilt twingeing in his stomach almost made him wince as he looked over to his fr- teammates.
Some of them really looked different from the last time he had seen them, particularly M'gann and Conner. Some small changes had apparently been made, what with Kaldur actually looking like he had hair and Roy's hair being held back in a ponytail. Not to mention Artemis' pixie cut and, most surprisingly to Dick, Jason not wearing any sunglasses or mask. He pushed away the twinge of envy as he scanned the line again, searching for a specific mess of red hair and freckles.
The doors clattered open with a sudden fwhoosh of air, followed by a screech tearing through the room.
Everyone turned towards the newcomer, most glaring at him, while Dick looked at him with a barely concealed expression of alarm. The messy mop of red hair was the only recognizable feature of the person he was looking at. Gone were all the laugh lines that Dick had been accustomed to seeing; hidden was the lively and fun aura that he had remembered his friend having. There was no way, in the boy's mind, that the darkly-dressed and ominous redhead across the room was his best friend. Granted, he had no idea what had happened when he left; it seemed wrong.
The speedster strode towards the group. He sent angry looks towards everyone as he made his way towards Dick. He stopped several feet away. Even with the acrobat's growth spurt Wally still towered over him, only adding to the menace of the darkened atmosphere around the redhead.
"Who's he?" Wally snapped, glancing from Dinah to glower at Dick.
"He's my protege, who I'm hoping will join the Team," the League-er responded.
The air rippled and stung, as though a jolt of electricity had passed through the room. Dick watched Wally carefully, seeing him clenching his fists and shaking from the force of holding them so tightly. It was clear the speedster didn't want another person on the Team simply from his reactions. The acrobat looked to the others. A small wave of relief placated the fear building in his stomach as he saw less resentment and anger than he'd expected, some people even showing excitement.
Kaldur came forward, managing to step around Wally and plant himself between the speedster and Dick. So it seemed like Kaldur was still in charge of the Team, Dick thought. He was not at all surprised. A faint bit a knowing smirk crossed his face as Dick pondered who else would take over for Kaldur. Out of the people gathered, it didn't look like there was anyone who really could.
"It'd be a pleasure to take him on wi-"
"What?! Kal, you've got to be kidding?"
"Pipe down Wally, he's got final say and it's not like we've really got a choice," Artemis stated, arms crossing over her chest.
"But-"
"Enough! Quiet!" Kaldur ordered, tone forceful and strict, leaving no room for argument.
Immediately the two heroes fell silent, though in the silence the glare Wally was directing at Dick filled with more anger.
"There is no room for discussion. Nightwing is joining the Team, and that is final," Kaldur said, turning to glance at the Team before looking to Wally.
The speedster crossed his arms, expression contemptuous as he glowered at Nightwing. His jaw clenched shut, tendons straining beneath the skin, looking as though they were about to snap. Everything about the redhead seemed to be on edge, ready to lash out at anyone that came near him. His heated gaze flicked around the room, boring invisible holes like lasers into everyone he glared at, before he turned and stormed out of the room in a streak of black.
Immediately the buzzing tension in the room lessened to a tolerable level and Nightwing felt as though he could breathe again. He looked over to his teammates, seeing the same relief flooding their features along with equal amounts of worry and apprehension. The raven-haired boy then turned towards his mentor, question apparent in his shell-shocked expression. But he got no answer as Canary stepped forward, calling attention to herself.
"I'll leave him here to get settled and acquainted with all of you. I'll see everyone at the training session tomorrow," she said politely before heading towards the zeta-tubes.
A silence fell over the room. They looked between each other, quick and fleeting glances. As it went on, the quiet began to grate on the heroes. Artemis rolled her eyes, letting out a long sigh as she walked over to Nightwing, extending a hand.
"Name's Artemis, and that," she said gesturing to the door, "was Wally. He's a bit of a… special character."
"Good to know…"
"The others are Kaldur, our leader and an Atlantean; M'gann, great baker and a martian; Conner, superman clone with added humor; Jason, the resident Bat with a side of dickishness; and Roy, backup archer," she ended with a wide smirk plastered on her face.
"I'm not your backup, Arty. If anything you-"
Kaldur jabbed the red archer sharply in the arm, redirecting his attention and quieting him. Roy snorted but otherwise remained silent as he glared at Artemis, who responded by chuckling. Kaldur groaned, shaking his head.
"You two are like children," he muttered to himself as he walked to the new hero, extending his hand as well. "You know our names. Is there anything we may call you?"
The question took Nightwing by surprise. He had forgotten the freeness with which the group had shared their names in the beginning. It was a few seconds before he came up with a response, mouth flapping a couple times as he thought.
"Wing. Yeah, just Wing," he said hastily, a nervous chuckle escaping him. There was a brief pause before he spoke again, "So um, I'm just gonna head to uh… my room. Yeah, room that'll be mine."
Wing hardly left any time for the others to stop him or tell him where to go as he darted for the door. As soon as they slid open far enough, he was through them and moving through the Cave purely out of muscle memory. All his conscious mind was trying to wrap itself around what he had seen in that room.
First, Jason and Artemis were together, of that he was sure. That was the only probable reason why the younger hadn't gone after the archer for her jab at him in the introductions. Well, that and the lack of personal space, relative to a Bat. Hopefully he hides it better around Bruce, Wing thought to himself.
Second, Kaldur and Roy had somehow become a thing over the years. He was not against it, though the thought was strange to him. All he'd ever seen the two do was fight and argue over the Team and its merits. Then again, people do tend to change over half a decade.
And third, the most startling and confusing of all, was that Wally didn't seem like Wally, but everyone just… it didn't bother them. The angry vibe that clung to the speedster scared Wing. That was not how he remembered his best friend. His mind ran through a thousand different scenarios that could've led to the shift, most involving a girl Wally was with being hurt, dying, or leaving.
"Like I did," he mumbled, stopping and pinching the bridge of his nose.
He simply stood in the hall for minute, on hand gripping his nose and the other crossed over his chest. As he dropped the hand away from his face, Wing sighed, "This is going to be a lot harder than I thought."
Looking around the hall, a chortle built in his throat. Of course he had walked to this section of the Cave. Home sweet home would always be home, after all. Wing looked at the door to his old room, a sad smile coming to his face. He knew he should stay away from this part of the Cave, but he doubted that he'd be able to keep from automatically heading this way whenever things started slipping.
His focus slid to the door across the hall, an unclaimed room, as far as he knew from back then, at least. Wing started walking towards it, wondering if it perhaps still was.
Electricity fizzled in the air, buzzing like a bee in Wally's ear as he ran. It was a change from the rushing wind he was so accustomed to when dashing through cities and speeding over the continent. He remembered the first time he used the treadmill he had hated it, for both the sounds and the lack of motion. It was always hard for him to focus on anything stagnant.
He made himself get used to it though, told himself that he had to, that he wasn't worth the suit if he didn't do everything to be the best. The then-teen pushed himself to work hours and hours a day, stretching limits and surpassing expectations. He went faster than Barry thought he would ever be able to; defied the notion that speed was all he was by phasing through walls; disproved the assumption that Barry was the Fastest Man Alive.
A shrill beep sounded, drawing the speedster out of his mind. The machine slowed to a standstill, a warning message flashing across the screen.
Wally growled, his head dropping low on his shoulders, hands resting on the machine's display. There was no glisten of sweat on his skin, nor was his chest heaving. A year ago he'd have had to run at least a few hours to overload the machine. He would have to talk with Kaldur about getting it upgraded again.
"You break machines often or just when something's got your lightning bolts in a twist?"
Wally spun around, air sizzling to life again, sending a wave across the room. His startled nerves turned into annoyance as he glared at the newcomer. Across the room, standing on the mats was the newest member of the Team. What was his name? Black Feather? Black Night? Night Wing! Walls thought to himself as he forced calm over his features.
His eyes traveled up Nightwing, starting at the floor, socks peeking out beneath the loose black sweats. In the field those would be a hazard, he thought, snorting as he shook his head. As he lifted his eyes more, the speedster had to work to keep his expression impassive. The other wore a fitted black tank, showing every muscle. Wally forced himself to move on, not wanting to let anything slip. As he took in Nightwing's face, he scoffed mentally at the other's long hair, done up in a horribly messy bun, and almost rolled his eyes at the idiotic dark glasses on his nose.
"You always wear glasses inside, or just when you want to look like an ass?" Wally snapped, stepping off the treadmill.
"Touche," Wing chuckled, nodding his head slightly. "Probably should've started this off with something other than snark."
Wally snorted as he laughed quietly. "If you wanted to make friends, probably," he smirked at Nightwing.
"You're not doing too well yourself Kid Slick." Wing crossed his arms.
"Have you been under a rock for the last three years? It's Quickflash. Also, I'm not the new guy, new guy," Wally pointed out, leaning back into the treadmill, almost relaxing.
Nightwing's eyes narrowed, shoulders stiffening minutely. "I'm not the one that scares his team stiff as soon as I walk into the room, Walls," he jabbed, tone harsh, as he stepped closer.
Wally rocketed away from the treadmill, standing toe-to-toe with Nightwing. "I run faster than sound and vibrate my molecules through walls, what've you got? A couple of fancy moves and looks? Nothin' but ordinary muscles and scars, eh Snarky?" he retorted scathingly, eyes like venomous green slits as he looked down at Nightwing.
Even he didn't have enough time to react as the shorter hero shoved him back, anger rippling over Wing's angled features, making them sharper than ever. Wally regained his balance, expression mimicking Nightwing's, eyes narrow and jaw clenched shut. The speedster surged forward, ducking down as he lunged left, before darting to the right and passing his opponent without landing a blow as Wing stepped out of his way.
Wally turned, body tilting to keep his balance, hand skimming over the floor. He shot back toward the other hero, a growl building in his chest. As he brought his arm back, aiming at Wing's ribs, he saw him shift his weight, turning away to the left. The speedster changed course, hoping to have caught the movement in time to beat Nightwing around the turn. He didn't see the protege plant his feet or notice Wing take a deep breath, holding it as he watched the speedster's patterns.
A screech filled the air, the sonic blow hitting Wally and sending him skidding over the floor, thumping into the treadmill. His chest hurt and his lungs were stunned as he scrambled for a second or two to get his feet beneath him, though not fully standing yet. Wally's virescent gaze flicked towards the shorter, resting on the long, thick H-scar along his throat before stopping on the dark glasses.
"You're more like BC than I thought," Wally stated, a crooked smirk climbing onto his face.
"And you're more of a dick, so we're even," Wing snorted, turning towards the door, head shaking.
Wally quickly rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles and sighing. He started to turn back to the treadmill before stopping, looking over his shoulder.
"Hey, Snarky, you have a real name underneath those glasses?"
Wing stalled at the door, bending backwards till his hands lay flat on the floor. "Just call me Janah," he said, a cheshire-like grin spreading over his features.
Wally shook his head, laughing as Janah stood up. "How are your glasses still on?"
"Magic, dude. Magic," he answered, stepping through the door.
Wally shook his head again, snorting at the words. "I don't believe in magic," he grumped sourly as he grabbed his bag. "It's just science, not that he'd know the difference," the speedster muttered to himself as he made his way out of the gym.