Legionaries
Ch. 3: Photographs
A/n: Fast forward three years after chapter 2.
Please don't let Papa come in here… 5 year old Wally thought as he tiptoed into his father's study. It was 9:30, he should be in bed now. A sugar cube jones had hit with the force of a truck. Just get one out of Uncle Walter's mask and sneak out without Papa being any the wiser. Piece of cake. It scared him though. Eddie had once told him that Uncle Walter's ghost would come around the study at night when no one was around. Said he'd chop off your hand with a meat cleaver if you tried to take his mask. Wally didn't believe it. Eddie was just trying to scare him…right?
Wally pushed open the study door, looking at the memorabilia of days gone by. Pictures out of newspapers and magazines framed on the walls telling stories that a five year old boy wouldn't understand. Wally looked around quickly, catching glimpses of face and names he knew by sight, but knew very little else. His parents dressed as Nite Owl II and Silk Spectre II respectively. Grandpa Eddie, smiling with a cigar between his teeth and a shotgun in his hands. Nana Sally when she was younger. Even a rare mug shot of Uncle Walter without his mask. He looked grumpy. Wally jumped at the sensation of a hand on his shoulder. He dropped the mask, sugar cubes spilling across the floor.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Walter! Don't chop off my hand!" Wally yelped.
"Wally—? Hand—?" muttered Dan's voice. He sounded half awake.
"Papa!" Wally cried, throwing his arms around his father's knees, sobbing. "Papa—I'm— suh—sorry!"
"Hang on, slow down," said Dan, getting down on one knee to brush away a tear that had clung to the rim of his son's glasses. "What happened?"
"I just wuh—wanted a couple sugar squares from Uncle Walter's mask," Wally said. Dan picked up the fallen piece of cloth. He was smiling, but his eyes looked sad. "Eddie said Uncle Walter's ghost will chop off my hand if I try to take his mask at night and I didn't believe him and then you scared me…"
"You keep them in there?" he asked in a quiet voice. Wally nodded, sniffling.
"I—I'm sorry, Papa, I won't do it anymore…"
"No, no, it's okay. C'mere," Dan said, sitting down the big brown swivel chair Wally and Eddie liked to spin around in. Wally climbed into his father's lap and Dan pulled out a large binder. It, like the walls of the room around them, was filled to bursting with photographs and newspaper articles. Dan pulled out a photograph. It was of the ill-fated Crimebusters meeting. "You know who all these people are?"
Wally nodded.
"Granpa Eddie," he said, pointing to Blake. "Uncle Jon, Mama, Papa, Uncle Walter," he went on, pointing to each person in the photo as he named them. He paused for a moment when he came to Adrian "Ozymandias" Veidt. "Hurm…Uncle Ozy…" Dan was pleased to see the boy sneer. "Mama said he's mean."
That's an understatement, thought Dan coldly. It's thanks to Veidt that the boys never met their grandfather and 'uncle.' He sighed and then pulled out a photo that had a pair of stories. One was painful and the other funny.
"You know who that is?" Dan asked, allowing Wally to look at the picture. It was of a ten year old boy in a moth-eaten suit that was two sizes too big. He was clutching a suitcase and something wrapped in butcher-paper and twine. His smile was weak, but relieved. Behind him was a partially obscured sign that read CHARLTON HOME FOR PROBLEM CHILDREN.
"Nuh uh," Wally said. Dan smiled again.
"That little boy," he said, "is your Uncle Walter. He was five years older than you when that picture was taken."
"Did you guys fight bad guys then?" asked Wally in awe.
"Ha ha! No. I didn't, but your Uncle Walter would say he did," said Dan with a laugh. When Wally was older, Dan would have to tell him how he had managed to get that picture to add to his collection. About a month after the twins had been born, Dan and Laurie had gone to the old orphanage to collect any photos or belongings Walter had left behind. The old woman who worked there had asked if they were Kovacs' family. Dan had said that he was Walter's brother and had taken in his infant son, as that had been his dying wish. The old bat looked at the picture of Walter as a kid and then at the month old Wally.
"My God!" the woman exclaimed. "I never thought he had it in him!"
