A/N: New story, you know the drill. I'm not even gonna say anything else.

.XX.

Laboratory 18 - December 24th - 23:08

Drip. Drip. Drip.

That was the only noise that resounded through the silent room, a leak in the ceiling being the cause. One drip. Two drip. Three drip. Fou-tch, why was he even counting them? That annoying little drip. The bane of his existence-wait. He still existed? Who was he? These damn drugs...what drugs? He couldn't remember taking any drugs...drugs were bad, drugs were for cowards who sought the easy way out...no. Drugs helped. Helped with the pain. Made everything better...right? They made you feel good, like nothing hurt...they took away the bad, replaced it with sunshine and rainbo-no...drugs were bad! That's what he said...who was he? Dad? Uncle? A friend? What was the point in friends? They just betrayed you and left you and forgot about you stupid backstabbers leaving you there not understanding pathetic lousy...what?

Drip. Drip.

Eyes open. Ears open. Could ears actually open? What were ears? Those semi-circles pointing out of the sides of the head? Oh. Oh. Those ears. Right. Wait, why was he so forgetful today? No...not today...every day...yesterday...the day before and probably tomorrow too...hope not...can't go on like this.

SHHRRmmm.

Eyes really wide, what was that? The door? There was actually a door? Of course there was...he was always in and out of this room...his room. Home. His home...really? This metal table...so cold...so solid...uncomfortable...but that was all he ever knew...no! NO! He knew more! There was more! Outside! ...Outside? Grass? Sky? Wind? What were they? Huh? A voice? Speaking? What...? Can't hear...stupid drip...wait...ow! So much noise all of a sudden...what? Oh...he's speaking? He?

"Can you hear me now, Wallace?"

Oh. Drugs are wearing off...how long...oh god, not him again. Never him. Remembering...oh shit, Dick...Artemis...where...ah. Other labs...no...please be alright...not left...eh...not the time.

"I know you can hear me, Wallace. I am an extremely patient man, but I'd rather be on my way very soon to visit your...friends. So you'd be in the right mind to answer me."

"Pretty sure I'm in the left mind now, you know...batshit crazy?" What is with the right and left sarcasm today?

A deep chuckle, almost throaty. "Now now, Wallace. Lets not delve into sarcasm, we all know how that worked out for young Richard now don't we?"

His eye twitched. "You bastard...don't bring him up...I'll never forgive for what you did to him..."

The man chuckled again. "Wallace, I can assure you Richard is...recuperating right now. You know I would never harm you too...severely..."

"Hah! 'Too severely' my ass!" He gestured to the multitude of stitches and bandages that covered his bruised body. "Tell that to the goons that broke three of my ribs, gave Dick a concussion and nearly gutted Artemis!"

The man frowned. "Wallace, lets not get too riled up now, you know that that'd never have happened if the three of you had just listened and obeyed my orders. You're my precious children afterall, it wouldn't do my image any good to be credited as a child abuser now, would it?"

He cringed. "We're not your children! You stole us from...from...god knows where! And don't make me laugh! You're a child abuser, don't deny it!"

The man cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't steal you from anywhere, the fact that you don't remember where I...'stole' you from doesn't help your claim...but we're getting behind slightly now. Charles."

He gestured to one of the two men behind him. "Get him ready and bring him to Point 71."

"Yes sir!" replied a large, burly man with short brown hair. Muscles rippled as he flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles. "C'mere you." he grumbled, moving towards the thirteen year old.

"I ain't letting you touch me with a ten-foot pole-mmphgrgh!" a cloth was shoved into his mouth and his bindings were undone. Soon enough, he was stripped out of his clothes that couldn't even be called clothes and changed into a black suit with a white dress shirt and orange tie. Faintly, he could hear the door opening and closing and footsteps heading down the hall.

Make-up...no...concealer, was slapped onto his face, covering the many bruises and the scar on his forehead that was shaped into what morbidly resembled a lightning bolt. He dwelled on the fact that he must resemble Harry Potter, a fictional character from the only book series he was allowed to read, before he was shoved out of the door roughly.

"Yeesh!" he stumbled, the thin chain around his neck jerking up. "Be more gentle why don't ya?!"

"Shut up, brat!" Charles muttered, slapping handcuffs on his wrists before leading him down a white corridor that made his eyes ache and down what seemed to be a thousand stairwells, while in actuallity, it had been three. He'd been down here a million times, and it always seemed to get longer. A door stood at the end of the stairwells. Sure he'd been down here a 'million times' but he had never walked through that door.

His eyesight was blocked by a thick sack being tossed over his head and he yelped as he was hefted up by the buff man and carried through the door. Wind rustled the sack and his clothes before he was tossed into the back of what seemed to be a car.

All he could hear was the boot slamming shut, the roar of an engine and the buzz of the car driving from whatever...wherever his 'house' was.

...

Laboratory 14 - December 24th - 23:32

She couldn't see a thing. It was black. Pitch black. Murky shadows lurking around her, twisting, trying to latch onto her, drag her in, and she wished they did. Anything to get out of here. Anything to get to Wally and Dick. Her friends. Her brothers. Just to see the outside with them, maybe find anyone who missed her from the outside world, because she knew damn well that that Westermen guy was not her father. Not Wally's. And not Dick's either.

The sound of a door opening startled her out of her thoughts, and she jolted, the chains on her wrists and ankles clanking as she moved. Bright light flooded her vision causing her eyes to water painfully as she weakly pulled her arms up to shield herself.

"Ah, Artemis sweetheart! It's been a while, too long, I say, too long. It won't happen again, darling, so don't worry, daddy isn't going to leave you alone for that long ever again, dear!"

'Crap...' she thought, pressing herself against the corner of her cell. 'Not him...'

The jingle of keys echoed in her ears as the cell's door was pushed open. She looked at the man that had startled her and glared, eyes finally adjusting to the light. Mentally, she went through what she knew about him.

Tyler Dean Westermen. Age...probably around mid-twenties very early thirties. Pale blond hair, long fringe that falls between the eyes, hair overall short...brown eyes. Women fawn over him at parties and social gatherings...I admit he could've been attractive to me if these weren't the circumstances...horrible bastard. Sick. Twisted. Sadistic. Loves the sight of blood...probably a daddy kink, seeing as he orders us to refer to him as 'daddy' or 'father'...manipulative. Fake. Pretender. Deserves to die. Give him his due, he did educate us and hired tutors to train us. Ugh. Still he experiments and tortures us...hate him...evil...

"Sweetheart?" her eyes widened and she bowed her head.

"Don't call me that..."

"But Artemis...you're my daught-" "NO I'M NOT!" she cut him off. "I am not your daughter, and Dick and Wally are not your sons!"

"Artemis, please, I've just had this disscussion with Wallace earlier, you have no memories of any other parents, so obviously the three of you must be mine!"

She didn't answer. Tyler frowned, before pushing a hand through his hair and sighing.

"Willis, get her ready. You know the drill. Point 71."

"Of course, sir!" a brown haired man who towered over Tyler, who himself was fairly tall, saluted. He moved towards her as she snarled at him. The thirteen year old's dark eyes narrowed again.

"Away! Stay away!"

"Not today, girlie." As he grabbed her arm, Artemis watched the retreating figure of Tyler disappear behind the closing door.

Minutes later, she was newly changed into a knee-length green dress with a thin mint green ribbon tied around her waist. Her long blonde hair was down and reached her waist. Concealer was rubbed on her face, arms, legs and shoulders, covering bruises, scars and other wounds. One scar in particular that was covered was the small faint one on the bottom of her right cheek, the one shaped strangely in an arrow if you squinted.

Handcuffs were fastened securely on her wrists as she was led down a long corridor and up one stairwell before a sack was placed over her head and she was lifted into a fireman carry through a door.

A cold breeze skimmed across her skin, causing goosebumps to rise, and she blinked. For as long as she could remember, she had never been able to walk through that door, she always had to be carried, almost as if she wasn't allowed to place foot outside the building.

Before long, she was tossed into what she could tell was the boot of a car, and the door was slammed shut. She could feel the car moving as she fought to contain the nausea after smacking her head onto the side of the boot as the car passed over a speedbump.

'Another party...another night of fake smiles...but...tonight...will be different...' she smiled slightly. Yes. Tonight will surely be different. Because tonight...

...

Laboratory 1 - December 24th - 23:51

They would be running away. Blue eyes blinked as he stared up at the tiled ceiling. They'd planned it at the previous party, and during their extremely rare breaks during training. He furrowed his eyebrows. Surely...surely they'd be able to pull it off...anything...to get away from the madman. He cringed. Glancing at the ceiling again, he began to count the tiles, even though he knew how many there were. 100. 100 tiles. He glanced at the tiled floor. 100 tiles. It was a small box room, with only one bed that was chained to the wall, a toilet and the low hum of the ventilation system to keep his company.

The sound of the door opening made him frown. And the occasional visits from the madman who called himself his father. The eleven year old scowled as a, sadly, familiar face loomed over him, blond hair brushing his face gently.

"Now now, Richard, don't pull that face. You know daddy doesn't like it. He prefers it when you smile. You've got a lovely smile, Richard, all three of you do."

"I was smiling. Until you got in my face..." he lied. He glared as the man leaned back and clutched his heart as if he was in pain. Oh, Dick wished Westermen was in pain. Preferably pain caused by Richard himself.

"Richard, my dearly beloved youngest...you wound me, you really do."

"I wish I actually did wound you." he snarled, blue eyes glittering in anger. "After all you've done to me, Artemis and Wally...I'd kill you so many times, and burn your body..."

A dangerous glint appeared in brown eyes. "...Really? Do you really wish that?"

Richard nodded, still glaring at him, until his eyes widened into saucers as a calloused hand gripped his throat.

"You want to kill me...the man who protected you? Hired tutors to educate and train you? The man who feeds and clothes you, gives you shelter?! You want to kill me?!"

Richard coughed as he writhed, prying at the hand clamped tightly around his neck. "Y-you nev-er...protected me...us...those 'tutors' put us thr-ough 'ell 'nd b'ck..." he wheezed. "The f-food tastes l'k' shit and...and the clothes are lit-eral ra-" he choked. "Rags..." the hand got tighter with every word, until Dick managed to rasp "and the shelter...i-is a shitho...le...". Tyler's hand wrenched away from the neck and brown eyes peered at the newly blooming bruise the shape of a hand on the pale neck.

"Is that so? Well, maybe if you listened and obeyed me, things would be better...and I thought Wallace dearest was the rebellious one..." he turned on his heel, and started walking, leaving the coughing and panting adolescence on the bed.

"Benson, get him ready, rendezvous at Point 71."

"As you wish, sir." the fat man behind him nodded, before approaching Dick with a set of clothes. Dick didn't struggle as he was changed into a black suit, white dress shirt and red tie. He didn't resist as handcuffs were locked onto his skinny wrists. He obeyed when they lead him down numerous corridors and up ten stairwells. He didn't fight back when they put a sack over his head and hefted him over one shoulder, and he didn't scream when he was tossed into the boot of a car. He remained silent when they shut the boot on him and drove off.

All that occupied his mind was what was going to occur later that night...no...dawn. They were going to escape. They were going to be free. Finally...after how many years? He didn't know...but he knew it was over six years. His eyes drifted closed as he took a deep breath, feeling the car jerk to a stop and the boot being opened and a rush of cold wind raced over him.

Tonight...was the night.

.XX.

A/N: This idea just hit me, to be honest. My favourite part to write was Wally's. It was originally going to be Dick's part, but I thought it would suit Wally more. Why? YOU'LL FIND OUT.

This is an AU. No romance. So, no Birdflash, no Spitfire, no Chalant, no Traught...maybe a little Supermartian, but that's it. Of course, Wally is Wally, so he will be flirting.

Did you enjoy? I did. If I didn't I wouldn't be writing this. Pfft. Ciao.