I have a prompt, if you're interested: "Completely ordinary" Metropolis reporter Clark Kent is in Fawcett to do more research on a recent Superman & Captain Marvel team up to fight Dr. Sivana that took place in Fawcett. He runs in to an amnesiac orphan who can only remember his name: Billy. He ends up taking in Billy & is trying to be a good parent. Unrelated, the Justice League is scouring Fawcett for Marvel, as he went missing after he was shot with a mysterious ray gun that Sivana had built.
OH, MY GODS. THIS. THIS IS EXACTLY MY CUP OF TEA RIGHT HERE. Something that feels somewhat convoluted with hijinks and identity porn thrown in there--
YESSSSS I LOVE THIS IDEA. I also love that it’s reminiscent of the Shazam/Superman movie.... :3
Might post a longer vers. on my Ao3 But for now...
Clark thumped the pen between his fingers rhythmically on the table in front of him, chewing the inside of his cheek in thought.
After practically begging Perry White to let him do a story on Superman and Captain Marvel’s fight against Dr. Sivanna in Fawcett, he’d come to the quaint town, checked in to a hotel, and set to work.
It’s just too bad he’d come up with nothing so far.
Not the story, no, that was going just fine- he had more than enough information, as well as witness accounts and data (not that Perry needed to know that just yet).
No, what Clark was struggling with was something else entirely. The reason he’d begged Perry to assign him this story in the first place, allowing him to focus his attention on Fawcett City- that was what was giving him trouble.
Captain Marvel was missing.
The battle that he and the Captain had partnered on had gone somewhat smoothly, all things considered-- Sivana was a cackling lunatic that easily slid into the classic ‘mad scientist’ archetype, and had built some kind of death ray or something.
To be honest, Clark hadn’t really been paying attention to what the man was saying, especially since half of the things that came out of his mouth made no sense to him and sounded more like an inside joke between the bald man and Captain Marvel.
Not to mention he’d been busy trying to fight off a giant, mutated octopus- which, really, gave him so many questions. Where had he been keeping this? How was it just fine to walk-or, uh, suction-cup around the city? Why did it spit acid of all things?
The reporter rubbed a spot just below his shoulder at the thought, wincing in pain as his fingers grazed sensitive skin. That acid had hurt. He really wished Arthur had been with them, it would have made things much easier- but the truth of the matter was that he hadn't been, and the creature had found Superman a wonderful target.
Regardless, while he was busy with Octo-zilla, Captain Marvel had taken on the mad scientist. Sivana had set up shop atop a radio tower, cackling and ranting on about something or other before taking aim at Captain Marvel when the man cracked a joke about his plan.
The demigod had redirected a lightning bolt from the sky towards the ray-gun and destroyed it- but not before Sivana was able to shoot him, launching him backward through the sky and sailing through the air as his lightning blew up Sivana's device.
Superman had managed to get the mutated calamari to submit after while and had detained Sivana quickly there-after- but Captain Marvel never returned.
At first, Clark thought the man would catch up with him at the Watchtower when he went in to give a report. When Captain Marvel never showed, he got worried. Bruce told him to give the guy a day or two, so he did- no word ever came.
The Justice League held a meeting, hoping the man would show and explain what had happened to him.
Captain Marvel hadn’t shown up.
To quell the worry running through his teammates’ heads, Clark had volunteered himself to look for the demigod- he'd wanted to help clean up from the battle anyways, and trying to find their missing demigod would help to silence the worry in his own mind as well.
So now, here he was, in Fawcett City as Clark Kent, trying to find his missing teammate.
The raven-haired reporter sighed, rubbing the skin between his eyebrows in frustration as he continued to thump his pen against the table. The diner was small, plain and quiet, run by an old woman and her daughter- the coffee was fresh and warm, and the people were nice.
Clark had always preferred mom-and-pop places like this to chain-brand places- there was a certain personal touch to a diner like this.
"Need a refill, sir?" a voice asked, pulling the man from his thoughts and causing him to glance up at the woman holding a coffee pot out for him. The daughter, he thought off-handedly, blinking at the soft curls in her hair that reminded her of Lois when she got dolled up.
"Oh, uh, yes, please. Thank you," he said, sliding his half-empty mug toward the woman with a small smile.
She poured the dark liquid into his mug and he gave her a smile, lifting it to his mouth before sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He furrowed his brow, glancing out the large window of the diner as a small boy with a mop of black hair ran past him, eyes wide and full of fear as he stumbled over his own feet, crashing onto the sidewalk.
Clark furrowed his brow at the boy, tensing and standing up as the boy clambered clumsily to his feet, ignoring the scrapes on his skin and continuing to run like his life depended on it.
A few moments later, a pair of teenagers came running past the window.
Clark didn't need to see anymore- he could tell when someone was in danger. He shuffled out of the booth, slipping a couple of dollars from his wallet before pocketing it, his note pad, and his pen, grabbing his jacket, and taking off out of the diner.
He ran in the direction the children had gone, eyes sharp, and looking for any sign of danger. He didn't slow down until he heard soft, almost inaudible sobs coming from an alley. Clark slowed to a walk, glancing around to see if anyone else was in the area before ducking into the alley.
He moved slowly, vision suddenly cutting through the various objects in the alleyway- he saw through dumpsters and abandoned boxes, large, plastic trashcans and-
A small bit of movement caught his eye from the opposite side of a dumpster. He saw a small skeleton sitting on the ground, legs pulled up to its chest, and shaking like a leaf. Clark's hand curled into a fist at the sight of a fractured rib. The Kryptonian closed his eyes and shook the X-Ray vision away, blinking and crouching down slightly as he walked.
"Hello...?" he said slowly, hearing the small figure's heart skip a beat.
Clark came a bit closer, leaning forward to look around the dumpster. The small boy with a mop of black hair he'd seen before sat on the ground in front of him, trembling against the wall and staring up at him with terrified, icy blue eyes. "Are you okay, son?" Clark asked gently, putting his hands out placatingly and crouching down further. He made no move to get closer to the boy, and the child just stared at him silently.
"Do you need help?"
The boy just continued to water at him with wide eyes and a fear that he'd be attacked- or worse. Clark let out a short breath, looking around the alley. They were the only ones there- those teenagers must have taken off after hurting the boy.
"Are you hurt?" he asked gently, even though he knew the answer.
The boy reacted to that, bringing his knees in a little closer and hugging himself- something that made him wince in pain. "Careful-" Clark said, reaching out a hand. "Don't- don't hurt yourself worse."
"Look, i'm not gonna hurt you, I promise," the Kryptonian said slowly, scooting a bit closer to the boy. "My name's Clark. Can you speak?"
The boy nodded slowly.
Good- good. So he wasn't mute, just scared.
"Can you tell me your name?"
The small raven stared at him for a moment before chewing on his bottom lip- an action that, surprisingly, felt familiar to the Man of Steel. He furrowed his brow slightly at the thought but shoved it away. This kid was more important right now.
"...Billy."
"Okay...well it's nice to meet you, Billy. Do you have a last name to go with that?" he asked. Maybe Bruce could look the kid up and he could get him home to his parents. When the boy began to tear up, Clark felt like he'd said something wrong somehow.
Billy was shaking his head, tears beading in the corners of his eyes.
"You- you don't have a last name?" Clark asked in confusion.
"I- I don' remember..." the boy mumbled, tears falling down his cheeks.
Clark felt a cold chill go up his spine. Amnesia. That in itself would be trouble enough, but this was a kid with amnesia- it made things much harder. It had to be retrograde since the boy couldn't remember his last name- he'd have to get him to Bruce so he could run a facial scan.
"Well, Billy..." he said, coming a bit closer. "Do you mind if I take you to get help? You're hurt, and I wanna help you- but I can't if you don't let me," he said, holding out a hand to the boy. "Will you let me help you?" he asked, looking into the child's icy blue eyes.
Billy stared at the man's hand, and Clark could almost see the cogs spinning in his mind. He furrowed his brow, meeting Clark's gaze before letting out a shaky breath and nodding. "O-okay," he said, reaching a hand out to grab the reporter's.
Clark gave the boy a soft smile, coming closer to lift the boy into his arms. Billy was tense at first, but he slowly settled into the man’s arms. “Okay, I think I have a friend that can help us with your injury,” he said, glancing towards the entrance of the alley.
Things just got a tad bit more complicated.
