Chapter 3: Belief — Part 3
The black van pulled up outside a rundown, two-story apartment building.
Rick Flag stepped out first, surveying the surrounding area. His gaze moved from the cracked windows to the weathered walls and the narrow alley beside the building.
Not bad.
The place was isolated enough to keep unwanted attention away, yet close enough to the city that they could deploy quickly if the situation called for it.
He was already mapping out the building's tactical advantages and potential weaknesses in his head.
Joey climbed out next, running a hand through her short maroon hair as she took in their new home.
"What a dump!"
She stared at the building in disbelief.
"Seriously? We're supposed to live here? This place looks like a crime scene that got condemned, and then the people who condemned it got murdered, too!"
She wrinkled her nose.
"I bet a gazillion people have died in there. Probably ghosts in the walls. Maybe one of them's a little girl who sings nursery rhymes at three in the morning."
She paused, considering that possibility.
"Actually, that'd be kinda cute."
Flag gave her a sidelong glance.
"Are you done?"
"Not even close."
He sighed and headed for the entrance.
Lieutenant Steel stepped out of the van next. He barely spared the building a glance before walking past Flag and heading inside, apparently having no interest in commenting on their new accommodations.
Helena Cross emerged last. She joined Flag and Joey, studying the building with a far more measured expression.
"Well, let's get set up," Flag said.
He followed Steel inside.
Helena walked around to the back of the van and opened the rear doors. Inside sat a large metal case, secured in place.
She looked over her shoulder at Joey.
"You gonna help, or what?"
Joey's face immediately lit up.
"Sure thing, Helle!"
"Don't call me that. Ever."
Helena's expression remained impassive.
"Aw, c'mon! It's cute. It's got personality. It's got pizzazz."
"No."
"Fine. Helena it is. Very elegant. Very serious. Very 'I file my taxes early and alphabetize my underwear.'"
Helena stared at her.
Joey grinned.
"That was a compliment, by the way."
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed one end of the metal case. Helena took the other, and together they lifted it out of the van.
They started toward the building.
"So, important question," Joey began.
Helena said nothing.
"If you had to fight one hundred ducks the size of horses, or one horse the size of a hundred ducks, which would you pick?"
Silence.
"Personally, I'd pick the ducks. Imagine the tiny little quacks! Adorable. Deadly, but adorable."
Helena kept walking.
"Although, hang on. Would the giant horse still have, like, normal horse proportions? Or would it be a hundred times bigger in every direction? Because that'd be a whole different problem. Do you know how much horse there'd be?"
Helena's eyes shifted toward Joey.
Just briefly.
Joey noticed.
"Oh! You are listening!"
"I'm not."
"Your eyes say otherwise."
"My eyes say I'm reconsidering how much of this case I can carry by myself."
"Wow. That's cold, Helle."
"Helena."
"Right, right. Helena."
They reached the front steps.
Joey glanced up at the building, then leaned slightly toward her end of the case.
"Hey, do you think the ghosts here can possess people? Because if they can, I've got a few questions for them. Like, do ghosts get bored? Can they taste food? And if one possesses me, does that mean I get to haunt people without having to die first?"
Helena's grip tightened around the case.
"Joey."
"Yeah?"
"One more question, and I'm dropping this on your foot."
Joey gasped.
"You wouldn't!"
Helena looked her dead in the eye.
"Try me."
For a moment, Joey studied her face.
Then she broke into a delighted grin.
"Oh, we're gonna be *best friends.*"
Helena closed her eyes for one long, weary second.
She was beginning to understand why Flag had looked so relieved to get inside first.
-------
Morning sunlight illuminated the streets outside Gotham High as students arrived for another day of classes. Cars pulled up along the curb, dropping off students while groups of friends gathered near the entrance, chatting and laughing before heading inside.
Within the school, Ben walked down the hallway with Kevin and Gwen at his side.
Then he spotted Barbara Gordon standing by her locker.
He slowed.
"Hey, I'll catch up with you guys," he told his friends.
Kevin followed his gaze and immediately grinned.
"Oh, this should be good."
"Shut up, Kevin," Ben muttered before walking toward Barbara.
Gwen watched him go, trying to hide her smile.
Ben stopped in front of Barbara's locker.
"Hi," he began.
"Hi," Barbara replied.
And just like that, the conversation came to a halt.
Ben had spent so long keeping his distance from people outside his family and his closest friends that even a simple greeting felt awkward. He wasn't used to making small talk, especially with someone he barely knew.
Barbara wasn't doing much better. She hadn't spent much time around boys her age, and now that she was actually standing in front of one who wanted to talk to her, she found herself struggling to think of anything to say.
A short distance away, Kevin pressed his lips together, desperately trying to hold back a snicker.
Gwen elbowed him.
"Don't," she warned.
"I'm not doing anything!"
"You're literally shaking."
Kevin turned away, shoulders trembling as he fought to contain his laughter.
Meanwhile, Ben took a breath and decided to get the awkward part out of the way.
"So... um, I wanted to apologize for... well, the things I said at dinner the other night."
Barbara's expression softened.
"No worries. Water under the bridge."
"Right. Good."
Silence.
Ben mentally cursed himself.
*Come on, say something.*
He glanced at her locker, then back at her.
"So... how's the closed-loop ecosystem coming along? Think we should work on it again today?"
"Um, yeah." Barbara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We can meet up around the same time as yesterday."
"Sounds good."
For a moment, it seemed like they might finally manage a normal conversation.
Then—
"BARBARA!"
A girl came rushing down the hallway, moving so quickly that several students had to step aside to avoid being bowled over.
She had long red hair that fell past her shoulders in uneven layers, with loose strands constantly slipping across her face. Thick, black-framed glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose. She wore an olive-brown sweater with the sleeves pushed up, a bold teal band across one forearm, and a small teal emblem on her upper arm. Loose khaki pants fell over a pair of worn brown shoes.
Pamela Isley had arrived.
And judging by the look on her face, the world was in danger.
"Barbara, I need your help!"
She stopped in front of her friend, barely pausing to catch her breath.
"Pamela? What's wrong?" Barbara asked.
"They're cutting it down!"
"Cutting what down?"
"The tree! The seven-year-old tree on the east side of the campus! They've scheduled it for removal, and we have to stop them!"
Pamela spoke so quickly that Barbara needed a moment to process everything.
"Okay, okay. Slow down." Barbara raised both hands. "Take a deep breath."
"No time for breathing, Barbara! Every second we waste is another second that tree spends living under the threat of an axe!"
Pamela threw her hands up in frustration.
"Seven years! Do you understand how long seven years is for a tree? It's been growing there since before half the students here even knew what photosynthesis was!"
Barbara blinked.
Ben watched the exchange, momentarily forgotten.
He'd heard of Pamela Isley before. Most students knew her as the girl who could turn almost any conversation into a lecture about plants, ecosystems, or humanity's terrible treatment of the environment.
She wasn't exactly unpopular because she was mean or unpleasant.
She was simply... a lot.
And most people didn't have the patience to keep up with her.
Barbara, apparently, was the exception.
"All right," Barbara said, giving Pamela a reassuring smile. "I'll help you. We can talk to the administration and see if there's a way to stop the removal."
Pamela's expression brightened instantly.
"Yes! I knew I could count on you!"
Then she noticed Ben standing beside them.
Her eyes flicked toward him.
"Oh! You can bring your friend, too!"
Ben pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"Yes, you!" Pamela said, as if there were something ridiculous about him even asking. "We need as many people as possible. Two people make a protest, like, twice as effective. Probably more, depending on how loud they are."
She leaned closer.
"Do you know any good protest chants?"
"Uh..."
"Doesn't matter. We'll workshop it on the way!"
"Pamela," Barbara interrupted gently, "he might have other things to do."
"Oh. Right."
Pamela turned back to Ben.
"So, are you coming?"
Ben offered an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, but I've got some things I need to take care of today."
Pamela looked disappointed for approximately half a second before recovering.
"Fine! More people would be better, but we work with what we've got. The tree isn't going to save itself!"
She grabbed Barbara by the wrist.
"Come on! We have to move!"
"Pamela, wait! I need to get my things!"
"Bring them! Trees don't respect schedules!"
Barbara hurriedly shut her locker and turned back to Ben.
"Sorry about that."
Ben chuckled.
"It's fine. I'll see you later?"
"Yeah. Same time as yesterday."
"See you then."
Barbara gave him a small smile before Pamela pulled her down the hallway, already launching into another explanation of why cutting down a perfectly healthy tree was an environmental catastrophe.
Ben watched them disappear into the crowd.
Then he turned and headed in the opposite direction.
Behind him, Kevin finally let out the laugh he'd been holding back.
"Oh, man. You two were painful to watch."
Ben closed his eyes.
"Kevin, I swear to God..."