Little Boy Blue,
Go blow your horn
Light's ransomed the widow
And Robin's come to harm
Where is the bat who looks after his people?
In a dingy mansion, 'neath a preacher's steeple.
Will you get him?
No, not I.
But Blue will save us, if he tries.
"…the hell is this shit?" incredulous cornflower blue eyes frowned down at the cryptic letter (who sends written letters anymore? E-mail is just so much faster) as Nelson Nash rubbed the back of his neck. Okay, maybe he wasn't supposed to be snooping around in Grandad's stuff, but an opened, new looking letter on top of his desk? Nelson hadn't been raised to mind his own business. And so, fifteen minutes later, he was found sitting at the desk, puzzling over the note, or poem, or riddle, or whatever it was supposed to be, trying to puzzle it out. Not that he was that good at puzzles, though his father had really tried instilling the art of problem-solving into his son. Nelson Nash preferred hitting the thing dead on. If that didn't work, you kicked it. And if that didn't work, throw a smoothie on the cursed thing and hope it shorts out. Or use the lock-picking skills Grandad taught you while dad wasn't looking. See? That was problem-solving. Unfortunately, Nash couldn't use any of that on the letter and when his great-grandfather walked in, the young red-head was staring hatefully at the thing.
"Nel, where are- what are you doing?! Nelson jumped and quickly put the letter down, spinning around to face his great-grandfather. As old as Bruce Wayne (not Grandad's fault his son and grandson had all gotten girls pregnant during highschool), and just as spry, though it seriously seemed the guy would fall dead from shock. Nelson jumped up and went to his great-grandfather. "Hey, Grandad? You okay?" The old man hit his great-grandson over the head with his cane and glared hawkishly at the cringing red-head. "That was a private letter, young man" Nash shrugged. "It was opened and sitting there" The old man grinned. "Your father raised you too well, kiddo. Now come help me. I can't seem to reach the book I want, when you get older, it seems, you get smaller" He gave a slightly wheezy chuckle as Nash rolled his eyes and followed him out into the hall. "What was that note about, anyway?" The old man gave his descendant a sharp look. "Never you mind, Nel. Now, about that book…" Nelson sighed.
Visits to Grandad's was always both pleasant and tense, in Nash's opinion. Pleasant because, when dad was gone, Grandad showed him how to pick locks or scale walls, or basic instructions in how to effectively break an arm with the least minimal damage with a baseball bat. (Of course, they didn't use real arms, it might have been fun, but it was against the law. They practiced on neighbor's mailboxes, instead) There was also tracking, and learning how to shoot arrows, among other things, and Grandad often told him stories of his great-great-grandmother, who he supposedly looked a lot like, but he couldn't tell. The old photos were black and white and really faded, but Nelson loved when Grandad talked about her and his great-great grandfather, and their friends. He really did enjoy the stories about Tubby and Toughie, and their kids, who had been Grandad's friends. It only got tense when Nelson's dad was in the house, and there would be whispered arguments and angry, biting comments Nelson didn't get. He'd often tip-toe to his designated room (his dad's old room), and hide out till the arguments, and side-glances his way, and the biting comments were over, though for hours after there was a tense silence Nelson had learned by now not to try and breach.
It was the same as usual, sort of, when his dad walked through the door. Nelson Nash and Henry Rogers were at the table, Nelson learning a new whistle. Henry was grinning. "Good, good, now, you've got to repeat this three times, it's a special whistle you see. I learned it from my father, your great-great-grandfather, he always went by Tommy, and I taught it to your father, so I'll teach it to you" Nelson had been rather pleased by this. Maybe he could use it to get his team's attention, a secret whistle to call them together. That would be cool. And then his father came in. "What are you teaching my son now, dad" it was a low, angry warning, and Nash immediately got up and headed for the kitchen door, leading to the hall. He was beating a hasty exit or he'd get dragged into a conversation he still didn't understand.
However, since they always got a little bit louder when the door was closed, something prompted Nelson to stay and listen this time. He kneeled by the doorknob, where the wizened door had made a natural curved crack over time, and put his ear as close to it as he dared.
"Little….Blue….family business….not dragging him…dead, dad…"
"Wasn't….choice….attic, hidden, not….notebooks, of course….Blue Boys adventures…just innocent….it's his choice…Little Boy Blue is needed….Light, again….not…fine…"
The voices lapsed into silence and Nelson knew that he could go back in, but he just sat there, chewing his lip. He wasn't allowed into the attic by either Grandad or dad, he kept getting grounded when they saw him anywhere near the ladder, but they'd raised him to be curious. Besides, as usual the conversation didn't make sense to him, but it had something to do with that letter, and something to do with the attic. And using his deduction skills (that even he was willing to admit he was sorely lacking in) he decided that the attic was the answer he'd been needing for years and grounding or no, he was going to look around.
Nelson about jumped out of his skin as the ladder creaaked down to the ground and looked over at the storage room's door, the storage room being where the attic entrance was. Nobody came in, there was no running footsteps, everything was fine. Nelson let out a breath and climbed up the ladder, then going down quickly and rummaging through a few boxes before coming out a bit dusty and with a working flashlight, and went up once more.
Nelson couldn't believe his eyes. There were costumes, four of them, and a carefully preserved boot of a fifth, on large mannequins in huge glass cases. He dimly recognized them from old pictures that were in the museum in Big City, where Grandad lived. The old superhero squad that kept the city safe, the Blue Boys. And, well, one girl, but he couldn't remember what she was called. He walked closer to the more prominent one, the only one with a red hood, gloves and boots, and just stared. It looked like it had been designed for a preteen. And why was he drawn to it? And why was it in Grandad's attic? He shook his head and continued looking around, there had been mention of notebooks, hadn't there? Those probably most likely held all the answers. He found them in a locked case. Make that double locked with individual locks on each notebook. Good thing he was handy with a pin and tumbler, and that the locks were so rusted on the case he could just yank them off. Nelson sat back and opened the notebooks. It didn't take him long to piece everything together as he looked through the notebooks, no, adventure diaries, and got the world-rocking of a lifetime.
"No freaking way"
His great-great-grandfather, great-grandfather, and uncle (who had died several years before Nelson was born, in the guy's teens, to everyone's dismay) had all been superheroes. More importantly, they'd been Little Boy Blue, leader of the Blue Boys, the now defunct protectors of the Big City.
It was about half-an-hour later when Nelson Nash, great-grandson to Henry Rogers, son of Tommy Rogers, the first Little Boy Blue, came downstairs and into the living room where his dad and Grandad were sitting. Nelson was cradling the old Little Boy Blue costume and the notebooks in his arms and he stared seriously at his family, who stared at him dumbstruck.
"We need to talk"
A/N: I would like to say, right now, that Little Boy Blue and the Blue Boys, as well as Little Miss Redhead, are all Golden-Age comic book DC heroes and actually exist. I would also like to add that choosing to make Nelson Nash the descendant comes from his visiting relatives in on episode of BB and talking about a grandparent whose last name was Rogers. it was a throwaway line, but it got me thinking about my favorite preteen crimefighter, and so this came about. there will be more chapters, eventually, maybe, but right now I'm just curious as to what you guys think, and how you'd react to Nelson being fourth gen. Little Boy Blue :)