Work Text:
Metropolis was like nothing Billy had ever seen before. It was a tall, shining, hub teeming with activity. The whole city was bursting with the promise of adventure, of progress, of the future. He had only been there for a few hours and already he was buzzing with excitement.
There were so many sights and sounds vying for his attention at every moment he could hardly stop himself from spinning in place just to take it all in. He may have grown up in a city—even considered himself at home in more urban spaces—but this was a totally different experience. This was invigorating.
“Are you ready Billy?”
Joane’s question pulled him out of his head long enough to realize that they’d arrived at their destination. After nearly a full day of travel and getting a bit turned around between the airport and their hotel, they’d finally made it to the Metropolis Convention Center.
He grinned at her. “Born ready.”
If anything the Convention Center was even busier than the streets outside. The moment the two of them entered the main hall they were hit with a wall of sound, people talking with each other and over each other or maybe just talking to themselves, all of them used to having to clamor to be heard in a sea of voices. People strode past them with a purpose, with urgency, barely sparing Billy and Joane more than the slight glance necessary not to totally crash into them.
Billy tugged his sweater straight to rid it of any lingering wrinkles, then he pulled his tie straight until the knot sat at the hollow of his throat and took a deep breath. He kept one eye on Joane and then dove into the crowd, ducking and weaving his way towards the registration table. By the time he’d signed in, grabbed his welcome packet, and slapped on his name tag, the crowd felt like it had doubled in size, but that might have just been his own nerves.
He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He’d done so many things that were far more dangerous than this—both as Captain Marvel and as Billy Batson. Heck this wasn’t dangerous at all! It was an exciting opportunity that he’d been dreaming of since long before he’d even become a radio host.
It was such an honor be invited along to this conference, one he’d earned all on his own.
The National American Conference of Journalism was convening for its 23rd year, boasting a wide variety of panels, lectures and networking events for the leading reporters from all across the nation. Each year it grew more prestigious, more impressive, more exclusive.
Billy was by far the youngest attendee of the conference, most were at least twice his age or more. As the face, and voice, of their most popular news network, he was also the only representative of Fawcett City amongst the whole group. Everyone there had years of experience, prestigious awards, and countless connections that Billy simply didn’t have. He’d been a reporter for a couple of years—his popularity amongst his local community had skyrocketed in the past year, but he was still just starting out. He had a lot to prove if he wanted anyone here to take him seriously.
The crowd pressed in on him, jostling him every which way as he made his way towards the main hall for the opening ceremonies. It was hard to see around all the people, a sea of dark suits and dresses, almost everyone more than a head taller than him. He clutched his recorder closer to his chest, his headphones dangling from his neck. He’d need to find a more secluded spot to broadcast back to the station if he wanted to keep his word to Mr. Morris to report back with updates from the conference.
Billy slipped between the gaps in the crowd, climbing up the steps to a small balcony overlooking the crowded hall.
There, he could finally breathe again.
People were milling about below, so at ease with each other, so at ease in this situation. He was sure that most of them knew each other or at least hung around in the same circles. Between his age and Fawcett’s history with Suspendium, Billy had had little chance to carve out a space for himself in the wider world of journalism—but that was about to change.
Billy scanned the crowd for any familiar faces as his jittery fingers adjusted his mic and searched for a signal. It was a veritable who’s who of journalism.
There, at the center of everything, was Lois Lane parting the crowd with easy confidence born from the fact that everyone knew who she was and the great contributions she’d made to the field of journalism. She was flanked by other members of the Daily Planet, welcoming people inside. She was one of the main presenters and hosts leading the conference this year and boy had she earned it. She was one of Billy’s greatest inspirations, the sort of reporter he always hoped he could become some day. If he got to meet her at some point this weekend he’d be riding that high for weeks.
She had her hand looped through the arm of a large man in glasses—Clark Kent if he had to guess. He was another reporter from the Daily Planet, not as famous as his wife, but still a hard hitting reporter who knew what really mattered. He’d done a story on Fawcett City in the aftermath of the Fawcett Freeze and Billy had been impressed with his work, following him very closely ever since.
Off in a lounge area near the entrance, Kat Grant was basking in the attention of the dozens of people who considered her every move to be newsworthy. A major news mogul and entrepreneur, she was one of the few people in attendance who was more than just a reporter but a high achieving business woman on top of that. If he wanted to learn about networking, she was the master and everyone knew it.
And then there was the broadcasting crew from Central City down by the registration tables—Iris West-Allen and Linda Park-West—the literal faces of news in the midwest making their rounds through the crowd together. It took a lot to be able to keep up with the Flashes, but the two of them not only managed it, but thrived in the fast paced environment of superhero news.
Vicki Vale and her entourage from the Gotham Gazette had staked a claim to one corner of the room, their no nonsense attitude scaring off less experienced members of the press. She was always on the prowl for a new story, and once she had one she was like a dog with a bone. She was definitely not the sort of woman anyone would want to cross and there were a lot of politicians in Gotham who had learned that the hard way.
Billy was almost breathless at the idea of being placed on the same level as these literal legends in the field. For all that he had accomplished as a reporter, chasing down stories for WHIZ and telling tales of his own heroics on his community radio show, he hadn’t made the same international splash as the others. He rarely felt young and out of his depth in his work as a reporter; everyone at WHIZ had made him feel competent and proud of his work. He had jumped right in and taken to his new job like a fish to water but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a lot he could still learn to hone his craft.
He wondered if there had ever been a time when they felt like he did—nervous, inexperienced, and wildly outclassed—or if they’d launched themselves into their careers with the same boundless confidence that had them chasing down stories and clashing with supervillains with nothing but their wits and their words.
He hadn’t felt this starstruck since he’d first joined the Justice League.
“Hey everyone,” he said into his mic. “As most of you know, I’m out of town at the moment, but I would never leave you without an update…”
“Holy Moly! There’s so much to do! It’s going to be so hard to decide which events to go to.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Joane laughed brightly, her own eyes scanning the itinerary as well. “Just remember, you’re here to learn and maybe have a little bit of fun while you’re at it.” He was so glad she was here with him. Having someone to ground him in this sea of strangers was such a relief, a friendly face to focus on so he didn’t get overwhelmed by the sheer star power this place had to offer. She lightly brushed a lock of hair out of Billy’s face and then ushered him towards the tables holding the catering and excusing herself to make a phone call.
Billy flashed her a grin and headed for the shortest line he saw. He planned to snag a sandwich and map out the rest of his weekend with Joane. The welcome packet he’d received boasted a weekend jam packed with activities. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to attend the panel Villains and Vigilantes: Reporting in the Age of Superheroes. It was being headed by Lois Lane and her team from the Daily Planet which meant it was going to be phenomenal.
And ooh! A round table discussion on the pros and cons of different types of media and their relevancy in the digital age! That could be fascinating—especially since he knew he was one of the few radio news reporters in attendance. He’d love to make his case for a revival of the radio broadcasting scene—it’s absence was one of the most disappointing parts about waking up in a new century post-Freeze.
If he skipped out on the sight seeing he'd originally been planning, he might even be able to squeeze in the lecture about understanding the science behind metahuman mutations. Though that was at the same time as—
Billy ran headfirst into the wall of muscle that was Clark Kent at the drink station. The much larger man managed to avoid spilling his piping hot coffee, though he quirked an amused eyebrow in Billy’s direction.
“You alright there son?”
“Yes sir,” Billy said, flushing slightly for being caught so unaware of his surroundings. “And sorry about that—I was reading through the itinerary and got a bit distracted.”
Mr. Kent’s other eyebrow rose to meet the other one at the edge of his hairline. “Oh? Are you here as an attendee?”
Billy straightened up, puffing up his chest with as much confidence as he could. “Yeah I am actually.”
Mr. Kent opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by call of, “Smallville! Over here!”
Both of them turned to see Lois Lane snapping her fingers in the air to get his attention. Mr. Kent raised a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to Billy. “Who are you here with?”
“Oh it’s just me and Joane,” Billy replied, looking around for his secretary and de facto chaperone. “Though I don’t know where she went. She said something about talking to our boss…”
“Well why don’t you join us for a bit?”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he said. “What kind of hosts would we be if we didn’t make you feel welcome?”
Billy could barely believe his luck. An impromptu sit down a bunch of the industry’s pioneer journalists was like a dream come true. As he got closer he recognized Lois Lane of course and beside her was Jimmy Olsen—the first person to ever get a photo of Superman in action, though he knew the man better for having done a bunch of official photo shoots with the Justice League, Captain Marvel included. They were sharing a table with Iris West-Allen and Linda Park-West who were animatedly debating about Vicki Vale's latest article in the Gotham Gazette. Because of course they were all friends or at the very least work acquaintances.
And gosh was this a lot to take in.
Billy was momentarily tongue-tied, not quite sure how he had literally stumbled his way into the coolest, most exclusive group in the whole conference.
Lois Lane was the first to notice their approach.
“And who do we have here?” she asked, an amused twist to her lips. Her eyes flicked up to meet her husband’s and somehow that managed to dislodge some words from Billy’s reeling mind.
“Billy Batson, WHIZ radio,” he introduced himself, thrusting out his hand in greeting. “I’m a big fan.”
“WHIZ radio?” Ms. Park-West hummed, choosing to ignore whatever a heated glare from Ms Vale who had undoubtedly heard her comments from a couple tables over. “Never heard of it.”
“We’re located in Fawcett City,” he clarified, sitting gingerly in the seat Mr. Kent offered him. “I do most of my reporting on Captain Marvel.”
“Oh the Captain,” Mr. Kent said, recognition lighting up his face. “He’s quite the hero, an excellent addition to the Justice League.”
Billy flushed in thanks, the compliment boosting his confidence even if it was meant for his alter ego. “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “It’s been really exciting for us in Fawcett since he joined. Though we’ve been reporting on him since he first debuted.”
“I bet,” Ms. Lane smirked at him over the lip of her styrofoam coffee cup. “He’s been a hero since—what? The 1940s?—I’m sure there are a lot of stories there.”
“Oh for sure,” Billy replied. “My first ever broadcast was detailing his first fight with Dr. Sivana way back when.”
“Wait,” Ms. West-Allen, leaned forward curiously. “The first one? But wasn’t that—“
Mr. Kent cleared his throat pointedly.
“Oh it’s okay Mr. Kent, I don’t mind talking about it,” Billy said, catching onto his discomfort. There were plenty of people from Fawcett who were a bit touchy about the Freeze, so he appreciated the concern even if he wasn't one of them. He turned back to the ladies from Central. “I’m sure you’ve at least heard of the Fawcett Freeze.” At her nod he continued. “Well I was a kid in Fawcett back before it happened. I actually got a job working at the local radio station because I got the story about Cap’s battle before anyone else.”
“Sounds like you’ve got gumption,” Ms. Lane remarked. Billy was practically floating. She thought he had gumption.
“Too bad you can’t spell ‘gumption’,” Mr. Olsen snickered. He got a light smack on the back of the head for his teasing and conversation drifted to other things, Billy pleasantly content to be a momentary fly on the wall.
“You know I’ve met the Captain once or twice,” Mr. Kent said, leaning closer to avoid interrupting anyone else. “I’ve always been impressed by how he carries himself. And I hear he's a pretty private person. You must be quite special for him to share his stories with you.”
Billy cocked his head to the side, trying to place when and where he might have met Mr. Kent before as the Captain. But he didn’t have time to think about it for long because Joane chose that moment to appear from the ether.
“Oh Billy, there you are,” she said with a soft laugh. “I should have known I’d find you at the center of everything.”
Billy jumped up, offering his chair to Joane as she settled in with her own lunch. As always she was unfazed by the company she found herself in. “Everyone this is Joane Jameson, she works with me at WHIZ radio."
“Pleasure to meet you all,” she said brightly. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing the party, but I have been charged with keeping Billy out of trouble on this trip.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “A tall order to be sure, but I’m happy to do it.”
“Oh a bit of a troublemaker are we?” Ms. Park-West laughed.
“Only when there’s a story to be found,” Joane countered.
Ms. Lane nodded. “Can’t fault him for that."
“It’d be hypocritical if you did,” Ms. West-Allen jabbed.
“Like you’re any better.”
"I haven't been tossed off of a building in months," she countered. "You got thrown off of one last week."
Joane leaned towards Billy and stage whispered, “I see you’ve found your people.”
Billy flushed—one part flattered, two parts embarrassed. But he couldn’t deny that this right here might be one of the highlights of the whole weekend.
The next 24 hours flew by in a whirlwind of lectures and presentations and meet ups with fellow reporters, most of whom were willing to look past Billy’s age once they learned about his work. Apparently interviewing a friendly yet enigmatic member of the Justice League gave him a lot of brownie points with this crowd—he almost felt bad about the fact that he hadn’t interviewed the Captain so much as became him, but those were semantics. He still got the news out, he still did his job.
By the end of day two of the conference, Billy could feel his energy flagging. Early morning wake up calls and late night editing of his audio transcripts to be sent into WHIZ was already starting to take its toll. But he was determined not to miss out on anything if he could help it.
As an additional bonus event, the conference was holding an after hours mixer, a purely social event that nonetheless would be an amazing networking opportunity for people like Billy whose friends in the field were few and far between. He was hoping to get a chance to talk to the team from the Daily Planet again, maybe convince them to let him tag along if a story ever brought them together.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay for long—once people started in on the open bar he’d have to make a quick exit before him being a minor became a problem.
Billy slipped off to the side, adjusting his headphones over his ears and checking his mic in rapid succession. He wanted to record an update before the mixer just in case he was too tired to do it afterwards. Then while everyone else was getting drunk and making bad decisions, he’d have some time to edit his broadcast.
“Hey folks! I’m coming to you from the Metropolis Convention Center. We’re wrapping up day two and boy was it something. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several big names in journalism—some I’m sure everyone out there is familiar with! I was just—“ a loud ringing cut through the sound in his headphones. He jumped, cutting himself off.
Billy reached to take them off his head, but paused at the last second. The tone was odd, almost melodic. Even through the noise dampening headphones it was hard to even think with how loud it was. Maybe it was better to keep them on.
A group of men walked past with slow, shuffling steps. Billy almost wrote them off as possibly already having indulged in one too many drinks from the bar, but he had the distinct feeling that wasn’t it. He followed at a safe distance, eyeing the growing crowd of shambling reporters headed for the main hall with suspicion. He doubted they were just there for the mixer. No one else was reacting to the sound...unless of course they were.
When Kat Grant walked by at a similar pace and no one even turned to look at her, Billy new for sure that something was going on.
“Sorry folks, it seems there’s some trouble brewing here at the conference. I’m going to go check it out and report back to you.” Billy turned off his recorder, shoved it into his pocket, and got to work.
He wormed his way through the crowd, searching for the source of the strange sound. He waved his hand in front of people’s faces, their blank stares completely uncomprehending. Not even a well placed poke to the chest or pinch on the arm produced a reaction. It was like they didn’t even know he was there.
In fact the only people who seemed to still have full control of their wits were a pair of women whose rapid use of increasingly desperate sign language made Billy believe were deaf, and an absolutely bewildered looking Clark Kent.
“Mr. Kent!” Billy called out, waving his arm over his head to get the man’s attention. “Over here!”
“Billy?” Mr. Kent raced over to him, looking him up and down with a critical eye, his brow scrunched up in concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Billy said, pointing to his headphones. “I think these help.”
It felt like the logical answer, one even Solomon backed up, though it didn’t explain why Mr. Kent was fine without any protection from the sound still ringing through the air. Maybe he had damaged hearing? Not completely deaf like those women he’d seen beating a hasty retreat to the safety of their hotel, but enough to mitigate the effects of whatever was happening. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but Mr. Kent beat him to the punch.
“Come on let’s get you out of here,” he said, grabbing hold of one of Billy’s arms. “This screams Lex Luthor to me and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”
Luthor. Now that made sense. His grudge against Lois Lane was almost as bad as his ongoing hatred for Superman. Hurting one by controlling the other—and countless other innocent people too—sounding exactly like something a supervillain of his caliber would do.
Billy dug his heels in, trying and failing to stop Mr. Kent from pulling him along. “But I can help! We’re the only ones not affected which means its our responsibility to help!”
“We still have to be smart about this,” Mr. Kent countered. “If we rush in half-cocked we could just make things worse. So please, just stick close to me.”
He knew that technically he could slip away and transform into Captain Marvel, but he did not want to risk becoming a super powered slave to Luthor’s mind control signal. And just because he was in Metropolis didn't mean he was going to sit around and wait for Superman to come save him.
The mindless hordes of journalists congregated in the main hall, their blank gazes pointed in the same direction—up.
Billy followed their line of sight even as he stumbled along behind Mr. Kent.
“Look!” he called out, forcing Mr. Kent from his single minded pseudo rescue attempt. “Luthor’s already here!”
Sure enough, Lex Luthor stood on the balcony overlooking the main hall, his arms stretched wide as if he were some sort of tyrannical king basking in the presence of his followers. Billy certainly knew the type.
Mr. Kent froze. He kept his eyes trained on Luthor as the odd purple helmet he wore grew brighter. Then he gave some kind of order that had the reporters all lining up to collect ominously green glowing weapons from a half dozen or so goons that had been fitted with anti-mind control helmets. Because this was definitely mind control. It didn’t have quite the same finesse as Mr. Mind’s typical fanfare, but the signs were still there.
And well, if there was one thing he’d learned in his years of fighting a certain telepathic Venusian worm, it was that blocking the source of the signal was their best bet at putting a stop to Luthor’s plans. And if Luthor was the sort of egotistical supervillain everyone claimed he was then he’d have the only means of controlling it. So if Billy could just get to the balcony…
“We have to pretend to be controlled like the others,” he hissed at Mr. Kent. “Then when we get close enough, I'll need you to cause a distraction.”
“A distraction? Billy, that’s—“
“I have a plan.”
“It’s dangerous! I can’t just—“
“Trust me.”
Mr. Kent looked like he was going to argue more, but the crowd started pushing them forward. Almost instantly he grew pale and sickly. It might have been nerves or it might have been something else, but he looked like he was going to pass out the closer they got to the nearest Kryptonite wielding henchman.
In fact, he did drop to the ground just as the two of them reached the henchman. The man freaked out, rushing to check on the fallen journalist. Apparently fearing the consequences of one of their mind controlled pawns becoming an unforeseen complication overrode any suspicion he had about what exactly went wrong.
From the ground, Mr. Kent threw him a wink.
Billy bolted up the stairs. He crouched low, kept his steps light and his headphones clamped tight over his ears. It wouldn’t be good if he got controlled now.
Luthor was barking out questions to the henchman about Mr. Kent and demanding the others to hurry up so the mind controlled journalists could get into place for whatever scheme he had set in motion.
Billy peeked over the edge of the stair railing. Mr. Kent was still laid out on his back, playing up his illness. Other reporters were taking their places at all the exits, weapons hoisted high and ready to take on the Man of Steel when he arrived.
Superman would get bombarded with Kryptonite if he came inside through any of those doors. And he’d have to fight off the whole horde of journalists—innocent people who would certainly become collateral damage if he wasn’t careful. Luthor was probably banking on Superman letting himself take the hit so as not to hurt anyone under his control.
What a jerk. Billy was going to feel so good about foiling his plans.
He crept up the final few steps, staying low. Luthor was pacing the balcony now, scowling out at the crowd. The helmet he was wearing definitely had something to do with the mind control. But getting his hands on that was going to be tricky.
Billy was no scientific genius, but he was sure a mind control device would be pretty delicate. Maybe one good hit and some pulled wires would do the trick?
Worth a shot.
Billy scrambled around for something suitably heavy to use as a weapon and landed on a discarded stanchion that ordinarily held up the velvet ropes that blocked off the area when it wasn’t in use. It was solid, a bit awkward to hold, but leagues better than trying to do this with his bare hands.
Luthor was still cursing at his henchmen, shaking his fist in the air.
Before he could think better of it, Billy whacked him across the head, hearing a satisfying crack even through the melodic ringing and his own headphones. Luthor went down clutching his head and swearing, but the ringing continued though, which was a problem. It wasn’t like Billy could just beat Lex Luthor up without getting swarmed by mind controlled reporters. And he didn’t want to beat them up because it wasn’t their fault they were being controlled by a supervillain.
Luthor got to his feet eyes blazing with fury that was quickly replaced by confusion at the fact that a kid was standing over him and not Superman.
“Who are you?”
Billy ignored him, eyes zeroing in on a small handheld device sitting on the carpet next to Luthor’s feet. It had the Lexcorp logo on it and pulsed in time with the helmet.
Bingo!
Billy dropped the stanchion he was holding onto Luthor's chest and dove for the device, scooping it up and racing back down the stairs. Luthor gave pursuit, shouting at his mind controlled minions. “Seize the boy!” he commanded. “Bring him to me!”
Billy twisted out of the reach of the first few attackers, his fingers nimbly pulling the device apart to reveal the components beneath the surface.
Here’s to hoping it doesn’t blow up if he pulled the wrong wire.
He ducked under a table to avoid the reaching hands of his fellow journalists, pulling his recorder from his pocket and laying it side by side with the device he stole from Luthor. There were sounds of crashing tables and shattered glass as the crowd grew agitated trying to follow Luthor’s newest order.
Billy threw up a quick prayer, hoping that he remembered how to do this. He began gutting the device, connecting it to his recorder in hopes of rerouting the power to that instead of the helmet. Because once he did that it would only take a few clicks to make it—
The melodic ringing of the device stopped abruptly, replaced by the ringing of sudden silence.
Silence that was almost instantly shattered as people began shouting and talking over each other all at once. Billy allowed himself a few moments to be relieved that his idea worked before a particularly loud series of shouts drew his attention. He peeked out from under the table, relieved to see the mindless hordes were no longer attacking him. There was a commotion as security shook off their confusion and went after the goons who had been distributing the kryptonite weapons. Luthor himself was laid out on the ground sporting a bloody nose and broken helmet, Lois Lane standing over him, ready and willing to hit him again. Mr. Kent was beside her, not so subtly holding her back from further violence.
Billy waited until Luthor had been led off in handcuffs before approaching the group of his favorite reporters to check on them. He especially wanted to make sure Mr. Kent was okay.
When Ms. Lane saw him approach, she pointed a half-accusatory finger at him. “How did you do that?”
“I just reversed the input from my recorder,” he said with a shrug. “It’s calibrated to disrupt hypnotic signals that can be used for some forms of mind control. It’s pretty standard in Fawcett recording equipment ever since Mr. Mind came on the scene.”
“Standard,” she laughed breathlessly. “Of course it is.”
“I hope this doesn’t put too much of a damper on the rest of the conference,” Billy said. “I was kind of looking forward to some of the lectures.”
Mr Kent clapped him on the shoulder looking for all the world like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “We might have to rearrange a few things, but I think we can sort something out.”
“God, he’s like a mini Lois,” Mr. Olsen said with a shake of his head. “Right down to finding any excuse to give Lex Luthor a black eye.”
Ms. Lane rolled her eyes. “You say that like its a bad thing.”
“Let’s just not make a habit of it okay?”
“Whatever you say Mr. Kent.”
“We should probably get you back to your chaperone," he replied. "Do you see Joane anywhere?”
As if summoned by her name, Joane pushed her way through the crowd of bewildered journalists and police officers trying to collect all the kryptonite.
“There you are Billy!” she said, launching herself at him. She gave him a tight squeeze and a quick once over for injuries as she continued. “So much for keeping you out of trouble.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he reassured. “But maybe in hindsight we should have considered something like this might happen.”
“Yes, well hindsight is always 20/20.” She stood up, straightening her skirt and blouse with steady hands. “Let’s go give the police our statements and head back to the hotel. It’s been a long day.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you Billy,” Mr. Kent said as they said their goodbyes. “You were amazing back there. You really were the hero today."
"Oh it was nothing," he said, his cheeks pleasantly flushed.
"It was courageous and dangerous," Mr. Kent said.
"Not to mention newsworthy," Ms. Lane added.
Mr. Kent shot her a vaguely disapproving look. "Be that as it may, I'm glad everything worked out for the best today. I look forward to seeing all the great things you are going to do.”
“Yeah, we’re going to be keeping an eye on you for sure,” Ms. Lane said. She threw him a wink. “I’ll need to know all the up and coming stars in the field if I want to keep up with you kids.” She whipped out a business card and handed it to him. “Give us a call before you leave the city, we’ll treat you to some place nice as a thank you.”
Billy left the conference with a phone full of new contacts and a recorder full of one of a kind interviews with the people who brought news of the Justice League to the world. He had a great story to tell and a whole lot of new friends to tell his listeners about.
This was going to be his best broadcast ever.