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Wally West
The flour. Where the hell was the flour? Wally had checked every cabinet, every drawer, and the pantry. He knew it was somewhere because he had bought some last week, but he couldn't for the life of him remember where he put it. When you're a superhero little things like flour tend to slip your mind whilst thinking about whatever the next big life threatening battle will be about. But now here Wally was trying to bake a cake for his cousin's birthday without any flour.
Maybe he could just stop by the store really quick and grab some, because quick was kind of his thing. But then again there was already an unopened bag of flour somewhere around the house and Wally would hate to waste the money and the time on another one. He would just call and ask Dick if he had seen it anywhere or done anything with it but in their shared line of work it was best not to call out of the blue.
Finally he elected to check everywhere in the kitchen for the second time and cross his fingers he had just missed it the first. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The flour was still nowhere to be found and the cake was not going to just finish baking itself (as useful as that would be). Wally was about to give into the failure and run to the store when a voice he knew very well spoke up behind him.
“Looking for this?”
Wally quite literally jumped at the sound and spun around way faster than an average human should. The voice had come from Dick who was currently leaning against the counter with a bag of flour in his hand.
“Jesus Christ, Dick you scared the shit out of me! When did you get here?” Wally asked, grabbing the flour from his boyfriend's hands.
“About five minutes ago.” Dick replied.
“Five minutes?”
“Yep.”
“And you've just been standing there holding flour the entire time?” Wally asked incredulously.
Dick smiled, “No, I was here for about three minutes watching you frantically search every cabinet before I realized what you were looking for.”
“Huh. I never heard you come in.” Wally glanced at the flour that was now sitting on the counter in between them. “Where was it?”
Dick pointed to the counter behind Wally. “Over there by the coffee machine. I guess you never got around to actually putting it away after you brought it home.” He finished with a slight laugh.
“So you came into the kitchen, walked right past me and grabbed the flour, walked past me again to get to this counter, all without me noticing you were there?” Wally observed.
“And they say Batman is the world's greatest detective.”
Wally shook his head. “You bat kids and your weird habitual stealth. Thanks for finding the flour.” He said, giving Dick a peck on the lips and walking back to the unfinished cake.
“Happy to be of service. I'm gonna head to the shower.” Dick informed, already walking to the bathroom.
No matter how long Wally knows Dick he'll never get used to appearing and disappearing into thin air.
-
Clark Kent
This was a very bad idea, thought Clark, whilst pacing back and forth on the rooftop. Even if he liked Jason as a person, he had very little faith that this agreement would go well. Doing business with the Red Hood was definitely far from ideal, but Clark didn't have the necessary skills to acquire what he needed: files proving Lex Luthor's involvement in a specific meta-human trafficking lab. Had Clark done it himself, he would most definitely been caught, because while he was a great fighter he was not a good thief. Well, thief isn't really a good word to explain his situation but it pretty much describes his current feelings about it.
After realizing he would need assistance in this mission, his first thought was to turn to Batman, but the guy was way too absorbed in his own mission at the moment so that was a no-go. His next thought was Nightwing but he was out of town with the Justice Leagues covert team. So naturally he turned to his third option. Black Canary. But she also had a mission and was unavailable. Luckily (or unfortunately) for Clark, Jason Todd had overheard the conversation and offered his help. Clark had originally found this very suspicious, but Jason had insisted saying he had nothing better to do and if it made him feel any better he could do a favor in return at some point. That did not in fact make him feel better, in fact it made him feel worse, but he really needed that file so he reluctantly agreed.
Now here he was, pacing on a rooftop awaiting the Red Hoods return. He had made Jason promise not to kill anyone, and he trusted that he wouldn't break that promise, but he still worried that if confronted, Jason's opponents might wish he would have.
Still pacing and lost in thought, Clark heard someone clear their throat barely three feet from him. Startled, he quickly turned to face his temporary ally. Jason was holding a file and a USB in one hand and his helmet in the other. When the younger man had got there, or how long he had been there was a mystery to Clark.
“Got your files.” He said holding them out to Clark, who grabbed them and started scanning through them. “Must be important because they were way more protected than most.”
Clark nodded then gestured at the USB. “What's that?”
Jason looked at his hand as if realizing he was still holding it. “Digital copy.” He replied, handing it to him.
“Nice.”
“That all you needed?” Jason questioned, putting his helmet back on.
“Yep. Thanks for your help by the way-” But when Clark looked back up Jason was gone. Where he'd suddenly gone on a rooftop in a big city at night in under five seconds, was impossible to tell. Damn Batman's influence.
Clark still had no idea why Jason offered to help him in the first place, because the idea that maybe Jason wanted to do a favor for a man who was almost as much of a father to him as Bruce was, never crossed his mind.
-
Bruce Wayne
Bruce was exhausted. Of course this was nothing shocking or new. He had been solving stupid riddles for the past four hours. The Riddler had certainly outdone himself for once.
The desk in front of Bruce was filled with mazes, cards, and word puzzles. Most were either solved or on their way. The longer he sat here staring at puzzles and riddles, the harder they became. The hours started to weigh heavy on his mind, clouding his clear thought.
The bigger picture was slowly starting to unravel with every answer found.
I can be cracked, I can be made. I can be told, I can be played. What am I? A joke.
If two is company and three is a crowd, what are four and five? Nine.
Many held against their will, pawns in a dangerous game, forced to comply with demands, their freedom not their own to claim. Hostages.
These were the most eye-catching outcomes. The rest of the clues described violent threats of what would happen if Batman couldn't figure it out and yada yada. Another hint left was a photograph of a dark room, nothing could be seen clearly except for a clock sitting on a dresser. The time read 1:30 a.m. It was currently 11:23 p.m. which didn't leave a whole lot of time. Luckily there was only one riddle left, though after so long Bruce was having more difficulty solving it then he should.
An untiring servant it is, carrying loads across muddy earth. But one thing that cannot be forced, is a return to the place of its birth.
Jesus, it was so simple Bruce felt as if the answer was slapping him in the face for not easily getting it. Time was ticking and if he couldn't find these hostages then those terrible threats would most definitely be carried out. Especially if the Joker was involved as the riddles had hinted.
“It's a river.” Someone behind him clarified. Though Bruce didn't flinch, his heart sure did. He turned his chair to see Dick leaning over his shoulder, staring at the mess of puzzles. There were very, very, few people who could sneak up on Bruce. On Batman . And unfortunately Dick Grayson was one of those people. Bruce might have taught some of his kids a little too well.
“What was that?” Bruce questioned.
Dick nodded at the riddle he had previously been focused on. “The riddle. It's a river.”
Bruce looked back at the riddle. An untiring servant it is, carrying loads across muddy earth. But one thing that cannot be forced, is a return to the place of its birth. Of course! God, that was the simplest riddle ever. Bruce really needed some sleep.
The Joker, nine hostages, a river, 1:30. A river? Oh, wait. Gotham River. And it was currently 11:34. Bruce had to hurry. He quickly stood up and slipped his cowl on, heading for the batmobile. Dick looked startled at his sudden movements.
“Where are you headed?” He questioned rushing to follow Bruce.
Bruce opened the door and sat in the driver's seat of the batmobile. “Gotham River. The Joker and Riddler have nine hostages and a countdown.” He answered, glazing back up at Dick only to find him not there.
“We heading to the Gotham River or what?” Dick piped up from the passenger seat with a smirk. Bruce sighed in annoyance at once again being startled by the man beside him.
Dick smiled again. “For your sake I'll pretend you were too tired to notice me getting in the car.”
Thank god for Bruce's great poker face most of the time, because if Dick actually knew the amount of times Bruce hadn't noticed him doing something he'd never let him live it down.
-
Bruce Wayne
Bruce was having another bad day. This seemed to be a very common occurrence in his line of work. He had found a big lead on a ring of drug trades tonight, which sounds great but there were 13 total exchanges happening back to back, all heavily guarded, meaning he had to take out all the guards of 13 separate warehouses. And of course it also happened to be Bart Allen's birthday, which somehow occupied all of his children, leaving him terribly understaffed. Tim was there for Bart, Damian was there for Tim, Dick was there for Wally, and Staph and Cass decided to tag along for fun.
He had just taken out the 7th exchange and was now heading to bust the 8th. Bruce dropped down from the roof into the alleyway behind the warehouse where three guards were posted. He stalked behind the closest guard and smacked across the back of his head hard enough to knock him out. By then the other two had realized he was there and started running after him. You'd think by now thugs would realize that calling for help gave them a better chance at succeeding then blindly attacking but oh well, made things easier for Bruce.
Dodging a punch, Bruce elbowed guard #2 in the gut then twisted and kicked him backwards into the wall. Guard #3 ran up behind him and tried to strangle him but Bruce flipped him over his head and punched him, knocking him out.
He was about to continue around the building when a voice spoke up behind him, causing his heart to jump.
“Crashing a party without me?”
Bruce tensed, clenching his fist, about to spin around and punch the guy, assuming he was another guard, when the voice registered in his mind.
“Jason.” He greeted, turning to face the other man, in his full Red Hood getup. Man, Bruce was really tired of his own kids sneaking up on him. “Thought you were at Mount Justice with everyone else.”
Jason shrugged. “It was boring, I barely know the kid.” He tilted his head. “Need any help here?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be awful to have an extra hand.” Bruce started. “You should head around the right side of the warehouse and take out the guards, I'll get the left. And don't kill anyone.” But when he looked back at the spot Jason had been, the younger waes gone. Is this how people felt when Bruce disappeared on them mid sentence?
In around twenty minutes they had all sides of the warehouse cleared. They met up again around the front and snuck inside through an unlocked window. It seemed as if the exchange was just starting.
“Take out the guards around each door. I'll get the buyers and sellers.” Bruce commanded, watching as a bunch of guys in fancy suits set four briefcases on a round table. There were three doors with two guards each, scattered around the building. Boxes were piled in every corner.
“When you say take out…” Jason began.
“Don't kill anyone.” Bruce sent a glare the other man's way.
Jason sighed. “Fine.” And then he was gone again, disappearing into the darkness.
Bruce slowly stalked behind a box waiting for the right moment. One of the men in a nice suit reached forwards and opened the first briefcase. That's when he decided to strike. He ran up and slammed the briefcase shut on the guy's fingers while kicking the man beside him into another guy. He heard the other five or six men calling for guards before realizing that there were no guards left. A few of them yelled profanities and started running while three brave (or stupid) men decided to shoot their shot at Batman.
“Hood!” Bruce called, alerting Jason of the men running.
“On it!” Jason called back, jumping down from a stack of boxes and landing on top of a guy then punching another.
“Fuck, its the Red Hood!” One man called out right before being knocked out by Bruce.
“The hell is he doin’ with Batman?” Another questioned.
Within five minutes they had all the guys tied up and laying against a wall.
“Well,” Jason started. “That was quick.”
Bruce let the corners of his mouth tick up for a moment. “Oh no, this was only the eighth warehouse. There's still five more.”
He took amusement in the stumped look on Jasons weirdly expressive helmet. “Well we'd better get going then.” Jason said cheerily, regaining his peppy mood and jumping out of the window they had entered in.
-
+1 Diana
Diana stood beside the screen she would display her case on, while waiting for the specific Leaguers she had called in. This was certainly going to be an interesting meeting. When the clock hit twelve people slowly started filing into the room. First came Clark, Arthur, and Oliver. Soon Dinah, Wally, Hal, and J’onn followed. They all seated at the long table facing the large screen beside Diana.
The talking soon died down and Diana cleared her throat to start the meeting.
“I'm sure you're all wondering why I called this meeting with such short notice.” She began, “Local billionaire, Bruce Wayne was taken hostage by an unknown threat at 2:34 p.m. today.” She clicked a button and a photo of Bruce popped up on the screen.
Everyone in the room exchanged nervous glaces and a few murmurs.
“Now everyone in this room knows that Bruce Wayne is Batman.” It was as if everyone let out a breath they were holding. “However he was taken publicly and in his civilian form so he could not fight back or resist capture.” Diana let everyone take in the information for a moment before continuing.
“His location at the moment is unknown but we have some of our best currently on the situation as we speak.” Their best being Tim Drake and Barbra Gordon, who both happened to have a strong connection to Bruce, and are both practically children. The League is just well staffed like that.
“So what are we here for? I'm sure we could have heard most of this on the news.” Oliver questioned, before glancing at Aurthur and J’onn. “Well, most of us.”
Diana nodded towards him. “You all will be set on different missions the moment we get Bruce’s location and create a plan to retrieve him without revealing his identity and to take down his captors.”
The rest of the league nodded in agreement and exchanged a few comments. Diana cleared her throat again to regain the room's attention.
“We have alerted Bruce’s immediate family, who were all very eager to help. However I could not get a hold of Nightwing or the Red Hood.” She turned her attention to Wally. “Flash, when was the last time you heard from Nightwing?”
Wally thought for a moment. “I haven't seen him since this morning before he left the apartment to do an early patrol and visit the Wayne Manor.”
“Did he mention what time he'd be back?”
Wally shook his head.
Diana sighed. “Well if anyone hears from either Nightwing or Red Hood, please alert them of the situation.”
“Alert us of what situation?” A new voice rang out.
Everyone in the room turned startled to the speaker. A few even jumped. Standing near the right side of the room was Nightwing himself, hands on his hips, with the Red Hood leaning on the wall beside him with his arms crossed.
“Where the hell did you two come from?” Arthur asked with surprise at their sudden appearance.
“How long have you been there?” Clark questioned.
Nightwing shrugged. “A couple of minutes.”
“How’d you know you were the topic of the conversation? The walls are soundproof.” Dinah inquired, narrowing her eyes.
“We didn't. It just looked like a fishy meeting so we decided to pop in, and as soon as we entered the room we heard our names being brought up.” Jason responded cheerily.
Diana took a moment to process this. “How often do you two do this and we just never realized you were there?” She pondered aloud.
The two men blatantly ignored her question, instead focusing on Hal who had begun to speak.
“How do you two just appear and disappear without anyone noticing? Honestly Batman may have startled me less times then the two of you have.”
Nightwing smirked slightly before speaking. “Well, when you spend most of your teenage years dressed as a traffic light whilst trying to take down paranoid criminals in the dead of night, you learn how to not be seen no matter what your appearance or surroundings look like.”
Jason made a sound of agreement. “Now back to the original question, what were you needing to alert us about?” He asked, looking at Diana.
Diana explained the situation again in more detail to the two new arrivals. They were about to suggest ideas to aid their search and rescue plans when Robin bursted through the door holding a laptop.
“I have his location” He declared, setting laptop on the table and typing something.
Diana gestured for everyone to stand around the table.
After a moment Robin pulled up a map. A small red dot was blinking near a run down part of town.
Diana stood up to her full height. “Okay, everyone, who has some ideas to rescue Batman?”