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Summary:

Mallard Conway finds the Wisperer before Harlem ever talks to him– but that’s a story for another day. What happens when all of that and more is seen through the eyes of the hero Lightspeed as she tries to form a bond with the antagonistic kid?

OR:

There's a kid in the interrogation room.

Lightspeed knows logically that weeks of her life, alongside her teammates’, have all been building up to this. She knows just how the… The villain in that interrogation room sent dozens of towers up in flames and massacred anyone who got in his way.

And yet, all she sees is a pale, too-thin kid getting swallowed by his own jacket.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter Text

There's a kid in the interrogation room.

Lightspeed knows logically that weeks of her life, alongside her teammates’, have all been building up to this. She knows just how the… The villain in that interrogation room sent dozens of towers up in flames and massacred anyone who got in his way.

And yet, all she sees is a pale, too-thin kid getting swallowed by his own jacket.

A chill runs through her. The temperature seemed to have dropped the moment she stepped into the observing room, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the boy like a child’s misfiring superpower.

If it weren't for the super-suppressing cuffs chaining him to the table, Lightspeed wouldn’t be sure making it deathly cold wasn't one of the Wisperer’s powers.

Lightspeed pinches the bridge of her nose. Neither Arthur nor the rest of the Sovereign Five have gotten him to talk. Except for Bacon Man, but… well, all they got out of that was far too many crude bacon jokes and crazed laughing… You could smell roasted bacon a mile away after that particularly harrowing encounter.

“…Confirmation to proceed, ma’am?” The supervisor had felt it too, then.

Lightspeed sighed; it was now or never. “Affirmative.”

A hidden hatch flips open, revealing a blinking scanner. Lightspeed stands up straight as it scans her cornea. Secured doors open very, very slowly in the W.A.T.C.H. Headquarters.

It starts with a hiss, air-conditioned air seeping into the sterile, perfectly even-temperature room. The hum comes after as the two halves of the door open and recede into the walls.

It’s still cold. Lightspeed resists the urge to cross her arms.

Electric blue eyes lock with hers immediately.

Whether through supernatural means or just regular oh-fuck-jesus-christ instincts, her soul jumps from her body and takes its sweet time crawling back in.

“Wisperer.” She exhales, pushing the word out. The kid looks away and somehow sinks deeper into the fabric of his jacket. He almost looks disappointed.

Blinking, Lightspeed sees the bags under his eyes. They make him look too tired for his age.

Arthur hadn’t gotten him to talk. Bacon man. Pretender. She exhales, and Lightspeed chooses to find another way.

“… William Wisp.”

It’s hard to say there’s a shift the Wisperer Wisp is too good— far, far too good— at what he does to give away anything important. But. Lightspeed’s shoulders drop.

“My name is Lightspeed. I’m not going to hurt you— or force you to do anything you don’t want. I’m just here to talk, okay?”

It’s only when Lightspeed sits down on the cool metal chair, does Wisp meet her eye again.

“What are you doing here.” It’s quick like cold glass cutting flesh— She can see it in her mind’s eye, the flesh giving way far too easily, the pooling of blood.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t belong.” It’s a whisper, but the loudest thing in the room.

“The rest I get. They all click into place. The Pretender. Word-‘World’s Wost Uncle’-smith. I even get Bacon Man.” Lightspeed has half a mind to open her mouth and defend her colleagues but the Wisperer beats her to it.

“You want to know why? Wisp leans in, teeth bared. “Because they weren’t real Heroes. Too neurotic, too cold, too fucking ridiculous.”

It’s like a switch flips, the cold blue fire in his eyes flaming out into a roaring blaze. “But. You. Are. You have the smile, the wave, and you obviously believe you’re a good person.”

“You’re supposed to be out there, kissing babies or saving actual people!” The sound of metal fills the room, Wisp finishing his tirade with a wild flick of the wrist. Lightspeed doesn’t flinch solely because of how many years she’s spent in this world. Then, faintly, she wonders why such a prodigious villain like William Wisp held such high standards for heroes.

In uncanny accordance with the reported mannerisms of one Mallard Conway, Wisperer recomposes himself like sliding back into his own skin.“So. What the hell are you doing in little ol’ Wisperer’s cell?”

Heart in her throat, Lightspeed lets herself have a moment of ‘why the hell did I agree to do this.’ before she chooses not to poke the kid’s glowing radioactive-red sore spot.

“I’m here to help. Teenagers, especially isolated ones, benefit from having an adult to talk with.”

“Oh come on— did they give you that script or did you make it all by yourself?” Wisp melts into the table, head in his arms, Lightspeed guesses that wasn’t the response he wanted.

Score? The teenager was acting like a teenager now, that’s for sure.

“I can catch you up on the recent news if you’d like?” Lightspeed can’t tell if he’s listening, head buried in his arms on the table. There’s no rise and fall of breathing.

It feels like an eternity of talking to a brick wall, mentioning benign things like the prime force’s successors’ debut, or school being suspended due to one of Atlas’ weather mishaps again. It reaches a tipping point when Lightspeed starts weighing the pros and cons of mentioning Bacon Man’s recent ‘incident’ in the lunchroom, which is very much confidential.

“We don’t have to talk about heroes or villains.”

“Why else would you be here?” Wisp’s head audibly rolls on the metal table, as he finally peeks up, one eye squinted.

Screw it. She was already in too deep, why not dig deeper? “To talk. But it was never specified what about… William.”

Wisp scoffs, looks around, and seems to decide he has nothing better to do. “I like your style, hero lady.”

Lightspeed smiles. “Let’s start. What is… your favorite color?”

“OH COME O—“

- - - - - - - - - -

“Lightspeed, you can't be serious.”

“Just listen to me—”

“He’s infiltrated scores of super-protected establishments, squashed their security systems and contingency plans like bugs. It took us a miracle and a half to get him where he is—a miracle– a miracle I'm not entirely convinced is our own—”

“God, Arthur, he's a kid!”

He chose this life, he killed those people, he is not a kid!”

“How can you be sure!?”

“…what?”

“Talk to him. Like an actual human teenager. Just once. Arthur.

Fine.”