Wonder Boy by Leo Nielson

Based on DC Comics characters and the DC Animated TV series "Justice League" and "Justice League: Unlimited". Characters are used without the permission of DC Comics, or any of its affiliates, but also without the intent to make a profit, so please don't sue me.

Part I – Reluctant

Chapter One: New

The powder-blue sedan rolled down the rural byway, towing a trailer that carried the sum total of a lifetime. Inside the car was what appeared to be a complete family – behind the wheel the father drove, in the passenger seat the mother dozed, and in the back a son took pictures of the countryside. They were a mixed family, though, with the father stepping in to fill the role vacated by tragic events.

Of course, it wasn't perfect; like any combined family there was friction.

Nathan Barnes was a good man, who had fallen in love with Samantha a decade and a half earlier, but she had been in love too, with Joshua Trevor. A year older, tall and athletic, with perfect hair and a dazzling smile, Captain of the Lacrosse Team, Student Body President, and member of the Honor Roll, Joshua had been perfection personified. Nate was none of that, but for three months, at the end of his and Samantha's Junior year he'd had hope, when she and her steady boyfriend had seemed on the outs. It had shocked the whole school to learn that Samantha was pregnant with Joshua's baby. The pair had married over the summer, before Robert had been born; avoiding the worst of the scandal, and Samantha had completed high school as Mrs. Trevor.

Broken hearted, Nathan had moved on, but he'd never forgotten his first love.

Last year he'd seen Samantha in a bookstore and mustered up the courage to talk to her. Nate had been surprised to learn that Joshua had died in the line of duty as a Detective in the Gotham City Police Department. It had seemed like a mixed blessing – on one hand, Joshua had been a good man, but on the other hand Nate couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of Samantha being single again. He'd been willing to take it slow, but Samantha had been ready to start a new relationship.

Robert, on the other hand, missed his father, and resented Nathan for trying to take Joshua's place.

The boy, who had just celebrated his 16th birthday, had done a good job of taking care of his mom in the years since his father's death. Samantha had been a wreck for nearly a year after losing her husband: she'd been unable to continue her job as a school teacher, and the life insurance policy was barely paying the bills, so Robert had gotten a job as a photographer to cover the rest. In addition to taking photos for the Gotham Gazette he'd snapped shots all over town of gargoyles and building facades, the kinds of things that Gothamites didn't look at any more. Robert was good, the editor of the Gazette had worked with the boy to put together a coffee table book, which was why Samantha had been in the bookstore that day Nathan had seen her.

"Robert," Nate said when he heard the seatbelt in the back click, "Robert, what are you doing?"

Camera in hand, Robert was climbing out the sunroof of the car.

Mindful of his wife sleeping in the passenger seat the man hissed, "Robert, get back in this car right now!"

As was normal for their relationship, Robert ignored him. Peering through the sunroof Nate saw an eagle wheeling overhead and figured that was the source of his stepson's fascination. Hearing the camera click, Nate threatened, "Robert, you sit down right now or I swear I'm going to . . ."

"What's going on?" Samantha asked as she came out of her nap. She looked up to see her son and sighed, "Robert, please sit down."

He listened to his mother, climbing back into his seat. "I got some good shots, mom; do you want to see them?"

"Buckle your seatbelt," she told him, taking the camera. "These are great, honey, but don't you ever climb out the sunroof again."

"Yes, Mother," Robert responded with mock sarcasm. Instead he pointed the camera out his window to take pictures of the countryside again.

Now that she was awake, Samantha started picking out landmarks. "Oh, Robert, take a picture of that barn – that's where I had my first kiss."

"Ugh, mom, I'm not taking pictures of your old make-out places," he told her, sitting back.

"Okay, but take a picture of the city sign; it should be right up ahead," she allowed. "Nathan, slow down, the sign is right there."

Robert half leaned out the window to get the shot, and as he climbed back in they passed a housing development – new homes on the outskirts of town. The town itself had seen a recent renovation – the buildings on Main Street were in the process of being re-bricked, and city hall's marble façade was being cleaned. Across the street the park was being spruced up too: the sports areas had been resurfaced, and the playground equipment was in the process of being replaced.

"Robert, we need to talk to the zoning officer," Samantha told her son. "Can you keep yourself entertained for an hour, or so?"

"Sure thing, mom," he responded, leaning forward to give his mom a kiss on the cheek as Nathan pulled up to the scaffold-concealed court building.

Bobby climbed out of the car with his camera in hand and headed for the tennis court he could see in the park. He heard Nathan call out, "Stay out of trouble, Robert."

Ignoring the man, Bobby moved over to the tennis court where two girls were playing a very vigorous game. He was surprised to recognize one of them as Bette Kane, a fellow Gothamite, and a hero of the last Olympics when she'd brought the gold medal in Tennis to the US. She was a beautiful blonde woman in her early twenties, with an athletic build accentuated by a sports-bra and tennis skirt. In addition to tennis she was supposed to have trained in gymnastics and martial arts by her aunt.

He didn't recognize the other girl, who was about his age, with brown hair and pretty in that unassuming, girl-next-door way. The girl was holding her own against the Olympian, showing excellent form and speed, but it was obvious that they were not on the same level. Despite that, the girl was giving it a good go as she chased the ball down and batted it back over the net.

Bringing his camera up, Bobby took a few shots of the pair until Bette volleyed the ball right at him. The angle and speed were just right for the tennis ball to lodge in the chain-link fence. He took a picture of that, too, before addressing the pair.

"Nice shot," he called out, enthusing, "That was a really good game you played during the Olympics."

"What, you were flipping through channels and got stuck on the short skirts?" the blonde scathed.

"No, actually I was hosting the Tennis Club from Gotham North high school," he answered evenly, "My stepdad was a manager at the Gotham Hilton, and reserved the theater for us, so we got to watch the games on a screen 5 stories tall. Hey, is there any chance I could get one of those signed?" He indicated the tennis ball, going on, "My friends will flip when they find out that I actually met you!"

"If you're from Gotham City what are you doing in West Brook, New York?" the brunette wondered as she came over.

"My mom, stepdad and I just moved here," Bobby answered. He didn't want it to color the brunette's impression of him, but he admitted, "My dad died a couple of years ago, and Gotham has too many memories."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the brunette sighed, sounding genuinely empathetic, making him wonder who she had lost. "I'm Mary Bromfield, the Captain of the Tennis Club. Welcome to West Brook."

"Thank you, Mary Bromfield, Captain of the Tennis Club. I'm Robert Steven Trevor, but my friends call me Bobby," he replied, smiling warmly in return. "You must be pretty important if the legendary Bette Kane is your coach."

"Actually, I'm here as a favor to my alma mater," Bette explained, "trying to recruit Mary to the Elias School for Girls."

"But that's not going to happen," Mary replied obstinately, complete with a roll of her eyes. "Do you have any idea the trouble I went to convincing my parents to let me attend a public school? Besides, if I go who will recruit Bobby here to the school team?"

With a sigh, Bette commented, "Well, at least this is a reason for not coming the Enrolment Board will understand," implying something that Bobby didn't quite catch.

Mary blushed and muttered, "Well, I wouldn't go that far."

It was Bette's turn to roll her eyes as she offered, "Why don't you two play a set? I'm going back to the hotel to shower."

"Don't go," the young woman pouted.

"I've got to get back to Bludhaven – classes start in a couple of days," the woman replied.

"You're studying Sports Medicine, right?" Bobby asked

With a smile the woman cheered, "Wow, you really are a fan!"

Pulling the ball out of the fence she produced a pen from her pocket and signed the yellow felt with a flourish before tossing the ball over the fence.

Bobby took a couple steps back and caught it, exclaiming, "Thanks, Bette; my friends are going to be so jealous."

"Maybe you'll be the next one to go to the Olympics – if so, I expect to get a signed ball of my own," the gold-medalist said with a wave as she walked off the court.

"Bye, Bette," Mary said, waving. "So, Bobby, how about that match?"

"Sounds good," he said, coming around the fence and grabbing Mary's extra racket.

Bobby considered himself pretty good, as he would have gone to the State Finals in his Freshman year if not for his dad's death. He hadn't been able to play his Sophomore year, as he'd been too busy trying to make ends meet, but he'd stayed in shape by picking up a little parkour so that he could reach the best camera angles. Mary, however, was not coming off a two-year hiatus, and so was a step above him in skill. He was also not dressed for tennis, as he was wearing jeans instead of shorts, and the wrong kind of shoes, forcing him to pull out all his best moves.

He'd always had a mind for angles, and knew almost the instant the ball touched Mary's racket where it was going. The young woman was quite sly with her placement, forcing Bobby to sprint back and forth across the court, but he refused to give up. He tried to switch the racket to his left hand, in order to catch Mary off guard, but she'd practiced against lefties, and adjusted quickly. The final score was 15-12 in Mary's favor when Bobby finally admitted defeat.

"You're good," Mary enthused, even though she'd won. Her eyes danced as she went on, "We'll go to State for sure with you on the team."

Her good mood evaporated when another voice interjected itself into the conversation. "Hey, Mary," a teenage boy called out.

The new guy was tall, about 6'2", definitely a Senior-classman and in shape. Classically handsome, with a square jaw and black hair worn a little long, gelled into a casual elegance, the older teen was wearing a letterman jacket even though it was 80 degrees out, the name 'Vincent' in cursive on the right breast. Pins on the left identified him as the varsity captain of the Football and Basketball teams, and the junior-varsity captain of the Baseball and Wrestling teams. Back in Gotham Vincent would have been one of the most popular guys in school, but the look that Mary was throwing the older boy made it obvious that she didn't like him.

"Is this kid bothering you?" Vincent asked, actually cracking his knuckles as if he were spoiling for a fight.

"Not as much as you are, Carter," Mary responded, her tone backing up the look of dislike on her face.

Stepping forward the younger teen boy offered his hand. "My name is Robert Steven Trevor, but my friends call me Bobby."

"Yea, whatever," Vincent responded as he ignored the offered hand and stepped past Bobby to stand over Mary, af he would appreciate his looks more up close. "The guys and I are going to grab a burger. Let's ditch this loser and go hang out."

"Why, so my IQ can drop 20 points," she countered scathingly. "I told you last year that I'd consider going out with you when the dead walked the earth.

"Come on; you're really going to choose shorty over me?" Vincent demanded.

That hurt – Bobby's dad had been 6 feet tall, but the son was hoping that he'd make 5'10" in his next growth spurt. A little defensive the young man shot back, "Look, dude, take a hint: if you want to date a classy girl like Mary you have to stop acting like an obnoxious jerk."

Mary smiled, squaring her shoulders and arching her neck, as if waiting to see if Vincent could manage to transform himself into a decent person.

Instead, the older teen turned in Bobby, and threatened, "Listen, you little poo-flinger, I'm the Captain of the Football Team and the son of the Mayor, so unless you want to spend the night in the hospital I suggest shutting your mouth."

"Yea, I don't think so," Bobby responded. "First off, I'm not stupid enough to get into a fist fight with you. Second, even if you did beat me up you wouldn't impress Mary – in fact, you'd probably alienate her even more. Third, I'd use my personal relationship with the Chief of Police to bring you up on charges." Leaning to the side Bobby added, "Hey, Eli, nice to see you again."

"That's Chief Kingston while I'm wearing this uniform, Bobby," responded a tall man wearing the blue and tan uniform of a West Brook Police Officer. A device on his shoulders similar to the military designation for colonel identified him as the Chief of Police. "Mr. Carter, perhaps you can find somewhere else to be?"

Elisha Kingston was 6'7", dark skinned, and even though he was pushing 50 the man couldn't hide that he was ripped under a shirt and tie. Five inches taller than Vincent, Eli carried his authority with a dignity that even the older teen couldn't argue with.

"Yea, right," Vincent said, stepping away and slinking off with one more murderous glare over his shoulder, as if trying to burn Bobby's face into his mind.

"Miss Bromfield," the Chief nodded to the young woman, "I see you've met my godson. Bobby, how have you been?"

"Not bad, Chief," Bobby replied, thrilled to see the man after five years. "So, any chance you've got a Junior Deputy program?"

"Yes, actually, but it's only reserved for problem kids," the man explained. "You aren't going to be a problem kid, are you, Bobby?"

"No, sir."

"I wanted to make Vincent the first participant, but Mayor Carter nixed that," Eli went on. He imitated an irate business man, saying, "My son doesn't need to be riding around in police cars like some small town hick. He's going to Harvard or Yale, whichever one offers him the best scholarship."

Bobby laughed, and remarked, "If he keeps going like that he'll be spending plenty of time in the back of police cruisers."

They both laughed, and Mary inquired, "So, where do you two know each other from?"

"Chief Kingston was my dad's partner back in Gotham – he taught my dad the ropes as a Detective," Bobby explained.

"He was a good man," the chief grieved, putting a hand on Bobby shoulders. "I'm sorry that I couldn't make the funeral, but the news sent Monet into labor. So, I hear that your mom and stepdad are taking over the Gottfried place?"

With a shrug, Bobby told him, "That's the plan – my mom's great-uncle, Eugene Gottfried, left my mom a house here in West Brook."

"Really?" Mary asked, suddenly excited. "That means we're going to be neighbors. But I thought the family moving in was called 'Barnes'?"

"That's my stepdad's last name," the young man explained, "but I kept my dad's last name: I'm the only child of an only child."

"Ooh," she responded, catching on, "So, is it true that your mom and stepdad are going to turn the place into a bed and breakfast?"

"That's the plan," Bobby answered with a shrug. "It's always been Nathan's dream to own his own hotel, and my mom just needed to get way from Gotham. All I really know is that it's an old place and comes with enough money to pay off the inheritance fees."

"You'll like it, Bobby," Eli promised, "It has a pool and a tennis court, and I've heard the library is better stocked than the county library."

"Cool, the young man exclaimed, turning to his new friend, "Any chance we can practice at my place?"

Mary rolled her eyes, bemoaning, "My parent's would never let me hang out at a boy's house."

Eli chuckled at that: apparently he knew the Bromfield's. Of course, in a town as small as West Brook, there really was nothing keeping the Chief of Police from knowing everyone.

"Trust me," she put in, "We're better off meeting here – there's a youth center around the corner the club can meet at."

"ROBERT," Nathan's voice barked. "I'm sorry officer, what's he done this time?"

Everyone turned to see Nathan Barnes jogging to the tennis court.

"Mr. Barnes, I presume," Eli responded cordially, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "My name is Elisha Kingston: I'm the Chief of Police for West Brook and Bobby's godfather. I was Joshua's partner back in Gotham."

"Oh, um, hello, sir," Nathan responded, shaking the man's hand. "So, Robert . . .?"

"Isn't in any trouble," Eli assured the stepfather with an expression of good humor on his face. "I guess he's still beating up bullies after school?"

"When he isn't scrambling over across rooftops so he can take pictures of who knows what," Nathan added in an exasperated tone.

"ELISHA!" Bobby's mom squealed as she joined the group. "I heard you'd made chief in a small town, but I didn't know that it was this one!" She hugged the big man as if he were a teddy bear. Seeing Mary, the woman asked, "Oh, and who are you, young lady?"

"I'm Mary Bromfield, ma'am; your new neighbor. Bobby was just telling me that he was on the Tennis Team in Gotham. From the watch we just played he'll be vital to our making State this year."

"That would be great," the mother gushed, "Oh, Robert; it would be wonderful to see you compete again, honey."

"I'll try out, mom; but honestly, if the others are at least half as good as Mary they won't need me." He gave Mary a wink before changing the subject, "So, how did things go with the Zoning Clerk?"

Sounding a little disappointed the woman admitted, "Well, it will be a little while to get everything settled, but it's looking good." To the police chief she said, "It's great to see you, Eli. You have to bring Monet, Tyler and Giselle over for dinner: how about tomorrow night?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose, not with you moving in and all," Eli countered.

"No, please, I insist," the woman steamrolled over the reluctance. "Mary, you're invited too, and your parents as well. There's a tennis court on the grounds, if you'd like to have club practice at our place."

"Thank you, Mrs. Trevor,"

"Barnes," Nathan corrected, giving his wife a hug and a loving smile. "Come on, Samantha, I think we're embarrassing Robert by talking to his girlfriend." He gave Bobby's shoulder a shake, which he shrugged out of."

His mom reached out and patted his hair to sooth the young man, saying, "Well, we're all done here, but Nathan and I could get a bite to eat if you want to play another set with Mary."

Bobby was torn between his embarrassment and desire to hang out with Mary more, but the young woman spoke up, saying, "Actually, I'm bushed – between Bette and Bobby I've reached my limit. The first meeting of the Tennis Club is a week after tomorrow at the youth center – I hope to see you there, Bobby."

There was a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes that robbed Bobby of his confidence. "Um, so I'll see you then." He wasn't sure if he should shake her hand, or give her a hug, or what. "Uh, Bye."

"Bye, Bobby," she said, in a coy tone of voice

"Bye," he repeated around a sudden lump in his throat, and then followed his parents back to the car.

"She's cute," his mom teased.

"MOM," the young man exclaimed.

"I'm just saying," she went on.

"I don't know, I liked Stephanie," Nathan put in.

Bobby didn't bother answering. His last girlfriend, Stephanie Brown, had been keeping secrets and ducking out of study sessions. It had taken him a while to figure out her secret – her wife-beating dad, Arthur "Cluemaster" Brown had been released from prison, and Stephanie was dressing up in costume trying to spoil her old man's newest crime spree. He'd helped by taking photos of Cluemaster in action, which Stephanie had used to prove to the Probation Officer that her dad had gone back to his criminal ways. Her dad had gone back to prison, but Stephanie had wanted to continue her career as "The Spoiler", and Bobby hadn't been ready to support a crime-fighting girlfriend.

She'd been cool with it, saying that she'd met a 'really great guy', and that she'd been trying to figure out a way to call it off with him, Bobby, for weeks. It had been just after that when his parents had learned of 'Uncle Gene's' passing.

In silence the young man watched as they left town and entered the mountains. Forested plateaus, the mountains were actually the foothills of the Appalachian Mountain Range further west. Most had an eroded face of stone that looked perfect for climbing. A couple miles outside of town they pulled off the main road onto a side street that turned out to be a driveway.

The dense forest abruptly ended at the palisades, stone pillars topped by a sun on the southern palisade and a moon on the northern one. An expanse of gently rolling field of green grass, bordered by square hedges and supporting shade trees, led up to a massive house. Bobby wasn't sure what era it was supposed to represent, or the overall dimensions based because the front was so massive he couldn't see the sides.

The core of it was comfortingly gothic, like most of the architecture in Gotham City – interlocked stone with very little sign of mortar, dark and familiar, towering an imposing six stories at the highest point. On either side there appeared to be more contemporary additions, perhaps Greek revival, rising four stories, if you included the gabled attic. A fountain in the round-about featured a dancing satyr: Pan playing his pipes.

A converted carriage house served as a garage, but out of the dozens of parking spaces only two were taken, one by a utility truck and the other by a motorcycle.

It was a blue sportster hard-tail with a 120cc engine – more powerful than the scooter that Stephanie had ridden around on, but not so powerful as to be too dangerous to an intermediate rider. He circled the machine, spotting the key in the ignition and a helmet hanging from a hook on the wall. The young man could easily imagine himself cruising down the road on the machine, perhaps with a certain brunette behind him, laughing in his ear? Looking over his shoulder he smiled and called out, "Dibs."

Sam Barnes led her family up to the oak front doors and inserted the key she'd gotten at the meeting with the executor of her great-uncle's Last Will and Testament. The woman almost expected her Uncle Gene to throw open the doors and sweep her into a hug, but as the lock clicked she was disappointed that the old man she remembered wasn't there to greet her. Instead the door opened onto an empty lobby. Burying her grief she cheerfully called out to her family, "Welcome home!"

"You could play Frisbee in here without worrying about breaking anything," Nathan pointed out as he looked around.

She giggled, remembering doing just that a few times. He was right, as the lobby was twenty feet wide, forty feet deep, and thirty feet high, with three massive chandeliers to light it. Two doors and a staircase led off the room – the doors heading further into the house, and the staircase leading up to a landing where the wide double doors opened onto the ballroom, and branched off to the left and right to stairs up to a balcony that circled the room. Doors off the balcony also lead further into the house. While dark granite had been used on the exterior, marble and other light-colored stones had been used on the interior, accented by hardwoods. There was very little in the way of furniture, but this was meant to be an imposing space.

"How many rooms does this place have?" Robert wondered as he turned in a circle to take it all in.

"There are 58 bedrooms, 65 bedrooms, a ballroom, sitting rooms, a tea room, theater room, library, solarium, and a dozen other rooms I don't have a name for," Samantha answered, ticking them off on her fingers. "The basement has a wine cellar and storage areas, and the attic has more storage areas along with what used to be quarters for maids."

"Can I make that my bedroom?" Robert asked. He'd always enjoyed being as high up as possible – it had frightened Sam when her baby boy had been little.

"Sure, honey. You know, all it would take is a hammer and we could knock down a few walls, and make you a nice little apartment for when Mary comes over," the woman teased her son.

"MOM," he exclaimed, nearly dropping the boxes he was holding.

Laughing, she chided, "Let me have my fun. You were dating Stephanie for six months before you even brought her home."

"Six weeks," he corrected, sourly, "and you were still scary back then."

With a cringe she put the memories of what she'd been like back then aside. "Well, I'm not scary now and Mary does seem a lovely girl."

"You've got to admit that she's right, Robert," Nathan remarked.

Robert ignored his stepfather, as usual, and Sam perched her lips. It was wrong that the two were at odds, but she'd promised Robert not to explain things to Nathan. The truth was that Nathan had to stop trying to be a father and start being a friend.

Shouldering his bags, the young man started looking for the way into the attic.

When he was gone Nathan came over, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek. "I just don't get it. Every time I try to encourage him he turns away. My bonehead move on the tennis court probably didn't help."

"Honey, don't be so hard on yourself," she told her husband, wrapping her arms around him.

Once everything was moved in Bobby grabbed a hammer and started planning out how many walls he wanted to knock down. The walls were thin, only a centimeter at best, set tongue-in-grove into 1x1 boards that were nailed to the floor. An effective screen, they didn't block sound, but by sandwiching cardboard or polystyrene between two of the wall sections it would block a small amount of noise. Using one of the wall sections he sketched out the current floor plan and then scrubbed out the walls he wanted to remove. It took a couple of tries, but he eventually figured out what he wanted.

"Robert?" Nathan said as he came up the stairs. Bobby ignored the man, which did nothing to dissuade his stepfather. "I guess you're still mad at me, huh? Look, I didn't mean to overreact, but you have to admit that your record is against you."

The man pulled out another hammer from the toolbox and looked at the map. "Wow, you really are going to make an apartment out of this place," Nathan murmured.

As there was plenty of room in the attic the plan called for a front room, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. The staircase up from the third floor and the bathroom plumbing dictated the overall shape, as well as the safety issue of having a window in each room. It was nearly 550 sq. ft., which was a little over a third the size of the brownstone apartment where Bobby had grown up.

"So, Monet Kingston called and canceled for tomorrow," the man said as he used his hammer to uproot nails. "Your mom called the Bromfield's and rescheduled for Saturday. So, I was thinking that tomorrow we could go back to East Brook, to that mall we passed."

"I'd like that," Bobby said, smiling at the man while he held a wall panel in his stepfather stacked the folded cardboard boxes into the gap. "I need to get a new racket if I'm going to be playing tennis this year."

He was glad that he didn't have to ask for money, because his book of pictures was still selling at a steady pace. It was good, because Bobby had the feeling that even with the inheritance his parents were still scraping by.

As they were hammering the panel into place his mom came up balancing a tray of sandwiches and cups in one hand and held a pitcher of lemonade in the other hand. "I thought my mighty men might need a break," she announced, setting the tray down.

Both men stepped away from the work to down the offered food. "You know, I remember when Uncle Gene was still employing servants," she mused. "I'd come up here at night and listen to them gossip."

"How does this place stay clean?" Bobby asked, worried about having chores after school that would take up his time for sports.

"Oh, Uncle Gene automated the whole thing," she answered. "He was an inventor, held the patent on all sorts of things, including some robot designs that vacuum and dust when no one is around."

"How are they controlled?" he wondered between bites of his fourth sandwich.

Apparently it wasn't something that his mom had thought about before. "I think they're controlled by the computer in the library," she answered. "Now, don't get any funny ideas, Robert. I don't want the robots running around and," she paused to come up with something bad enough, "and acting out scenes from the "Three Stooges" or something."

"That's more my style, honey," Nathan pointed out.

His mom and stepdad shared a loving look that Bobby found heartwarming. The young man liked Nathan, really, but the man was too preoccupied with being a husband to be much more than a 'Parental Authority Figure'. Dad's weren't supposed to be just authority figures, but Nathan hadn't figured that out yet.

Speaking up, the young man announced, "I think we're ready to bring a bed up. That way I'll have somewhere to sleep tonight."

The house was split into four areas, or wings, Bobby thought they were supposed to be called. South Wing, the left side of the house, had larger bedrooms but served the same purpose as North Wing. Both were connected to what the young man thought was the East Wing, which held the entry, main staircase, ballroom, and other rooms that he had no name for. The layout was confusing, because there were no halls in that part of the house; the rooms opened onto other rooms. Off the back of the ballroom there was a solarium that connected the main house to the tower that held the library – which Bobby thought of as the West Wing.

After bringing up a couple of beds, a couch, some tables and chairs, they gathered in the kitchen, which was under the ballroom. It was a big, professional space, designed for a master chef to lead dozens of other cooks in crafting formal dinners. Bobby immediately set to work, exploring the pantry and refrigerator until he found what he needed to make chicken ramen, one of his specialties. Cooking was one of the skills he'd picked up while his mom had pretty much been comatose with grief following his dad's death.

He'd lived in constant fear during those days, trying to make sure that no one even suspected that his rom was unable to provide support. Bobby was fairly sure that Child Protective Services would have put him in an orphanage, and his mom in an asylum, if they found out. So, he'd worked hard to keep the secret, going so far as to lie to his friends and family; he'd cooked, cleaned, worked to make the difference between the life insurance policy and their needs.

"You're going to make someone a wonderful wife one day," Nathan joked as Bobby cracked egg over three bowls of noodles, vegetables, and broth.

"Well, I would hope that she was wonderful before I married her," Bobby threw back.

They all got a laugh at that.

Bobby loved his new room, but the place was still new. He wasn't sure if it was the bed, the sound of the wind, or the light coming through the windows, but he couldn't get to sleep. Getting up, he put on his sandals and headed over to the library; the tower at the end of the solarium. The first floor was lined with bookshelves that were only broken by the doors from the solarium and into the grounds and a pair of fireplaces equidistant from the doors. The ground floor had chairs around research tables and couches flanking coffee tables, giving it the air of a standard, public library, only a little grander. In the very center of the ground floor there was a circle of computer terminals that connected to servers in a glass enclosure hanging from the ceiling 60 feet up. A pair of wrought-iron balconies followed the wall, complete with their own ring of bookshelves; the shelves on the second balcony were extra tall, and had a ladder on tracks to reach the top.

Uncle Gene, as his mom called the man, had collected books on just about every subject under the sun. Biology, botany, sociology, psychology, mythology, archeology, medicine, religion, mathematics, mechanics, true crime, pulp fiction, science fiction, fantasy, and even a section on the occult. Most of it first edition stuff: expensive, even when first edition was the only edition. The computer held a search program that helped the user find books in the library through the use of a tracking chip inserted into the spine of each book.

Sitting down at the computer, Bobby ran a search for all the books on record, and found that the system's range was about a mile – which included the whole house and a chunk of the property. An index showed books in green, inside the library, in yellow, inside the house or on the property, and in red, outside the tracking range. It could even display the location of the books on a 3D map.

That was how he found the secret room.

One of the books in yellow was shown to be UNDER the library, but there was nothing in the floor plan about a room under the tower. Bobby started poking around, looking for evidence of a trap door in the bookshelves, under the area rugs and tables, up on the balconies. He finally found it inside the south fireplace, the latch hidden up the flue, which opened a section of paneling next to the mantle, revealing a narrow staircase like the one that led to his new apartment.

He followed that down into a library that looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. Against one wall there was a whiteboard filled with markings that looked more like the occult than scientific notation, and then there were the objects lying around the room. One corner was dedicated to a caldron with a charred blue residue inside, and a pegboard held a series of medallions that ranged from benign to sinister; the worst being an inverted pentagram of silver wire supporting six eye-like rubies.

On the center table, in pride of place, was a metal sleeve designed to fit over a person's forearm from wrist to elbow; made of a dense metallic mesh that supported an oval plate of the same metal. Lines of glyphs that looked both ancient and alien were stamped into the metal, forming three stars in relief. Unlike the stuff on the pegboard the sleeve didn't seem threatening, so the teen picked it up to examine it more closely.

It was oddly light, the metal almost seemed to float in his hand, and on a whim he decided to try it on.

His left arm fit easily through the sleeve, but it had been sized for someone a little bigger than Bobby, and probably a lot older. Just as his wrist passed the other end of the metal mesh flexed, conforming to his arm while the trio of stars began to glow the primary colors, the color passing into the glyphs in swirling patterns. Grabbing the end near his elbow he tugged, but the sleeve refused to budge as the colors bled back into the stars and dimmed until there was only the gold-tinted metal. Even after the lightshow ended, though, the bracer refused to budge, and almost seemed to be fused to his arm.

"Well, this isn't good," Bobby mused darkly as he looked around, finding a notebook that he assumed belonged to Uncle Gene. Inside the man detailed several experiments, his handwriting growing progressively worse as it went. It was nearly indecipherable by the end, and the sleeve seemed to be the last of his experiments.

Bobby was able to figure out that it was called a 'bracer', was made of 'Nth metal', and contained 'three forms of Kr crystal' suspended in something called 'toxin'. Occult symbols were factored into scientific notation which could have been a way to remove the bracer or the meaning of life, for all he knew.

He was going to have to tell his parents, and he could only imagine the fall out. Figuring out that there wasn't really anything he could do at the moment, he put everything back and then climbed out the way he'd come. Sealing the door behind him, Bobby headed back to his room and laid down on his bed, falling asleep immediately. Bobby was so deeply asleep that he didn't notice the bracer filling the room with its red, yellow and blue lights.

When morning came the young man woke feeling as if he'd had the best night's sleep in his life. He stretched out, smiling, until he'd felt the slight weight that was holding down his left arm. The bracer was still there, glowing golden in the morning light coming through the wide window. He'd have to tell his parents, but he wasn't ready to do that, yet.

The attic had been equipped with a small bathroom before the need for maids had been eliminated, so Bobby had a place to shower. Dressing in his favorite red boots, comfy blue jeans, a t-shirt and a blue hooded sweater with a faded white star on the front, he headed downstairs for breakfast. The sweater was to cover the bracer as all his other long-sleeved clothes were too dressy for going to the mall, which he wanted to do before he was grounded for, like, forever.

"Good morning, baby," his mom said as she made breakfast.

"Morning, mom," Bobby responded, taking the big plate of food that was put in front of him. He started wolfing it down, careful not to let his left forearm touch the table.

Nathan came down last with a goofy grin on his face. Bobby rolled his eyes – between his mom calling him 'baby' and his stepdad's grin it was easy to tell that they'd had a VERY good night. His mom put a plate of food in front of her husband and sat down beside him, playing cute. She'd been doing that a lot, lately; playing cute with Nathan, and now that he thought about it she sometimes glared at women who eyed her husband. It was a little creepy, actually.

"So, Robert, is there anything besides a racket you want to get while we're at the mall?" Nathan asked.

Bobby put his fork down and stood up. "Mom, I'm ready to go when you guys are."

It took another hour before his parents were read, and then they all piled into the car for the 70 mile drive to East Brook. Bobby eyed the motorcycle, but knew he wasn't up for an hour or more in the saddle. About half the size of Gotham, East Brook was the shopper's Mecca for the entire county, and at least one of the bordering counties. They had seen it from the freeway the previous day, but the byway off ramp had led them away before either of them had gotten more than a look.

Three stories of storefronts supported shops, boutiques, restaurants, a couple of convenience stores, and even a bank branch on the third floor. There was something for everyone, and the family went their separate ways to find the things that interested them. As there were a couple of different sports stores Bobby bounced between them, comparing different brands of tennis rackets. In order to avoid an impulse buy, he stopped by the food court for lunch before making his decision and heading back to the third floor to make his purchase.

He heard screams, and saw a man coming out of the bank branch pulling a bulging backpack onto his shoulder with one hand and trying to stuff a revolver into pistol holster under his arm that was designed for a semi-auto. Bobby was the son of a police officer, and couldn't simply stand by while a crime was being committed, but he also wasn't stupid. Getting into a wrestling match with a gunman was a stupid way to die. The young man stepped up to body-check the man, but the gunman moved with blinding speed to grab Bobby's sweater and tossing him over the balcony rail. His foot caught on the rail, turning him around, so that he was looking down at the wood and glass kiosk on the ground floor.

No, I don't want to die, Bobby thought, and he closed his eyes.

That proverbial moment of life flashing before your eyes played out behind the young man's lids. He saw all the triumphs and disappointments, the things he'd accomplished and the things he would never get to do. Bobby was angry at the gunman for throwing him off the balcony, he was afraid of what his death would do to his mom, but he also had a flash of hope as he thought of his father waiting for him in whatever came next.

He had a lot of time to consider it, enough time to become ashamed of the thought. His thoughts also became a little repetitive, and he opened his eyes, wondering why he hadn't hit the ground yet, only to find himself staring into the face of the very startled kiosk vender. Looking around, Bobby tried to figure out what was holding him up, and found himself rotating so that he was upright. There were lights under his left sleeve, and he pulled it up to reveal the bracer, which was glowing red, yellow and blue, under the gold metal, and it felt like there was something spinning under each star. It was like holding a trio of cd players to his arm.

A woman passed him in midair, looking back over her shoulder just long enough for Bobby to recognize her. Black hair, blue eyes, the body of a supermodel, and powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with Superman: she was Wonder Woman! She wasn't wearing the spectacularly revealing costume, but white linen pants, a white top, a denim jacket, and red boots, which might have been the only part of her costume that she was wearing at the moment. He'd passed her a couple of times in the crowd without realizing who she was.

Curiosity drew him, and Bobby found himself flying after Wonder Woman, catching up with her as she slowed. They were approaching an armed standoff – a one-sided armed standoff – as Joe-gunman was the only one carrying a gun. Security, holding tazers that they didn't dare use, had cut off the bank robber at the entrance to a department store, but rather than give himself up the crook had taken an infant hostage. The pink bundle the man held to his chest was screaming, the baby's mother was wailing, "My baby; my baby!" and the gunman was yelling at everyone to "Stay back, or the baby gets it!"

Flying was as easy as thinking about where he wanted to go, and he found himself dropping down to the second story so that he could come through the store and up an escalator to come up on the other side of the conflict. He saw Wonder Woman standing with the mall cops: she made eye contact with Bobby, giving him a small nod of recognition and, he thought, approval. Joe-gunman was holding the child tightly to his chest while rooting around in his coat with that hand; meanwhile the other hand was holding the gun to the baby's head. Bobby touched the bracer and felt the three disks still spinning, so he made eye contact again and nodded, preparing himself to act.

He wasn't sure what powers the bracer gave him, so he'd leave the gunman to Wonder Woman and focus on getting the baby safely out of harm's way.

Whatever the gunman was looking for in his coat he found it, but Bobby couldn't tell what it was. All he knew was that his moment to act had come as the man loosened his grip, and the baby in her pink blanket slipped from Joe-guman's arm. Like a baseball player sliding for home, Bobby flew low along the ground, caught the child, and glided along past the mall cops on the other side of the conflict. Meanwhile, Wonder Woman flew forward to take on the gunman, who took shots at her with his revolver that she deflected off the long metal bracelets she wore.

Coming up slightly, Bobby landed on his knees, the baby cradled gently in his arms. The infant's mother was at his shoulder, clawing for her child, which he gave over to the nearly hysterical woman. Relieved of that responsibility he turned to see how Wonder Woman was doing, and just had time to bowl the mother/child pair out of the way when the Amazon princess when flying past them. Wonder Woman crashed through the window of a women's lingerie store with Joe-gunman looking 9 kinds of crazy as he leapt after her, tossing the spent revolver aside.

Bobby knew, or at least he thought, that Wonder Woman would need time to recover, so he acted to delay, tackling the crazed criminal with enough force to send them both over the rail. Grappling with the man, Bobby turned so that he would take the worst of the hit, but barely felt the impact when they hit the first floor. He rolled out of it, coming up to find that Joe-gunman hadn't been much affected by the landing either, and was coming after Bobby with a mad gleam and rictus smile.

Reaching out, the young man grabbed the crazy's collar and pulled, rolling onto his back, and placing a foot against the man's chest he kicked off, sending the gunman through the window of one of the sporting goods stores; one that specialized in team memorabilia. With a thought Bobby was back on his feet, and he flew forward only to be met by a baseball bat being swung at his head. He brought up his arms to block, and the bat bounced off his left forearm, vibrating with enough force to cause the juiced up gunman to drop it. Bobby grabbed the gunman and threw him back out the broken window to a waiting Wonder Woman, who held out her arm in a close-line move that looked almost choreographed.

Bobby moved to follow the man out, but then spotted an old man lying on the floor clutching his chest. He changed course, coming to land next to the man, who had passed out, taking in the pale, clammy skin and short gasps of breath. "Call 911," he shouted at the clerk cowering behind her booth. Putting his ear to the man's chest Bobby listened for a heartbeat, and, hearing none, began CPR, being careful with his strength.

"I have aspirin," one woman announced, rushing forward and dumping out her purse in a quest to find the drug.

"Crush it up and put it on his tongue," Bobby ordered as the old man gasped and coughed. Putting his ear back to the man's chest the teenager was relieved to hear the heart beating again.

The woman did as she was told, and the young man turned to see what was going on with Wonder Woman. She was going toe-to-toe with Joe-gunman, and shockingly the juiced up criminal was actually holding his own against the warrior-born. In speed and strength the two were matched, but when it came to technique the woman had the man beat hands down. Bobby had never been one for martial arts – his brand of fighting had been learned on the streets, behind school buildings, as a last resort against bullies – but he couldn't help but be impressed at the way the Amazon princess was going at her opponent. She was methodical, but the warrior woman didn't seem to realize that Joe-gunman was coming down from whatever high he'd been on – it was easy to tell after seeing it happen time and again at sporting events in the greater Gotham area.

Jumping into the middle of a fight involving a United Nations Ambassador, not to mention arguably the most powerful superhero on the planet, wasn't something Bobby was looking forward to, but he did it anyway. Putting the man into a full-nelson, Bobby pulled the man into the air, keeping his back to Wonder Woman, who seemed intent on keeping up the fight. It soon became obvious to everyone that the crook was at the end of his juice.

Roars of rage started turning to pants, then groans, and then screams of pain, and Bobby landed next to a fountain near one of the entrances, calling out, "This man needs medical attention."

"Hera," Diana exclaimed as she watched the man writhe, "I knew that the drug he used was bad, but who would do this to themselves?"

"Lots of people, for lots of reasons, each reason as stupid as the next," Bobby sighed as he tried to keep the man from hurting himself. "This, however, takes the cake: I've never seen such a bad detox."

Paramedics arrived, and both Bobby and Wonder Woman were needed to move the still thrashing man onto the gurney. Once the restraints were applied, however, the first-responders had things in hand, and the two stepped back to let the medics work.

Wonder Woman put her hand on his shoulder, saying, "Thank you for your assistance, young man, but who are you?"

"Oh, right," he replied, pushing back his hood, "my name is Robert Steven Trevor, but my friends call me Bobby."

"Steven Trevor?" the woman wondered aloud.

Bobby remembered his grandfather's crazier stories, but he'd thought that it was part of the Alzheimer's – mixing up current events with past experiences. Tentatively, he clarified, "My grandfather . . . he calls you his 'Angel'?"

Diana smiled and nodded; and suddenly crazy Grandpa Steve didn't seem so crazy.

"ROBERT," his mom called out, breaking through the circle of onlookers. "Robert, what happened?"

"It's alright, ma'am," Diana stepped in, probably trying to help out. She had no idea what she was stepping into though. "Your son helped me bring down a very dangerous criminal."

"Robert: how could you?" the woman turned on her son. "It's bad enough that you get into fights with bullies at school, now you're picking fights with criminals?"

"That's not . . .," Bobby tried to explain.

"Robert, I can't believe that you would do this," Nathan interrupted, "you could have been killed. Did you even think what this would do to your mother and I?"

"SHUT UP," Bobby roared, taking half a step forward so that he and his stepdad were inches apart. "You don't care what happens to me – all you care about is how it would affect you and mom."

Kicking off the ground, Bobby rose over the crowd and flew for the exit, zipping past a startled family who'd just triggered the sliding glass doors. Once he was past the overhang he rocketed into the sky until the people on the ground looked like ants. Pulling up his hood Bobby took a few calming breaths before trying to figure out who he was going to explain all of what happened to his mom in a way that didn't give her a heart attack.

Thinking about heart attacks reminded him of the man in the sports memorabilia store, and he looked down to see another ambulance loading up a patient who might or might not have been the old man. Other emergency vehicles had arrived, but so far as he was able to tell the police were just taking statements and the firemen had nothing to do. After about half an hour Wonder Woman came out of the mall, spotted him, and rose into the air to join Bobby.

Bobby spoke first, apologizing for his family, "I'm sorry that you walked into that."

"Your parents seemed very surprised when you few off," she replied.

"Yea, that's new," Bobby said, holding up his left arm. "I found this in my great-great uncle's workshop under the library of the house he left us. This, along with some really sinister looking stuff, but this was the only one I tried on. Now it won't come off."

She traced the lines of glyphs and confessed, "I've seen these marks before – they are Thanagarian spells. You can't remove the bracer?"

"Yea, I've tried everything but hacking my own limb off," he exaggerated. He tugged on the sleeve for emphasis, saying, "It feels more like a shackle than a bracer right now."

"I've heard power described that way, sometimes," Diana nodded with something like approval in her eyes. Reaching up to her ear she removed a small earpiece that she held out. "This is a Justice League communicator. Just put it in your ear and tap it, and it will connect you to the Watch Tower."

Bobby held up his hands, protesting, "I couldn't."

"Please?" she pressed, "Just in case you ever need help." When Bobby took the device she promised, "I'll get the best mystics in the League to look into the problem – they'll figure out a way to take the bracer off."

"Thank you, Wonder Woman," he told her wholeheartedly. "What happened to the old man in the shop?"

"He'll live," she assured him, "and you can call me Diana. I hope to see you around, Bobby Trevor."

"Yea, see ya, Diana," Bobby replied, trying to keep from blushing.

He could see two people standing by their car, and when he dropped down he saw that it was his mom and Nathan. Joining them he suggested, "Let's get going before we get mobbed."

They all climbed into the car with Nathan growling, "As soon as we get home you have got a lot of explaining to do, young man."

End Chapter One: New