There was one last call from Captain Farley.

"S-sir, I believe the Moore situation should be considered an emergency!"

Batman glanced at the communications console, underwhelmed. Somehow, the Duneglade Captain had managed to contact the Watchtower's video communicator, allowing Batman to absorb the fidgety man's mannerisms. He'd already seen the physical attributes of Farley, when he'd commenced the initial search. A stereotypical small-town cop: likely mid-forties, tall and slightly overweight with a short but scruffy beard and a mop of brown hair that seemed to be creeping backwards near the front. He set forth a quite nervous air, but that may have been due to his position at the receiving end of the Batglare.

Bruce grunted. Superman, across the room but managing to pick up on the exclamation, flew over.

"Excuse me, but what's the issue?"

The Captain's worried eyes harbored deep creases near the edges, apparently too frightened to be in awe at the superheroes. "The-the kid, he's dangerous. Real dangerous- we can't keep him down here."

Superman's wide, questioning eyes rested on Batman's white lenses.

A deep growl came from beneath the cowl: "The details. Now."

Farley replied readily. "His house- it's destroyed, almost completely burned down. Father's dead, burned to death. His mother- well, she's in terrible condition. Third degree burns across almost her entire body. Three neighbors must have been caught in some sort of explosion or heat wave because their skin is fried. The kid, though… not a single burn. Not one! Just what the first-responders think is a broken arm and a bunch of minor injuries- bruises, glass shards. Says himself he started it!"

Superman's usually relaxed blue eyes were suddenly not-so-relaxed. Batman interrupted. "Any evidence it's due to his abilities?"

"The oven. There's remains of some sort of food in there. All the metal appliances were the only things in the house not burned down. The oven, though… it's shredded. The forensics guys say it looks like high-frequency vibrations ripped it apart-"

"The boy. You think he did it."

"Well, yes! We need him out of this town. I can't risk more lives being lost."

"I'll be right down," Superman assured him with authority, ignoring the steely glare pointed at the back of his head.

Captain Farley seemed noticeably relieved, but nonetheless still scared. "Thank you so much. It's just… we're officers from Duneglade. Nothing ever happens here."

"The situation will be addressed." With that, Bruce slapped the 'end transmission' button and the screen faded to black. "Are you out of your mind?" His chair spun to face Clark.

Said meta's fists clenched, lines appearing between his brows. "No, I'd like to think not. That town obviously isn't prepared for this kind of occurrence. They need our help!"

Another growl pierced the air. The lenses of the Bat-cowl narrowed and the scowl chiseled into that strong lower-face deepened. "I cannot believe you promised that man some of our forces-"

"I'm not just worried for them, Bruce! That kid just went through something you should know more about than most of us. His parents are either completely or almost dead! Such strong emotions in such a small mind- who knows what he'll do in his grief? We need to get to him before he does something rash!"

With that Superman stormed out of the communications room, seething and seeking Leaguers to accompany him.

In the end, he settled upon bringing along J'onn. The former was more than willing to aid his comrade, having been part of the issue in the past, before it became more serious. Clark was worried that the martian may have more important tasks to complete, but was pleasantly surprised when said hero accepted and flew right to the transporters.

Once on earth, Clark took a moment to glance around at their surroundings. Duneglade, Nevada: a small, quaint town for sure. It reminded him too much of his hometown and forced a nostalgic smile to his lips. Well, it would be quaint, if there weren't an enormous billow of smoke rising from around halfway across town. The heroes quickly made their way to the disturbance and were shocked to say the least.

The house, nearly completely burned to the ground, was no longer blazing. A fire truck was preparing to pack up the large water hose, firefighters roaming around the remains. An ambulance was parked across the street, paramedics rushing a bloodied stretcher into its rear. A scattering of police officers surrounded another stretcher, but this one had been covered with a white blanket. Clark closed his eyes for a moment in respect, but soon flew over to where he saw the distinct form of Captain Farley, realizing that J'onn was waiting for his lead.

"Captain!" Superman called out, touching down lightly several feet behind the man. Clark was only able to capture a brief moment of the man's terrified expression that flicked away to reveal relief when he saw the heroes.

He seemed reluctant to turn his back on whatever his two other officers were kneeling to look at. After a second's thought, though, he ran to meet the Leaguers.

"Thank goodness you've arrived. They're preparing to take away the father, Anthony Moore-" The ambulance screeched down the street. "-And there goes his mother. They're taking her to another county's hospital since ours is more like a clinic."

"Speaking of the boy," J'onn spoke. "Where is he?"

The pained expression returned as the chubby man pointed behind himself. "Over there. Be really careful around him, he's pretty shaken up."

"Understandably," Superman reassured as he and his partner approached the other two officers.

Said men (likely rookies, from their youthful faces and uncertain movements) seemed tense and on edge. J'onn dismissed them, and finally the boy was in sight.

The first thing they noticed was his hair. A curly, bright red shock of it hung loosely on top but was clipped slightly shorter on the sides and back.

Second: he was so small. Superman was quite certain that this boy was three years old, but weren't three-year-olds supposed to have a lot of baby fat? This child had none.

Clark knelt in front of him, J'onn doing the same at his side. "Hey, buddy, what's your name?"

The boy looked up, bright green eyes clear and- extremely strangely- free of sadness. "I'm Beau."

A piece of paper was clutched in the grip of his tiny hand, slightly burned at the corners.

"Hello, there, young one. Would you like to come with us?" J'onn asked. Clark almost reprimanded the martian for breaking the 'no strangers' rule all children learned at a young age when Beau spoke again.

"Sure," he chirped casually, as if he'd just been asked if he wanted fries with his meal. "I like superheroes!" The paper was messily folded to an eighth of its original size and shoved into a pocket. He pushed himself to his feet nimbly and told Superman fiercely: "Look at my shoes!" He stomped one foot harshly on the concrete road. "The bats light up!"

And indeed they did. On the boy's little feet were the clunky sneakers with the velcro straps typical of young children, sporting bats- more specifically, Bat-symbols. All over them. Clark nearly burst out laughing, but pushed the urge away with thoughts of telling the Batman at a later date. Remembering just what situation he was mediating stole the grin right off his face. How could he smile at a time like this? This kid could be extremely dangerous. Although it was becoming more and more difficult to think of him as so...

"Yes, they do. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

J'onn raised a hand to his ear. "Beam us up to the Watchtower, please. We have the boy."

As the blue-tinted light surrounded them in a sort of column shape, Beau studied it in wonder. His smile (in all of its gapped and baby-toothed glory) split his cheeks and he shouted suddenly, not quite remembering where he knew this seemingly funny line:

"Beam me up, Sc-"

He was abruptly in another place.

"-otty!"

What looked like hundreds of tall people surrounded him, all looking down into his eyes as his exclamation echoed around the cavernous room. He suddenly found his light-up Batman shoes much less interesting than they were before- how could he not? The Batman himself was right there in front of him.