When he finally got to the station he checked the time, five in the afternoon. His stuff was still there, untouched, and the tunnel opening he'd found seemed to have automatically closed up.
Good.
When he could he'd come back and destroy the entire place.
For now he grabbed his stuff. He contemplated holing up in the station, but the idea of being so close to the entrance to that bird-themed rabbit hole made him shiver.
The last time he'd been in the news he'd been clean faced and way less ragged. Now, no one would probably recognise him.
he found a phone booth outside the tourist entrance, thanking every deity that it was there. He stuck some change in, called a cab and waited.
He didn't want to stray, he couldn't afford missing the cab. But owls were nocturnal, and his guide was looking distressed being awake in the sun.
It could fly up and sleep in the rafters, but it seemed hesitant to leave his side. Dick wondered if the court bred them to take interest in humans quickly, creating bonds fast. But any training would've been evolved out.
Although, it seemed the battle that destroyed the court happened not long before his parents death. That was only eight years ago. He didn't know a lot about owls, especially not specifically this breed, but if he remembered correctly they had a lifespan of about eight to twelve years.
This one was small, which could suggest it was young, but it may just be a small breed. There was a chance it was only a second or third generation, depending on how frequently owls nested and the percentage that survived.
So maybe it was full of generations worth of training to be practically linked to a human. This owl seemed to want to stay by him, at least.
So Dick grabbed his duffel bag, opened it up and moved things around. He left it open and leaned it against the wall he was sitting against. After some curious investigating the owl sat down inside and cozied up, seeming to be going to sleep.
It must suck to come out into the world for probably the first time and be met with an environment you were taught was dangerous.
"some owl you are, huh?" Dick smiled, "flying around in the day."
But what should he name him? well, he didn't have to. He could just set him free and forget. But he figured the owl was probably going to follow him around for a while, and he didn't want to keep referring to it as 'the owl'.
He was thinking maybe some kind of pun or a cool word, but he was drawing a blank. Largely because he was tired.
Cobb had called his owl Matilda, so the bar was low. Although if he thought about it...
Cobb's name was William, like the William the Conqueror. Wasn't the name Matilda connected to that guy?
Well it gave him an idea, what historical features could Dick think of that were called Richard. Other than English kings, because that was tacky, there were like six of them and Cobb had already done that.
He had an idea.
He turned to the owl, snuggled in his bag, "I'm gonna call you Isa, short for Isabel."
the owl, now christened Isa, couldn't protest. And Dick leaned back against the wall with his hood drawn over his face, the collar tucked against his neck. He didn't want to sleep, he knew what would await him in his dreams. But he found himself dozing till the taxi came. Dick zipped his bag slowly to not startle Isa and was careful as he walked to the cab.
So now it was the question of where he'd go...
He made a split second decision.
"Gotham City, corner of Burton and Arundell street."
The League of Assassins main base of operations was known as Nanda Parbat, and it was hidden in a mountain range that stretched across Afghanistan and through several other countries.
The thing is, it's rather difficult to get to Afghanistan when one is in Gotham without leaving some form of trace.
Dick did not want to leave any bread crumb trail for Batman to find. It was rather difficult to use civilian transport without leaving a trail, especially considering civilian transport came at the cost of money and required identification. The other option was the zeta tubes.
Which he could hack.
He got a coffee and something to eat at the café located on the corner of Burton and Arundell, because he was starving and it was in lower Gotham, where no one looked twice at anyone
Dick dumped his jumper and bought a new one- with cash- and changed into the other clothes he had on him in his bag. He found a motel to crash- also paid in cash- because he was exhausted. He snuck Isa in and she snuggled up in the drawer set next to the bed, Dick made a little nest with his clothes so his feathered companion was comfortable.
After his nap he went for a walk to the nearest ATM and took out as much money as his account would allow him to in one go. He already had a bunch because he liked to keep cash on him, but if he could empty as much as possible now it'd help in the long run.
Bruce would freeze the account or take the money out once he realised Dick wasn't just cooling off and wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Or at least, Dick figured he would. He'd pulled the whole 'fuck you I'm going my own way' thing before, and usually he came home before Bruce could start worrying enough. And Dick wasn't sure if he'd take money away from him, Bruce was just as likely to decide to leave it so Dick could look after himself while he searched for him.
Even still, one could never be too careful. And card withdrawals could be tracked.
He changed a good lot of the money over to Afghan Afghani, leaving some in USD. Once back at the motel he opened a new account at a different bank, transferred as much money still in the account as possible to it and then covered the transfer as well as he could without making it obvious someone had hacked a bank, which would draw attention. He had the card be sent to a safe house Bruce never went to, memorised the information in case he wanted to withdraw without a card, and wrote it on a note he stuck in his wallet anyway.
At about midnight he hit the zeta tubes, sitting on the fire escape of a building next to a phone booth entrance. He shut down all cameras and created a temporary identification. He travelled to the one tube in Afghanistan and then wiped the record of the transport and the temporary identification, shoved some fake records and camera footage in and called it a day. Anyone who could be bothered would be able to tell what happened, but he honestly didn't care.
Next he just had to get all the way to Nanda Parbat.
Great.
Good thing he knew Afghani- or rather Pashto. In fact, Thalia had taught him a bunch so his accent wasn't too obvious. Tied with his darker skin tone, courtesy of his Roma heritage, and his good understanding of cultures and places, he was able to pass pretty well as a not-super-obvious-tourist.
Isa, finally at home in her preferred night, frolicked through the sky. Dick wasn't worried, but he made sure to check on her periodically.
He scoped out the possibilities. The Hindu Kush mountain range could be accessed via tourism based travel. He could easily get busses and trains as close as possible. From there it was... a hike.
Brilliant.
He didn't really want to call ahead (also he couldn't) because it would give Thalia a chance to tell someone. She probably wouldn't but he didn't want to run the chance.
There were walking tracks he could take. He knew where and how to get to Nanda Parbat, seeing as he'd asked Thalia once and she'd explained it. looking back he didn't know why she'd been willing.
Whatever, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pretended to be a tourist who liked hiking, bought himself a pack that had room for his current gear and some more. He got a hold of maps, figured out where everything was and planned the trip. He stayed in a motel for the meantime, hiding Isa with a lot of ease, somehow.
In fact, he'd somehow managed to switch into a nocturnal-esque sleep pattern in the three days he prepared. Isa hunted her own food at night but Dick had fallen asleep during the day and Isa had curled up in his hoodie. He'd almost died of cute-ness, so he leaned into it.
The nocturnal lifestyle meant the tourist group he travelled with was really small. He made sure to get a one-way ticket, so no one was looking for him, thinking he'd got lost.
and he set off, really hoping he had planned this out well.
Dick rolled up the final part of his tent and shoved it in the hike pack. The afternoon air was chilling, the last of the sun's warmth scurrying away with every second. Isa was just waking up, having had to scurry out of the tent when Dick started packing it up not long ago. He'd found on his first time packing up his campsite that things went smoother if he did it while the sun was still up, hence not relying on his torch.
He checked his water bottle, almost empty. This had to be his final night of travel. He checked his map, logic stated it would be.
He'd found it a great idea to hike at night the first time. He was good at orienteering, even if he had to keep a torch on hand. It also meant he didn't have to worry about overheating quite as much, just hypothermia- a quick fix, seeing as he'd stocked up on warm overclothing and thermals.
He started walking again, as much as it had been easy the first night, the third was far more troublesome.
His legs were sore, he was tired, his back ached, yadda, yadda. At least Isa was great at hunting, she found plenty of prey. Dick had packed plenty of food, dried and preserved things that wouldn't be good for him in the long term but were perfect for a short three day hike. Or rather, three night hike.
The problem was, he could not easily arm himself.
Half way through that night's stretch he had been admiring the sky. Gotham almost never had visible stars, but here the dark cover of night was so full of stars that he decided to figure out how to orient himself to them. Why stare at a map when he could have this view?
He was passing through a small canal of rock, rising up on his sides were rock pillars. He normally would go around or above, but he figured he wasn't close enough for any trouble.
He was wrong.
Isa shrieked and swooped, Dick immediately kicked into instinct. He turned to Isa, expecting her to make a stab at his face, finally turning against him like Matilda had.
She did not, she swooped down, over his shoulder, then rose up again. Dick's eyes followed...
As she reached the sky again she dodged as a dark object flung itself past her.
An arrow.
This was an attack.
She'd been warning him.
Dick dumped his hike pack and ran to the side of the rock, zipping down his thick outercoat. He needed to be able to move, to defend himself. Isa swooped in, landing by his feet, claws red stained.
"get out of here," he mumbled, knowing she'd hear and understand, "come back when it's safe."
He took a knife out of his jacket and scoped the place.
He could only see archers up the top, but there were definitely people on foot who were likely approaching. Dick didn't want to get stuck between a rock and his enemy, but if he left the side of the rock he'd be open to arrows.
And, of course, the foot soldiers arrived.
He fought them with ease, abandoning all the rules. He had no time for Batman's guidelines or the moral code of heroes, he would die in this desert if he bothered with non-lethal moves. Sure he wasn't actively trying to kill people, but if the place he stabbed happened to land on an artery he wouldn't get hung up on it.
He ducked a hit from one person, landed a kick on another, tripped someone, punched another, made a swipe with his knife, back handsprung on one hand away from one hit and turned-
And dodged a blade last minute, an arc of steel flashing by his un-covered throat. He became very aware of the bead of blood that sat on the slight nick the blade made.
Non-lethal, but he froze.
A kick landed square in his stomach and he was shot back into an awaiting enemy, who grabbed hold of his shoulder.
And it rushed back.
A fight. right. Get over yourself Dick, time to fight before you die.
Something changed as his mind was dragged back to that battle with Cobb, something snapped. He felt it in his throat first, a burning pain that spread through his skin and into his soul.
He lingered for a second, mind racing back to itself, as another hit landed everything in him turned quiet.
And he moved.
He dodged every attack and threw them back ten-fold. He sprung from enemy to enemy, kicked, punched, slashed.
Until there were so few that the archers could get a clear shot.
An arrow landed in his shoulder, right where Cobb had buried a scalpel. His breath shot out of him and his shoulder screamed. In his dazed shock two people grabbed him by the arms and pushed him onto his knees. The arrow still stuck out so they didn't force him to his stomach...
And Dick found out why.
Now he was restrained he had time to notice the figure who'd stood still the whole fight, watching. They were tall, feminine figure, wearing a similar uniform to the attackers but with more... colour, trappings, symbols of status.
Dick was struck by how similar the uniform looked to what his father wore in the picture.
Whoever this was, they must have been higher up the pecking order than the rest. She sauntered forward, sword loose in hand, and held it at Dick's throat. He held back a shudder and the need to get the sharpened steel as far away from his neck as possible.
"who are you?" they asked in Afghani.
"depends on who is asking," he answered.
They shared a look with the men holding him down, "The Demon's Head has no time for this."
Demon's Head? Dick knew exactly who that was.
But the sword was raised and was about to swing for his head, Dick needed to say something but-
The sword fell.
Isa attacked. She clawed at the woman's face and the sword dropped. In the guards shock they loosened their grip and Dick lurched forward, took hold of the sword and made two clean hits to the men behind him. He turned to the woman.
She wasn't fast enough to grab Isa and her second sword was sheathed. As Dick turned his attention to her, Isa flew away, going back to far enough out of reach to evade the archers who still stood atop the rocks.
As Dick readied said archers drew new arrows. The woman held a hand to them.
"This may be interesting."
"oh, you have no idea," Dick grinned. He was being arrogant, swords weren't his forte, but he knew enough. Way more than the average random American teenager.
They clashed, and she did seem surprised at what skill he did have. But there was no way he'd win this.
She began a flurry of attacks and Dick stumbled back, barely managing to defend himself.
"you are skilled, trained," she said, a smile in her voice as she knocked him down, "but still untried."
"I've heard that one before," Dick grumbled.
"You are American?" she asked, blade dangling above Dick's chest.
"uh, that's a difficult question to answer," Dick said. He'd gotten tired of it a while ago, actually. He wasn't American, he was Roma. His ancestry included some Italian and British if he remembered correctly, but not American. He lived in America, but all considered he couldn't emotionally connect to the culture.
"what are you doing here, little avian?"
Dick studied the uniform, it looked too much like his father in the photograph to be a coincidence. And she had said 'The Demon's Head', that was what Ra's Al Ghul was called.
"I'm looking for someone."
"you will not find many out here," she answered.
Dick glanced at the blade and then at the woman holding it, "someone I believe knew my father. Thalia Al Ghul."
The sword flew away from his chest without hesitation.
"your father?" she asked, voice steady, "who would he be?"
Dick eyed the sword, still not sheathed, he decided to answer the question with another question, "Do you know Thalia Al Ghul?"
She cocked her head, stared at him in thought.
She seemed to be about to answer when a new person involved themselves in the conversation.
"Alexandra?! What are you-"
Dick eyed the new enemy- or rather, ally. Thalia Al Ghul, as if he had summoned her.
"Dick?" she asked, finally taking note.
He gave her an awkward smile, "hi."
The woman turned to Thalia, "this is him?"
"yes."
"sorry, what?" Dick asked, finally standing now that the sword wasn't pointed in his vicinity.
Instead of answering him, Thalia asked her own question, "what are you doing here?"
Dick shrugged, "it's a long story that I'd prefer not to tell in the middle of the night."
Isa swooped in, taking note of the new person and the change in atmosphere. Thalia jumped and moved to attack the bird but Dick held out a hand, letting Isa land and begin to preen.
Thalia looked on with raised eyebrows, "is that what I think it is?"
"Its's... a bird?" Dick said, "her name's Isabel."
Thalia blinked, "it's an owl."
They shared a look. Haley had said something about his father talking to the shadows about the court, so maybe Thalia knew... about all of that. He didn't want to say something just yet till he knew how much Thalia knew.
"yes," Dick said, "I went through a lot of trouble finding her."
Thalia eyed Isa, "what kind of trouble?"
they stared at each other, waiting till one would give up something.
Eventually the woman got tired of it.
"My Lady, could you please divulge-"
"you may do away with the formalities, Alex," Thalia said, a small smile on her lips, "only family is present, after all."
Alex seemed to sigh but the full face mask she wore hid any clear emotion, "what are you two on about?"
Thalia laughed, only slightly, "how about we take this conversation inside," she suggested, "I will assume you came here for a visit, Dick?"
"more of an interrogation," he grinned.
Thalia pressed her lips together and looked once more at Isa, "I will oblige."
Wally didn't really know what he wanted to do.
He hadn't been to the cave since Batman's attempt at interrogating him. Megan and Artemis had texted him several times, checking in and asking what was wrong. Barry was trying to get him to talk about it, but Wally was pretty decisive that he wouldn't talk about it. honestly? He was over it.
Dick had gotten to disappear and wash his hands of it, thus leaving Wally to clean up and be the soundboard of the situation.
To hell with it, he had decided. He wasn't going to be Dick's maid. He was the one who had decided to fuck off. He was the one who was dumping every moral given to him and running off to do his own thing. Wally had only seen it happen, and he wasn't going to become the next wrung on a game of Chinese Whispers that lead to all sides misinterpreting the whole situation.
But as long as he was still a hero, people would be expecting answers. Or rather, as long as he was still a hero collaborating with the league.
So Wally dug out an old phone number and called his last OG friend.
Roy probably hadn't shaved for a few weeks, the mask covered any bags under his eyes but Wally was sure they were there.
"you know," Wally said, feet dangling off the edge of the roof, "we could've had this conversation in a café or something?"
Roy chuckled, "but why take a café over a perfectly good Star City building?"
Wally snickered, pulled his jacket closer.
"so what's the story?" Roy said.
Wally didn't even know where to start. He didn't even know how to voice what he wanted to say.
"how's the solo act going?" Wally asked instead.
Roy blinked, raised an eyebrow, but seemed to decide to allow it, "okay. I've mainly been focused on finding the original Roy, which means I run into plenty of other things on the way. It's tricky not having the league's systems as back-up, but it just means I have to use my own gear and mind to find things."
"mmm," Wally said, sighed, "I've been thinking of leaving the team."
Roy took a double take, "what?"
Wally shrugged, "it's a long story."
"well, we've got time."
Wally pursed his lips. They let silence lapse.
"Dick's gone." He said, as if to change the topic. But Roy knew it had to be linked.
"gone as in cooling off from something or gone as in..."
"gone as in apparently he doesn't believe in the league's actions anymore." Wally looked to Roy, "he's given up on them and Batman. so now he's gone as in, figuring out his own way to do what the league does."
"ah," Roy said, "and now you want to leave."
"they're not connected in that way."
"sure they aren't," Roy said, "you're hurt and you're spiteful."
"I'm not spiteful."
"Dick got to leave and you didn't," Roy said, "you're thinking of going, but unlike Dick you still hold the same morals, so leaving technically doesn't work."
Wally glared out at the skyline, "fine, that might be a bit of it. but everyone keeps annoying me about it. I just want to drop off for a bit, even if I do come back."
Roy looked at him, "that is the stupidest idea ever."
"excuse me?"
"Wally, I'm sorry to say this, but you're being an idiot." Roy shook his head, "you want to leave because things are hard, stressful. Once you're on your own it's worse. You need to think it through."
"you left because you were angry!" Wally threw his hands in the air, "you cannot tell me you actually thought about it."
"I was programmed," Roy held a finger up, "and I was legally an adult."
"I will be in like two months," Wally groaned.
"besides the point."
"then why'd you bring it up."
Roy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, Wally, point is, you need to think about this more. You've always been impulsive-"
"urgh," Wally rolled his eyes, "it's always the impulsive talk."
"it's true and you know it," Roy said, "you're better than you were when we were kids, but you're still impulsive. You run into the first plan that makes sense. You need to consider more angles."
Wally grit his teeth, "fine then, oh great sensei master, what do you think I should do?"
Roy crossed his arms, "talk to Barry. Maybe go out on your own a few nights and see how it goes. Just don't go running off without a plan."
Wally did not make any promises, but he tried Roy's suggestion of going out on his own one night.
And, oh boy, did he realise he had no freedom on patrols with Barry.
He went wherever he wanted, picked all the fights he wanted, ran all over the place.
He crashed on his bed sometime around three a.m. and woke up to his seven o'clock alarm. He went through his usual day and went out at night on his own again. And again.
It was therapeutic.
Until he ran into Barry on his way home.
He climbed through his window- way more gracefully than the first time- and was met with a pair of slipper-covered feet in his immediate vision. He looked up to find his uncle, arms crossed.
Wally stood and gave his uncle an awkward smile, "hey?"
"where have you been?"
"uh," Wally rubbed at his neck, "you know... around?"
"in your uniform?"
Okay, uniform was a stretch. It was the colours of a mustard bottle, it was a costume.
"yeah?"
Barry sighed and dropped his shoulders, turned to the door. He didn't have to tell Wally to follow.
He dragged his feet into the kitchen and turned on the coffee pot, took down two mugs and put two sugars in each.
Wally stood against the opposite counter, and when Barry was done he turned to his nephew.
"Wally," Barry sighed, "I've got nothing against you going out on your own, I'd just like to know."
Wally shrugged, "kinda removes the point."
"which would be?"
Wally crossed his arms, looking away.
In the silence the coffee pot finished boiling and Barry left it a bit longer to steep.
"I'm eighteen in a couple months."
"I know."
Wally glanced at the window, "what was the point of the league letting us have a team?"
Barry frowned, "you guys wanted one, we saw nothing wrong with letting it happen."
"yeah," Wally said, "and it helped stop us annoying you all about eventually joining the league."
Barry sighed, "is that what this is about?"
"we're sick of just being a recon team. We're sick of never actually helping. We're sick of fighting tooth and nail for respect. Some of us have been in this for years. Heck, Dick has spent almost half his life involved in this."
"is this about Dick disappearing?"
"It's about the fact that we're not kids anymore!" Wally forced himself to relax. Iris was probably still asleep, he didn't want to wake her, "Kaldur is eighteen, I will be soon. We want to have our own lives, start to be in control of what we're doing in those uniforms instead of just running around at the league's whim."
"so you run out? Why not talk about it?" Barry frowned.
"how well has that gone in the past?" Wally scowled, "Dick got tired of it, and now he's gone. Kaldur is overly polite and doesn't like to speak out till he's at a limit, but even he is tired of never having a say."
"and Conner? Megan? Artemis? Have you talked to them about this?"
"They haven't been around as long as the rest of us, they might not have noticed it yet," Wally said, "but eventually they'll realise this team is just a way for the league to give us fake independence while controlling every move we make."
Barry sighed, "okay, I get it," he ran a hand down his face, "but going off on your own isn't how to change anything. Talk to us, we're not gonna shoot you down immediately."
Wally raised an eyebrow, "you sure about that?"
Barry sighed, "okay it's true for some more than others, but the league is a team too," Barry said, "we have our shortfalls, but we learn from each other. I can bring this to the league, you guys can make your thoughts known, we can talk about a solution."
Wally looked at his uncle. He loved him, he always had. He'd taken him in when his mother had died, he listened when he made his claims about his father's abuse, he supported him, helped him understand his powers.
But he was just like the rest of the mentors on the league. They were blinded by the fact that they were almost parental figures to their students. They stunted their protégés progress.
A year ago they'd had similar conversations and the team had been born. They'd thought it was perfect, a sign the league was easing up. But it was a curse in disguise, another way to control them and keep them from danger.
So now they started the conversation again.
Wally wasn't going to let the league come up with a new way to control them.
Wally gave his uncle a look, he wanted the conversation to be done. And if Barry didn't win it never would.
"fine," he said, and turned towards the stairs, "good night."
A/N
just wait till next chapter, we got a real big cliché incoming.
the name Isabel is a reference to Isabel Burton, or Isabel Arundell at birth. she was married to a Richard Francis Burton, who was a British explorer, translator, writer, etc. he mastered so many fucking languages it's insane. he did a lot of stuff, tarveled all over.
Idk man, I wanted to find like a best friend or ally of someone called Richard in history. but also, who cares about British kings. By the time I stumbled across this guy's Wikipedia article I was tired, so I just went with the first other name I saw. Can you blame me?