Friends
Billy felt the chain-link fence press into his back as he retreated fearfully. His mysterious pursuer stood silently, looking over the boy's shivering form with a blank expression. Billy forced down a lump in his throat as he tried to devise an escape plan. He wanted desperately to say the magic word and disappear in a flash of red and gold, but getting to safety was not worth surrendering his secret identity. He had no hope of beating his assailant in a fair fight, but maybe he could find a place to hide…
Billy's train of thought was derailed when the enigmatic figure before him set down the parcel he was carrying and knelt down to the boy's eye level.
"Woah, kid," the stranger said, his tone measured and calm. "You alright?" Billy stared at him nervously, unsure of how to proceed. He took a deep breath and sat up, wincing at the newfound pain in his back.
"Um…I'm fine," he replied hesitantly. "Just a little shaken up is all."
"I can tell," the man said, looking him over. "Did those kids give you any more trouble?"
Billy's eyes widened as he recognized his kind companion.
"You saved me from those bullies earlier!" he said.
"Yep," the man said nonchalantly. "Looks like they worked you over pretty well first." Billy grimaced and curled into himself, suddenly self-conscious about his torn clothing, his tousled hair, and his numerous injuries. He peered down at the still-untreated gash on his leg and winced involuntarily.
"It's not your fault, sir," the injured hero said politely. He tenuously stood, using the fence to maintain his balance.
"I see you wandering around here often," the man said, brushing some snow from his greyish-white hair. "What's your name?" Billy hesitated, quietly assessing the seemingly well-intended stranger. People were rarely this nice to him. Not unless he was Captain Marvel or they had an ulterior motive.
Well, if something went wrong, he always had a way out.
"I'm Billy," he said with a half-smile. He took a step away from the wall, tripped, and face-planted into a pile of snow. A firm pair of hands gripped his shoulders and helped him to his feet. His eyes met the man's determined gaze, and a feeling of safety drowned out his lingering fear.
"Call me Dudley," the man said, his voice calm. "We should get out of the snow. Do you live around here?" Billy shrunk into himself.
"Um…," he responded meekly. He could tell where this was going.
"Is it close enough to walk there?" Dudley questioned as he picked up his bag. Once again, Billy hesitated.
"N-no…" he answered, trying to keep a straight face. "I don't think we'd be able to make it there. The snow's starting to pick up." In truth, his residence was only a few short blocks away. Still, he wasn't comfortable showing anyone where he lived. If this stranger really turned out to be some diabolical villain out to get Captain Marvel, then giving away such sensitive information could prove disastrous. Besides, he didn't live in the safest area…
"Well, if you can walk, my friend owns the store we just came from. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we sat for a few minutes to get out of the storm. I know he has some medical supplies in stock. We can get you patched up, and maybe find something to eat. Sound good to you?"
Suddenly the wind picked up, whipping up several snow drifts around the frigid pair. Not wanting to stay outside, the worried child nodded and followed his friend out of the alley.
Dudley slowly paced through the aisle, mentally checking off the items he needed to attend to Billy injuries. He was still taken aback by the boy's unusual reaction when he had noticed him at the front of the store. He had expected the kid to perk up, maybe to give him a distrusting look. What he had not expected was for Billy to jump up and run out into the snow. The boy's first assumption seemed to be that he was in trouble. Dudley guessed he got chased away often.
Dudley's mind returned to the task at hand. He walked a few steps down and stopped in front of a selection of bandages. Taking a small box off the shelf, he turned and walked back to the counter. There he found a black-haired young man at the register, counting a stack of bills. The shop owner looked up at the aging man and gave a cordial nod.
"Thanks again for letting us in," Dudley said, his friendly voice contrasting with his stern demeanor. The storeowner gave a laugh and replaced his money in the register.
"No problem, Dudley," he said. "It's the least I could do for you fixing my heater. I don't think I could have worked another day in a freezer."
"Sure thing," Dudley responded casually. "No one should be forced to stay in the cold." He gave an involuntary glance to the boy by the window. Billy sat in uneasy silence, staring down at the steaming cup in his shaky hands. Even inside, he was still shivering like a windswept leaf.
"Who is he?" the storeowner queried, his gaze fixed on his young patron.
"His name's Billy," Dudley explained. "I ran into him on the way here. He was being roughed up by that local group of teens.
"You mean the ones who keep throwing eggs at my store window?" the young man interjected.
"Yeah," Dudley replied. "When I got there they were trying to suffocate the poor kid in the snow. I yelled at them and they turned tail. I tried to talk to the kid, but he took off too."
"He seemed really spooked when he came in earlier," the friendly shop owner commented. "Like he was trying to avoid being seen. I just left him alone."
"I don't think people normally let him hang around," Dudley replied, a pang of sympathy rising in his voice.
"He doesn't look very old," the shop owner speculated. "Ten, maybe eleven."
"Maybe he'll tell me," Dudley suggested. He handed his friend a ten-dollar bill before walking over to the scared boy.
"How're you doing, kid?" he questioned as he set down some his supplies on the floor.
"O-Okay, sir" Billy replied as he involuntarily shrank into himself. His grip tightened on the cup in his hands, as if Dudley might try to take it from him. Seeing the boy's reaction, Dudley forced a reassuring grin as he opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a box of bandages.
"Here," he said as calmly as possible. "Let me take a look at your knee." Billy hesitated for a moment before sitting up straight and taking a sip of hot chocolate. Interpreting the boy's silence as a "yes" Dudley gently grabbed hold of his ankle and examined the wound. The injury itself wasn't deep, but it looked infected. With a sigh, Dudley poured some rubbing alcohol onto a washcloth.
"This might sting a little," Dudley warned. He gently applied the cloth to Billy's knee, causing him to cry out.
"Sorry, kid," the composed man said as he applied a bandage to the injury.
"It's okay," Billy managed, pain still painted on his features. After a second his regained his composure and took another drink.
"So, how old are you?" Dudley asked in an attempt to break the tension. "Ten?"
"Nine," Billy answered, clearly less than comfortable with the situation.
"Do those kids pick on you often?" Dudley questioned as he bandaged a cut on Billy's arm.
"Not really," Billy answered before averting his gaze. The kid was a terrible liar. Dudley gave him an incredulous look causing him to shift nervously.
"What were you doing here earlier?" the hurt boy asked in an attempt to divert the conversation.
"Just fixing his heater," Dudley explained tersely, more interested in his young friend's situation. "Sorry I startled you earlier."
"It's okay," was Billy's only reply. The injured boy winced as Dudley disinfected another cut.
"Is there a reason you ran away from me?" Dudley pried, his tone persistent yet gentle. Billy didn't answer, opting instead to stare down at his worn shoes. The chilled child shivered, eliciting a worried look from Dudley.
The two continued to converse at Dudley patched up the boy's wounds. Dudley gently pressed the kid for details about his situation, but only succeeded in making Billy act even more nervous. Finally, Dudley finished tending to his young friend, knowing little more about him than his age and his lack of living parents. Putting the remaining supplies away, he stood up and looked back at his friend at the counter.
He probably wanted to leave an hour ago. The kid and I have been holding him up. We should leave before the storm picks up again.
Giving Billy a curt nod, Dudley walked over to the counter.
"Thanks again for letting us stay," he said cordially. "We'll get out of your hair."
"No problem," the young man replied. "What about the kid?"
"I don't know," Dudley answered hesitantly. "But I don't think it's safe to let him roam around in this weather." At the storeowner's affirmation, Dudley turned back to find Billy's chair empty. He was gone.
Shadows slid stealthily along the floor of an abandoned warehouse, shrinking away from the moonlight filtering through the windows. In the murk stood a short, well-dressed man. A throng of robotic monkeys flanked him, casting his impatient expression in an eerie viridian glow.
"I expected him to be here by now," the man stated irritably. His robotic thralls cackled happily in response, seemingly ignorant of their master's displeasure.
"Professor Ivo," a pleasant voice from the shadows greeted. Out of a corner stepped a bald man in a dark blue suit, a predatory smile on his face.
"Mr. Luthor," Ivo replied, doing nothing to hide his irritation. "How nice of you to finally arrive."
"Forgive my tardiness," Lex Luthor said, his pristine decorum unfazed by his acquaintance's temper. "I was delayed by a press conference which ran late. Lexcorp is working on a new housing project to help obtain some more good press and raise funds for our…new organization."
"Indeed," Ivo responded, his peevishness fading away. "I understand you require my technology."
"Yes," Luthor replied. "My associates and I are working to create a group to further our collective goals. We feel that your inventions would be ideal for our needs."
"I might be willing to consider your offer," Ivo began, straightening his vest, "but there's something I would like in exchange."
"Oh?" Luthor asked.
"Two members of the Justice League recently interrupted a test run of one of my robots and destroyed it," the mad scientist explained, his composure wavering.
"Ah, yes," Luthor affirmed, recollecting the recent events in Fawcett. "Superman and Captain Marvel."
"Indeed," Ivo fumed. "This isn't the first time they've interfered with my work. I want them out of the picture. If you can accomplish that, I'll give you what you want."
"I believe that can be arranged," Luthor stated matter-of-factly. "I have experience with Superman…" He straightened his tie.
"…and I know someone who might be able to eliminate Captain Marvel."
