Of course, the wisest question might have been to ask, 'where are you taking me?', but Billy had an inkling that he wouldn't get a straight answer. Maybe the police were bound by law to disclose certain information, but superhero vigilantes by nature usually took it upon themselves to spit in the eye of proper protocol.

Batman raised his gauntlet and tapped the holographic orange keys again. An engine revved somewhere in the night. Headlights loomed around the four-way intersection corner of another apartment building and headed toward them.

Oh my God, oh my God, it's the Batmobile, Billy thought rapidly, trying to quell the sudden urge to hop excitedly. He knocked his knees together to keep still. I'm going to ride in THE Batmobile. Why didn't I bring my phone? A selfie in there would look so great on his Facebook banner...

The Batmobile acted as though it were a loyal dog, stopping against the curb for Batman, waiting for its next command. Billy had heard of remote car starters, but remote car driving? It was simply too good to be real. The rumors of Batman being a secret government agent (possible android) were starting to gain some cred.

The tires were so massive they were at elbow-level to Billy's superhero form, and probably just barely street legal. The car looked exactly how he imagined a Batmobile to look like, but Freddy could probably name the make, model, and differentiate whether it was the Bat Urban Assault vehicle, the Bat Tank, or the Batshopping Cart.

However, when it came time for Billy and his entourage to pile in, he found out very quickly about the rule of space—in order to fit all those projectiles, and missiles, and cannons, and armor-electro-hydro-gyroscope whozits and whatsits, some sacrifices had to be made elsewhere. Namely the passenger seating, which was a little cozier than normal people would deem comfortable.

Most fortunate for Billy, he got to sit in the backseat next to the bulkiest guy of the bunch—Aquaman.

The Batmobile was only a two-door vehicle, the back seats had none. The roof of the Batmobile was meant to slide open from the top, allowing the only entry, leaving the doors only for the driver and passenger.

Once everyone buckled in, Batman put the pedal to the metal. Billy edged very close to his side of the car, hands in lap, knees pressed together, trying not to get in the way of Aquaman's manspread. Touching knees and then having to apologize would have just been the awkward icing on the awkward cake.

Just binding Billy's hands together as a means of containment wasn't enough, that didn't mean he couldn't use his arms to attack karate-chop style, so Aquaman held the rope tail, wrapping it several times around his veiny, muscled fist to hold firm. Billy almost felt like a dog on a leash. It was borderline humiliating. He couldn't even distract himself by looking out the window. Everything passed by in a blur. Batman was not only breaking speed limits but probably breaking the sound barrier, too.

He also had very distinct taste in music. The Batmobile was tuned to a police scanner which crackled and burst in the background every once in a while with live audio feed from police dispatch, and Batman didn't seem very keen on switching channels to something more boppy, like Power 99 FM or something.

Cyborg and Aquaman seemed attuned to the car's hyperspeed turns, leaning into them well, as though Batman carpooled them into work this way every morning. Billy's powers may have banished any bouts of car sickness his teenage self would have inevitably been feeling right now, but that didn't stop him from being succeptable to gravity as another sharp turn put his abs to work as he fought to sit straight.

Five minutes was probably all it took, there was no clock to say otherwise, but the trip definitely felt longer. That was probably the most stifling silence of Billy's life. And yet, there was still some thrill in seeing real life heroes at work. This whole process was all so inconvenient due to his restraints, and yet awe-inspiring for him at the same time. This wasn't as glamorous as getting to observe the Justice League fighting the big ones, the catastrophic supervillains, but he supposed this was just another superhero lesson for him, that not every costumed outing was meant to bring praise, glory, and recognition.

Philadelphia's night-time lights seemed to be getting more and more sparse by the second. Billy would have glanced over his shoulder through the rear window to confirm, but there was no window. How did Batman drive this thing without being able to see what was behind him? The Batmobile was probably the world's most extravagant car that employed the discomforting style of a windowless van.

Batman had definitely driven out to the country. Like, really in the country where sideroads were winding strips of dusty, crunchy gravel. He braked much more smoothly than his lead foot would have led Billy to believe. Batman and Cyborg exited first. The roof slid open. Billy knew what he had to do. It was time to face the music. He managed to step out of the car using nothing but legwork.

But this trip clearly wasn't over yet.

A sleek, black plane hovered over the field—the Batwing. Again, where Billy got that name from, he couldn't remember. Newspaper? Internet? Freddy again? The origins of all these superhero factoids were beginning to blur.

Aquaman never walked ahead. He would not move until Billy did by prompting him forward with an indication of his head in which direction he wanted Billy to go. As demeaning as that felt, that was the smart way to do it, Billy had to agree. A correctional officer would never let a prisoner trail behind them, would they?

The plane was a small little thing as far as planes went, which probably suited Batman just fine. The smaller, the less obvious, and he must have been the only passenger on most flights anyway.

Batman touched another itty-bitty scrap of tech somewhere on his belt, and the plane's transparent cockpit roof whirred and slid back to allow them entry, similar to the Batmobile. Did Batman have some sort of aversion to doors or something?

A mechanical ladder unfolded, touching ground.

"I call shotgun?" Billy tried with a well-meaning smile.

Aquaman wore a smile of his own, but it definitely wasn't one that matched. His thick, meaty hand clapped Billy's shoulder. "And miss continuing our delightful conversation from the car? Wouldn't dream of it." He steered Billy forward.

The Batwing's wingspan was super impressive, yet the cabin was only as big as a standard four-door vehicle's. There were only four seats, two up front, one definitely reserved for Batman to pilot, and a cockpit passenger. The two seats in the back, however, were each backed against opposite sides of the cabin, facing eachother.

"See?" said Aquaman, giving Billy two hearty pats on the back. "Exactly where we want to be, right, Champ?"

Billy smiled uncomfortably, his feeble laugh escaping in nervous spurts.

Bruce had discussed The League's seating formation beforehand. Arthur was the first means of defense, and if somehow The Champion could get past him and attacked Bruce from behind, Victor was the only one who would know how to take control of the Batwing.

'The Man In Red' codename outlived its usefulness now. The Champion, he called himself.

We shall see, thought Bruce, seating himself at the Batwing helm, flipping the ignition switch. The name could be either ironic, or a self-fulfilling prophecy.

All through the trip, Billy tried to look out the window to pass the heavy seconds, and to escape the burn of distrust from every single passenger he shared his ride with. Nobody spoke to him, but to be fair, none of them spoke to eachother either. Whatever they planned they were serious about it, and were executing it to a T by the look of things.

Unfortunately, the Batwing was capable of such speeds and altitudes that wind, cloud, and fog whipped across Billy's part of the window, mostly obscuring anything back on Earth. Even if the view had been clear, the pin-prick lights of Philadelphia were leaving. The little dots were getting more and more sparse. Billy wondered whether they were headed for another city, or somewhere more remote like the deep, deep countryside. He couldn't ask, though. Shattering the silence felt like an absolute sin. He made sure his hands were rested over his knees again, lest Aquaman's watchful gaze interpret them as scheming.

Billy eventually gave up on the window and cast his gaze onto his lap. While he was simultaneously excited out of his mind and tights-wettingly anxious, he hoped The Justice League wouldn't expand their hunt and pry into his foster sibling's Shazam connection. He couldn't imagine how Darla would react if she were subjected to this kind of interrogative process. He couldn't let The Justice League do that to her, well-meaning as they were. They didn't know the truth.

After a span of not even five minutes, the plane began to descend. That weird, swooping feeling in his gut from the altitude drop broke Billy out of his trance-like state.

Oh, finally, he thought gratefully. He really needed to invest in a watch. Bringing your phone was hard on super-excursions when the magic spandex didn't think to add magic pockets too.

On second thought, he would have to explain the very frequent cracked-screen rate to Rosa and Victor...

The plane touched down as if the tarmac was made of pillow, Billy barely rocked upon landing. If his hands weren't bound he would have politely applauded.

Batman flipped multiple switches and the Batplane's engines whirred down. Aquaman unclipped his harness and lurched over to Billy to assist with his.

"End of the line, buddy. Let's go," said Aquaman with a leering smile, clapping Billy on the shoulder. "After you."

The roof slid away and the ladder unfolded. Billy stood and meant to clumsily climb down without the use of his hands (yes, he could fly out, but given the circumstances, that wasn't a good idea), but was entranced by the view waiting for him outside when he turned. He expected maybe an idling truck waiting to take him underground. Or maybe a secret, underground bunker. Instead, a square, multi-story manor with a few pockets of light shining through its facade, surrounded by endless plains of grass that stretched into the dark night, greeted him.

The hideout was expansive. Like, fancy French chateau huge. Like, hosting Cinderella's Ball, debutantes, and guests who used one hundred dollar bills as napkins for their shrimp cocktail, that kind of huge. It was just a sprawling estate seemingly the middle of nowhere.

"Oh wow..." Billy exhaled in awe. "Now that's a lair." Where could he and Freddy get one of these?

A/N: *Mushu rise* I LIIIIIIVE!
Had that much time really passed since the last chapter?! I'm a monster!

I am soooo sorry for the long wait! I didn't mean to be away from this story for this long. Thank you very much for your patience. You are all just the sweetest, this is an incredible turnout on Favorites and Follows, I'm floored! I'm almost intimidated by the sheer numbers, I rarely see this kind of turnout.

I feel bad that this chapter is so infuriatingly short, but I really wanted to get it out sooner to at least let you all know that I really still do want to go through with Promoted Fanboy and see it to the end.