O Is Not For Orphan [On Hold]

One || The Subject

The boy creeps into the old comic book shop every Saturday at around three in the afternoon.
He awkwardly ambles inside the dimly lit interior of the shop and makes his way towards the section where the Shmumberman series is displayed, his usual destination in his visits.
The boy, appearing no older than nine, arrives dressed in an outdated, faded t-shirt and jeans worn into bare threads around the knees. A mop of long, untidy brown locks hangs past his ears. It is his usual appearance; The appearance that had the old shop clerk keep an eye out for any theft in his first few visits.
Now the clerk has grown used to the boy, or at least, comfortable enough knowing that the boy only walks in to browse. He nods at him as he walks past the counter, plastered with the fading posters of long-forgotten heroes and heroines.
The boy stands before the display shelf of the latest Shmumberman volumes. He runs his eyes over their glossy, colorful covers hungrily.
Pulling one off the shelf, he plops down on the scratchy, stained carpet beneath him and begins to read, falling into the world of his hero, Shmumberman.
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Just outside the shaded storefront of the comic shop, two boys peer through the water-stained display window with cupped hands.
The two ten year-olds are clad in matching navy blue uniforms, complete with striking red ties and Chuck Taylors. Upon the breast pocket of their uniform blazers is a gleaming badge brandishing the image of a Jackalope along with a certain number.
The shorter boy, a pale brunette with black glasses frames, moves away from the window and peels his badge off of his coat, flipping the cover of it open.
Pressing it against his ear, he listens closely to the ringing on the other end, waiting for the sound of a snapping voice.
"Hello? Agent Oren?", a voice suddenly barks on the other end.
The brunette winces and holds his badge-phone away from his ringing ear.
"Yes, Ms. O. I'm calling to give you an update on the current mission-", he begins with a deep breath.
"And?! What have you and Agent Olaf got so far? Spit it out!"
Oren glances at the taller boy beside him, who has begun writing his name out in the dusty glass with his finger.
"Well. We've got the subject cornered in a comic book store so far...we're just waiting for the right time to make our move, ma'am."
There is a brief silence on the other end of the line. It it a painful silence and it terrifies Oren.
"Good, good. Great work, agent. You know what to do from here on out. I'll be expecting another update soon.", the voice of Ms. O finally replies in a much kinder tone before hanging up.
Letting out a large sigh of relief, Oren snaps his badge shut and replaces it back on his blazer.
"We've got this in the bag, Olaf. We just need to approach him carefully and casually.", he whispers to his partner,  unable to contain the excitement from his voice.
"Now!",  Olaf beams, making his way towards the entrance of the shop.
"No, no! Not yet!", Oren gasps, gripping his partners arm. We have to lay low for a little while...stay inconspic-"
"Hey! What're you two doing, loitering around my shop?", a scratchy voice suddenly snaps.
It belongs to the old clerk of the shop, who has stepped outside.
"We, ah, apologize, sir. We were just-"
The clerk jabs a fat finger in the boy's direction.
"You've got trouble written across your foreheads, the both of you! If you ain't buying or browsing, you better scram. Now beat it!", the man barks, steadily growing purple in the face.
Oren nods and takes hold of his partner's shoulder, hastily directing them in the opposite way of the sidewalk, away from the shop.
"Change of plans! We're getting hot dogs at that one place we passed by and waiting for our subject someplace else...", Oren groans, stomping the soles of his scuffed red Chucks hard into the cracked sidewalk.
"Yay!"
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*I think it can be inferred who the boy in the comic book store is at this point... : )