VII: Downtime

"Sorry. Um. Again."

"You don't need to keep apologizing."

A few hours had passed with a tiresomely sheepish smile across Dick's face. He looked over to Zatanna, whose high-heeled shoes lazily dangling from the tips of her fingers. They enjoyed the nice August breeze, hands interwoven sweetly and rowing between them. She looked to him, blue eyes dark beneath the moonlight, and tilted her head diffidently to the side. At a certain time, Bludhaven could be quiet and still for the night, with hidden stars that appeared only to the bravest of people and glowed in the sky.

Dick let out a pertinent sigh and ran his free hand through his hair. After dinner they decided to go bowling—one of the most human things to do. (They'd been asked to leave after shattering twenty bowling pins.) He'd unbuttoned the dress shirt, thankful to be out of a formal setting and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. Somehow he lost his jacket in the middle of the night (which, after closer scrutiny he realized was draped over Zee's shoulders.).

Given they had a humane dinner and a humane date, the quartet parted ways to end the night. Kaldur and Artemis informed them they would be returning to the Watchtower in order to check the progress of Batgirl on an encrypted case. The way Artemis looked at them made him feel like a piece of meat.

Awake, with the slightest bit of sleep after falling asleep on his bike, in his mashed potatoes, and on the bowling area, Dick looked to his sweet date with a smile. "So that story you told during dinner."

"You were awake enough for that?" Zatanna mused.

"You and I didn't go on a mission last month." Dick stopped her at the alleyway, curling a hand into hers with an arched eyebrow. "And Zatanna Zatara is one of the worst liars I know. So, who were you with?"

She stopped, looking at him n pure disbelief. Red bloomed in her cheeks, bright and mildly disturbed. Taking in a breath, she smiled sheepishly once more. "It's Garth."

"Gar?"

"Garth. Garth!" She laughed at the look of disbelief on his face, clutching her stomach in good intentions. Dick honestly had gaped, mouth hanging low in a soft 'o,' but it was sealed with a chaste, innocent kiss on the mouth.

"So," Dick said, looking at her carefully. "You. And Garth?"

She smirked at him, ever so bold, and tugged him closer to the correct alley. "Last month. There was a barrier keeping neighboring people to come to Poseidonis. Something magical. Atlantean sorcery didn't seem to be effective. They wanted Doctor Fate, but. He had his hands tied with a different mission. So they asked me instead."

"And," Dick continued for her, "being Aquaman's right hand aside from Kaldur, Garth and you were lumped together. And spent a lot of time together. You speak Atlantean?"

"Language barriers mean nothing to me." She jerked him around, clawing at the front of his dress shirt and held a seductive smirk that could have woken up anyone in the nearest four blocks. It faltered, and she sighed softly before upping her pace. "But, well. You know Atlanteans—they're empathetic. We've had…civil lunches by the beach, but I can't quite tell if he's trying to court me or not."

"Just be happy you've got the em- on there." A small smile etched across his lips, they stopped at a dark opening between the donut shop and a pet store.

Bludhaven's zeta-beam tube, just like Gotham, was a telephone booth. Instead of teleporting herself back to her apartment in New York City, they'd decided to walk in each other's company. However, clear as day, there stood Tempest, evidently bored as can be. He was frowning at the pet store—most likely annoyed at the amount of goldfish tanks inside. As soon as he caught sight of the pair, a bright smile appeared across his face—and then he staggered, realizing Dick was there as well.

"I told him I was going on an outing with Artemis and Kaldur," Zatanna said. She matched his smile, waving enthusiastically.

"Why didn't he?"

The magician offered a pointed look and gestured down to their interwoven hands.

Dick blinked. "Oh." Pulling away, he rubbed the hand in his hair, feigning interest in the giant donut displays in the window. Garth appeared deterred, moving to leave—and Zatanna shouted something, presumably in Atlantean.

Tempest halted, but the look of dismay was still evident on his face.

Guilt bubbled in Dick's stomach and he bit the inside of his mouth nervously. The pair turned to each other, and he ran a hand through his hair. "If…I knew you were interested in someone else right now, I wouldn't have looped you into this. I swear."

Sapphire blue orbs were hard, but not hateful. Zatanna's eyes narrowed to him, with a solid smile before she patted him on the chest. "I know."

"You're literally the best. You know that, right?"

"I do. After the four hundred times you've told me tonight. You owe me big, Boy Wonder." She tugged him by the collar of his shirt and gingerly redid the buttons before arching an eyebrow. "Take it as a sign. Quit distancing yourself from everyone, and maybe you'll know a thing or two instead of messing around."

"I'll keep that in mind." The old acrobat nodded, reminding himself quietly of Kaldur's words.

Zee looked to him, her gaze quiet and eyebrows pressed together, and he hoped the tightness didn't show in his smile. Standing to the tips of her toes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Goodbye, Dick."

"Bye, Zee."

He watched the pretty smile curtsy across her lips before she turned around and faced Garth again. The Atlantean undid his stance, looking to her with a worried pout. They met each other at the phone booth, exchanging words as they did so, and Garth grimaced in Dick's direction. Still—Dick waved.

"Recognized: 25 – Zatanna. B10 – Tempest."

The hum of the zeta-beam tube resonated out of the alley, with an outerworldly sound. Dick waited until both sorcerers disappeared from his sight, and stood alone.

Dick took the long walk back to his apartment. He stripped of the monkey suit as soon as the door shut behind him and examined the decrypted files on his computer. Velocity 9. Metahuman drug shots.

Unsure of what he would fine, he read all of the files and narrowed his search to Wally. What happened to Wally the year he was gone. What they'd done to Wally. If…Zoom was just a clone of Wally.

Everything found made him sick to his stomach. Disgusted. But…not all of the data had been retrieved. He needed more to put all of the puzzle pieces together. Dick faulted that to Red X—escaping to show off his moves. Deathstroke was impressed enough, he reminded himself. Luthor needed more convincing.

I see a lot of me in you.

No. Dick shuddered, coming to a sudden halt in his research. Red X, in his mind was…a loose cannon. Reckless, but clean with his work. It surprised him how little time Dick devoted into coming up with a personality for the guy. X would be manipulative and bring back impressive game. If Slade could get the trust of the Light and replace Black Manta's position, than Dick himself could get in.

Normies stick together, he mused. At least the smart ones. Get in, get Wally, get out. There was still too much he did not know—and quite secretly, he knew he cared more about getting Wally back than stopping whatever plan the Light had.

Eventually the ex-Boy Wonder gave up. He let his exhaustion get the better of him. Daylight fluttered through the room, splashing on dark corners to make them visible again—yet one Dick Grayson collapsed in bed, and caught up on a week of sleep.

xxx

The room was kept dark, with lights that practically didn't exist. The temperature was cool, in order to avoid overheating in each holographic tomb, and every being glowed an evangelical blue—like soft torches of life that'd succumbed to the worst deaths. Each entity had a quirk about their face that spoke dimensions about their—well, them. Bart liked to think that if he stared long enough at the first Kid Flash's face, Wally look like a proud cousin.

A week later after another humdrum mission, he found himself perched at the edge of Wally's memorial holo-grave. He did that a lot. Whether he was in a good mood or a bad mood, Bart found himself staring at his cousin's face and hoping for better. There was a six-foot tall statue carved out at the Central City, with a golden plaque etched at the bottom that said, In Memory of: Wallace Rudolph West. "Kid Flash: the Fastest Teen Alive." Our Hero. Bart couldn't bring himself to go there.

After Wally's death, his identity had been revealed the world, to honor the hero as a whole.

It just didn't feel real if Bart went to the grave at the cemetery.

Sitting at the edge of his cousin's holo-self, Bart rested his chin on his knees. He stared at Kid Flash's goggles on the organic grass in front of him, and watched the glow of Wally's face against them. They'd gone on an undercover mission involving Lex Luthor, with satisfying results. But—

Nightwing dropped the case involving Zoom over a week ago, with August floating by as a dream. Soon it would be September, then October—then November. Wally's birthday. One, Bart mused, that he would not get to spend with his cousin. Again.

"I knew I'd find you here."

"Really? Because that's kind of creepy." Snapping out of his thoughts so easily as he often did, Bart readjusted his position. He sat cross-legged in front of the plaque, with hands folded in his lap—but looked over to the long door, where Robin stood at the corridor with straight-lined lips. Waiting a moment, the brunet felt his heart clench tightly in his chest, and an easygoing smile spread across his lips. "But endearing. Like—creepdearing."

Just like Bart squatted in front of the Kid Flash memento, Tim waltzed over to the ominous lighting of Jason Todd with a twitch for a nod. The Boy Wonder nodded silently, with a smile that fit his personality. They entered a silence the brunetr couldn't help be fond of, and watched their respective predecessors.

Bart didn't have an opinion of Jason Todd. It was hard to form an opinion on someone you didn't have emotional contact with—but the stories he'd read before coming to the present time called him a good man. A lot of the BatFamily had already died off before he became Impulse.

Eventually when reminding himself Wally was dead for the umpteenth time became boring, Bart collecting himself, his goggles, and crawled over to Tim. The other teen stood tall, observing the second Robin's memento in silence. He turned to look to Bart—and a small smile spread across his lips.

"I'm glad," Bart blabbed—before he could grasp what he was saying.

Robin looked back, most likely blinking beneath his mask. The said mask shifted, black eyebrows pinching together with amusement. "You're glad that we're standing in a hall full of dead people."

"No! No." Bart grinned back, unable to contain his own laugh. What some people didn't know was, Robin actually knew how to crack a joke. "I mean. You know—Jaime and I are hermanos and all, but you—you get it."

That was enough to steer Robin off his track. His smile faded away, arms crossing over his chest. "Oh?"

They'd been hanging out since the first Zoom incident. Even before that, Bart considered Tim his best friend next to Jaime—especially after everything that went down with Blue Beetle getting possessed. After Wally died, everyone including Jaime coaxed him through it. Tried to, anyway. Bart saved his grandpa, but he lost Wally. Tim—well. Tim wasn't as good at it—which was what made it the best.

(It was probably conditioning from years as a slave—the fact that Tim was numb, or tried to be numb felt raw. Tim lost people too. He failed to protect, and that was exactly how Bart felt.)

Biting his lip, Bart looked up to the pale hologram, hunched his shoulders, and crossed his arms. "You know what it's like, inheriting the title from someone who's dead. And the first guy—he was Wally's best friend. Jaime tells me not to worry whenever I second-guess myself, but—when it comes from you, I…I feel like you mean it."

The words ran through his head again and Bart blinked. Wait a minute.

"Is…that why you've been monitoring me recently?" Turning his head, Bart stared at the Boy Wonder incredulously. "You're worried about me?"

Shrug. "I…was returning the favor for what you did for me. When my dad died."

"Oh." Bart thought back to the incident at hand. During the month Dick returned to the team, Nightwing doted on his new baby brother at all times, to make sure he was okay. Batgirl rarely wanted Robin out of her sight—and afterward, it was obvious Tim was fed up with it.

Their team had their own special room where they were allowed to hang out since the mountain was out of the question. Tingling with his own impulsiveness, Bart volunteered to go on patrol with the Boy Wonder so he could blow off some steam.

"So what brings you here," Bart asked thoughtfully, arms crossed over his chest, "with me? I mean—not with me, but with me, here, you know. Sort of. Floating. Well—actually floating; duh, we're in space—and not space as in a room, though we take up like, 2% of the spatial area here, but I mean like. Stars and stuff. Stuff as in meteors and, uh. Stuff." Wow, he was bad at this.

Tim turned to him thoughtfully, hands tucked on either side of him with a thoughtful look. "You need to talk?"

Oh. "Am I just like an open book to you?"

"I like books."

"Yeah—I. Me too, I guess." Rocking back and forth between his heels, Bart ran the thoughts through his head. He sucked in a breath and bit the inside of his mouth. The glow from Wally's hologram shadowed his figure, so his long shadow met the walls. Shrugging nonchalantly, Bart crossed his arms and leaned on his left foot. "I—do I seem like I need a talk?" He kinda hoped this wouldn't turn into a pokemon talk again. And hoped that it did.

Tim shrugged. His poker-face remained, gaze pretty flat. But a moment later—his lips twitched. Lenses twitched. Robin's stature faltered and he ducked his head to scratch his temple. "I'm. Uh. I'm not very good at this."

On the contrary. Bart blinked owlishly, eyes wide and curiously gold like his suit. He crossed hands behind his head and let a hardy smile spread across his lips. "

You're doing fine." He bit back the need to snicker.

"Thanks." Tight and stiff.

"Is it okay if I don't think about him?" Bart gave the question a test run. He rocked on his heels again and narrowed his gaze toward the solemn hologram. Biting the inside of his mouth, he continued, "I mean. I used to think of him all the time when I first put on the suit. But now I…I think about what he says, rather than, 'this is how he would have done it.' I do it instead of thinking, and then it's…it's not until afterward that I realize Wally may have done it differently. Better. That maybe, they're judging me. And…in present time, I feel…" Bart shrugged nonchalantly. "I feel right."

"It just means you're over the circumstance—"

"But I don't want to be over the circumstance. I mean—" Bart felt his head pound. He didn't feel like he deserved to forget about the circumstance.

If…he'd been able to hear Flash, been able to read his lips, they could have slowed down. They could have prevented Wally from dying the way he did.

"It doesn't make you any less of a person," Tim said to break his ministrations. A hand touched Bart's shoulder, firm and tight. Looking over, the brunet caught sight of the smile that curled at the corner of Tim's lips. "Trust me."

Bart let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His arms remained tucked beneath his armpits and he looked back up to Wally's form. "I do," he said, voice saturated with anxiety. Then, green eyes fell to meet opaque lenses. "I do trust you."

"Thank you." Robin smiled. The black cape draped over his shoulder, hiding muscles beneath darkness. He bowed his head before turning back to Jason Todd's memorial, so Bart did too.

"Do you miss him?" he asked. Bart bit the inside of his mouth and cursed. Crap. "I mean—maybe that's impossible—you now, considering he, uh, died before you ever put on the suit, but I mean—well, does he have sentimental value to you—"

"Don't talk about him like he's an inanimate object, Bart."

"Uh—oh." Bart bit the inside of his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Sorry."

Tim shook his head. The glow of the second Robin's uniform glistened against the current Boy Wonder's pale skin. He scrutinized the hologram more carefully as though there were a detail he'd never noticed before. "He saved me once. Back when I was about eleven."

"Yeah?" Bart knew very little about the second Robin. The bits he did know—were simple. Books described him as a light-hearted Robin—and dying as a hero. Bart felt that point was incredibly adamant, when he read it.

"He smiled a lot. Was cheerful. That's how Nightwing was when he first became Robin." The 'was' in that sentence sounded dreadful. Tim bowed his head again, shoulders hiking over his ears and shrugged stoically. "Batgirl likes to say that Jason had Nightwing's wit, and I got his analytics. Not that it makes either of us more or less of a detective. Sometimes I wonder if Batman has a favorite Robin."

"Then you realize how stupid you must sound in your head?" Bart guessed. He smiled when Tim's lips twitched. "I think you're funny."

"You read an entire library worth of joke books."

"The one about 'orange you glad I didn't say banana' one never gets old."

Tim shook his head, but not dismissively. His eyebrows pinched together beneath the mask, lips fidgeting into a nonexistent smile. Bart liked to think the Boy Wonder was trying not to laugh. Robin took one step behind him, turning his body at an angle toward the door. "I should probably get going. I'm glad you're feeling better."

Oh. "Yeah." Bart's lips curled into a disappointed frown and he reached out. "Wait."

The other teen turned around, expectant. The speedster cursed in his head, realizing his brain suddenly ran straight into a wall, and bit the inside of his mouth. Harshly. Nervously.

"Joan makes this cool dinner, where they soak the steak in powdered sugar, wrap bacon around it, and then bake it."

No response.

Oh—wait, he'd forgot to ask a preceding question. He smacked himself mentally (and maybe physically on the forehead, disregarding Tim's amusement) and looked up nervously. "Do you want to sleep over?"

There was a twitch in the current Boy Wonder's mask, where his mouth even parted with surprise before closing curtly again. A nearly-inaudible sigh and the slightest shade of pink in his ears. "I beg your pardon?"

Bart admitted—watching Robin get sort-of-maybe-flustered was really cute. He stepped forward without thinking, hands tucked behind his back as his nose delved into Tim's personal space. "We're friends. Right? Friends sleep over at places. I hear some even cuddle. But—Food. This is about food and a—thank you. For everything you've done so far."

If stoic looks could be expressive, Tim looked doubtful. Bart only smiled as the boy bit the inside of his lip. "I'll have to ask Batman."

"Uhuh."

"It's patrol night."

"Uhuh."

"He'll…ahem." Apparently a thought passed through Tim's head, evidently preoccupied with his relationship with the Dark Knight in the past few weeks. "He'll probably say yes."

Bart only beamed.

Grandpa looked surprised whenever the young speedster escorted his friend to the zeta-beam tube, bold enough to loop an arm around Robin's like a dog's leash. But not objecting. Bart knew Flash's face too well, how worried he was working with Batman to solve the Zoom mystery while juggling raising Dad and Aunt Dawn, and in a roundabout way, Bart himself. They worried about each other—a lot. And unlike a lot of partners, they were usually vocal and immediate about their concern.

However, Bart knew they were in the stage where they were trying to keep quiet. Trying not to show how scared they were for each other. It was the part of Bart that wanted to say he was over Wally's death and he could get past it. Because before everything went down the crapper, Impulse and Flash were efficient partners; so a new Kid Flash shouldn't have changed anything. (Yet…Bart was willing to admit he'd never get over the fear that one day he'd wake up and Grandpa would be dead.)

They decided to crash in the Garricks' living room since it had the biggest TV. Being prepared for everything (surprisingly), Bart was met with the dark shades, a Gotham University t-shirt and a pair of track shorts that felt too good to be true.

After he stared for a good minute or so, one of those pale legs faltered backward. Tim arched an eyebrow in the air. "Something wrong?"

He had the 'there's something wrong in the room and I'm going to make you point it out' tone to his voice. Resisting the urge to lick his lips, Bart collapsed over his body pillow. He scrutinized the dark leg hair one more time and turned his attention to Back to the Future. "Nothing. Just forgot you were actually human under that suit." With killer legs like your brother, he decided not to add.

The smirk across Tim's face almost passed for human; even teen-ish, but he shook his head and leaned against the coffee table. The house was dark, save for the lamp that rested on a end table near the fashionable couch. Jay and Joan had long gone to bed, knocked out like good old people. Before they were dropped off, Flash offered to supply them with drinks, marshmallows, popcorn, and whatever else they were needed. Bart was too excited to be embarrassed with a key fact—he hadn't had a friend over in weeks. It was either homework, patrol, or the team.

"Thanks," Tim said to snap him out of his thoughts. He leaned over to open a Dr. Pepper and looked up as Michael J. Fox rolled his eyes. "I know I'm not Jaime, but…"

Bart bit the inside of his mouth. "We're not actually seeing each other right now."

That seemed to pique the Boy Wonder's interest. "You two are best friends."

"Yeah. Well—I kissed him and he yelled some weird words in Spanish, and then told the Scarab to buzz him out of here." Squinting at the TV screen, the brunet hummed and waved his legs. "But it's like. He was really close, and we were laughing. And then I kissed him."

"Uh…" That was Tim for 'lack of comprehension.'

Involved with the movie, Bart only offered a half-hearted shrug and shoved a hand-full of popcorn in his mouth. "Kind of a weird way to come out of the closet though, huh?"

"A bit," Tim agreed. Bart decided to ignore the strained silence that passed with it. He looked to the corner of his eye, and noticed that the elder teen's expression changed very little. Like he was debating something. Waiting a heartbeat, Tim reached over and scooped up popcorn himself.

(With a bitten back sigh of relief, Bart decided to rake the hesitation toward his tactlessness. He was working on it—honest.)

"Does Flash know?" The other teen asked that in absolute casual conversation. There was a crunch as he ate kernals.

Closing his eyes, Bart pressed his cheek into the pillow and felt his shoulders at his ears. "Wally did."

"Ah," was the response. Which dropped the conversation again with a curt, awkward nod.

"It's a theory I'm working on," Bart confessed. He rocked over his pillow until his back pressed against the wooden floor and he clung to it like a koala bear to a tree. "After so many traumatic experiences, especially in what we do, it doesn't matter the gender. Just the person you're looking for, y'know?"

Despite the many gaps in their conversation, Bart failed to see anything uncomfortable in Robin's body language. Then again—Tim knew how to act and react. If the lack of discomfort on Tim's face wasn't real, then…Bart tried not to think about it. "Not very many people would agree with that theory, let alone think of it."

In the background, an explosion fired on the TV and Doc's eyes bugged out.

"Do you?" The brunet asked.

Tim's lips pursed together tightly through the curt exchange. "Yeah."

Great. Sitting up, Bart closed the distance between them, bumping shoulders with the other teen. He couldn't quite tell what emotion twisted across Tim's face. He bumped feet with the other boy, noticing how long and weird they seemed next to each other, and wiggled his toes. Flash's—Grandpa Barry's reaction from earlier carried through his mind. "You think that's how Wally and Nightwing thought of each other?"

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for Tim to agree with him. He reached over for the remote, slowly turning the volume down until it was at the last bar. "Nightwing and Wally've known each other since before you and I became heroes. Of course their bond would be…"

"Affectionate?"

"Inhuman." Shrugging, the off-duty Boy Wonder flipped the remote in his hand like a birdirang. "It's…not just like they're best friends. Before Artemis, Kid Flash and Robin were partners."

"You mean Dick and Wally." Bart nudged the other boy with his hand.

"Uh—yeah." A lithe finger pushed glasses over blue eyes. Tim seemed to falter in his own thoughts, chewing on his own lip in thought. That being done, Bart took the careful wording into mind.

"Do you think we could be partners?"

"Do you?" Tim asked with just as much curiosity.

The speedster only shrugged, unsure how to conjure a response. It was true, Blue Beetle was hesitant to spare him a glance since the kiss incident. Usually they'd be the ones paired off together, but if he were honest with himself—Robin was there more since Impulse became Kid Flash. He felt bad, too—rarely did Bart ever ask how Tim's day was going. "I'm not…opposed to it."

To his surprise, the answer was met with a bump of the shoulder. The edge of Tim's lips curled and he pulled a leg up to his stomach. "We'll run with it."

"It's what I'm best at." Matching the elder teen's smile, Bart hunched over his knees and pushed the body pillow aside. He swallowed his thoughts, running the proposal in his head. "Kid Flash and Robin. They…stopped being kids when the team started. Since they saw so much of each other."

Tim shook his head in disagreement. "They just…forgot how." Setting the remote down again, Tim turned his body so they faced each other. "I know from personal experience how much Dick…cherished Wally." He tested the word on his lips, wondering if that was the right word. "It's why he's so hard on himself about Antarctica. Why he doesn't want to compromise everyone else. I don't…agree with what he does. But someone has to question his objectivity."

"He's a powerhouse of the team. Or—was. Questioning Nightwing's objectivity was like, Wally's major in college," Bart pointed out. He stood up, sped over to the end table, and grabbed the small picture of the Flash Family. The first and second Flash, and the first Kid Flash, back when Wally was fourteen or fifteen. A stupid grin rested across his face—the first thing anyone ever saw. "They may have argued, but it's not Dick's fault Wally decided to put the suit on. Wally did it willingly. They're just…adults arguing like children, and rebounding off the argument like it's an adult problem."

"We're not exactly kids either."

Shrug. "I haven't been a kid in a long time." Silence. Staring at his bare feet, Bart made out the gunk that was beneath his big toe nail. The TV echoed off Marty McFly's voice as he screamed. "So what are we?"

Tim's hand rubbed the fabric of his shorts, feigning interest. He pursed his lips, then opened his mouth. "Somewhere in between."

In between. That…wasn't the right word. But as much as Bart ran the thoughts through his head, he couldn't help but look over to his forthcoming new best friend. It was no question how high Robin's IQ was—that almost came with the job description. The casualness of his voice carried—and Bart bounced off of it.

He plopped down next to the Boy Wonder, nudged him in the knee, and sighed. Then fumbled with the popcorn. "We can be betweeners together."

"I can deal with that." The gesture was returned with a ghost of a smile curling across his lips.

They watched the rest of the movie, occasionally in silence before Bart babbled about the inaccuracies of 1980s special effects, while Tim occasionally agreed with him. In between switching movies from Back to the Future I to Back to the Future II, Bart unintentionally made a loud yip.

"Yeah?" Tim arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Bart blabbed. He mixed the leftover unpopped popcorn in his bowl and hummed. "You really do get me."

xxx

"His name is Wilkie."

"Is there a problem with the name Wilkie?"

"Only if there isn't a problem with the fact he trusts us with his full name."

"Having trust and throwing out a name are two completely different concepts, Zoom. He's either desperate to impress us with his credentials, or this so-called 'resume' of his is as hollow as his mask. A moot point: He's either completely stupid or has something up his sleeve."

Zoom bit the inside of his mouth, looking carefully at the computer screen as it read the name, 'Wilhelm Halley Elm.' The disk shown was far more sophisticated than what either Deathstroke or he suspected. On the keyboard alone was a small hologram of Red X in various pin-up girl poses. He grimaced, unsure how to take the news. Following the grimace came a headache—and following his headache was a distasteful groan.

Deathstroke looked over, his one eye focused on the speedster. "Your time without Psimon is taking a toll on your health."

"It's why I insist on going to Biayla myself," Zoom murmured. He pushed the cowl off his face and pinched the bridge of his nose distastefully. "I could—"

"Luthor has the final say in what your instructions are. As of now, you are on house arrest until we need you."

"Even though you are in charge of deploying me." The speedster mumbled again and rubbed his nose. He crossed his arms, glaring unenthusiastically at the unmasked Red X. Wilkie, he thought dreadfully. With another headache that would soon morph into a painful migraine.

"You've been unmasking yourself a lot, lately." Deathstroke changed the subject without another word. He pressed a key, changing Red X's smug face to his assets and abilities.

Hm. Zoom paused, a frown enveloping his lips. He reached behind him and dragged the hood over his head. "It's not intentional. It's just—"

"Human," Deathstroke finished for him.

Debating the words in his head, Zoom's head only pounded harder.It was an insult. Human had to be the furthest word to describe him. That being said, he fastened the cowl tight over his vision and gestured to the screen. "So what is the verdict?"

"Unfortunately Lex doesn't see the merit of having a twenty-year-old man 'dicking around,' in the laboratory, when he has plenty of those already."

"So you're inviting him," Zoom translated. The mirth in his boss's tone was unquestionable.

"He'll get his excellent commission if he proves his worth." Pulling out the X-shaped thumb drive, Deathstroke inspected it. He crushed it in his hands in one squeeze and flung it at the ground before picking up a small green chip. One with a microphone attached to it.

"That easy to find a chip?" The speedster arched an eyebrow beneath his mask.

"We have a lot in common. Like I said: I see a lot of me in him." Inspecting the small chip one more time, Deathstroke tossed it aside and crushed it with his foot. He turned around and exited out of all of his programs. "You're dismissed for now, Zoom. I'll call you for your next assignment in the morning."

Next assignment. So that meant house arrest was just a buff so Luthor wouldn't ride Deathstroke's ass for the time being. "Yes sir."

Waiting one more moment, Zoom watched Deathstroke pull up a different set of statistics to examine, with his fingers hovering over the Call button—no doubt for Luthor. Dad needs to call Mom, he mused in his head wryly. Carrying on that thought, he strolled out the entryway and waited, until he could see the shiny bald head appear in high definition.

"We will heighten the dosage of Velocity 8.12 in his system and limit distilling the chemicals."

Zoom bit back a tired groan and swallowed down the irritation.

Because they were talking about him. Velocity 8 was what saved his life, according to Deathstroke and Luthor. It neutralized the unstable radiation in his body, with the side effect of making him fast. Well. Super-Fast, actually. Whatever nearly killed him also gave him super speed, according to the pair. He'd been comatose for nearly a month, where Velocity 1 through 7 were injected into him to speed up the process and pull his body out of stasis.

Red X was wrong. Deathstroke and Luthor were his saviors.

He was smug about the thought because X…William "Wilkie" Hally Elm—Zoom rolled his eyes—wasn't there to make him angry. Piss him off. Should Red X actually become a reliable asset, Zoom feared actually working with the man. Just as much as it piqued his interest. He decided he'd put it in the back of his mind for now.

Besides, needles hurt. That was his problem with the new medication, especially when they heightened the dose he received. Zoom was forced into bed rest, with an IV through his arm for twenty-four hours, as the Velocity drug to settled in and placed his body in equilibrium with his hyperactive metabolism. The bruise that came afterward lasted for at least an hour, with an ugly black color and little black specks ebbed in skin. Zoom couldn't resist his curiosity to poke it—to see if it bled. He couldn't help it—it was just so ugly.

Hence, pain.

There was the other thought—one that examined Deathstroke's words and reminded him he was a test subject they were looking to 'fix.' A prototype to adjust the drug before they planned on moving forward with their plans. Wally's hyper-accelerated healing allowed him to be tested on as long as they needed. Along with Psimon, they were the pillars that kept him numb. Kept from being human. Inferior.

Shivering, Zoom began the trek to his room. He'd long faded away from Luthor and Deathstroke's conversation, anyway. Mommy and Daddy, he thought again. Being grounded and under house arrest was a petty move—especially for them. He was bitter about it, as they used different agents below him to get their hands dirty. The dumb ones, too.

Pausing in front of a dark glass door, he was met with the sight of Tuppence Terror and Mammoth sparring while laboratory scientists took notes. Shimmer stood by, observing her brother while the scientists took vivid descriptions, five words per penstroke.

Mammoth would be leaving soon, Deathstroke informed him earlier in the week. The said beast had bulging muscles, veins spasming like small rivers every time he flexed. A smirk was marred across Mammoth's face. He grabbed Tuppence by the arm, spun her, and threw her against a wall. The entire room trembled under the sudden impact and Tuppence's muffled scream echoed through the complex.

He is already affected by the Kobra Venom—something the former is only interested in using for the Cult of Kobra. The Light would stay ahead by producing their own 'venom.' Mammoth was only kept as an incentive for Shimmer to stay. However, Mammoth would be transported to a different division of the Light to help the Underworld elsewhere.

In the dark metal, Zoom observed the fight for only minutes. He hesitated, bringing gloved fingers over the crown of his head, and looked at the pale reflection of the red-haired Caucasian man.

His hair was cropped short, in order to keep from getting in the way when he ran or during tests. Light freckles adorned his face from a childhood Zoom didn't remember, with a long narrow nose, and a diamond shaped face that jutted in awkward angles. The last few days he'd forgotten to shave, with the hint of scruff at his jaw line. Zoom had seen it plenty of times. It was his face, after all. But with the mask on, with what Luthor and Deathstroke requested him to do, he wasn't the oblong-looking man in his reflection. He was Zoom.

But. Taking into consideration how Red X looked at him, only a week prior…

Zoom shook his head. No—that thief was a moron. A boy with a few circus tricks.

Psimon giving him a sedative couldn't come soon enough.

Making the last rounds, Zoom reached his door. Images of college campus residential halls flickered behind his eyes—of Stanford University's dorm rooms, CalState, Happy Harbor University—et cetera. Rooms so small that you could barely move from side-to-side. Makhent and Tommy Terror shared one room, as did Tuppence Terror and Jinx. Shimmer would soon get her own room when Mammoth returned to Kobra.

Being Deathstroke's immediate accomplice, Zoom was granted his own living quarters with a small kitchenette, a couch that pulled out into a bed, and his own bathroom. Tests were done on him so often with the Velocity dosages that his quarters doubled as an infirmary.

"Authorization. Zoom." He pulled the cowl from his eyes and ignored Deathstroke's earlier comment as it rang in his head. "Retinal Scan Comple—"

The retinal scanner exploded. A minor explosion—but one none the less.

Without batting either eye, Zoom turned to see Jinx at the other end of the hall. The fright and misery she held around the other lackies was replaced with embarrassment. "Sorry."

"At least my door didn't break away this time." He pushed it open to make sure access was granted. "C'mon."

The collar over Zoom's neck was different from the one on Jinx's. His lit blue while theirs lit red. Every inhibiter collar was specialized to restrain specific powers of each metahuman. His collar was to track Wally should he stray away from the mission's objective. It tracked his heart rate, his speed, and could even inform Deathstroke when he received external damage from opponents.

And Zoom destroyed all tracking signals and cameras in his living quarters various times throughout the year.

The first time was an honest accident. Psimon deduced that Zoom may be prone to spouts where his id overcame his superego.

After that, destroying cameras and sensors in his room just became a way to piss Lex Luthor off. Every single word that came out of Luthor's mouth felt like utter buillshit. For some reason, Deathstroke easily excused his behavior. After six months of repetitive destruction to the systems, Deathstroke ceased reconstruction. Something told Zoom that Deathstroke got a kick out of the entire ordeal.

He pulled a glass out of his cabinet and filled it with water before placing it on the coffee table in front of Jinx. "Can you lift it?"

Her complexion paled to a bewitching gray. "I'm not that kind of sorcerer."

"You haven't tried to be." Zoom lifted off his retro-style TV and VCR from the TV stand and used it as a place to sit. Across from him, Jinx's pink eyebrows knit together, worried. "Go ahead."

A moment passed. Jinx placed her hand in front of her and let it glow as pink as her hair. The same glow of energy shimmered around the glass.

And then it shattered.

Jinx cringed and her hands shriveled. Her gaze fell to the ground, defeated. "I knew I couldn't do it."

"Then how are you going to do it?" Zoom snorted. He zipped to the kitchenette, retrieved a wet towel, and collected the shards of glass. Seconds passed, and Jinx now had a second glass perched in front of her.

Per usual, she gathered this one and took a long gulp.

Jinx was originally a captive of aliens known as the Reach. Once Zoom's identity was created and he was feeling subpar, the Light crammed information through his head via Psimon and several video files. Jinx, a runaway, developed her powers, self-dubbed unluckiness. She confessed to Zoom that she'd run away from home when she thought she was pregnant. Once her powers developed, she came to the Light voluntarily when she knew her powers could hurt people.

Whatever her name before wasn't who she was now.

"If you expand your powers, then Deathstroke may see you in a better light." Zoom took the empty glass and placed it in his sink. "You could get a promotion."

"Like you?"

"Always have to start somewhere." He knew at that age, Jinx would most likely let it go through in one ear and out the other. Luthor, Psimon, and Deathstroke all informed him that Zoom's behavior went no further than his actions and prior thought to those actions.

However, there was still a part of him that determined Jinx's powers should not define who she was. More specifically—what she saw as good and what she saw as bad.

Her unluckiness should not put her in an unfortunate situation. One could see it in her eyes when she carried out missions with others—Jinx didn't do well with being bad. That was why Zoom always tried to further her studies with her powers in ways that Cadmas would not.

And, like often, having those complicated thoughts run through Zoom's mind made his head hurt.

"Thank you for trying, Zoom." Jinx sighed. "But I've given up expanding my 'sorcery.'"

"Let's watch a movie." Zoom stood to his feet and placed the DVD player and TV back on the stand. He plucked a DVD titled, 12/22/10, Bruges.

"That's not a movie." Jinx frowned.

"Movie enough." He turned the TV on and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

"Welcome! To the Haly International Travelling Circus! Where the world of decievery is your oyster! And these are our latest pearls! The Daring Dangers!"

Lights shined gloriously in the camp tent, directed at a chubby old man in the center of the ring. The camera ushered to circus freaks dressed in white and red. Eventually, it focused on two trapeze artists as they swung above.

"Okay. In terms of movies, this is a good substitute to Cirque du Soleil." Jinx grinned and sat back in the chair.

Zoom agreed full-heartedly. "Yeah. It is."