Cole remained quiet and perfectly still for several seconds in front of
Helena. She studied him from every angle, wary that his powers may strike
again.
"And you are?" she asked, crouching down behind the dumpster. She wanted to be at eye level with him when they spoke. It tended to calm anyone down.
"Cole," he said, nervous. There was a tall, scantily clad woman peering down into his face, because he'd deposited a bully into the dumpster behind him. "It was an accident. I just lost control and he flew!"
"You did that?" Helena asked, not shocked. Her voice was not mocking, but calm, soothing. "Do you know which power you have, meta wise?"
Cole shook his head, swallowing and standing. "Not sure. I just, well I focus and things happen. Kind of like that movie Carrie, but with less blood."
Helena smiled. "I thought so. What are you doing out here alone?"
Cole didn't answer. He was embarrassed to answer homeless, and frightened to tell her, addicted. For a moment, he dusted himself off. "I'm here to fight the bad guys, like you are."
"And how do you know that's what I do?"
"Well, you kicked the guy in the dumpster around for a long time before I stepped in," Cole replied, grinning. It was wonderful to have something positive to say to the woman in black.
"You hungry?"
Cole didn't have to answer. His stomach lurched, weary of the fact it had been three days since he visited a soup kitchen. The workers always threatened to call social services. He didn't want to go home to the parents that deemed him a freak.
"I can get you a decent meal. No questions asked." She pressed a button on the side of her ear. The device was shaped like a silver bat, and Cole wondered if this was the woman the police were always talking about when they ran down the middle of the street.
"Sure," he muttered, trying to be cool. "Where do we go?"
Helena paused, pressing the button. "Oracle. We've got a kid down on 42nd. He's looking kinda skinny."
"Thought you didn't do charity," Oracle answered.
"Just trying to help," Helena muttered. "You do one good deed and lose the right to be a bad ass."
"And you are?" she asked, crouching down behind the dumpster. She wanted to be at eye level with him when they spoke. It tended to calm anyone down.
"Cole," he said, nervous. There was a tall, scantily clad woman peering down into his face, because he'd deposited a bully into the dumpster behind him. "It was an accident. I just lost control and he flew!"
"You did that?" Helena asked, not shocked. Her voice was not mocking, but calm, soothing. "Do you know which power you have, meta wise?"
Cole shook his head, swallowing and standing. "Not sure. I just, well I focus and things happen. Kind of like that movie Carrie, but with less blood."
Helena smiled. "I thought so. What are you doing out here alone?"
Cole didn't answer. He was embarrassed to answer homeless, and frightened to tell her, addicted. For a moment, he dusted himself off. "I'm here to fight the bad guys, like you are."
"And how do you know that's what I do?"
"Well, you kicked the guy in the dumpster around for a long time before I stepped in," Cole replied, grinning. It was wonderful to have something positive to say to the woman in black.
"You hungry?"
Cole didn't have to answer. His stomach lurched, weary of the fact it had been three days since he visited a soup kitchen. The workers always threatened to call social services. He didn't want to go home to the parents that deemed him a freak.
"I can get you a decent meal. No questions asked." She pressed a button on the side of her ear. The device was shaped like a silver bat, and Cole wondered if this was the woman the police were always talking about when they ran down the middle of the street.
"Sure," he muttered, trying to be cool. "Where do we go?"
Helena paused, pressing the button. "Oracle. We've got a kid down on 42nd. He's looking kinda skinny."
"Thought you didn't do charity," Oracle answered.
"Just trying to help," Helena muttered. "You do one good deed and lose the right to be a bad ass."