Detained by customs. Were their undercover identities compromised?
The officer scrutinized father and son in the locked room.
"Mr Jack Smith, take off your glasses."
Clark Kent posing as Jack Smith hesitantly removed his trademark glasses. Such a simple disguise allowed Superman to live a normal life as reporter Clark Kent without anyone recognizing him.
"Like I suspected. Your eyes are an unearthly shade of blue," the officer muttered as he scribbled in a black note book.
Billy froze. Did the officer recognize his "dad" as Superman in disguise?
"Let's check your son. Take off your glasses boy," the officer stared at Billy who duly complied. He wore them because Billy Batson's TV talk shows made him too recognizable for undercover work.
"Electric blue. Too brilliant to be human. What do you think Joe?" He looked at his partner.
"Both are passably human but you can't be too careful," he looked at his clipboard.
"One way to know for sure." He lifted Clark's hand up and held it in front of a lighter.
The flame shot into Clark's hand.
The fire that should have burnt him left his skin unmarked.
Cover's blown. They'll know he's invulnerable. That he's Superman.
Billy held his breath.
"He's not a white Martian. Fire doesn't bother him," the officer unlocked Clark's handcuffs. "You're free to go."
"My son?" Clark turned to Billy.
"He may be a white Martian who is
here to take over the earth," the officer escorted Clark out of the room.
"Your turn boy," a burly officer held Billy's hand above the lighter.
"Ooww!"
The flame scorched his hand leaving an angry burn.
"He's afraid of fire," the officer turned his hand over. "It affects him. He's probably Martian," concluded the officer.
"I'm human!" Billy protested as he nursed his burn.
Through the window pane, he could see the customs officers wave new arrivals through the gates.
One of them was nine feet tall, completely white with a pointy head, no nose and definitely not human.
"Isn't that a white Martian?" Billy pointed at that creature through the window pane.
"Nah. Human. Cosplay," grunted the officer as he shoved a donut into his mouth.
Another alien looking creature, this time three feet tall followed it.
"Father and son cosplay pretending to be white Martians," the other officer confirmed, barely sparing the creatures a glance as he walked towards Billy.
"You, on the other hand," the officer bent over him, invading his personal space.
"But, I'm human!" Billy was indignant.
"That's what they all say. Just to confirm, I need you to take another test," the officer frowned as he put a plate piled with a mountain of Oreo cookies in front of him.
"I want you to take and eat just one cookie," the officer looked at Billy, unblinkingly.
"Okay," Billy bit into an Oreo and chewed it under the intense scrutiny of the officers. It was so unnerving, he couldn't really taste, let alone enjoy the normally delicious treat. He finished off that cookie in the next bite.
"So," the officer waved another Oreo under Billy's nose, his eyes fixated on the boy. "Any craving for more?"
"No thanks. I'm really too full. I just had a heavy lunch on the plane," Billy burped to make his point as his gaze fell on the checkpoint.
A line of nine feet tall white Martians were waved unhindered through the entrance.
"What about them?" He pointed at the creatures.
"Cosplay. Real White Martians would use their shape shifting abilities to look human to cross the border," the officer bent over and looked Billy accusingly in the eye.
"I'm human. Those are the white Martian invaders you are looking for," Billy ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
Thirty minutes had passed. The mountain of Oreos sat in front of Billy as the officers took turns waving random Oreos under his nose
"According to protocol, he's not Martian. Any real Martian would have polished off the entire plate by now," an officer concluded.
"You're free to go, said the officer as he unlocked the handcuffs and released the boy.
-------
It was a retreat for billionaires and their preschool sons. Media Mogul, Sterling Morris provided the limosine and chauffeur, wardrobe and emergency cash in unmarked bills for the undercover reporters' facade.
"The entire resort would probably be bugged so if you want to talk privately, it'll have to be either in this limo or up in the clouds in our other identities," nagged Clark as they entered the limosine. He was taking his "daddy" role a little too seriously
"Yes, Daddy," Billy rolled his eyes.
"And don't give me attitude, son, " Clark ruffled his hair.
Billy squirmed, shoving his hand away.
Clark's eyes flew wide at the sight of his fresh burn mark. Flipping his hand over, he frowned,"we need to tend to that once we get to the resort."
"Oh please. That's nothing. I've had worse," Billy pulled his hand away.
It was the truth.
He's had his ribs broken by street thugs, gasoline burns which he survived only because his transformation healed everything, and that's just some of what he'd been through.
"I lived on the streets alone." He folded his arms offended that Clark insisted on treating him like a helpless baby.
"You had worse?" Lines formed on Clark's face. Was that pity?
Billy hated being pitied. Especially by someone he teamed up with as equals.
"It's bad," Clark took the boy's hand.
"It'll heal the next time I transform." Billy would have called down the lightning there and then if it weren't for blowing his cover.
"You don't have to do this alone, you know. Even after this is over, I want to be there for you." Clark looked so sincere, like he really meant it. "Everyone needs family."
Family. Billy had been betrayed so many times in his short life already, he wasn't sure he could trust like that again.
Daddy, Mummy and Mary were his only real family. They were gone.
He looked away to hide the stubborn tears forming in his eyes.
"When we get to the camp, trust no one. Things aren't what they seem," Clark's eyes darted around as if scouring the resort ahead of them. He seemed to be listening to some conversation from afar.
"What do you see?" Billy tugged Clark's sleeve, his curiosity piqued.
For the rest of the trip, Clark shared what he learned and taught Billy Kryptonian code words they could use.
-------
Billy tugged at the stuffy tuxedo he was wearing as Clark adjusted the boy's red bow tie.
"Do we have to wear this?" Billy hated the stiff, boring suit that made him feel like a penguin.
"It's a gala dinner. We need to blend in," Clark smirked as he led his "son" into the majestic banquet hall.
Fathers and preschool sons from prestigious families were seated at round tables while waiters served food and drinks.
As the dads talked shop, most of the kids yakked about inane kiddy cartoons and nursery games. Billy, a ten year old masquerading as a preschool kid tried to blend in.
A pale blonde boy with green eyes watched silently. His unblinking stare unnerved Billy.
An eerie voice rang through Billy's head.
"I know, Captain Marvel."