Nightshift 42: Monkey Wrench Auto Repairs

[141_12]

[ From here.]

It was only a few quick strides to the auto repair shop, but Otacon had seen enough movies to know that was plenty of time for a zombie to bite him. He needed a weapon. Something long or heavy or anything. He dashed across the small lot and into the garage, which held slightly less undead townspeople than the street... but not by much

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[gothamnight]

[ from here, some time after the thread above. ]

It was fortunate that the office door's lock was of a model similar to one he'd studied before. The Batman spared no haste in practically slamming the door shut behind the group when they entered. Or perhaps "slamming" wasn't the correct term to describe it. It was more like "shoving the door forcefully closed against the pushing force of a newly-formed group of zombies trying to come in after them."

The office itself was empty. Small, cramped, but "protected" on both sides with doors...the place could easily turn into a trap if they became surrounded by zombies, but thanks to Landel's improbably teleportation "trick" at the end of the night...all they had to do was to make it through this one night.

Papers. Basic supplies. For once, Batman wasn't interested in examining the content of the writings so much as the materials they were printed on. He looked from the desk to the Flash, then to Bart.

"I'm going through to the other side to get some weapons. The two of you will stay here. Keep both doors locked, but if you hear a succession of three knocks, open the door on this side."

He walked up to the door, silent but tense as he listened to the noises on the other side and waited.

Waited.

Then spoke.

"Impulse-clean Flash up."

Then the door opened and he was gone.

[justanimpulse]

The spots hadn't gone away. Standing there, waiting for Batman to open the door, they'd just gotten worse, crowding out Bart's vision. And then the dizziness had come back, and it'd been all he could do to stay on his feet.

He didn't really remember actually entering the building, just a vague sense of following his companions, knowing that he really didn't want to get left behind. He knew he had to stick close to Wally, for...for some reason, but...Why did he feel so awful?

He thought someone might be speaking to him, but Bart couldn't hear anything over the sudden rushing in his ears -- and then his knees couldn't seem to support him anymore...

[scarletspeedstr]

Wally wasn't happy with being ordered to stay in the little office, like some kind of kid who couldn't be expected to behave, even if he knew it made sense. Still, would it have killed Bats to at least treat them with a bit of respect?

He turned away from the door, wondering what exactly Bats thought Bart was going to 'clean him up' with. All there seemed to be was a mess of receipts, bits of paper, general office supplies, and Bart falling over like his legs had just given out for some reason.

Wally jerked forward and managed to catch a hold of Bart before he hit the ground, but the sudden weight on his injured arm made him yelp and then bite his lip hard. Bart was clearly out of it and it took him a bit to lower him down to the ground, the blood on his arm making things difficult and getting everywhere. That done, Wally carefully checked that Bart was still, as far as he could tell, okay - still breathing, hadn't been bitten or anything as far as he could see - then shoved a couple of books under the kid's feet which was... about all he knew to do for someone who'd fainted.

Wally slid down to the floor close by, letting exhaustion overtake him. He'd just... sit here for a bit and keep an eye on Bart. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. And then hopefully he could find out why Bart had just gone out like that.

[justanimpulse]

Bart was probably only unconscious for a couple minutes -- not that he had any reliable way to tell. For all he knew, it could have been a couple seconds. One moment he'd been standing up, too sick to even freak out over feeling so sick -- and then he was on the floor.

Standing up seemed like a really bad idea -- why did he feel so awful? -- but at least the spots were gone. He looked around, quickly spotting Wally close by, still covered with blood. The wrongness of it all just made Bart feel worse, but he had no choice but to deal with it, right...?

"What happened?" he asked, honestly confused. Wait...why were there books under his feet?

[scarletspeedstr]

Wally relaxed slightly, not really realising how tense he'd been waiting for Bart to wake up. "You passed out," he answered, sounding both concerned and tired. "I dunno why."

He scrutinised the kid for a moment, but couldn't see anything beyond the same tired and drained look that was no doubt on his own face as well. "You didn't get bitten or anything, did you?"

[justanimpulse]

"No..." Bart shook his head slightly, setting off another wave of dizziness. After waiting for it to pass, he tried to sit up -- only to groan and curl up as his stomach suddenly made itself known with a flash of pain. It felt like there were knives in his guts! But that was impossible...He hadn't taken any injuries to his torso at all, just his arms!

"What's wrong with me now?" he mumbled, blinking back a sudden wetness in his eyes.

[scarletspeedstr]

Bart struggled to sit up, but groaned and curled in on himself, clutching at his stomach in pain. Wally pushed himself up to his feet, leaning on a filing cabinet for a moment as a wave of dizziness hit before forcing himself to move over to the kid's side.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" he asked, not quite sure if he should risk touching Bart or not, his hands hovering over the other speedster without making contact. He couldn't think of what could cause something like this; if it was an illness, how had Bart gotten sick? And he didn't have any injuries or anything that could have caused this either. Unless... was it something from what the doctor had done to him the night before?

"Bart? Are you okay? Can you still hear me?"

[justanimpulse]

"Yeah..." Bart mumbled, relaxing slightly as the sharp edge of pain dulled down to a mild ache. He felt shaky, and he'd gone pale again, but this time he was able to finish sitting up. He rested his forehead on one knee.

"My stomach hurts," he said, mystified. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. "And I feel dizzy again." A handful of black spots were hovering at the end of his vision again; Bart shook his head slightly, trying to clear it. Of course it didn't work.

[scarletspeedstr]

Wally made to help Bart up, but a stab of pain reminded him that that wasn't the best idea with how his arm was at the moment, so instead he sat back down by Bart's side, where he could keep a better eye on him. Provided he didn't end up losing it next or something anyway.

"Your stomach...?" Wally blinked, then it clicked. "Hey Bart, have you been eating enough today?"

[justanimpulse]

...What?

Bart blinked up at Wally, confused. What did his eating have to do with anything? Sure, he knew he had to eat more than normal people, to keep up with his metabolism, but it wasn't like skipping a few meals could hurt him. There'd been that one time he and Max has even gone without sleep for a few days, when they were trying to keep the river from flooding Manchester. A normal person would have collapsed, but the Speed Force had made up the difference and kept them...going...

"Oh, frak," Bart muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall back onto his knee. He felt so stupid. He didn't have access to the Speed Force here; how had he let himself forget that? Of course he'd been distracted by everything that was going on, but still...

"I had one of those muffins they gave us for breakfast," he muttered, too embarrassed to actually look at Wally. "I think maybe some yogurt too." He couldn't actually remember what all he'd eaten, for all the difference it made. It was obviously too little, because now he was completely useless...And Wally was injured, possibly depowered...way to go, Bart...

[scarletspeedstr]

Wally winced as Bart recited what he'd eaten so far today, which would have been far too little even by normal human standards, let alone someone who was running around using superspeed and fighting zombies the whole time. No wonder he'd passed out, they'd mostly been lucky that he hadn't done so sooner.

"Hey, you had a lot on your mind, it's not your fault," he said sympathetically. "Man, what I wouldn't give now for a burger or something." He remembered the first time he'd run into trouble because he hadn't eaten enough before using his speed a lot. It wasn't much fun, even if it had taught him that he couldn't afford to skip meals any more. It had to be pretty hard on Bart, and Wally wished that he had something, even a candy bar to--

Wait a minute. Old habits died hard, and back during lunch when he and Bruce had been chatting and Wally had been loading as much sugar as possible into a cup of coffee around begging the waitress to bring him more little sachets of the stuff, he'd slipped a handful of the packets into the pocket of his jeans. It was a habit that sometimes meant he collapsed from exhaustion at the end of a fight instead of in the middle. Unfortunately he didn't think pure sugar was going to help Bart as much as a solid meal (or twelve) would, but it was better than nothing, right?

Wally slid his hand into his pocket, digging out the paper packets and checking them. One had split open, but the rest where fine, and he offered the seven of them to Bart. "Sorry," he apologised, "but it's all I have. I figure it's better than nothing though, right?"

wtf repost

[gothamnight]

Despite the efficient haste of his movements, it seemed to Batman as if his time in the interior of the auto shop lengthened with each corpse he had to fight, with each corner that he needed to search. Each second delayed was another gaping, uncertain hole cut into his concentration; the phrase "out of sight, out of mind" did not apply when the people "out of sight" were hurt and possibly getting more hurt every second. Batman would not put a surprise stash of zombies in the office past Landel-or whoever was creating this mess.

Whoever creating this mess.

...the Flash and Impulse were speedsters, with only average physical strength without the force of speed to back their blows. Batman paused for a moment as he surveyed the items he could see in the darkness, the shadows obscuring the tools and yet leaving enough suggestion of their outlines that he could guess their true form. He didn't have much time, and though he suspected the semi-instinctive way he chose the weapons would come to bite him again later, he wasted no time making his decision and going.

For the Flash: a long, slender monkey wrench with a clamp-like crushing mechanism on the other end. For Impulse, a long but not overly cumbersome metal cord with a hook attached to the end, stripped off one of the workbenches. And for himself, a utility belt not dissimilar from one of the models that had inspired him so many years in the past.

Instinctive.

But there was no time for regret.