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museofspeedTitle: The Good, the Bad, and the Speedy.
Fandom: Young Justice, Justice Riders.
Characters: Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Max Crandall, Alfred Pennyworth, Lex Luthor.
Prompt: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
au_abc: Western. For fanfic100: 97. Writer's Choice.
Word Count: 1750
Rating: PG
Summary: Timothy Drake goes west to oversee the running of Wayne Ranch. He hears rumors that the outlaw Kid Flash has been seen around. It's a Young Justice Western AU. What more do you want from me?
Author's Notes: Part 1 of Young Justice Riders. I don't know how long it'll be, but I've got a lot for these crazy kids to do. So yeah, we'll see. Re-posted here becauseweneedhelp is kinda dead.
Timothy Drake stepped off the train and looked around at the rolling countryside that would be his home for the next few months, if not longer.
It wasn’t that he resented Bruce Wayne for sending him out here. He was honored and proud that Wayne had shown enough faith in him to trust Tim to manage the neglected ranch. Tim really was a city boy, though. Too much open space out here.
Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne’s personal assistant, had come with Tim to help him settle and report on how Tim was handling it. Now he stepped off the train with Tim’s trunk.
“The carriage seems to be running late, Master Timothy,” Alfred said.
Tim nodded. “Well, our train did come,” he glanced at his watch, “five minutes after scheduled time. I’m sure they’ve got a good reason for being late.”
Four minutes later, Tim noticed a carriage surrounded in a cloud of dust advancing up the road. It arrived at the train station and skidded to a halt.
A boy hopped out of the carriage. He had shaggy, unkempt hair and a face that looked like it had been scrubbed clean recently, but it hadn’t done much good. The boy’s face was covered in dust from the road. He looked to be about Tim’s age, maybe a little younger. He caught Tim’s eye and grinned. His eyes glinted gold in the light.
“You two would be Mr. Drake an’ Mr. Pennyworth, right?” the boy said.
Tim nodded. “Yes, we are. You’re from Wayne Ranch?”
“Yep, name’s Bart. Bart Allen. Max Crandall’s my uncle.”
Crandall was the man Wayne had hired to keep an eye on things at the ranch. Tim nodded again.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Allen,” he said, offering his hand.
Allen looked oddly amused, but he shook Tim’s hand, then went to help Alfred with the trunks. Tim discreetly wiped the dust off of his hands.
“Sorry I’m late,” Allen said, clambering back into the driver’s seat. “Impulse here’s the fastest horse around, but I lost track of time.”
“It’s fine,” Tim said. “Let’s just get to the ranch.”
Allen flashed a grin. “Gotcha, Mr. Drake. How fast can I go?”
It was an odd question. “We’re in no hurry.”
Allen looked a little put-out. He snapped the reins and the horse started walking.
Mr. Crandall had kept Wayne Ranch from running completely to the ground at minimal cost to Mr. Wayne. He shook Tim’s hand and offered to show him around.
It was hard to believe this man could be related to Bart Allen. Whereas Allen seemed to be constantly in motion, Crandall moved as though wading through molasses.
Tim took in every detail as Mr. Wayne had taught him. After Mr. Crandall had excused himself, Tim unpacked. He neatly folded all of his clothes and put them in the closet. He knew that later Alfred would come through and refold them all, but it was good to establish his own system of organization.
After he had pulled everything out of his trunk, he removed the fake bottom.
Here was where his most precious items had been stashed. The black mask. The wide-brimmed black hat. The red leather vest with the yellow R stitched on the front. The green shirt. The black gloves. The green leather riding boots. The special saddle and reins he’d designed. The belt with lock picks, smoke pellets, special darts, rope, anything and everything he might need, and no guns.
As soon as night fell, he’d explore the surrounding area. As soon as night fell, Robin would ride again.
Tim snuck out, careful not to make any noise. Alfred met him at the door.
“Do be careful, Master Timothy,” he said.
Tim smiled. “I’ll do what I can,” he said.
He needed a horse. He walked silently to the stable.
The door creaked. He’d have to oil that.
“Who’s there?”
Allen. The boy slept in the room above the stables, but Tim had assumed that he would be asleep by now.
He melted into the shadows.
Allen lit a lantern and held it high. He looked around.
“Hello?” he said.
Tim said nothing.
Allen looked around again. Very quietly, he whispered, “Wally?”
Wally? Who was Wally? Tim would need to investigate that. Allen snuffed out the lantern and pushed open the door. He slipped out. Tim took advantage of his absence to steal a horse. With any luck, he’d have it back before Allen noticed.
He didn’t see anything in his first hour of patrol. It wasn’t until he stopped to water his horse that he heard anything at all.
A cry for help.
He remounted quickly and rode to see what he could do.
Tim found a bald man struggling to get up.
“Are you alright, sir?” he asked, leaning over to offer the man a hand.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, “but they’re getting away!”
“Who? Your attackers?”
The man nodded. “It was the Kid Flash and someone else. Both wearing masks.”
Tim had heard of the Kid Flash. Wallace West, fastest gun around, wanted for the murder of Marshal Barry Allen.
“If it really was the Kid Flash, he’ll be long gone by now, friend.”
“He stole something from me!” the man said.
“I can do my best to get it back, sir.”
The man glared at Tim suspiciously. “Who are you?” he asked.
“They call me Robin,” Tim said. “And you?”
“The name’s Lex Luthor,” he said, “and if you’re after Kid Flash, I’m your man.”
“Sure,” Tim said. “What’d he steal from you?”
“A ring with a green stone set in it. It’s more of sentimental value than anything else.”
Tim nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” He spurred his horse and ran off.
Tim puzzled over the case as he rode home. Wayne had made him memorize key facts and the faces of all the bandits and outlaws he was likely to meet. Kid Flash wasn’t known to have an accomplice, but things change.
Barry Allen…why did that name sound so familiar?
Tim could have smacked himself. Of course. Bart Allen. The names were similar enough that there could be a relationship of some sort there. He’d have to ask. Maybe Allen knew something that could be useful.
When Tim went downstairs the next morning, Alfred was cooking breakfast.
“Telegram for you, sir,” he said, nodding at the table.
He picked it up and looked at it. It was from his best friend, Conner Kent. He read it and smiled.
“Alfred,” he said. “Conner’s moving here too,” he said. “He’s been sent to live for a few months with his cousin, Colonel Kent.”
“Oooh,” Allen said, walking into the kitchen. “Colonel Kent? His books are something else. I’ve read ‘em all.”
“Breakfast is served,” Alfred said. He set two plates on the table. Tim and Allen sat down and started eating.
Crandall walked in from outside. “Mr. Drake, Alfred,” he said, nodding at Tim and Alfred. “North field needs to be plowed, Bart,” he said.
Allen nodded. “Sure, Max, I’ll do it after breakfast.”
“I’ll help,” Tim said.
Crandall and Allen turned and looked at him in shock.
“What?” Tim said. “If I’m going to get this place running, I have to know how everything is done.”
Allen and Crandall glanced at each other, and simultaneously shrugged.
Allen readied the horses while Tim pulled the plow out of the barn.
“You ain’t like most landowners, y’know,” Allen said. Tim had noticed that Allen had a tendency to say whatever it was that was on his mind without really stopping to think about it. Tim didn’t mind, though. Careless speakers often let useful bits of information slip.
“I mean,” Allen continued, “it ain’t a bad thing, but this? Helpin’ out the field hands when you’ve got more’n enough money to hire more? No one does that. I mean, Luthor certainly doesn’t.”
“Luthor?” Tim asked. The man who Kid Flash had stolen from. Tim’s ally.
“Y’know, the other big landowner around these parts. When things are slow around here, I sometimes do odd jobs on his ranch. Never actually seen the man, but I’ve heard bad things about him.”
That was certainly interesting. Tim would have to do more research. Find out about this Luthor character. First, he had to find out what Allen knew about West.
“Allen - ” he started to say, but Allen interrupted him.
“Bart,” he said. “Sorry, it’s just - no one calls me Allen.” He smiled apologetically. “I just keep lookin’ over my shoulder for my Grampa when you says ‘Allen,’ an he’s dead.”
“Bart,” Tim said. He could do that. It seemed a little informal, but if that was what Al- what Bart wanted, he could do it. “Alright.”
Bart grinned at him. “Great, thanks. Um, I’m fine with calling you Mr. Drake, if you want, though. I mean, we haven’t known each other long.”
“Bart,” Tim said, “Do you know anything about Wally West?”
A flicker of fear passed over Bart’s face, too quickly for anyone who hadn’t been trained to notice things such as these to notice.
“W-Wally West?” Bart stammered, “Um, why were you wonderin’?”
“I’ve heard he’s been seen in these parts recently,” Tim said. “And the rumor is he’s the one who killed your grandfather.”
It was a risk. If he was wrong it would be very…embarrassing.
Bart stared at Tim for a moment, then looked away. “I don’t know nothin’,” he said. “Supposed to be pretty fast, in’t he?”
“Yes,” Tim said. “So I’ve heard.”
Bart twitched nervously. “Um, so want me to show you how to hook the plow to the horse?”
Tim was more prepared the next evening. He took out a horse before putting his costume on. He told Bart not to wait up, that he’d put away the horse on his own.
Bart bit his lip. “Careful out there,” he said. “It’s dangerous out at night. You could get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tim said, turning away, but Bart somehow had managed to get in front of him again.
“I’m serious, Mr. Drake,” he said. “There’re bad people out there, bandits, outlaws.”
“Like the Kid Flash?” Tim asked.
Bart looked away. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Tim pushed past him, and Bart didn’t try to stop him.
Tim tied his horse to a tree and changed into his costume. He’d look into Kid Flash later. For now, he needed to learn more about Lex Luthor.
Next!
Fandom: Young Justice, Justice Riders.
Characters: Tim Drake, Bart Allen, Max Crandall, Alfred Pennyworth, Lex Luthor.
Prompt: For
au_abc: Western. For fanfic100: 97. Writer's Choice. Word Count: 1750
Rating: PG
Summary: Timothy Drake goes west to oversee the running of Wayne Ranch. He hears rumors that the outlaw Kid Flash has been seen around. It's a Young Justice Western AU. What more do you want from me?
Author's Notes: Part 1 of Young Justice Riders. I don't know how long it'll be, but I've got a lot for these crazy kids to do. So yeah, we'll see. Re-posted here because
weneedhelp is kinda dead. Timothy Drake stepped off the train and looked around at the rolling countryside that would be his home for the next few months, if not longer.
It wasn’t that he resented Bruce Wayne for sending him out here. He was honored and proud that Wayne had shown enough faith in him to trust Tim to manage the neglected ranch. Tim really was a city boy, though. Too much open space out here.
Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne’s personal assistant, had come with Tim to help him settle and report on how Tim was handling it. Now he stepped off the train with Tim’s trunk.
“The carriage seems to be running late, Master Timothy,” Alfred said.
Tim nodded. “Well, our train did come,” he glanced at his watch, “five minutes after scheduled time. I’m sure they’ve got a good reason for being late.”
Four minutes later, Tim noticed a carriage surrounded in a cloud of dust advancing up the road. It arrived at the train station and skidded to a halt.
A boy hopped out of the carriage. He had shaggy, unkempt hair and a face that looked like it had been scrubbed clean recently, but it hadn’t done much good. The boy’s face was covered in dust from the road. He looked to be about Tim’s age, maybe a little younger. He caught Tim’s eye and grinned. His eyes glinted gold in the light.
“You two would be Mr. Drake an’ Mr. Pennyworth, right?” the boy said.
Tim nodded. “Yes, we are. You’re from Wayne Ranch?”
“Yep, name’s Bart. Bart Allen. Max Crandall’s my uncle.”
Crandall was the man Wayne had hired to keep an eye on things at the ranch. Tim nodded again.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Allen,” he said, offering his hand.
Allen looked oddly amused, but he shook Tim’s hand, then went to help Alfred with the trunks. Tim discreetly wiped the dust off of his hands.
“Sorry I’m late,” Allen said, clambering back into the driver’s seat. “Impulse here’s the fastest horse around, but I lost track of time.”
“It’s fine,” Tim said. “Let’s just get to the ranch.”
Allen flashed a grin. “Gotcha, Mr. Drake. How fast can I go?”
It was an odd question. “We’re in no hurry.”
Allen looked a little put-out. He snapped the reins and the horse started walking.
Mr. Crandall had kept Wayne Ranch from running completely to the ground at minimal cost to Mr. Wayne. He shook Tim’s hand and offered to show him around.
It was hard to believe this man could be related to Bart Allen. Whereas Allen seemed to be constantly in motion, Crandall moved as though wading through molasses.
Tim took in every detail as Mr. Wayne had taught him. After Mr. Crandall had excused himself, Tim unpacked. He neatly folded all of his clothes and put them in the closet. He knew that later Alfred would come through and refold them all, but it was good to establish his own system of organization.
After he had pulled everything out of his trunk, he removed the fake bottom.
Here was where his most precious items had been stashed. The black mask. The wide-brimmed black hat. The red leather vest with the yellow R stitched on the front. The green shirt. The black gloves. The green leather riding boots. The special saddle and reins he’d designed. The belt with lock picks, smoke pellets, special darts, rope, anything and everything he might need, and no guns.
As soon as night fell, he’d explore the surrounding area. As soon as night fell, Robin would ride again.
Tim snuck out, careful not to make any noise. Alfred met him at the door.
“Do be careful, Master Timothy,” he said.
Tim smiled. “I’ll do what I can,” he said.
He needed a horse. He walked silently to the stable.
The door creaked. He’d have to oil that.
“Who’s there?”
Allen. The boy slept in the room above the stables, but Tim had assumed that he would be asleep by now.
He melted into the shadows.
Allen lit a lantern and held it high. He looked around.
“Hello?” he said.
Tim said nothing.
Allen looked around again. Very quietly, he whispered, “Wally?”
Wally? Who was Wally? Tim would need to investigate that. Allen snuffed out the lantern and pushed open the door. He slipped out. Tim took advantage of his absence to steal a horse. With any luck, he’d have it back before Allen noticed.
He didn’t see anything in his first hour of patrol. It wasn’t until he stopped to water his horse that he heard anything at all.
A cry for help.
He remounted quickly and rode to see what he could do.
Tim found a bald man struggling to get up.
“Are you alright, sir?” he asked, leaning over to offer the man a hand.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, “but they’re getting away!”
“Who? Your attackers?”
The man nodded. “It was the Kid Flash and someone else. Both wearing masks.”
Tim had heard of the Kid Flash. Wallace West, fastest gun around, wanted for the murder of Marshal Barry Allen.
“If it really was the Kid Flash, he’ll be long gone by now, friend.”
“He stole something from me!” the man said.
“I can do my best to get it back, sir.”
The man glared at Tim suspiciously. “Who are you?” he asked.
“They call me Robin,” Tim said. “And you?”
“The name’s Lex Luthor,” he said, “and if you’re after Kid Flash, I’m your man.”
“Sure,” Tim said. “What’d he steal from you?”
“A ring with a green stone set in it. It’s more of sentimental value than anything else.”
Tim nodded. “I’ll be in touch.” He spurred his horse and ran off.
Tim puzzled over the case as he rode home. Wayne had made him memorize key facts and the faces of all the bandits and outlaws he was likely to meet. Kid Flash wasn’t known to have an accomplice, but things change.
Barry Allen…why did that name sound so familiar?
Tim could have smacked himself. Of course. Bart Allen. The names were similar enough that there could be a relationship of some sort there. He’d have to ask. Maybe Allen knew something that could be useful.
When Tim went downstairs the next morning, Alfred was cooking breakfast.
“Telegram for you, sir,” he said, nodding at the table.
He picked it up and looked at it. It was from his best friend, Conner Kent. He read it and smiled.
“Alfred,” he said. “Conner’s moving here too,” he said. “He’s been sent to live for a few months with his cousin, Colonel Kent.”
“Oooh,” Allen said, walking into the kitchen. “Colonel Kent? His books are something else. I’ve read ‘em all.”
“Breakfast is served,” Alfred said. He set two plates on the table. Tim and Allen sat down and started eating.
Crandall walked in from outside. “Mr. Drake, Alfred,” he said, nodding at Tim and Alfred. “North field needs to be plowed, Bart,” he said.
Allen nodded. “Sure, Max, I’ll do it after breakfast.”
“I’ll help,” Tim said.
Crandall and Allen turned and looked at him in shock.
“What?” Tim said. “If I’m going to get this place running, I have to know how everything is done.”
Allen and Crandall glanced at each other, and simultaneously shrugged.
Allen readied the horses while Tim pulled the plow out of the barn.
“You ain’t like most landowners, y’know,” Allen said. Tim had noticed that Allen had a tendency to say whatever it was that was on his mind without really stopping to think about it. Tim didn’t mind, though. Careless speakers often let useful bits of information slip.
“I mean,” Allen continued, “it ain’t a bad thing, but this? Helpin’ out the field hands when you’ve got more’n enough money to hire more? No one does that. I mean, Luthor certainly doesn’t.”
“Luthor?” Tim asked. The man who Kid Flash had stolen from. Tim’s ally.
“Y’know, the other big landowner around these parts. When things are slow around here, I sometimes do odd jobs on his ranch. Never actually seen the man, but I’ve heard bad things about him.”
That was certainly interesting. Tim would have to do more research. Find out about this Luthor character. First, he had to find out what Allen knew about West.
“Allen - ” he started to say, but Allen interrupted him.
“Bart,” he said. “Sorry, it’s just - no one calls me Allen.” He smiled apologetically. “I just keep lookin’ over my shoulder for my Grampa when you says ‘Allen,’ an he’s dead.”
“Bart,” Tim said. He could do that. It seemed a little informal, but if that was what Al- what Bart wanted, he could do it. “Alright.”
Bart grinned at him. “Great, thanks. Um, I’m fine with calling you Mr. Drake, if you want, though. I mean, we haven’t known each other long.”
“Bart,” Tim said, “Do you know anything about Wally West?”
A flicker of fear passed over Bart’s face, too quickly for anyone who hadn’t been trained to notice things such as these to notice.
“W-Wally West?” Bart stammered, “Um, why were you wonderin’?”
“I’ve heard he’s been seen in these parts recently,” Tim said. “And the rumor is he’s the one who killed your grandfather.”
It was a risk. If he was wrong it would be very…embarrassing.
Bart stared at Tim for a moment, then looked away. “I don’t know nothin’,” he said. “Supposed to be pretty fast, in’t he?”
“Yes,” Tim said. “So I’ve heard.”
Bart twitched nervously. “Um, so want me to show you how to hook the plow to the horse?”
Tim was more prepared the next evening. He took out a horse before putting his costume on. He told Bart not to wait up, that he’d put away the horse on his own.
Bart bit his lip. “Careful out there,” he said. “It’s dangerous out at night. You could get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tim said, turning away, but Bart somehow had managed to get in front of him again.
“I’m serious, Mr. Drake,” he said. “There’re bad people out there, bandits, outlaws.”
“Like the Kid Flash?” Tim asked.
Bart looked away. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Tim pushed past him, and Bart didn’t try to stop him.
Tim tied his horse to a tree and changed into his costume. He’d look into Kid Flash later. For now, he needed to learn more about Lex Luthor.
Next!
