Archive of Our Own ^beta

An image flickered to life in the center of the conference room, drawing the attention of the assembled heroes. They all knew what this was, why they were here. Ever since the story broke that morning it was all anyone could talk about. Debates on the institution's merits and shortcomings sprouted up on every news station and online forum within minutes of the announcement. Members of the Justice League had even started gathering long before an official meeting to discuss the matter had been called. 

The building in the image was instantly recognizable from the news—soaring arches, gleaming windows, apristine lawn and a large, neatly painted sign that read Metropolis Center for Troubled Youth.

The building had sprung up virtually overnight, fully staffed and move in ready on a slightly secluded patch of land owned by none other than Lex Luthor. He’d been promoting the site as a philanthropic gesture, one to garner votes for his most recent political aspirations, but philanthropic nonetheless. 

According to Luthor, the Center was created to help troubled kids get their lives back on track and steer them away from a life of crime. The irony of such a claim was not lost on the many people suspicious of his intentions. It boasted state of the art computer systems, recreational areas where kids could partake in sports and pursue creative projects, classes on just about any subject you could think of, and licensed counselors to help the kids work through their personal issues. It was free to attend so long as there was space—and spots were filling up fast.

In theory it was a dream come true for a lot of people.

The trouble was that he was Lex Luthor and more often than not even his good deeds were part of some bigger nefarious scheme to get rid of Superman. Naturally the Man of Steel was anxious to learn what his arch nemesis was up to this time and had no plans to simply wait and see.

That being said they also couldn’t just barge in there without proof that he was doing anything wrong. That would be a PR disaster for the Justice League that would play right into Luthor’s hands. And if this was an honest, good will gesture on Luthor’s part then the public would almost certainly turn against them for blowing the place up.

“We need to get inside,” Batman said, cutting straight to the chase as he slowly rotated the image in front of them to better assess the layout. “There’s no other way to know for sure if Luthor is using it as a front or not. But he has the best security money can buy and his contempt for the Justice League means he’ll do anything in his power to keep us out.”

Flash frowned in thought. “But what could he possibly want with a bunch of kids?”

Batman grunted. “That’s what we need to find out.”

“What do you suggest?” Superman asked.

“An undercover op,” he said. “To do basic reconnaissance on the site and report back here so we can plan our next move. We’ll need someone who can blend in, someone stealthy.”

“They would also need to be ready to act if there is immediate danger to any of the children inside,” Diana added. 

“Agreed,” Green Arrow said, nodding along to Diana’s suggestion.“So the question is: who would we send?”

“The Center takes in children between the ages of 10 and 18,” Superman began. “So someone in that age range would be ideal.”

“Or someone who can pass for that age,” Flash added thoughtfully.

“The Titans are on a mission already,” Batman said, a touch of irritation in his tone. “It’ll be days before any of them are available.”

“We could ask Martian Manhunter to go,” Hal suggested. “He can just shift into a kid and take a look around.”

Black Canary shook her head. “J’onn is on Mars for at least another week.”

Hal sighed. “Well what about Robin?” 

“Sick.”

“Superboy?”

“Grounded.”

“Can you unground him?” Green Arrow groaned. 

The group dissolved into rapid fire arguments as everyone tried and failed to find a teen hero who could help them with their mission.

Captain Marvel tuned them out, choosing instead to focus on the image floating before them. 

A center for troubled kids. Those were almost always a scam of some kind. Or if not an outright scam, a nightmare waiting to happen. Even if Luthor ran a completely legitimate operation—and they all all knew how likely that was—Billy would still be skeptical about whether it would actually help anyone. He figured that it would end up being a lot of false hope, crushed dreams and administrative red tape that got in the way of any actual progress. And those kids were sure to be exploited in one way or another. 

He was betting that it was either as cheap labor or unsuspecting lab rats. Possibly both. 

Maybe they were recruiting new henchmen under the guise of helping kids. Maybe they were pumping drugs into the food to turn everyone into zombies. Maybe they were brainwashing the kids to become sleeper agents against Kryptonians. Maybe they were just using the school part as a distraction while they did their real nefarious work in the basement.

It was almost too easy to think of ways this was possibly going to go wrong with a billionaire mad scientist at the helm.

At the same time he could so easily imagine his social worker dumping him off there the second she got the chance to. It would certainly be easier than finding him a new foster home—he’d blown through all the decent ones years ago, and quite a few terrible ones on top of that.  But a place like this Center that boasted being able to take bad kids and turn them into productive members of society? Yeah that would be exactly what his social worker wanted for him.

In fact, he was sure he would fit right in with all of those so called troubled kids—certainly more than a lot of the other child heroes he knew. Sure a lot of them had issues, but they weren’t “troubled” the way Luthor and the media meant it. At least Billy didn’t think so. Billy on the other hand had had that word tossed at him countless times over the years. It was basically a giant red flag in his file to warn away foster homes that couldn’t handle kids like him. And if that was the case then maybe…

“I could do it,” he said. The words just slipped right out of his mouth the instant the idea had formed in his head, with absolutely no input from Solomon at all.

His statement was met with awkward silence before Flash chuckled slightly. “No offense Cap, but you’re…not exactly going to fit in with the kids.”

A flush filled his cheeks, hot and uncomfortable. He already regretted opening his big, fat mouth. But he couldn’t just let them think that he was a total idiot, not when he knew for a fact that it would work. The idea had taken hold of him and there was no way he was going to be able to shake it. Billy would be perfect for this mission, he just knew it! He fit the bill perfectly, right down to the troubled childhood and tenuous relationship with the law. They didn’t need to run through the roster of teen heroes when he was right there.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I know this…spell,” he said slowly. “It’s like a transformation spell, and if I use it, it will make me look like a kid,” he continued. Then he rushed to clarify, “For the sake of the mission, of course.”

His heart thundered in his chest at the admission, at the almost truth that could so easily expose his true identity. He could barely even think straight as he waited for their verdict. But despite his nerves, he felt…excited by the prospect of going on an official Justice League mission as Billy rather than Captain Marvel.

Batman looked intrigued. He tipped his head forward, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “What are the parameters of this spell? What are the limitations? Does it work on others? And for how long?” He paused and Cap got the distinct impression he was trying to be diplomatic. “I'd like to know all my options since I know you don’t have much experience in reconnaissance.”

“No, it uh…only works on me.” Cap shifted in his seat, very aware of all the eyes that were on him. “And it will last until I perform the counter spell, so there won’t be a time crunch to worry about.”

“I see,” Batman said. He kept his gaze firmly on Captain Marvel. “How convincing is this disguise?”

“Very.”

“Well looking the part would get us in the door, but that’s only half the battle,” Superman said. “Would you be able to act the part? This mission would require…tact. Subtlety.”

“I can do that!”

He could see the doubt in Batman’s face at that. Okay, so maybe a little less enthusiasm would help get his point across better. But his point still stood—he knew he could do this! He wouldn’t even have to act—he was already a troubled twelve year old with a history of rebellious behavior. This mission was practically made for him!

“Look, just give it a chance,” Cap said. “See my…disguise up close and let me prove I can do it. If you still think I can’t then we’ll call in someone else.”

It took a lot of effort to keep his voice free of any bitterness. He didn’t know why the thought of calling in other teen heroes left a sour taste in his mouth, but he did know that he wanted to be the one to do this. No he needed to be.

There was brief yet tense moment of silence as Batman considered the idea, his eyes never moving from Cap’s face. “I’d feel better if you didn’t go in alone,” he eventually said. “But if your disguise is as good as you claim then we can work out the details from there. Everyone else is dismissed.”

Billy took a deep breath as he stepped out of the alley he had transformed in, running his fingers down the front of his hoodie to press out the wrinkles. He could do this.  It wasn’t a big deal. It was only the first time that the members of the Justice League were going to see his mortal form. He could totally do this.

He made his way to the Metropolis city park that had been designated as the meet up spot during the meeting. He kept his head down, fighting the urge to fiddle with the loose thread on his sleeve. He didn’t want them to think he was nervous, it would totally undermine his claims that he would be a good undercover agent for the mission. He just had to be calm and collected, just like all the other heroes when they went on these types of missions.

Truth be told, he couldn’t even really think about the mission with the looming anxiety of his secret identity on the line.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted them to know this side of him yet. He hadn’t expected them to meet the kid behind the cape so soon and he still couldn’t be sure how they’d react if they knew the truth. A part of him was terrified to find out.

More than anything he couldn’t stop himself from obsessing over one single question, as childish as it seemed: Would they like him?

It was stupid—they already liked him. They were his friends as well as his coworkers, he shouldn’t be afraid of them, of their judgment. But there was just something…different about being Billy in front of them. Just the thought made him feel vulnerable, and not just because he didn’t have bulletproof skin.

He shook his head to clear it of his lingering fears. He’d gotten this far hadn’t he? Powers or not, he was a hero and if push came to shove he’d make sure the Justice League treated him like one.

Today wasn’t necessarily going to be that day anyway—if all went according to plan then he’d be in and out within a couple of hours with his secret identity still intact. He had nothing to worry about.

Besides, there were kids in there that needed him. He didn't have time to wallow in his own anxiety.

With renewed determination, Billy located the statue that Superman had told him about and immediately clocked the small group gathered at the base. He recognized a few of them, even out of uniform—nothing could really stop him from recognizing Diana standing tall amongst the crowd. 

As soon as he got close enough, he drew himself up to his full height and cleared his throat to get their attention.

The quiet murmurs of their conversation halted. A tall dark haired man gave him a tight smile. “Can we help you son?” His voice was familiar but…off in a way that made Billy struggle to figure out which of his teammates he was talking to.

Billy blinked, glancing behind him just to make sure he was talking to him like that, and not some other kid. While there were people wandering around behind him, no one else had stopped in front of them. “Uh…hi,” he said lamely. He gave them a short, half aborted wave that made him feel dumb.

“Hi,” another man in glasses echoed. “Are you lost?”

Billy furrowed his brow. “No…” Could they really not tell it was him? They couldn’t even guess? “Guys, it’s me. Captain Marvel? I came in my disguise.”

“Holy shit,” Hal breathed out. He at least was easily recognizable. “Is that really you? You’re so…tiny.”

Billy huffed and folded his arms across his chest self consciously. Why did tiny have to the first descriptor they used? Just because he hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, didn't mean he was that small compared to other kids his own age.

“He’s adorable you mean!” a blonde man that sounded a lot like the Flash chimed in.

Scratch that. Adorable was way worse than tiny.

“I must admit, I’m impressed by how convincing it is,” the first man said, his voice dropping to the familiar low grumble of Batman. “Though you look younger than I thought you would. Regardless, you’ll certainly be able to get in without trouble. With a chaperon of course.”

Billy frowned, his stomach dropping. “Chaperon?”

“All the kids are being brought in by their parents or guardians,” he explained. “Superman will be going in with you.” He nodded over to the man in glasses who was doing a remarkable job of being unremarkable looking. “The rest of us will be stationed nearby so we can back the two of you up in case there’s trouble.”

Billy glanced over at Superman. He had kind of been expecting to go on this mission alone, maybe taking a communicator or something to have the rest of the team in his ear. He was kind of disappointed. But running this mission with Superman by his side? That was going to be hard. He was going to have to play it cool to make sure the other hero didn’t figure out the truth behind his ‘disguise’.

“Cool,” he said, nodding his head a little too vigorously. “So what’s our cover story?”

“I’ll be acting as your father,” Superman said. “And you’ll be my somewhat troubled son, Jon.”

“Jon?" Billy blurted out. "I don’t want to be called Jon.”

Superman spluttered for a moment. “That’s my actual son’s name, I thought it  would be simpler if we used that.”

Billy made a face. Superboy’s name was Jon? The single most common name ever? “Why can’t I just pick my own name?”

“Look, the name isn’t important,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We just have to be on the same page.”

“Then maybe I should have had a bit more say in my own cover story.”

Hal slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a light hearted wink. “Well you seem to have already gotten into character. Butting heads with authority figures is troubled kid 101.”

Billy flushed. He’d been called a troubled kid many times in his life, and to be fair he knew it wasn’t an altogether inaccurate way to describe him. But he didn’t want the Justice League to think of him that way. He wanted them to see him as…well the same way they saw Captain Marvel. He hadn't even been trying to be contrary, he just found it harder to censor himself as Billy.

He bit his lip and glanced down at his shoes. “Can I go by…Billy?”

“Billy?”

He shrugged, going for nonchalant. “Yeah, I’ve always liked that name.”

“Sure,” Superman said. “You can call me Clark.”

“Shouldn’t I be calling you dad?” Billy teased.

“Alright you two, focus,” Batman said looking like he was seconds away from aborting the mission right then and there. “Keep your communicators on and stay alert. The Center is made to look impressive, so don’t get distracted.”

“Yes sir,” Billy said, tucking his comm into his ear. Clark followed suit and the two of them set off among the morning commuters to make their way to the Center. 

As Clark, Superman looked way less…super. He was hunched over himself, his thick framed glasses taking up most of his face. His suit was cheap and didn’t fit him particularly well—but that helped hide his larger, muscular body. It was impressive that his disguise worked so well. He was almost as unrecognizable as Billy was.

“So…Billy,” Clark began, dragging out the name as if trying to get a feel for it. “Are you sure you can do this? This is your first undercover mission isn’t it?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Billy huffed. “I’ve gone undercover tons of times before.”

He blinked in surprise. “You have?”

“Not for a Justice League mission,” he clarified. “But I have done it. And pretending to be your moody son isn’t exactly hard. Though it is kind of weird. Do I actually have to call you dad?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Right.”

The silence that stretched between them after that was awkward. Billy was sure it was his fault, but he wasn’t sure what they were allowed to talk about on covert missions like this so he opted to stay silent and get into character—whatever that meant.

As they approached the building, making a beeline for the office, Billy felt small. Everything in Metropolis towered over him, but this place loomed ominously. It gave him the heebie jeebies. Of course that might have just been his fight or flight instincts trying to kick in due to the presence of so much security. Willingly walking into a building full of adults with dubious intentions who could ship him back into the system was a lot harder than he had originally thought it would be.

He inched closer to Clark, glaring at one security guard in particular whose hand rested lazily on his weapon as they joined the queue to pass through a metal detector.

“Are you alright Billy?” Clark muttered as they drew closer.

“Peachy.”

Clark looked at him oddly, like he wanted to say something more, but Billy walked faster, tugging him towards the entrance to avoid any questions. 

If anything the inside of the Center was more impressive than the outside, all shiny and new and expensive looking. Not even the news segments had done the place justice. His shoes squeaked against the tile as he wandered to the reception area. He winced at the sound, wondering if there was a way to get better footwear for his next mission—he’d certainly need it for stealth reasons. 

The only comfort he got was the fact that there were plenty of people packed into the reception area with them to mask the sound.

“Hello,” a smiling receptionist greeted them from behind the front desk. “How can I help you today?”

“Uh, hi,” Clark began, uncharacteristically nervous and borderline bumbling. “My name’s Clark Kent, I’m here to sign my son up for the program. I made an appointment.”

“Of course, Mr. Kent,” the receptionist said. “Can I see your ID? Then you can fill out these forms to get started.”

“Right, of course,” Clark said digging into his pockets for a beat up looking wallet. “I was told there would be a tour of the facilities?”

As Clark got the logistics sorted out, Billy let his eyes wander. Hallways branched off from the reception area in both directions, bright, cheery looking signs pointing the way towards the various sections of the building: the cafeteria, the classrooms, the gym, the dorms. 

With a single backward glance at Clark, he began meandering towards the map that dominated one wall, intent on getting a better idea about the way the place was laid out. It was the same map that Batman had found and shown him during the briefing, but it was worth getting himself oriented now that he was here. 

Scanning the map, he began working on a plan. The tour would be starting pretty soon, he’d have to figure out where the best place to slip away was. He doubted there would be anything incriminating so close to the entrance of the facility—Luthor wasn’t stupid enough to do his shady business in the same place he was parading camera crews.

No he needed to find off limits staff areas or secret doors. A basement if this place had one. Anywhere where the public wasn’t allowed to go could be the source of valuable information. The trick of course was getting there undetected.

Clark sidled up next to him, forms still in hand. “Let’s hope we find what we’re looking for before they try to verify any of this information,” he said casually. “I’m not even sure how old you’re supposed to be.”

“Thirteen in April,” he said absently.

Clark paused his writing. Billy could feel his eyes boring into him with a strange intensity he’d never felt before. “What day in April?” he eventually asked.

“The first.”

“April Fool’s Day? Really?”

Billy shrugged. “There are plenty of kids born on that day.”

Tension eased out of Clark’s shoulders as he presumably jotted down the birthday. “What behavioral issues does your child exhibit that makes you believe The Metropolis Center for Troubled Youth is the best option for them?” he read aloud. Then he turned to look at Billy. “That’s a terrible question to put on a form.”

“Tell them I’ve gotten in trouble for vandalism and petty theft,” he suggested, sticking as closely to the truth as he dared. “Throw in some fights at school too so they think I have anger issues or something.”

Clark frowned at him, but dutifully wrote down what he said. “I can’t imagine you with anger issues,” he said. “Let alone any of the rest of this.”

Billy shrugged. “Kids do dumb stuff like that all the time, I was no exception.”

“You?” Clark asked, his eyebrows rising up to his hairline. “If you ever want to talk ab—“

“If I could have your attention,”  a small dark haired woman called out. “My name is Amanda and I am going to be your tour guide today!” She smiled wide and waved at the crowd. “If you could all please pass in your forms we’ll be able to get started.”

Billy and Clark turned in their forms and joined the crowd shuffling towards Amanda. Billy hung out towards the back, eyeing his fellow troubled youth with curiosity. By the looks of things none of them really wanted to be there, which Billy could relate to. Most of them were older teens, though there was one little girl that couldn’t be older than ten whose mom had a death grip on her wrist as if sure that she would break something if she wasn’t at least partially restrained. 

Something nasty coiled in Billy’s gut at the sight. He didn’t have to fake his sour look after that.

This place was a prison. 

A nice looking, fancy prison, but a prison nonetheless. And all of these families were just eager for a chance to throw their kids inside. He already felt restless, trapped. These people were all willingly—and not so willingly—marching to their own confinement. It made him sick.

He trudged along behind the tour guide for the first twenty minutes, not really paying attention to the tour guide’s fun facts and statistics that were meant to put the parents and future inmates at ease. As they made their way past the rec center and began heading up to the dorms on the upper levels, Billy made his escape, slipping down an empty hall and around the corner before anyone could question his absence. 

So far so good.

It seemed years of running away from foster homes was coming in handy today.

Billy knew he had to be careful now that he didn’t have the safety and anonymity of the crowd to fall back on. If anyone caught him now, they’d know he was up to something and he would be dead meat. And if that happened, Batman would never let him do a mission like this ever again.

There was no way he was going to let that happen.

He quietly strode down the hall, past rows of near identical doors that led to offices labeled with little bronze name plates and intermittent motivational posters on the walls. He tried a few doors that were unlabeled only to find standard issue supply closets and empty lounges that were probably meant for the staff. 

He was kind of disappointed that he hadn’t found anything incriminating yet.

“Do you still have the flash drive I gave you?” Billy jumped at the sudden voice of Batman in his ear. He’d almost forgotten that he had his comm in and was technically working with other heroes. "The one that looks like a pen?"

“Uh, yeah,” he said, patting his pocket for the little device.

“Good. If you go to third floor administrative wing and plug it into one of the main computers, I should be able to remotely hack their files.”

“Roger that.” 

Okay, the administrative wing. He could find that. 

It took a few minutes, a few wrong turns, and a brief stint in a janitor’s closet to avoid detection, but eventually Billy found what he was looking for. Now he just had to dodge a few office workers and he’d hopefully have what he needed. 

Following Batman’s instructions to the office at the end of the hall, labelled STAFF ONLY, Billy was starting to feel like a real stealth operative. He tried the handle and was unsurprised to find it locked tight. Unlike a lot of other areas in the building though, it looked like a simple mechanical lock instead of one that required a keycard. He could probably open it without trouble if he had enough time.

A door opened and closed somewhere nearby, reminding him that he didn't really have the luxury of time at the moment.

With a quick look around, Billy pressed two fingers to the lock, muttering a spell under his breath. His heart pounded loudly in his ears and he swore he could feel eyes on him, but after only a few moments, the lock popped open and he was able to slip inside.

Closing and locking the door behind him, Billy let out a sigh of relief. He was not a fan of high stakes breaking and entering. Give him abandoned buildings with no security any day.

“Did you just pick that lock?”

Billy tensed up. How the hell had Batman known? Did he have access to the cameras?

Suddenly much more paranoid than he had been before, Billy shrugged and made his way to the computer. “You said I had to get inside, so I did.” He swallowed hard and then, before Batman could say anything else, he rushed to continue. “So the flash drive, what do I do with it?”

“Just plug it in and I’ll take it from there.”

Billy did as he was told, impatiently waiting for Batman to give  the signal to grab the drive and go. Maybe it was the large window behind the desk or maybe it was the flimsy protection of a locked door, but he felt weirdly vulnerable and exposed in the office. He really hoped they’d be able to find what they were looking for soon. 

Voices sounded from the other side of the door, terrifyingly close. The handle jiggled and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the slight rattle of keys that followed. He dove under the desk, making himself as small as possible. 

“Someone’s coming!” he hissed into his comm.

There was a soft curse on the other side of the line. 

The door opened. 

“I’m telling you Susan, it won’t be long now. I bet we’ll be at capacity by the end of the month.”

A light laugh filled the room. “With the way things are going I’d say the end of the week!”

Billy held his breath as the two women walked further into the room, completely oblivious to his presence. There was the distinctive thump of a large stack of papers being deposited on the desk. “Either way, I just hope the guys downstairs in R&D are ready for the influx.”

R&D. Research and Development. That had to be it!

He waited for several excruciating moments as the women’s footsteps disappeared back down the hall, thankfully not in the mood for chit chat. He crawled out from under the desk, scanning the stack of forms that had been unceremoniously deposited there. It seemed to be a stack of forms not unlike the ones Billy and Clark had just filled out, though these were all stamped with bold red letters reading SHRED.

He wanted to investigate further, but he knew he couldn't linger. It was a miracle he hadn't been caught already. So, at Batman’s signal, he grabbed the flash drive and made a break for it.

Unfortunately he didn’t get very far.

“Hey, kid!” a harsh voice snapped at him as he rounded the corner to the stairwell. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Billy spun around to see a pair of security guards marching towards him, their faces stern and uncompromising—bearing themselves more like soldiers than security. He made to run, but one man grabbed Billy roughly by the shoulder, holding him in place. It took all of Billy’s willpower not to swing at him.

“Well? Answer me.”

Billy flashed him an innocent smile. “I was just going for a walk.”

“Don’t get cheeky with me kid,” he growled, shoving him into the wall. Billy got the feeling that he was just itching for a chance to use his taser. 

“Jeez, would it kill you to pop a breath mint once in a while?” he said, shoving the man back.

“What did you just say to me you little—“

Sensing he may have hit a sore spot, Billy braced himself to be hit. It wouldn't be the first time he got a black eye for not being able to keep his commentary to himself.

“Billy!” He snapped his head to the side in time to see Clark power walking towards him, looking harried and embarrassed. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What did I tell you about wandering off like that?” Then he turned towards the security guards with a deeply apologetic smile. “I am so sorry if my son caused you any trouble sir.”

“It’s alright,” the man said, letting go of Billy to stand at attention. “We get a lot of kids like him coming through here trying to get into things they shouldn’t. Comes with the territory I’m afraid.” He glared in Billy’s direction. Billy scowled back. “This your boy?”

“Yes,” Clark said, moving to place his hands on Billy’s shoulders. “We were touring the facility and he must have wandered off. Again I am so sorry.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Clark’s grip tightened. “Yes sir. For Kent. 10:30.”

The security guard pulled a walkie talkie from his belt. “Hey Neil, I’ve got your 10:30. Kid was wandering around the admin building trying to cause some trouble.”

“I was not!”

Everyone steadfastly ignored Billy's token protests, letting him stew in his own frustration. There was a brief silence as the guard merely glared at Billy and then the crackle of the walkie talkie’s response. “Thanks Brian, bring them to my office.”

“You heard the man, follow me.”

Billy and Clark shared a look but trudged after him. Neither of them had really been looking forward to their scheduled meeting, especially with their very limited backstory. Billy had no interest in hearing yet another adult lament his squandered potential and not so bright future, and he especially didn’t want to hear Superman of all people agreeing with them—even if it was just so they didn’t blow their cover.

They were led through a series of winding corridors, the twists and turns nearly impossible to keep track of. The flash drive felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket the whole way to their destination. He’d be in deep trouble if they decided to empty his pockets at this point. He hoped that whatever information Batman had managed to gather from the remote hack had been worth it.

The trio came to a stop outside a door labeled Office of the Director of Admissions. The guard shot Billy a dirty look and then knocked.

“Come in," a voice called out from the other side. As they entered the room, a thin middle aged man with square glasses stood from his chair to greet them. “Ah, Mr. Kent. A pleasure to meet you. And this must be William.”

“It’s Billy,” he automatically corrected. He hated being called William and felt a fresh wave of annoyance that Clark had put the name on his forms.

“Billy, of course,” the man said. “I’m Neil Fines, the Director of Admissions here at the Metropolis Center for Troubled Youth.” He held out his hand for Clark to shake. Billy ignored the hand even as if was offered to him in turn.

The guy was a weasel, he could tell. He’d play nice for the parents and the cameras, but he was probably a nightmare to the kids. One of those really strict ‘if you don’t follow my rules you won’t have a future’ kind of guys. Billy had never been more grateful that he could get away with being rude to him by claiming he was just staying in character.

Clark seemed uncomfortable with Billy’s uncharacteristic behavior, but Mr. Fines just pressed his lips into a thin line that was almost a smile and turned his attention back to Clark.

“I understand that Billy’s behavior today has been…an issue, to say the least,” he said. “We really don’t permit non-students to have free roam of our campus, especially if they are going to get physical with the staff or security.” He leveled Billy with a long, disapproving look before turning back to Clark. “To be frank with you Mr. Kent, your son’s stunt today just proves that this is exactly the right place for him.”

Clark blinked rapidly in surprise. “Really?”

“Oh yes,”  he said. “He clearly has little respect for authority and a penchant for making trouble. He is exactly the sort of child this center was designed to help. I promise you that by the end of our program he will be a proper, productive member of society. You’ll hardly even recognize him.”

“That sounds…great,” Clark said with a tight smile. “When would he start?”

“Immediately.”

“Well we would have to go home and pack—“

“Nonsense. The children are provided with everything they need—clothes, toiletries, recreational activities. If there is anything…special or sentimental he requires, you or your wife can bring it by later. We’d have to check it of course to make sure there was nothing that could be considered contraband among the items, but that shouldn't be a problem.”

Billy felt fear coil in his gut, his body buzzing with a need to run. “So what, you want to just stick me in one of the dorm rooms right now?”

“I don’t see any sense in waiting.”

“Screw that.” Billy pushed himself to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping harshly across the floor.  “I’m not fucking staying here a second longer than I have to!”

“Billy!”

But Billy could hardly see straight, let alone think clearly. He was not going to get locked up in this fancy little prison, trapped like a rat in a gilded cage. Even his worst foster homes let him take a backpack or a trash bag full of clothes and other personal items with him—to be sent somewhere with nothing but the clothes on his back? There was no way he was going to risk that. He already knew this place was evil, he didn’t need to experience their abuse first hand, not when he had what he came here for in his back pocket—

Billy started backing away towards the door.

“William I would advise that you take a moment to calm down—“

“My name is Billy!”

“Billy, please—“

“Κοιμήσου,” Billy snapped, the spell rushing to the forefront of his mind in his panic.

Mr. Fines paused, mid-step and then crumpled to the ground with a solid thud.

“Billy!” Clark gasped. “What did you just do?”

“Sleeping spell,” he said distractedly. “He’ll wake up in an hour or two. Move him over to his desk and let’s get out of here.”

“But why—“

“Did you hear him Clark? He was totally going to lock me up and throw away the key. Or stuff me in his orphan crushing, brainwashing machine or whatever it is they’re doing here.”

Clark looked bewildered at the sudden change of circumstances. “But you’re not an orphan—are you?”

Billy paused in his efforts to rifle through Mr. Fines desk for any clues as to what on earth was going on in this facility. “Well, I mean yeah I am, my parents died when I was a little kid, but that’s not really relevant right now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Captain I didn’t know.”

Billy waved off the concern. There had to be something about the R&D department in here. Something to point him in the right direction.

He heard Clark scoop Mr. Fines off the ground and set him carefully in the desk chair. “Did you just swear?”

“Huh?”

“When you were arguing with Mr. Fines—did I hear you drop an F bomb?”

Billy flushed a deep scarlet. “Well a troubled kid wouldn’t just say ‘holy moley’ right? Had to sell it. It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that I’ve never heard you curse before, so hearing it from you for the first time when your in the body of a twelve year old is…strange.”

“Twelve year olds curse all the time.” Billy would know. Some of the kids at his middle school swore like sailors just because they could. In fact he’d been called a stick in the mud more than once for not swearing.

“True, but—“

“I think I found something,” Billy announced. One of the drawers of the desk contained files on the recently admitted children. Each was labeled with an R&D group number and a series of recommended steps to take. Even just skimming it made Billy feel queasy. He steadfastly ignored his own file and turned to Clark. “Does this place have a basement?”

Clark took the change of subject in stride. “Not on the plans submitted to the city, but knowing Luthor it’s a genuine possibility.”

“Can you check?” Billy asked, awkwardly waving his fingers in front of his eyes in what he hoped was a non-offensive gesture for using x-ray vision.

Clark lowered his glasses and glanced around with a very intent look on his face. Then he nodded decisively and said, “I can get us close. Just hold on to me.”

Clark grabbed his hand and sped them through the halls faster than Billy could fully comprehend. It took all of Billy’s concentration not to upchuck on Clark’s shoes the second they came to a stop. Note to self, superspeed wasn’t nearly as fun when he was human.

He pushed himself away from Clark, a little unsteady on his feet but determined not to complain, and took stock of his surroundings. They were in an empty hallway with no windows and only a single door at one end. At the other end of the hall was an elevator. It was simple, innocuous, functional—a far cry from the rest of the building with it's opulent showmanship. But it had a small panel on the side with a bright red light.

“It looks like we need a security badge,” Clark noted. “I can see if Batman can—“

“Oh cool, good thing I grabbed this then huh?” Billy held up a plastic key card.

“Wha—where did you get that?”

“Snagged if off the guard that was manhandling me earlier,” Billy shrugged. He desperately hoped that his explanation made him sound cool, not delinquent. Pickpocketing was a bad habit in general, but it was different if it was for reconnaissance right?

He tapped the card to the panel, relieved to see the red light turn green. The doors silently slid open and he and Clark stepped inside.

“Now we need to be ready for anything once we’re down there,” Clark said loosening his tie and straightening up his posture. And just like that he was Superman again. “This whole elevator shaft and bottom level is lined with lead so I can’t see past the walls in front of us. Stay alert and keep your eyes peeled for the kids. We don’t want this to turn into a fight if it doesn’t have to.”

“I have a feeling that they won’t believe that we just accidentally wandered down here.”

“No I suppose they won’t.”

The elevator rushed deeper and deeper beneath the Center. It felt like a small eternity before the doors slid open. The hallway on the other side was starkly industrial—completely at odds with the stylized architecture of the upper floors. Clark held out an arm to keep Billy in place as he scanned the area.

“This way," he said, nodding his head to the right.

Billy followed closely behind him, practically clinging to his suit jacket. Besides the electrical hum of the lights above, the hall was oppressively quiet. His own breathing sounded loud in his ears and he could only hope the sound didn't annoy Clark too much. Soon, they came to a T, the hallway splitting off into opposite directions.

“You go right, I go left?” Billy suggested. He didn't really want to split up, but they were flying blind here.

Ignoring the ‘Be careful’ that followed his suggestion, he crept down the hall as quietly as he could. He winced at every soft thud of his footsteps and every squeak of his shoes on the tile. He stuck close to the wall, ducking low. He knew it wouldn’t do anything to hide him from the cameras or anyone that entered the hallway, but it made him feel better about his lack of stealth. 

He glanced back once, but Clark had already disappeared from sight.

A few minutes of fruitless exploration later, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he heard the hiss of an automatic door opening, followed by the soft thud of footsteps and the low murmur of voices. Then just as suddenly, a pair of people in pristine white lab coats rounded the corner, coming to a startled stop as they saw him.

For a moment they all just stared at each other in shock.

Then Billy turned and ran.

“One of the subjects must have gotten loose!” he heard one of the scientists yell. “Someone grab him!”

He made it halfway down the hall before armed guards poured out of several of the nearby rooms. These weren’t just more of the rude, self important security guys from upstairs—these men were sporting guns, body armor, and tactical gear. He might have been able to outrun Brian the Security guy, but he somehow doubted he could do the same now—at least not without his powers.

He couldn’t get out more than a “Sh—“ before one of the guards tackled him to the ground, knocking all the air out of him.

“Target secure.” The guard, wrenched his hands behind his back, effectively pinning him in place.

“Hold on Captain, I’m on my way,” came Superman’s tiny voice from his communicator. 

He was yanked to his feet and all but dragged back the way he came, all the way down the hall and past the wide eyed scientists. He was taken into a room just beyond the double doors at the end of the hall.

In the center of the room was a circle of chairs facing individual monitors that flashed rapidly between images. Each chair had a child strapped into it, the bindings enough to ensure that they were incapable of escape. Not that any of them looked coherent enough to even try. Whatever drug induced, virtual reality brainwashing was going on here, these kids were far enough along not to be fighting it anymore. There were several computer stations monitoring the kids' vitals alongside a bunch of other information Billy had no hope of understanding.

Well he’d found the kids.

To bad he was about to join them. 

The guard shoved him down into one of the unoccupied chairs. Billy squirmed and struggled against his hold, determined to hold on long enough for back up to arrive. He refused to get brainwashed or lobotomized on his first ever undercover mission.

As if on cue, Superman burst into the room. He was still dressed as Clark Kent, still normal and unassuming looking, but in the blink of an eye he was tossing the guards aside like they were nothing.

“Free the kids," he said once Billy was no longer being held in place. "I’ll handle the guards!”

Almost instantly gunfire erupted all around them, the sound so much louder to his mortal ears than to the Captain’s. Billy dove for cover, scrambling for safety. 

The other kids started screaming—trapped behind their computer screens by the straps cinched tight to their limbs. The gunfire and adrenaline had cut right through whatever experiments were being done on them, dragging them back to the frankly terrifying present.

Billy clambered towards them, determined to get them to safety while Superman took care of the henchmen. So long as they didn’t start slinging kryptonite everywhere he should be fine, right? Superman was bullet proof after all. He fumbled with the straps of the first victim, shielding the boy with his body as best as he could, a constant stream of reassurances spilling from his lips.

He made his way around the circle, freeing each kid in turn with fumbling fingers. He was grateful when the others started helping each other, yanking at straps and ushering each other behind upended tables for cover.

“Clear a path for us!” Billy shouted, though he couldn’t even hear himself over the din of Superman’s fight with the henchmen. But Clark must have heard him just fine because he did just that.

Billy led the kids into the hallway, towards the elevators and their only escape route, praying Luthor’s men hadn’t had time to call in reinforcements. As soon as they were in the hall, the kids no longer needed any extra encouragement to sprint to safety. Billy glanced behind him, double checking that no one had been left behind. Then all he had to do was—

Pain bloomed across his side, his legs giving out beneath him almost instantly. His vision swam, dark spots interspersed with the flashes of white hot gunfire. Billy groaned, clutching his side. He could feel the warm wetness of blood seeping between his fingers.

This was my favorite sweater, he thought dimly. Then, with only slightly more clarity, I think I’ve been shot.

“Captain!” Clark shouted, pulling Billy back to the real and present danger. The other hero was suddenly right beside him, looking unusually disheveled and horrified. “Rao, are you alright?”

Billy could only groan in response. “The kids…?”

Clark gathered Billy up in his arms, freezing for a fraction of a second when he let out a cry of pain at the movement.

“We have to…get the kids,” Billy said. He had to stay on task, he had to complete the mission. People were in danger, and the flash drive was still in his pocket. They had to get out of there or…or…

“Don’t worry Captain, I’ll get you out. All of you.”

Billy tried to respond but they were moving again, faster than he could follow, the lights and sounds all blurring together until it became impossible to keep his eyes open anymore.

As he passed out his last coherent thought was that they was never going to let him go undercover ever again.

Billy woke up to the sounds of arguing. 

This would usually be a enough to send him into a panic—angry adults were dangerous especially if they were mad at him. But these voices were familiar, and for some reason they made him feel safe, even now.

“What happened back there?” Batman demanded. “Did they have advanced weaponry? Magical projectiles? Alien tech?”

“No,” Superman said, a touch of panic in his tone. “They were ordinary bullets! I don’t know how they could have pierced his skin!”

Billy tried to sit up, curious to know what they were talking about, but pain flared across his middle making his vision go white for several terrifying seconds. He groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. Unfortunately that served to drag the adult heroes’ attention back to him.

“Captain,” Batman said, his voice strained. He rushed to his side, eyes scanning him for the source of his distress. Once he’d gotten Billy settled, checking for any additional injuries he may have missed, he continued. “I know you’re injured, but do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah,” Billy said, carefully. There was definitely a gap in his memory between the Center and the Watchtower—at least he thought this was the Watchtower, he couldn’t be sure though. “I remember me and Clark went into the basement. And I…I got caught. Then they brought me to that room where they were hurting those kids. Then Clark showed up."

“Do you remember how you got hurt?” he pressed.

Billy frowned. “I think so…did I get shot?”

He’d never been shot before—stabbed, burned, and beat up, sure, but never shot. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat any time soon.

“Yes you were,” Batman said gravely. “Do you know what could have done this? Usually you’re invulnerable to such things.”

Billy winced. There was no way they were going to like his answer, no matter which one he gave. “It’s part of the uh…spell,” he said, struggling for a moment to remember his own cover story. “The transformation temporarily leaves me without most of my powers. Including invulnerability.”

“You should have told us,” Batman growled out, his hands clenching into fists. “You should have let us know the sort of risk you were taking when you went undercover. If we had known—“

“I did my job didn’t I?” Billy cut in. “I got you the intel you needed. We saved those kids and the bad guys still have no idea that the Justice League was involved. That’s all that matters isn’t it?”

“Your safety matters more than any intel,” Superman declared. “If I had known you didn’t have your powers then I would have been able to prioritize protecting you. We’re a team Captain, we’re supposed to have each other’s back—especially when one of us is vulnerable.”

Billy looked away. He hated being scolded like a naughty schoolboy, but he hated disappointing his friends even more. 

 "I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess…I guess I thought that you wouldn’t let me do this if I told you.”

“You’re right,” Batman said. “I wouldn’t—not without proof that you could handle yourself in your weakened state.”

“But you would have let Robin do it,” he grumbled. The words just slipped out without Billy’s permission, unexpectedly bitter on his lips. It was a stupid thought, and an even stupider thing to say. 

Batman paused, looking at him strangely. “What is this about Captain?”

Billy sank back into his pillows, staring up at the blindingly white ceiling above. The fluorescent lights were harsh but they were easier to look at than the other heroes in the room. 

What was this about? This was about Billy finally getting the chance to be himself around the Justice League, a chance to safely test run what it would be like to just be Billy with them. It was the first—and probably the only—opportunity he’d have to prove he could be a useful part of the team even when he wasn’t powered up, to prove that being a kid didn’t stop him from being a good hero. 

And he’d screwed it up. He got hurt, he almost blew the whole mission and Batman was probably thinking about how he should have just grabbed a teen titan or two instead. 

Billy could feel the pricking of tears at the corners of his eyes.

He was stupid for thinking that he could do this, that he could make everything work out. 

“Captain?” his voice was gentler now, and something about it made his heart ache. But Billy refused to acknowledge it. If he spoke now, he knew his voice would warble and crack and then he’d really be crying.

He felt a dip at the end of the bed where someone had sat down.

“Captain,” Superman began. “Is this…” Then he paused, seemingly rethinking what he was about to say. “Billy,” he tried again. “This is who you really are, isn’t it?”

Billy’s breath hitched, the action sending shooting pain up through his side. But he didn’t dare complain, didn’t even dare to breathe. “What do you mean?”

Superman was quiet for a long moment, ignoring Batman's curious gaze. “I mean that there have been moments throughout the day where it’s been clear to me that Billy isn’t just a character you made up for this mission. You forget that I can tell when someone is lying…and when they’re telling the truth.”

Tears welled up in Billy’s eyes. This couldn’t be how they found out. They were all going to be so mad at him. “Please don’t.”

“Billy…is Captain Marvel the disguise?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” he said gently. 

“He’s not a disguise. He’s just…me, but better, older.” He could barely push the words out. The admission felt more like a death sentence than getting shot had.

“Oh Billy.” Superman reached out to touch his hand, but Billy pulled away.

He took a few moments to calm down. When he trusted his voice again he said, “I just wanted to help.”

The silence that followed his words made him feel smaller than he had in a long time. He could feel their eyes on him, picking him apart and judging him. 

“You saved 52 children between the ages of ten and seventeen,” Batman eventually said. “Seven of which were with you in the basement. And you prevented countless more from being subjected to the same horrors that they were. Luthor’s plans for them have been foiled and all without any loss of life.”

“But I screwed up.”

“The only issue I had with your performance on this mission was your disregard for your own personal safety and unwillingness to let us plan around your limitations.”

“I could have changed back if I needed to,” Billy said. “I still can.”

“I think it’s best if we monitor your injury as is,” Batman said. “Then, when you’re feeling  better, we can discuss these matters fully.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Batman and Superman both paused, sharing a loaded look with one another. “No, you’re not in trouble,” Superman said carefully. “But we can’t ignore what’s happened today either. Fortunately you’re not the first underage hero to fall into our laps.”

“First one to join the Justice League though.”

He could have sworn he saw the corners of Batman’s lips twitch upwards in an almost smile and that more than anything convinced him that maybe his position as a hero wasn’t quite as precarious as he thought. Billy felt a wave of relief wash over him and already his spirits were starting to lift.

“You did good out there Captain,” he said. “Get some rest.”

With that the two of them left the room with a promise to check up on him soon.

So besides revealing his secret identity, scandalizing Superman once or twice and accidentally getting shot, everything had gone pretty smoothly.

Leaning back against his pillows, Billy decided that this mission had been a resounding success.