Superman and Captain marvel team up to bring the criminal underworld to justice.
As investigative reporters Clark Kent and Billy Batson go undercover as father and son, will Clark's sanity hold up?
Metallo held him in an arm lock, pressed against his kryptonite heart as Bizarro rained blows on him.
The sound of distant thunder. A red blur. Then both Metallo and Bizarro were unconscious on the ground beneath them. The kryptonite was gone.
"Clark? Bro?" Captain Marvel's face was blurry.
"Need. Sun." He passed out.
-------
The morning sun warmed his face as he awoke. Faint baby snores came from the itty bitty little boy curled up in the chair beside his bed.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
The little boy jostled awake. The child was a light sleeper. "You're up. I brought us someplace safe to recover."
Brilliant blue puppy eyes scrutinized him. "The sun fixed you up pretty good," he tilted his head. "What are you? A plant or something?"
Clark snorted. "If you put it like that. The sun gives me my powers."
"Solar powered," the little boy nodded sagely.
"I carried you pretty close to the sun, short of tossing you in just to see what would happen," laughed Billy. "We missed today's outing though. I called in sick."
The child leaned forward. "Metallo, Bizzaro, Metropolis supervillains... so what's all that about? They know?"
"They're involved. We just need evidence to pin all the players down," smirked Clark.
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The resort was mostly empty. Practically everyone was at the father and son bonding outing they'd skipped. Jack and Leo Smith were in a hospital recovering from food allergies. At least that's the cover story Billy gave the camp organizers. That meant both investigative reporters were free to dig out the dirt while the others were gone.
While the Big Blue took to the skies, scanning every nook and cranny with his super vision, Big Red Cheese decided to do his thing as Little Red Cheese - vent crawling.
With the Marvelium skull cap on to protect against lurking telepaths, Billy scurried through the vent, to the computer room that was locked behind three consecutive doors of solid steel.
Sure. Either of them could easily punch their way in but that would make whatever evidence they gain useless in court.
He'd mapped out the place in his explorations and familiarized himself with the guards' routines.
The guard left the room. Whrrr click. Click. Click.
All three doors were locked. Coast is clear, he grinned.
He had fifteen minutes before the next guard walks in.
Heart pounding, he entered the password Clark gave him and downloaded the files into the drive. Fourteen minutes, download eighty percent. Not enough.
Ninety-five percent.
Whrrr click. Click. Click.
Uh oh. Next shift is here.
Grabbing the thumb drive, he jumped into the vent.
"Hey! Brat!" The guard saw him.
The alarms went off.
Intruder alert, section fifteen B. Went the mechanical voice.
Lungs bursting, Billy scrambled through the vent. The campers had just returned. Through the grating he could see the kids hanging out in the playground.
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
Slipping out of the vent, he joined them.
"Eww. Where did you come from? You smell worse than the swamp," a snooty kid dressed top to toe in kiddy sports wear from some fancy unpronounceable brand crinkled his nose.
"I.." A tiny boy three feet tall shot up his hand and grabbed Billy's throat choking him, effortless lifting him off the ground.
Billy couldn't breathe, let alone speak his word. All he could do was watch in horror while the little boy's face melted away, the colour of his skin bleaching away, his body morphing, growing into a nine feet tall Martian.
