Title: Alone
Rating: this chapter K, overall M
Warning: Violence, disturbing themes, gore (in future chapters), WIP
Summary: While Billy Batson is struggling to balance his regular life, his existence as Captain Marvel and his fairly new membership in the JLA, Fawcett City becomes the scene of a string of horrible crimes - the rape and murder of homeless children.
Notes: Takes place before "Misplaced", will focus more on the JLA than the YJ team.
Billy was ripped from his dreams by the shrill beeping of his alarm clock. Blindly, he reached out and brought his hand down hard on the wooden surface of his bedside table. Ouch. On his second, equally uncoordinated, attempt to find the snooze button without having to open his eyes his palm did brush the actual clock, but sent it toppling onto the floor. A carpet-softened thud, then heavenly silence.
Billy sighed, already drifting off again.
Just five more minutes.
"Billy?"
Captain Marvel hesitated mid-punch, momentarily confused. In front of him, Doctor Sivana sprouted purple wings and flew off into the sunset.
That had been Uncle Dudley's voice, hadn't it?
"Billy, are you still asleep? You'll be late for school!"
School! It was like a magic word in and of itself – but not the good kind. As if he'd been struck by lightning, Billy shot up in bed, eyes open, wide awake in an instant. He jumped out, onto his bare feet, and picked up the alarm clock.
7: 50, the display said in big, glowing, green, merciless numbers.
Holy moley, he'd overslept!
First period would start in ten minutes and Billy wasn't even dressed. He made a run for his closet, ripping the door open and grabbing the first shirt and pants he could find. Captain Marvel would have been able to get ready for school in less than five seconds, but what'd be the point in Cap putting on Billy's clothes?
This was something he had to accomplish without the Speed of Mercury.
Billy was just about out the door when Uncle Dudley stopped him by gently grasping his shoulder.
"Hold on, sport, don't forget your lunch," he said, handing Billy a brown paper bag and ruffling his hair, and although this was pretty much a daily event for them by now, Billy still felt a surge of warmth rise inside his chest at the simple gesture. It never failed to make him genuinely happy.
"Thanks, Uncle Dudley!"
Clutching his lunch, backpack slung over one shoulder, Billy Batson stepped out into the cloudy morning.
It was drizzling softly when Captain Marvel landed in a narrow alley behind Fawcett Elementary. After a quick look to make sure that he was indeed alone and out of sight, he said the word. Out of the cloud of white smoke, Billy Batson emerged, glanced at his wristwatch and grimaced.
Nope, the Speed of Mercury had not saved him this time.
It was ten past eight, which meant that class had started without him.
He'd be late either way, but still Billy ran, because strolling to school leisurely would just feel wrong under the circumstances and, who knew, maybe Mr Winters would actually give him credit for turning up only ten minutes late instead of fifteen.
Or so he'd thought until he promptly slipped on the wet stone steps that lead up to the school's main entrance. He went down hard on one knee, thankfully not tearing his worn blue jeans, but getting mud all over them. It hurt something awful, too.
Half limping, half running, Billy made his way through the school's tiled hallways, the voices of teachers and students drifting to him from behind the closed doors of the classrooms he passed.
In front of his destination, Billy stopped, unsure. He hated this.
From where Billy stood, his back pressed against the cold wall next to the door, he could already hear Mr Winters' enthusiastic elucidations about what he liked to call "the magic of math".
Mr Winters wasn't especially strict or terrifying – in fact, he was a youngish man - brown hair without even a hint of grey in it – who, when he wasn't getting all excited about numbers, spoke in a gentle voice and was prone to making the kind of jokes that were a little too silly to actually be funny but that Billy laughed at anyway, because he didn't want to disappoint Mr Winters, who probably put a lot of effort into thinking them up.
Still, Billy's heart was pounding in his chest, a steady thump, thump against his ribcage and his throat felt dry, which was pretty darn pathetic if you thought about what kind of things Captain Marvel faced on a daily basis.
Very carefully, he opened the door a tiny crack and peeked through.
Mr Winters had his back to the class and was writing something on the blackboard, his right hand attacking the board in short energetic jabs.
Billy swallowed. His empty seat was all the way in the back of the classroom, almost against the wall. The distance seemed insurmountable. But maybe…
He'd have to try; this was his only chance.
Billy slipped into the room without making a sound. Exposed to and dependent on his classmates, he shot them pleading looks while he tiptoed through the rows. Like a blind man, Billy was reaching forward with one hand, reaching for his desk. Just a few more steps. He'd make it!
Except that, as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, his foot caught on something and he tripped. Billy couldn't suppress the undignified squawk of surprise as he fell, his fingertips brushed the edge of his desk.
He fell flat on his face, much to the amusement of his classmates who erupted into giggles almost in unison. Billy let the sound of their voices wash over him while he contemplated the polished floor and endured the heat burning in his cheeks.
Well, Cap wasn't exactly known for gracefulness, either.
"Watcha doin' down there, dork? Looking for your brains?"
Even without looking up, Billy could practically see Frankie Smith's crooked-toothed grin. Frankie was a bully, tall for his age and strong enough to pick on anyone, even six graders, or so Billy'd had heard anyway.
"Pff, he'd need a microscope for that!"
Yeah, and there was his mindless posse, ready to chime in with more insults. Billy didn't care. They were just a bunch of stupid kids who were feeling insecure enough to latch onto a bully because they were terrified of becoming Frankie's next targets themselves.
Silently, he thanked the Wisdom of Solomon for making him better than that.
Billy ignored them. He had bigger problems.
"Gentlemen, please." Mr Winters' voice was uncharacteristically sharp. The tips of his scuffed shoes entered Billy's field of vision. "Are you hurt, Bill?"
"It's nothing." Somewhat reluctantly, Billy took the hand that was offered to him. "Thanks, Mr Winters."
"Just so you know, Bill, we will have to talk about this after class."
Billy sighed softly.
He really shouldn't have dared to hope he'd get off scot-free.
"Yes, Sir."
"But for now, how about you sit down. We still have to talk about the rest of the homework –"
The word had the effect of a bucket of cold water being tossed in his face. Homework.
Billy had a sudden vision of two sheets of paper, both of them filled with long divisions printed in black ink. The last time he'd seen them was when he'd put them onto the desk in his room, next to his RC Batmobile, right before he'd decided that he was too tired to do his homework and that he'd do it in the morning. He'd just have to set his alarm to an hour earlier than usual.
Oops.
The thing was, there was really nothing he could tell his teacher. If he told Mr Winters that he'd been too tired to do the homework, he'd just ask why Billy'd been too tired. Then Billy would have to say that by the time he came home, it'd been past 2 am in the morning, and then Mr Winters would probably ask where he'd been and what he'd been doing until 2 am on a school night.
And then… well… How exactly did you explain to your teacher that you'd gotten a call from Superman who needed help fighting a giant robot in China?
You probably just didn't.
One day ago
The JLA had been stretched thin as it was – an earthquake in Mexico, two big hostage situations in Europe and Harley Quinn on a rampage in Gotham - so when the SOS came from China, Superman had gone alone – he was Superman after all. How much trouble could a single one hundred and fifty-something feet tall robot be to him?
That was what Captain Marvel had thought at first, that Superman was only calling for backup to get things done a little sooner, so they could get back to more pressing business.
Still, Billy was thrilled to get the call. He'd never really had a chance to hang out alone with Superman before.
However, when Captain Marvel arrived on the scene, Superman had both his hands full and then some.
From miles away, he could see the metal giant lumbering through the countryside, crushing whatever ended up under his humongous, shiny feet. He was silver, the sinking sun reflected off his surface, making it hard to look at him directly and giving him an ominous red glow.
To be honest, the robot did look kinda cool.
"Captain Marvel!" Superman was below, floating in place, his long cape billowing dramatically, making Billy wish he had one just like it. Superman was pointing at dark angular silhouettes in the distance. Buildings, which the robot was approaching, slowly but surely.
"We have to get it away from the city! Lure it into the open, then take it apart where no civilians can get hurt! "
The wind tore at Superman's words, but Captain Marvel had already come to the same conclusion. And he had a plan.
"Got it!" he shouted back at Superman, and with that he zipped past, up to the metal giant, and shouted, "Hey, big guy, wanna play catch? You're it!"
"Marvel!"
Superman was right behind him, but Cap was still a little faster than the older hero. Plus, he thought he might be enjoying it more. The wind in his face, his speed that turned the landscape into a colorful smear and adrenaline cursing through him, yeah, this feeling would never get old.
The robot turned slowly, its joints making a scraping sound like ten thousand forks scratching across plates all at once, and, as planned, took up the chase.
His hand came down to swat at Captain Marvel who easily swerved out of its way. He turned to see where Superman was, and found him flying a wide loop above him, level with the robot's head.
"This is far enough," Superman called, "let's finish him."
And with that Superman shot straight towards the robot's glowing yellow eyes, drawing back his right arm to fell his target with a single super-powered punch. Cap would have loved to just stay where he was and watch the spectacle, but he too had a job to do. Maybe he was only back-up, only insurance against any unforeseeable incidents, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do his part to ensure victory. Helping out – and, who knew, perhaps even impress – the greatest hero in the world was what he'd come to do after all.
Captain Marvel launched himself at the robot's chest. This way, the big guy wouldn't know who to defend himself from first. Either he or Superman, one of them was bound to land a hit.
Except that, as soon as he got closer to massive chest plate, he heard… something. A strange humming noise, small and electric.
Like something was being charged up.
"Superman! Look out!"
Too late. Light exploded above Captain Marvel, engulfing him in white, everything gone as if he'd been sucked into a vacuum.
He was blinded, helpless.
Then something huge impacted his side and he felt himself falling, falling, spinning.
And then he was caught in someone's strong, sure arms.
Superman.
He opened his eyes. Bright spots swam in an out of his field of vision, neon colored jellyfish, but he could see Superman's face, Superman's concerned expression.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Captain Marvel said, hoping he wasn't blushing too obviously. "Thank you, Superman!"
"What was that anyway?" he asked when Superman gently set him down on the ground.
"Laser-beams, apparently he can shoot them from his eyes. Let's hope he doesn't have any other tricks up his sleeve." They both looked up at the towering robot for a second; its head was moving, the glowing eyes scanning its surroundings, searching for them.
"Kinda looks like a Gundam, doesn't he?" Captain Marvel cocked his head in contemplation.
"A Gun-what?" Superman shot him a confused look.
"It's a—" Cartoon? Could he possibly say anything dorkier to Superman? "uh.. . never mind. "
Cap blinked, there was something weird about the way the robot looked; something was different.
"Hey, see that? The chest plate's coming off!" Apparently he had landed a hit before the robot almost knocked him out. Phew, maybe he hadn't made himself look like a complete loser after all.
Slightly relieved and even more determined to make himself useful, Captain Marvel took to the air again, dodged the robots fists and grabbed hold of the corner of metal that had come loose and stood away from the robot's chest.
As he pulled, he heard a hiss from below, then the whole machine suddenly lost balance and began to topple sharply to the side.
Captain Marvel held on tight and pulled with all the strength of Hercules. The metal creaked in protest under his hands, but it gave; he left it no choice. Above him, Superman was distracting the robot enough to give Marvel the time to get to his hopefully soft and chewy center.
It wasn't until he'd peeled back a few feet of metal that Cap realized something was very wrong. The inside of the robot was lined with lead and something, something in therewas emitting a weak glow.
A weak green glow.
He heard the groan, a sound of shock and pain.
He didn't think; he had to protect Superman; he had to destroy the Kryptonite, that was all there was to it.
With newfound strength and determination, Captain Marvel planted his feet on the robot and pulled. As the metal chest plate went flying, so did he. In front of him, the robot's insides lay open, a rock of kryptonite almost as big as the Captain himself, nestled into the machinery, the robot's poisonous heart.
Captain Marvel launched himself at it, dodging the robot's last attempts at fighting him off without ever taking his eyes of the Kryptonite. It hurt when he crashed into hit, both arms outstretched, both fists slamming into the hard rock, shattering it onto smaller crystals.
Below, someone, Superman, howled in pain, and Billy felt his breath catch in his throat. Superman was down on the ground and…
..the shards of Kryptonite had probably rained down on Superman!
What had he done?!
He flew down as fast as he could, his heart frantically hammering in his chest.
Superman lay curled up on the ground. With both arms drawn up to shield his face, he looked unnaturally small and vulnerable, and Captain Marvel found himself reaching out, but hesitating before his fingertips made contact with his idol.
"Are you—"
"Get… me out of here!" The rawness of Superman's voice almost made him flinch. He'd messed up. He'd really messed up.
Captain Marvel swallowed. "I—I'm so—"
"Just get me away from here, Captain! Now!"
Now
"This is was the fourth time you were late this week, young man, and no homework?" Principal Pryce glared at him from behind her polished desk. "I don't know what you are thinking, Bill. Or, more importantly, what your "uncle" is thinking."
Billy bit back a wince. Out loud, she hadn't said "your so called uncle," but she didn't have to. Billy could hear it in her voice and certainly see the disdain in her steely grey eyes.
"It's not Uncle Dudley's fault; I overslept, I forgot about the homework. He takes great care of me, really!"
"Does he now?" she let the question hang in the room while her almost pitying expressing made Billy feel small and helpless. It left him painfully aware of his dirty jeans and his tousled hair, which he'd only smoothed down with some spit this morning.
Unable to bear it any longer, Billy lowered his eyes to stare at the back of the framed photo standing on the principal's desk. He knew that it was a picture of Mrs Pryce and her family, her husband, who was a pretty famous scientist – or so Uncle Dudley had told him – and her two pretty blonde daughters, all of them happy and smiling – a family.
He decided to look down at his hands instead.
"I will call him, Billy, and I will call social services, too. I have to. It's part of my job," she said. There was no apology in her voice, no regret. She was convinced that she was doing the right thing, that she was only doing what was best for him.
"I know," Billy murmured, and he did, even without the Wisdom of Solomon.
"And I think I don't need to tell you that you have detention, do I?"
"No, ma'am."