Powerless

Dudley H. Dudley sat down on the couch and let out a deep yawn. Sleep had been fleeting that night; after tossing and turning for what felt like forever, he finally decided to get out of bed. It was a Saturday morning, meaning his ten year-old nephew didn't have to wake up early for school. The boy often woke up around 8:00 a.m.

It was only 5:20. Three more hours to kill.

Another yawn escaped him as he clicked a button on his TV remote. The television sparked to life, and a seductive-looking young woman appeared onscreen, smiling warmly as she explained the benefits of a new hair product. The aging man clicked another button, and the beautiful saleswoman was quickly replaced by a group of muscular, dirt-covered soldiers. At once the sound of explosions filled his meager apartment, and Dudley quickly turned the volume down. Thankfully, the noise hadn't woken Billy.

"That boy can sleep through anything," Dudley mused silently. He leaned back and returned his attention to the television, where the movie had cut to a commercial break. Minutes passed timelessly as the aging man sat, enjoying the rare moment of serenity. The sun slowly creeped over the horizon, bathing Fawcett City in golden light. Dudley began to doze off when a familiar voice tore him back to reality.

"Good…yaaaaawwwnnn…morning Uncle Dudley." Dudley turned to find Billy standing by the kitchen the couch, clad in his pajamas and rubbing his eyes. The weary ten-year-old sauntered over to the couch and plopped down beside his uncle.

"Good morning, Billy," Dudley responded, ruffling his young charge's hair. The drowsy boy flashed him a weary smile before turning his attention to the television.

"What'cha watching?" Billy asked as he found a comfortable position.

"Just some action movie," Dudley replied. "What do you want to do today, kiddo?"

"I don't know," Billy answered, "isn't there a festival going on at the park? That sounds like it could be fun."

"Okay," Dudley responded. "Why don't you go get ready for the day? Then we can decide where to go and what to do."

Billy sat at the kitchen counter, happily munching on a bowl of chocolate puffs and reading the comics. Across from him, Uncle Dudley nursed a cup of coffee.

"How's everything going with the League?" Dudley asked.

"Great!" Billy replied enthusiastically. "A few days ago, I got to visit Atlantis with Aquaman. Ocean Master was trying to steal something from the royal palace. We stopped him, and I got a tour of the palace and got to meet the Queen and hang out with Aquaman. It was really cool!"

"You can breathe underwater?" Dudley queried. The aging man took a slow sip of coffee and picked up a section of the newspaper.

"Batman gave me this fancy gadget which let me breath," Billy explained happily.

"Sounds interesting," Dudley answered calmly. He flipped through the paper for a few moments before finding the information he wanted.

"It says that the festival is going on all day," Dudley explained. "Why don't you check the weather while I clean up. Then we can leave."

"Okay," Billy said enthusiastically. The exuberant boy grabbed the television remote and flipped through channels in search of the news channel. Dudley quickly cleared the table and washed the dishes before turning to his energetic nephew.

"Okay Billy, did you find the…"

The aging gentleman stopped when he noticed Billy staring at the television, a look of surprise plastered on his face. Slowly, Dudley walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. The adoptive father-figure looked over at the television and immediately understood his charge's reaction.

Thick black smoke rose from the cityscape of downtown Fawcett. Below the dismal scene was a headline in bold letters: "Fawcett in Flames!" A reporter sat beside the image, a disturbed look on her face.

"…have yet to determine the cause of the fire. Already, first responders have identified three dead and fourteen injured. Efforts are being made to..."

Uncle Dudley watched the young boy stand up and take a deep breath.

Shazam!

Dudley shielded his eyes as a bolt of lightning struck his nephew. The smoke cleared, and he found Captain Marvel staring down at him, a contemplative look in his eyes. The crimson-clad hero flashed his uncle a reassuring grin.

"I've got to go," he said. "Those people need me. I'll be back soon."

Before Dudley could respond Captain Marvel was gone, leaving a gust of wind and an open window in his wake. Dudley looked back at the television, watching as one of the burning buildings began to collapse. Below, a group of innocent bystanders ran trying to escape the rain of dust and debris. Suddenly, a red blur surged past, picking up the terrified citizens and depositing them a safe distance away. Captain Marvel rose above the destruction, surveying the scene with grim determination. Without a word he sprang into action, clearing debris and carrying people to safety.

"Captain Marvel has just arrived on the scene," the reporter explained, her demeanor visibly calmer, "and has begun aiding in the evacuation. We now go live to…."

Dudley switched off the television and let out a heavy sigh. As usual, there was nothing he could do.

He couldn't help but worry. Dudley hadn't heard from his nephew since the boy had left several hours ago. The concerned uncle tried to quietly read a book until he was interrupted by a panicked phone call from one of his friends.

"Dudley," the familiar shop owner greeted, "thank goodness I reached you! One of my patrons got a little too rowdy and managed to break the counter in the front of the store. You're one of the handiest people I know. I need your help fixing it and cleaning up the mess. I promise I'll pay you for your time; I just need some help!"

Dudley grabbed the small toolset he kept in his closet and headed out to his friend's store. Upon arriving, it became apparent that the damage encompassed much more than the counter. The handyman wasted little time in reattaching the severed pieces of the counter and cleaning up the broken merchandise. The grateful storeowner thanked him and handed him $100 before sending the weary gentleman on his way. This was how he found himself wandering the outskirts of downtown Fawcett, carrying a small box of tools and an unshakable feeling that something was wrong. Billy had a knack for running into trouble. Having the power of the gods often helped him emerge unscathed, but Dudley still worried.

The tired uncle stopped in front of a small diner to catch his breath. His stomach voiced its desire to go and get a bite to eat, and he soon found himself seated at a small table, skimming the menu. As he sat silently, a waiter walked up to him with a pad, a pencil, and a half-smile that said "I wish I could go home".

"Welcome," the young man greeted. "What can I get you?"

"A burger, please," Dudley answered. "And a soda." The tired waiter rushed off to place the order. The weary man leaned back in his seat and turned his attention to the television mounted on the wall…

…and felt his stomach sink.

Captain Marvel floated above Fawcett City, his cape shredded and flapping haphazardly behind him. Suddenly Black Adam barreled into him, grabbed him by the collar, and hurled him into a nearby building. Below the video of the fight, the words "Skirmish above the City" sat in blood red letters. The same newsperson from earlier sat beside the image, her attention held captive by the heart-pounding battle.

"…the villain, Black Adam, seems to be gaining the upper hand. Thankfully, the police have already evacuated the area. We have yet to see any response from the Justice..."

Her report was interrupted as Captain Marvel burst from the rubble and shot skyward, his fist drawn back. The crimson hero closed the distance in a moment and connected a ferocious punch to the villain's jaw. Much to Dudley's dismay, his nephew's muscular adversary shook off the blow. With newfound brutality, the villain unleashed a flurry of deadly punches. Captain Marvel tried to block the blows, but his seemingly endless stamina was failing. Before he could recover, Black Adam surged forward and throttled him mercilessly. The vile villain grinned as his opponent struggled in his grip. With a swift motion, he landed a kick to Captain Marvel's ribs before hurling him towards the ground. The hero slammed into the street, sending a spray of dust and asphalt in all directions. A stray fragment collided with the news camera, and static suddenly replaced the live feed.

Dudley's attention snapped back to reality. He realized that he had been gripping the sides of his seat. The aging man leaned back and examined his bone-white knuckles, mentally fighting back nausea. He stood up, determined to run downtown and help his nephew, but common sense grappled with his instinct and he slumped back down into his chair. He wouldn't even be able to get close to the fight. Even if he did, there was nothing he could do to help. Dudley knew he would only be another distraction for the boy.

The best he could do was hope Billy came home safe.

"Are you okay, sir?" chimed a voice beside him. Dudley turned to find the waiter standing over him, holding a glass of soda and a hamburger. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

The shaken uncle shook his head silently and uttered an unconvincing, "I'm fine." In truth, he had lost his appetite.

Dudley lay silently in his room, clicking through channels mindlessly as he searched for a distraction. He still hadn't heard from Billy since that morning, and the seeds of concern in his mind had bloomed into stifling fear. For what must have been the hundredth time since he had returned home, the nervous uncle got up and peered out the window. Some part of him expected his nephew to fly through the window any moment, sporting a friendly grin and eager to talk about the many successes of his day. To his disappointment, he found no sign of Billy.

With a sigh, Dudley turned his attention to the row of paper bags sitting on the counter. In his bout of worry, he had neglected to put the groceries away. Welcoming any distraction, he began unpacking the bags and putting away the few perishable food items he had purchased on his way home. After emptying the remainder of the supplies and folding the few bags, he grabbed the remaining items and walked out of the kitchen to put them away

Just as Dudley placed the last of the supplies in one of his cabinets, a loud bang rang out, rumbling the small apartment. The aging man jumped up, startled by the sound, and ran into the great room.

There he found Billy leaning against the wall, panting heavily as he nursed a gash on his arm. Before the injured boy could react Uncle Dudley was at his side, a reassuring arm around his shoulder.

"Hey…Uncle Dudley," he managed to say. "Sorry I'm…late."

"It's not your fault Billy," Dudley answered, his calm tone belying his relief. "You're home now." The weary boy tried to let go of the wall, but his strength betrayed him. Gently, Uncle Dudley knelt down and helped his nephew regain his balance. He looked up and noticed tears swimming in Billy's eyes.

"I…I managed to beat Black Adam," the boy said, his tone wavering, "but I couldn't save everyone. People…sniff…people died because I wasn't fast enough."

"Now don't think like that," Dudley said in an attempt to reassure him. "No one can save the world alone. You did the best you could. No one can ask any more than that."

The young boy stared at him, thinly concealed pain in his expression. After a tense minute, the young hero's broke down. Taken aback by the sudden rush of emotion, Uncle Dudley repressed his own concern and pulled the crying boy to his chest.

"It's okay, kiddo" he consoled as the hurt hero sobbed into his shoulder. For all his power, Billy was still just a kid.

After a long while, the suffering hero's tears died down, and he managed to find his strength once again. The duo sat down on the couch, and Dudley took a moment to carefully examine his young charge's injuries. Thankfully, the cut on Billy's appeared to be shallow. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, the boy was relatively unharmed.

"How about we patch you up and get you to bed, okay sport?" Dudley asked.

"That sounds good," Billy answered softly. "Thanks Uncle Dudley,"

Uncle Dudley peered into Billy's room, careful not to disturb the exhausted boy. Much to his relief, soft snoring emanated from a pile of blankets on the bed. He silently shut the bedroom door before walking into the great room once again. Dudley looked out the window, and he broke into a small smile. After the harrowing day his nephew had endured, he was glad that the boy had come home safely.

For the first time since that morning, he felt relieved, not powerless.

Dudley leaned back and clicked a button on his remote. He wondered what was on TV…