Chapter Text
The train car swayed back and forth gently, the setting sun dipping low on the horizon, setting the world alight in bright oranges and gentle pink dusting across the wintery landscape. Inside the train appeared to be as calm and restful as the outside world, the only noises the occasional person on their way to or from the cafe car or bathroom, the gentle snores from someone on a longer ride, and the rapid fire clicking of computer keys from a group of highschoolers.
There were four of them altogether, a perfect number for a school group, perhaps on their way home, or to a library, or perhaps even a local museum.
One of them, the one on the computer, clicking and typing as if he was trying to break into the mainframe, or playing a very intense game of nitro type. He was wearing a red beret (fashionably turned backwards), and his glasses were perched precariously on his face. His entire outfit screamed "techno geek," which was complemented by his custom made PC.
"Give a guy some space Sam," he said to the teenager next to him, who was hovering ominously over his shoulder. Her outfit contrasted the white table sharply, sticking out as a fashionable black gothic ensemble. She flitted back and forth between watching him type, staring at the boy across from her, and warily looking at anyone who walked by.
"I'll give you some space when we're not all hinging on your work, Tucker." Sam replied, huffing some, but nevertheless backing off slightly from mega hovering to only casually hovering.
"Heh... space," mumbled the boy sitting on their other side, black hair tucked into what looked like his twins shoulder, a glint of green peering out at Sam before it went dark again, settling back into his restless sleep, as his twin curled her arm more comfortably around him.
"Shh, go back to sleep Danny." She whispered softly, her soft red sweater scrunched under his head.
The others watched the twins in concerned silence, before Tucker dove back into his typing, fingers flying impossibly faster as he scanned through leagues of data. Sam's watchful look lingered longer, eyes holding an impossible sadness and worry.
No one would suspect the hell the four teenagers had just escaped.
----Previously That Day----
Lights blared and a shrill siren sang a song of danger along long white hallways, blank and indecipherable, even the doors lining them were sheets of white metal, with the same blank futuristic locks on them. An endless maze of white and flashing red. Not the sort of place you'd think of finding teenagers, but alas, here there are, stumbling through hallways and dressed in black gear. Not tactical gear, mind you, but black hoodies and pants, black bandanas over their faces in a meager attempt to hide from any still operational cameras.
"Where did you say the room was?" Sam hissed from where she crouched, listening for the stamp of boots, though all of them seemed to have retreated elsewhere, after a supposedly different target.
"Hold on hold on, they didn't exactly make a bunch of signs that say 'Go This Way!'" Tucker replied tersely, before spinning back and walking through a door seemingly at random, the doors unlocking and opening before him at the urge of his PDA's hacking system. Down more white blank paths, catching themselves on the walls as the building shook around them.
"She better not take out the damn building! Not at least before..." Sam trailed off as Tucker slowed to a stop, frowning in confusion before she too looked to see what he was staring at: a starburst of glowing green viscous liquid spread down the hallway, a blotchy trail drug across the floor, and a smeared hand print against the door, as if someone had reached out to grab it before being shoved fully inside.
"I uh. Found the sign that says 'Go this way.'" Tucker murmured, pale and trembling. Sam shoved past him, rushing to the door.
"Tuck. Door." She hissed, glaring at him to move.
"Have... have I mentioned I hate hospitals?"
"Tucker!"
He jolted and rushed forwards; "Right right, sorry." He pressed his PDA against the doors lock, listening for the very subtle click before shakily stepping back as the door opened.
They stared in horror as the room came into focus, awash in green, containing less than even a standard prison cell. No bed, no sink, just expressionless white white white walls, and toxic green blood pooled across the floor. While that might have been bad enough, a scene in a budget horror film, the truly terrifying part was what lay slumped in the pool.
There lay their best friend, their partner in crime, hero, and brother in all but blood. Curled slightly, but not enough to hide the sprawling Y incision across his chest, still weeping green green green.
"Shit." Sam muttered before rushing forwards, dropping her bag next to her trembling friend, pulling out bandages and a huge chunky thermos, getting to work quickly. "Glad I took that first aid class..." she grumbled.
"Glad you and not me." Tucker muttered, averting his eyes and checking on his PDA. "We don't have long. Their system will fully reset soon, and then we're screwed unless we start busting through walls."
"Hey, if you can't find a door..."
"Make one." They finished together, chuckling dryly, because sometimes if you don't laugh you'll cry, and they couldn't afford to cry right now.
Sam finished wrapping up Danny's chest as best she could; "That... should be good enough." She stood up, grabbing the bag and the thermos; ignoring as her jeans clung to her legs, ignoring why they did so. "Hopefully this works," she muttered before uncapping the thermos, dragging her friend inside with a flash of blindingly white light. There and then not.
"It'd better work. We wouldn't be able to carry him otherwise." Tucker responded, turning and heading out of the building hurriedly, Sam following closely.
-----Back on the train-----
"How is he Ellie?"
"Same as the last time you knuckleheads asked. Drained. Leaching all my frickin' ectoplasm." Ellie grumbled, stifling a yawn and leaning her head very gently on Danny's. Despite her grumbling, she was perfectly fine with this, and would have bitten anyone dumb enough to try and pry her away from her brother again. Besides, she thought it was only fair that she help him when he would, and had, done the same for her.
"Sorry, sorry. ...And... you're sure we can trust this... 'Alfred' guy?" Sam continued her nervous questioning, hands picking at her peeling black nail polish.
Ellie groaned unhappily, "And just like the Last Time, Yes. He's helped me before."
Tucker looked up briefly from his laptop. "Yeah, and you weren't ever super chatty about How he helped you, though."
Ellie scowled back at him, "I told you to trust me. I wouldn't drag us all the way to Gotham if I didn't think it would help."
"Speaking of which..." Sam glanced up at the electrical information board connected to the ceiling of the train car, "We should start wrapping up. We're almost there. ...Tucker?"
Tucker grunted, staring holes at the laptop. "Almost... almost... Got It!" Tuck pressed enter on the PC, and rolls of code scrolled down the screen. "There. That should buy us plenty of time."
"Good. Now let's find this mysteriously ambiguously helpful Alfred man. ...Where did you say he lived?" Sam looked up at Ellie, ignoring Tucker cleaning up his discarded snack wrappers, and narrowing her eyes as Ellie winced.
"Uhm... He... might live with ...Bruce Wayne?"
...
"...WHAT?!"