DC: Starting With Homelander As My Child!

"You seem to have gotten yourself into some trouble—trouble that's worth more than a hundred dollars," Peter remarked, shrugging as he eyed the disheveled Thomas. "If you don't mind, why don't you tell us what's going on? Maybe we can help."

"No, sir. I just… need to borrow another hundred dollars. I promise I'll pay you back tenfold." Thomas hesitated for a moment before rejecting Peter's offer to help.

Peter stepped closer to him, speaking in a calm but firm tone. "You really don't understand how cruel this world can be, do you, Thomas?"

He gestured toward a pair of men loitering on a nearby street corner, casually smoking. "See those two? They're probably figuring out who to rob tonight or deciding which poor soul to rough up. This city is full of predators like them—wolves who prey on the sheep. And to them, you're just a harmless little lamb. Even a dollar in your pocket would make you their target."

Peter's gaze flicked to the bruise around Thomas's eye. "Let me guess—those guys just took the hundred dollars I gave you, didn't they?"

Thomas shifted uneasily under Peter's piercing stare, rubbing his temples in frustration. The ache in his bruised eye was nothing compared to the tension of being scrutinized so thoroughly.

Peter reached into his wallet and pulled out another crisp hundred-dollar bill, holding it up. "You can take this right now, or you can tell me what kind of 'little trouble' you're dealing with. Your choice."

Thomas bit his lip, glancing at Peter's watchful eyes before shifting his gaze to the two men at the corner, who were now drunkenly eyeing them. Taking a deep breath, Thomas made up his mind. "Maybe… we can make a deal, Mr. ..?."

"Podrick."

"Then, Mr. Podrick....can we make a deal?"

"Oh? What kind of deal?" Peter asked, his interest piqued by the boy's unyielding determination.

"I'll buy this bar for you!" Thomas declared, pointing at a nearby bar with surprising audacity.

"I mean, not right now," he quickly added. "But one day, I'll buy it and gift it to you. However, you need to do something for me first."

Peter exchanged a bemused glance with J'onn before replying, "Go on."

"There's a gang of thieves who stole my watch," Thomas explained. "If you can help me get it back, I'll make sure this bar becomes yours."

Peter leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like a fair trade. But why should I believe you?"

Thomas's voice was steady and confident. "Because you already do, Mr. Podrick. The moment you lent me that first hundred dollars, you chose to believe in me. So why stop now?"

J'onn smirked at the boy's reasoning and turned to Peter. "He has a point, sir. You've already sunk two hundred dollars into this—why not see it through?"

Peter shot J'onn an incredulous look. "Since when does a Martian care about sunk costs?"

Shaking his head with a smile, Peter extended his hand toward Thomas. "Deal."

The rain came down harder as Peter drove them to the location Thomas had mentioned. Sitting in the passenger seat, Thomas stared silently out the window, watching raindrops streak down the glass.

When they arrived, Peter pulled the car to a stop near a group of rowdy young men laughing on the street corner. Undoing his seatbelt, he turned to Thomas. "Stay in the car. Don't get out."

Thomas nodded, watching as Peter stepped out and approached the group. He couldn't hear what was said, but the situation quickly escalated. In a flash, Peter grabbed one of the men by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

Minutes later, Peter returned to the car, dripping wet but triumphant. He handed a watch to Thomas. "This what you were looking for?"

Thomas stared at the watch, momentarily speechless. Finally, he nodded. "Y-yes. This is it."

"Good," Peter said with a satisfied smile as he started the car. "So, this watch—pretty important to you?"

Thomas glanced down at the watch on his wrist, his voice soft and distant. "Yes. It was my father's. He left it to me."

Peter's gaze softened slightly as he glanced at Thomas. Before he could reply, Thomas suddenly shouted, "Stop the car!"

Peter hit the brakes, watching as Thomas leapt out and ran toward a group of children huddled around a small fire in a nearby alley. He handed them the hundred dollars Peter had given him earlier and exchanged a few words before returning to the car.

"So, that's why you wanted the money?" Peter asked as Thomas climbed back in.

Thomas nodded. "They've helped me a lot. Without them, I don't think I could've escaped..."

Realizing he'd said too much, Thomas clammed up, looking away. Peter didn't press him further but silently noted that the boy carried more secrets than he let on.

Ten minutes later, Thomas stepped out of the car and said his goodbyes, walking briskly toward a nearby phone booth.

Shivering in the cold rain, he picked up the receiver and dialed a number. The line rang several times before clicking.

"This is Wayne Manor. Alfred speaking," came a familiar voice.

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but his courage failed him. For the first time, he felt truly paralyzed with fear.

"Sir? Ma'am? Are you there?" Alfred's concerned tone carried through the receiver.

Thomas gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles white. In the background, he heard another voice. "Alfred, who is it?"

"Just a wrong number, Master Wayne," Alfred replied before hanging up.

Thomas placed the receiver back on the hook, covering his face with one hand as frustration and despair washed over him. He couldn't tell Alfred the truth—not when it might put him in danger.

The boy everyone thought was "Bruce Wayne" wasn't the real Bruce Wayne. A shadowy organization had replaced him with an imposter, leaving Thomas—the real Bruce—alone and helpless.

Walking out of the phone booth, soaked to the bone, Bruce stumbled aimlessly through the rain. His thoughts were in turmoil, torn between despair and a flicker of hope. Suddenly, he felt the rain stop.

Looking up, he saw a black umbrella held over his head.

...

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