Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The subway rattled along, same as it ever did. Nothing ever really changed, Billy mused, on his way to a school he was bored of, with classmates that thought it was fun to pick on him. When he remembered it was Monday, he sighed with the realization that he'd have to try to fit in all the usual work the school assigned before helping clean the group home in time to meet the foster parents looking to interview. It rarely happened. ‘Oh well. I can probably find the change for a soda to stay awake and finish. Maybe. At least I get Mondays off at the station,’ he mused. He scrounged his bag for coins until his stop approached.

The train slowed and stopped, allowing the normal early morning press of students in uniforms, businessmen in their constricting looking ties, and the last few laborers of the morning. Billy couldn't shoulder his way through like most did, but he slipped through the throng and slid his way out of the car and up the stairs, for once thankful he was short.

The walk was as uneventful as the ride, and as deep in thought as Billy was, he nearly missed his friend Freddy on the entrance stairs. “Billy. Billy. Hey! Man, are you ok? You look beat.”

Billy’s face-splitting yawn gave lie to his garbled denial, but Freddy just laughed as he prodded Billy along with his crutch. ‘His leg must not be troubling him today,’ Billy thought, allowing himself to be ushered up the last steps and into the entrance of Fawcett High.

He wasn't distracted enough to miss the usual crowd of burnouts that spent most mornings harassing Freshmen, though. Freddy was a common target of theirs, despite being taller than some of them and a sophomore. “It started,” Freddy had explained, “with being crippled. But my mouthing off to them is what made sure I was their favorite.” Billy had always been privately sure that it had something to do with hanging around the Honors class enrolled, secondhand clothes wearing, freshman aged Billy. Not that Freddy would ever admit it.

In unspoken agreement, they attempted to time their approach to blend in with the crowd. The average student was kind enough to avoid jostling Freddy, so their chameleon approach was defeated by the empty space around them and the empty space that always seemed to surround the bullies. This early in the morning, the harassment was never much. Just enough to give a bad start to the day. This morning it was limited to just some malicious laughter and a barely audible “Cripple.” Freddy breezed past, but Billy stopped short for just a moment, and only resumed walking when Freddy said, quietly, “C’mon. It’s not worth it.” Billy scowled and, once he had caught up, said “It is to me. You’re ten times better than they are.” Freddy just laughed and said, “I know. I don’t need to get beat up to prove it.”

Classes were as they always were. Honors chemistry, honors math, honors english, each assigning work like they were the only one that mattered, and then a too-short lunch that Billy ate alone while trying to get a head start on the work. Mr. Hayman, the group home leader, had packed him a peach. For all his stuck-up behavior and lectures, making sure Billy had his favorite fruit to enjoy at school showed how much he cared.

After lunch, heading upstairs to his slew of afternoon classes, he saw Freddy heading down lunchroom. His head was down, and he was moving fast. Billy was too far away to get his attention, and he didn't seem to want to wait around. Freddy always tried to get out of the hallway as fast as he could, and never relied on the always hovering excuse of his leg. As the press of students intensified and the jostling backpacks and traffic jams buffeted Billy back and forth, he thought that maybe hurrying to class wasn’t such a bad idea.

The afternoon proceeded much the same as the morning, but with more sneaking of his other classes’ homework. By the time the day was done, his work was nearly so. After his last class, he felt free to move with a little more leisure. Freddy’s ride didn’t come until nearly 4, and he had the timing to the Subway down pat to still get the fast train back to the home. He could take his time and get to the first floor before Freddy was ready to leave his last - and worst - class.

He reached the door just as Freddy walked out, calling out his thanks to his teacher for the extra help. When he noticed Billy, he said with a smile “Got all my Lit work done. Why do I keep you around for help when I can have Ms. Morsen explain it, again?”

Laughing, BIlly responded “Because she can teach you Lit, but she’s not the one who stays up writing your papers with you and pity laughing at your jokes.”

When Freddy slung his arm over Billy’s shoulder, he knew that Freddy was feeling good that day. He almost never risked taking his crutch’s arm brace off in public, and was hardly putting any weight on Billy’s shoulder. They walked, separating before they reached the stairs in front of the school, planning to wait there until the van Freddy rode had arrived.

“You crashed last night before you told me your favorite superhero.” Freddy said, carefully stretching his leg as he sat.

Billy scoffed, “That’s because you talked to me about your crush on Wonder Woman for two hours. I must’ve passed out from boredom.”

“Oh yeah, right. I talked about how cool she was. Her being attractive doesn’t have a thing to do with it.”

“Keep telling yourself that buddy. I dunno, anyway. I don’t really have a favorite. Probably just Superman.”

Freddy pulled a face at that. “What a cop-out. Everybody’s favorite is Superman. It’s boring.”

“Fine then, Mr. I’m-So-Smart. Flash. He’s funny and everybody likes him. Plus he seems like a lot more fun than most of the rest of them.”

The conversation devolved into friendly ribbing and Freddy’s crush on Wonder Woman from there.

Just as the last bell of the day rang to release the kids held back for detention, the van Freddy rode in pulled up.

Billy was almost pulled off balance as he helped Freddy up and walked with him to the van, trying to get a little more hanging out done before the night’s chores and watching the younger kids.

Freddy pulled Billy onwards, ignoring the same upperclassmen that had mocked him that morning, moving between the back of the van and the front of an empty bus to put his bag in. Just as Freddy was closing the door, Billy was shouldered to the side, tripping on the curb and falling hard on his bookbag, the breath whooshing out of him. Freddy was instead pushed hard against the grille of bus, three rough looking jerks shoving their way to surround him. Faster than Billy could get up, or even call out, the shortest of the lot had grabbed the crutch Freddy had been casually holding and tossed it aside, nearly hitting Billy.

“Look guys, the cripple can walk without his cane! It’s a miracle,” the bulkier one said, pushing Freddy back up against the grille and held him there with a hand.

“Back off, Kyle.” Freddy said, somehow looking confident even with the odds stacked against him. “It’s more a miracle you were even allowed back after screwing your grades so badly you got kicked off the football team.”

A knee to the bad leg was all it took for Freddy to crumple with a gasp of pain, and Kyle let him slump to the ground.

Billy had stood up with the cane, but was motivated to do more when the tall one on the far side spit onto Freddy as he lay curled around his leg and wound up to kick him while he was down.

He didn’t think of a clever quip, or really think at all when he said “Hey, jerk,” and promptly jabbed Kyle in the gut with the crutch as he turned. The enormity of what he did dawned very quickly on him after that, and he dropped the crutch and ducked away from Kyle’s wild swing in his direction. Wild-eyed, he did the only thing that made sense to him when faced with such overwhelming odds. He turned and sprinted away. The chase was brutal. The older boys had longer legs and weren’t burdened by their backpacks, and all Billy had was familiarity with the direction and nimble feet to sneak through closing gaps in pedestrian crowds.

The route he took was longer than his normal path, but he managed to reach the subway with practised timing, approaching the passage down as the train disgorged its exiting passengers and dodging a grasping hand long enough to slide down the railing of the stairs. He slapped his wallet onto the RFID reader and slid through the turnstile, barely aware of his pursuit hopping the gate to chase him. He stepped into the train as the doors closed and turned, just in time to take a fist to his nose through the closing portal, knocking him down for a second time that day.

With his nose throbbing, he hardly noticed the hand that helped him off the ground, and especially didn’t notice the dirty nails or shaggy beard of the man he was thanking for his help. “No problem,” he responded, smiling wide and asking “Got any change?”

Billy smiled back, suppressing a sigh and fishing out the change he had gathered that morning. The man smiled even wider and said “Thank you, son. You should get that nose looked at when you can.”

“I will, sir,” Billy said as he placed his bag on the seat and took a close look at his reflection in the window.

A shadow passed over the traincar while he was looking closely at himself, and he didn’t notice that the car was emptier and quieter without seeming to change at all. There was a chill in the air that seemed out of season to the spring thaw, and the shadows seemed to come faster and longer, the wheels of the train clacking faster and faster. Billy noticed this all in a rush, and fell flat against his seat. His breath came faster, visible in the chill. Sparks crawled over the doors and the now darkened overhead lights, and he screamed as the wheels and tracks merged their howling into one cacophonous roar.

Just as suddenly, it stopped. The scream caught in his throat as the doors opened to a stop he had never seen, all old stone and distant lights in the tunnel. The lights stayed out, and the doors stayed open, and the eerie silence of the place would have convinced him it was a dream except for his heavy breaths and the persistent throbbing of his nose.

A voice whispered, far down the tunnel, carrying over the still air. He strained his ears listening, hearing three words, repeated over and over. “Come to me,” it said. And Billy found his legs moving on autopilot as he walked to the door.

He stepped out into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The light was growing bigger. He was certain of it. He had walked for what felt like days, but he knew that couldn’t be true. He hadn’t gotten hungry, or sleepy. His legs felt like lead, though. The thought of turning back never really crossed his mind. He had glanced over his should a time or two, but there wasn’t anything to draw him that way. Behind him it was truly dark instead of the shadowy weirdlight that beckoned him forward. And whenever he thought to stop, that voice called out to him, louder and clearer, almost encouraging now instead of commanding. He had to reach it. He had come this far and would follow this to the end.

The light flickered like flames as he drew near. When he finally caught sight of the dual torches, flanking an arch of ancient stone, he nearly laughed in relief at the pop and hiss of flame, the first sound besides that echoing, beckoning voice and the sound of his own breath in longer than he could seem to remember.

“Well done, child. Come forth.” The man stood heavily on a staff, but looked like he was once powerfully built. Billy stepped closer to him, unsure why he was intimidated by this ancient looking man. This hunched senior seemed larger to Billy than anyone he had ever seen, despite being only a little taller than Freddy. He walked closer while Billy stood stock still, muttering to himself and peering intently at him. “Yes. Yes, I think he has chosen well. You will make a fine champion.”

He turned around, walking towards a throne built out of the stone of the earth, less constructed than formed. Billy started, rapt attention broken as he locked onto the word “Champion”. “Wait, what champion? And who are you? How did you bring me here?”

“Silence, child. All will be explained in time.” He sat down heavily on the chair, sighing with relief. “I am, as you would say, a wizard, and you are to be a champion. I call you mine, but in truth you will be the champion of all mankind. I have chosen you, and will grant you strength to bring battle to those that would consume the heart of man.”

Billy’s eyes went wide. It sounded like all his dreams come true. It sounded better than anything he could imagine. It had to be a trick. “What, so you just zap me with magic and I turn into Superman? Yeah, right. Nobody gives away something like that for free.”

“You are correct, child. The cost is great. You would take on a burden enough to bow the backs of all of mankind. It would steal everything from you. But you would have strength enough to carry the burden. You would be an icon of good for all the world to see. You would be the best of all mortals.”

There was fear in Billy’s eyes as the wizard seemed to glow with an inner fire, but there was a ring of truth in the words. Billy thought on what he said. Oddly detached, the words didn’t sound like threats or even warnings. Just facts. Just how the world was. If he chose it. Could he choose it? Could he do that?

“That’s not… Why? Why me?”

“Because you have felt the kindness and cruelty of the world, and face it without despair. You have seen the ugliness that people try to conceal, and stand up for what is right, even when you hardly have the strength to stand on your own two feet.” The wizard’s voice dropped low and his head bowed. “You willingly bear burdens so that others might not. I have seen it in your heart, and I know it to be true. I have watched your trials, and your defeats. And I have chosen you.”

“I’m just a kid. Why not choose someone else? Someone bigger? If you’re gonna turn me into Superman, why not just ask Superman?”

“Kal-El is a good man, and he would be worthy, but for one thing. He has never known powerlessness. He has always been, and will always be, what he is. He does a service to the world, but only the power of the gods will be needed in the coming trials, and power like this can corrupt even the best of men. I know this to be true.”

Billy shook his head rapidly. “I don’t want to be corrupted. If Superman or the rest of the Justice League couldn’t handle that kind of power I for sure can’t.”

“It is because you are afraid of doing evil with the power that you can be trusted with it. But still, you would continue the life you live. It bounds you to the your true self. Others have fallen victim to the lure of power, but this power is only meant to be a tool of good deeds. And I believe you would do good in the world.” With his voice rising, and his eyes crackling with power, he asked, “Billy Batson. I offer you the power of the gods. You must choose to bear this weight. To hold back the unending tide. But you must choose it. Will you take the burden, and the power to bear it?”

Billy asked himself, clear headed and more relaxed than he would have expected, whether he would be willing to fight evil like the Wizard was asking him to. “I would.” He realized he had spoken aloud, but it was true. If he were offered the choice to fight evil, to be a hero, he would take it. And here he was, being offered a chance. “I would.” He repeated, stronger now. “I will be the champion.”

The wizard’s beard disguised his smile, but his eyes were kind instead of stern. “Yes. You will do. We have chosen you well, young man. Your heart holds the good of man in it.” His voice rose in volume, louder and louder. “Now you will hold the power of gods as well. Speak my name. Shout it with the will to act. Say the name SHAZAM!”

Heart pounding, Billy gathered his courage and called out the word, and as it left his mouth, the wizard slammed his staff into the ground, and a great bolt of lightning leapt from it and struck BIlly Batson in the center of his chest, filling him with energy and crackling upwards into the high, high ceilings of the cave and redoubling as if fell back into him.

When the smoke cleared, the child Billy Batson was gone. In his place stood a man that could have stepped out of a storybook. He stood, lightning spilling off of him, filling him with more strength than he could have ever imagined. “This is… incredible.”

“Believe it, Champion. You have embraced the power of the gods. You are the champion. You are SHAZAM.”

“But aren’t you Shazam?”

A gesture of the staff and a chair rose out of the ground like the stone throne that the wizard seated himself back on. “I was. Now I am only the Wizard. Now sit, and listen to a tale of the gods.”

Chapter Text

My name was… is... Mamaragan. I was once a boy, growing into a man. The old days were harder, and the world colder. But it was my world. I knew nothing different. Back then, magic and mysticism were more real. They were forces in the world, used for good or evil. Now, magic is asleep. Called into wakefulness by tools or artifacts. But it is awakening. Without careful effort, the world will return to the dark times when power was granted for the price of souls. Where kings sought the favor of gods, and gods sought to tear down each other.

These were the days of the Old Gods. Born of the chaos of the unshaped worlds. Limited by nothing but each other. They have moved on now, but then, in ages past, they used their power to shape the world for their own purposes. And humans were the casualties. The sorcerer-kings enslaved and sacrificed us for fleeting power and favor of cruel beings, and we died at their whim. So many dead. So many broken.

Not all of the gods were so cruel. Small gods, unwilling to use us as pawns. They hatched a secret plan, kept closer to their hearts than their lives. They chose a vessel. They chose to place all their power into one being, who would act as they desired. Who would choose to fight the demons and monsters and keep those they loved as their own children from harm. They needed someone simple, and kind, and peace-loving.

They chose me. I was a shepherd then. I was sickly, weak, and full of anger at the world.

And I was alone.

I stood in the fields with the sheep. Dumb animals that I had to protect from other dumb animals. I hated everything because it existed, but in truth I hated myself, and my pain, and my loneliness. All I had was the sheep.

I don't think I've ever felt so alone as then.

Then I heard a voice. Speaking to me from nowhere. I felt certain I was mad, but when the voice introduced himself and proved its existence with knowledge I could not have, I was forced to acknowledge him. Solomon the Wise. A god of forethought. He was the first friend I ever knew, and he saved me from my hate.

Later, he brought more minor deities to me. Others who were willing to protect the world instead of exploit it. They revealed their plan to me, to join their strength together and invest it into one champion. All other candidates had failed their tests.

Hercules was a hunter-god. His champion proved too violent and indulged her anger.

Atlas was a god of the threshold and protection. His choice was unmoved by the plight of others.

Zeus was a god storms. His dreamed of vengeance on those who wronged him.

Achilles was a god of hunters. He chose a reckless young man.

Mercury was a god of dreams. His choice was cowardly, and afraid of conflict.

And I was Solomon's choice. Unlike the others, he had chosen someone against his own nature. I was not wise. I did not know any better than others, and I certainly didn't fit his own ideals. Instead he chose to mold and guide me. The other gods' champions were too close to their natures, and their own flaws were reflected in them. For how could brash and impulsive Hercules curb the same impulses in another? But Solomon's wisdom and sage advice could temper my failings.

They were gods, built of belief and ideas, so we shaped each other. They gave me strength and healed my broken body, and my belief gave them the ideals they came to embody. I sold the sheep and travelled to gathering places, speaking of them with reverence and love, and with my new might I shattered the stranglehold of sorcerers and the creatures of the deep darkness beyond the world.

And as my fame grew, so did their power.

People saw my actions, and knew I was the Champion. They believed in the gods I served, because we protected them. Their benevolence united villages into cities into nations.

Years passed, and I was known as the Chosen of the Gods. They grew, and changed, and the power they gave to me grew and changed as well. They were no longer small gods, but gods in their own right. Their myths took on lives of their own, and they shaped themselves. They took on more than the limited domains that they had when I met them.

Zeus took on a mantle of leadership and the sky. His scheming had given them the idea of a champion, and the others bowed to his ambition.

Atlas's myth became part of the cosmogony - the shaping of the world - and so granted him timelessness.

Achilles drove out the wicked more tirelessly than any other, and was tied to courage and drive.

Hercules challenged evil, and with his great strength, drove it out. Thus strength and heroism was his domain.

Mercury brought people together in community, and became the god of messages and speed.

And Solomon, my old friend, grew legendary because of his wisdom.

In time, they did not truly need my assistance to survive. But they trusted me, and when, together, we defeated demons of blackest hell, they gave me the solemn duty to be their jailer. That has been my fate for thousands of years. Here, on the Rock of Eternity, I have waited.

And now that magic is returning to the world, so too are the ancient evils we once struggled against, and the might of a new champion will be needed. So I have found you. You are to be the next Champion of the Gods. You will be Shazam. I have given you the powers granted to me by the gods. Though they have left this world for higher planes, they still reach down to grant their might to their champions.

I must stay here as long as I am able. Only as long as my will enforces it do these demons lay dormant in their prisons, and so you must campaign against evil in the world.

Now it is time you leave this place. You will forget, for a while, but in a time of dire need, you will know to call upon your power. Speak the name once more, and be returned to the mortal world.

Billy's eyes, starstruck and enchanted at the history lesson and the visions imparted by the Wizard, drooped closed as he whispered the name - his new name - Shazam. He was already asleep by the Wizard's mesmerization when the lightning struck again, returning him to his true form.

Mamaragan sat heavily on his throne. "Tawny. Come to me."

Out of the darkness a strongly built and well fed tiger stalked. It came near the Wizard's chair, and spoke in a strangely sonorous voice. "Shazam? Are you well?"

"I am… no longer Shazam, Tawny. I am once more Mamaragan, and Mamaragan alone. I used the last remnants of the gods' powers to create the channel that young Billy will use to take the form of Shazam. But you must go now. Take him back to where you met with him, and watch him carefully."

Tawny lifted the boy in his jaws and disappeared into the tunnel without a whisper to trace him, save for a heavy breath as he looked back at Mamaragan, his constant companion, collapsed and weak.

As Tawny brought the boy back to the train, Mamaragan waited to die.

Chapter Text

Billy awoke with a start, slumped on his backpack, with perfect timing. The train was nearing his stop, and it gave him just enough time to shake off his drowsiness and realize where he was.

“You look like you had one hell of a nap, kid,” said the same raggedy looking man that had convinced him to pass over his change earlier. He was the only other person in the traincar. “Better hurry, now, or you’ll miss your stop.”

As Billy rushed out of the train, he thought for a moment how strange it was that the man had known that, but the stray thought was washed away in the tide of people on the platform. He rushed back to the home, eager as ever to finish cleaning up and helping out with the younger children. He had few illusions about getting adopted or even fostered himself, given the number of younger, more needful, or more determined children. He didn’t mind so much anymore. After the last trainwreck of a group home, he was just glad to have a home leader like Mr. Hayman and friends at this one.

He had fallen back into his usual rhythm, chalking up vague, disturbed recollections of heavy thoughts to the excitement of running from the bullies. ‘I hope Freddy’s okay. He should have had plenty of time to get away while they chased me.’

Billy reached the home, only a few blocks away from the subway entrance, and went to put away his bag and change clothes. Almost as soon as Billy entered the room, Freddy pulled his nose out of his comic and shook his head. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days. I appreciate it, though.”

“I had to, man. I couldn’t let them beat up on the both of us,” Billy responded, a rueful smile on his face. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. I feel fine, honestly.” He pulled a face. “But Hayman says I can’t get out of bed for anything but the bathroom.”

“That sucks. I’ll see if I can eat up here with you. I don’t really feel like babysitting during dinner anyways.”

“Cool. Can you grab my backpack before you go? I may as well work on homework while I’m trapped.”

Billy did so, then headed down to do his and Freddy’s part. Freddy’s didn’t take too much work – he was always assigned to checking the younger kids’ spelling with a volunteer named Morgan. Billy was pretty sure Freddy had a crush on her, too.

And she was pretty, in a bookish kind of way. About seventeen or eighteen, she was always gentle with the kids, even when Billy would have been past his breaking point. She made a point of thanking Billy for his help every time, but tonight she went out of her way to speak to Billy.

While their charges were busy with worksheets, she asked Billy “Are you alright? You seem a little… distant.”

“I’m ok. Thanks, Morgan. Just some weird dreams lately,” he confessed, recalling another quiet, confident voice from the depths of his mind.

“Well, I’m here for all of you, if you need to talk. Do you know if Freddy is doing okay? He was leaning pretty heavily on Mr. Hayman and his crutch when he came in.”

“I think he’s feeling better now that he’s off his leg. It got kneed at school.”

She gasped quietly “Oh no. And it was feeling so much better lately. I’ll have to stop by before I leave and see if I can do anything to help.”

She was quickly distracted by a middle schooler needing help with math, but sent a supportive smile towards Billy even as he was pulled into checking the work for a young girl.

Soon, Billy headed into the kitchen to help with the dishes – his other usual chore. Being one of the oldest in the home meant he “could be trusted with hot water” far more than the young ones. Billy didn’t think that was much of a reward, but it came with an hour later lights out than the year before, when he was just responsible for sweeping.

Mr. Hayman didn’t say anything out of the ordinary, which meant that Freddy hadn’t told him the full story of what happened after school. If he had, there would have been words to accompany the Looks that he gave Billy over his thick glasses. This was his way of implying that he knew more than outright saying that Billy was somehow involved. He just kept cooking, letting both Billy and the meal stew.

Billy had almost finished when he couldn’t handle it anymore. The expectant bubble of silence in the chaos of the house was too much. But if he was going to break, he was going to break how he wanted. “Freddy got hurt today,” He said, slowing his drying.

“I know,” was the only reply.

‘He’s a mastermind.’ Billy thought. ‘An evil genius.’ Billy had carefully created a story to emphasize how helpful and selfless he had been, but it was out the window in the face of such craft; there was no way he would get away with leaving out much detail. “It was Kyle and his goons again.” He nervously twisted the dishcloth in in hands.

“I know.” Hayman set down his tasting spoon and stood next to Billy, picking up the drying where Billy had left off.

Again. How could he contest this master of debate? “After they hit Freddy, I hit Kyle.” There. The hardest part of the story was out. He cringed away, hoping to withstand the tongue lashing.

“Could you have gotten someone to stop them from hurting him?”

Well that was… unexpected. “Not... really. It was after last bell, and we were down by the van.” He started putting dishes away, hoping to normalize the interaction.

“Any permanent harm to Kyle or yourself?”

Billy’s shoulders tentatively started to relax. “No. Just a crutch to the gut for him. I’m not even hurt.”

“I can’t condone what you did. As punishment, you’ll have to eat your dinner up in your room. Take Freddy’s up with you.”

Was this supposed to be a punishment? Or… wait. Was he letting-

“Violence is never something to be done without great deliberation.”

“What?” Billy asked, startled out of his thoughts.

“Just thinking out loud. Get yours and Freddy’s bowls and tell everyone that dinner is ready.”

Billy was shocked. Hayman was okay with this, for some reason. Or maybe not okay, but at least understood why he had done it. Getting to skip out on an awkward dinner with some prospective fosters and a chance to keep Freddy company all in one.

“Go on now. And in the future, be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt..”

That was not on the list of possible responses that Billy had expected. He had bet on some shouting, probably some extra chores. The best he had hoped for was lockdown in the home outside of work and school.

He grabbed a couple of the bowls set out for them and, once they were filled, hurried through the living room, calling out that dinner was ready and ducking out of the path of the stampede. He took his time getting up the stairs to his bedroom, and gave one of the bowls to an appreciative Freddy.

“You didn’t tell him that I hit Kyle.” Billy said as he sat down on his bed.

“No, I didn’t. I said that I was close enough to the van to just get in after I got hit.”

“Well that was mostly true. He knew something was up, though. I told him the truth.” Billy admitted.

Freddy stiffened, sitting up as much as his elevated leg allowed. “Oh crap. So what do you have to do now?”

“Nothing, really. He told me not to do it again, but I get the feeling he thought he would have done the same thing.”

“No way. He’s usually so strict about stuff.”

“I know, but I think he’d rather I hit somebody to make sure people don’t get hurt than stand by and watch.”

That seemed to satisfy Freddy’s interest, and he went back to attending to his dinner. Billy decided to follow suit. It was a filling, hearty meal. Hayman was a good cook, but his skills were limited to large-batch meals like soups or stews.

Billy found himself with a little time that he didn’t have anything to do, and spent it hanging out and chatting with his best friend. But despite his unexpected nap on the train, he was exhausted enough to want to go to sleep early.

His dreams were filled with the sound of lightning and muttered words, and a shadowed figure loomed larger than life.

Chapter Text

The next day was cloudy and grey, and the air felt heavy with the storm that had yet to break.

Billy was still groggy as he got on the train to school, and kept thinking he saw things out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t until he was spoken to that he realized he was sitting near a familiar face. It was the wild haired, heavyset homeless man from the day before.

“You look rough, Billy the Kid,” he said with a wide smile.

Billy thought he must have offered up his name yesterday, as abnormal as that was. “Just tired. I’ll be fine.”

“You better. Big things are happening, and you need to be ready.” It was the most solemn Billy had ever heard the man, though that wasn’t hard with their limited interactions.

“Sure thing, mister.” That was a little weird of an interaction, even for Fawcett City’s subway.

“You can call me Talky. Everybody does.” Back to all smiles.

Billy supposed that the moniker made sense. He certainly did seem to live up to it. “Alright, Mr. Talky. I gotta go. Goodbye.” Billy was glad that his stop was here already. He wasn’t entirely comfortable talking to this stranger, even as crowded as the train was.

School was just as uneventful. Kyle and his goons were nowhere to be seen, but that could very well have been due to suspension or, Billy hoped, expulsion. Waiting for his name to be called over the loudspeaker to punish him for his part in hitting Kyle had him tense and jumpy, and his mood was overall grim. He sat silently in class, and his smiles were brief compared to their usual warmth.

Freddy was still out of commission back at the home, but he stopped by and picked up Freddy’s assignments before heading to the station. It wasn’t a good show from Billy’s perspective, but nobody made any mention of it. He went through the community events and tried to muster up enthusiasm, but it drained away as soon as he could generate it.

By the time he was done with his segment, Sophia, the Program Director pulled him aside. “You look beat, dude. Somethin’ up?”

“It’s nothing, Ms. Sophia. Just been really tired all day.”

Sophia nodded at that. “I know that feeling, kid. Head home and get some rest. Remember, you’re shadowing Echo this Friday at the museum reopening.”

Billy felt a spark of excitement gain purchase. Echo, real name Edward Cho, was the most laidback worker at the station, and Billy’s favorite to work with. “I forgot all about that! Thanks, Ms. Sophia. I’m sure I’ll feel better by then.”

There was thunder and lightning as he walked home, and the air was humid and moist, but he didn’t feel any rain or see any puddles as he went.

The next few days failed to clear up or break the grey pall that seemed to simply lower at night as fog, then rise bank into the sky as the morning progressed. The unsettling dreams didn’t get much better, either. They simply clarified, the sound of thunder resounding louder, and the shadows growing more defined.

Kyle returned to school the next day, and hadn’t made any moves of retribution towards Billy. He avoided him entirely, in fact, and seemed to avoid Freddy as well, once Mr. Hayman cleared his return to school. Freddy did his best to deflect when pressed about what had happened, and most of his friends let the matter drop when he seemed uncomfortable. Billy just tried to keep his head down. He didn’t feel nearly as tired, but something was just off of normal – like his clothes didn’t quite fit right.

Elsewhere, a heartbeat stirred, and ghostly flesh reached out from an ancient bone. Static fuzzed out the cameras and security systems that surrounded the exhibit. It grabbed onto any solid substance it could find, incorporating it into a slowly swelling mass that pulsed and throbbed, growing into something larger than life.

That afternoon, things came into focus as Billy slept. The shadowed form that had inhabited his dreams the entire week came into sight, a bolt of lightning on his chest. To Billy, he was everything a superhero should look like. He was massive, built like he could bench press a firetruck. He looked serious, and stood in the shadows that swirled around, unaffected.

He looked up, and Billy saw his own eyes reflected in the man. “It’s time to wake up. It’s time to remember. Wake up and say our name. Say -”

The van jerked hard to the side and Billy awoke from his impromptu nap to chaos. Cars honked and crashes could be heard, but present over everything was a roar. Billy’s first thought was Godzilla from the movies, but then a second, a third called out. Billy could feel it deep in his chest, and then the pit of his stomach dropped out as the vehicle kicked hard, losing traction and sliding almost gently to rest against the bumper the car ahead.

Echo looked back over his shoulder, craning his head to stare, wide-eyed, out the back window. He saw Billy, and gasped “We gotta get out of here. That thing nearly crushed us! C’mon, we aren’t driving anywhere with these cars. My door has some room to get out.” He struggled with his seatbelt, then the door, then his seatbelt again, ignoring Billy’s questions and repeated calls to get his attention. He started and jerked away in surprise when Billy reached up and grabbed his sleeve, intent on figuring out what was going on.

“Eddie. What’s happening? Tell me, now.” It must have been finally calling him by his real name that got him to pay attention.

“Some dinosaur looking thing busted down the front of the museum while I was trying to find parking. Cars are backed up, so we’re not driving out of here, but we need to go.” He had barely finished before another roar, louder and closer than before, shook the air.

They bailed from the car, Billy feeling like there was something on the tip of his tongue, but not having the time to think about it as he looked over his shoulder and saw a massive grey-green torso leading up to one, two, three heads rising into the sky. Two were bitten down into a sedan, tugging it back and forth until, with a screech of metal, it shredded apart and was tossed aside. It looked around hungrily, spotting a fleeing group of ceremony attendees, including a man in a too big suit, with a broad, honest face and a build to match.

Even as Clark Kent looked for an alley to duck into, he was present-minded enough to ensure people’s safety in the chaos, shielding the smaller members of the crowd from being trampled in the confusion. He helped up a frail looking man that had stumbled, and after ensuring his footing, slipped away into an alley. It was a moment’s work to exchange his navy blue suit and glasses for the much brighter uniform of Superman. Faster than a speeding bullet, he took off into the air and raced towards the epicenter of the disaster.

The hydra didn’t know what hit it, at first. Its head was smashed to the side, careening into its neighbor and disorienting it, making it whip around wildly. With that one blow, the first head flopped loose, stunned. The other two were not so affected. The untouched head snapped viciously at the Man of Steel with teeth that weren’t so sharp as they were large, meant for gripping and tearing. Its speed was nothing Superman hadn’t seen before, and he dodged and maneuvered, swinging to smash the jaw shut and hopefully keep it from snapping at anything for a good long time. The mouth closed with a loud clack and the head swung wide, shaken, but surprisingly resilient.

A moment later, he found himself dodging the rest of the set. They had a brutal cunning to them, one attempting to draw his attention while the other snapped at his blind spot. Superman was able to evade the gnashing teeth, but regardless of how many times he hit them, the heads didn’t seem to register the blows. As time went by, the creature seemed to begin to anticipate his movements, snapping closer at his heels.

As soon as Billy heard the cry of “Superman! Superman is here!” that some bystander shouted, he stopped running. After all, what could some big dinosaur do to stop the Man of Steel? And how often would he get a chance to watch a superhero in action? So he turned around, starry-eyed, to watch Superman put a beatdown onto the hydra. He didn’t expect to see the fight turn against the hero, to the point where Superman exited the melee and flew up some distance.

Superman took a deep breath and focused his sight onto the hydra. He looked into the body of the beast with his X-Ray vision and was surprised to see that the hydra’s flesh was practically nonexistent! That meant magic. While he wasn’t particularly adept against spells or enchantments, he was sure he could win in a melee.

If he remembered his mythology, the Greek hero Hercules had defeated the immortal hydra by cutting off its heads and burning it with fire. He didn’t want to kill the thing, magic or not, but stopping a couple of those heads would be helpful. He narrowed his eyes once again, and used his heat vision to cut a path through one of the writhing necks.

He thought the battle all but over, the severed head disintegrating into dust and leaving behind the stone and metal it had used as a scaffold to grow. Unfortunately for him, the red-hot stump burst into a twisting growth that shaped itself into two more heads, each as large as the one it replaced. As Superman dove into fray to try and knot the heads together, the hydras several heads looked at one another and came, as one, to a decision. Before Superman could reach them, two of the four heads seized its neighbor and tore, a sickening wrenching noise occurring as what was four heads became six, and spun into a frenzy of gnashing teeth and flailing heads.

Billy’s wide smile and hopeful eyes turned to shock and horror as the heads surrounded Superman, knocking into him and preventing his escape with sheer numbers. No matter the blow, the heads recovered with no apparent damage to resume their harassment. As Superman was entangled in the mass of necks and the toothy maws, his certainty in the Man of Steel was replaced with despair as he was entangled in a knot of scales. Once Superman’s struggles were rewarded with another head, torn off and replaced by two more, his hope of a victory snatched from the jaws of defeat disappeared.

Chapter Text

With Superman tangled in a writhing mass of steely necks, Billy was distraught. Superman was THE hero. Without fail, he had saved Earth and who knows how many other planets. If he was lost, what could stop this thing?

As panic set in, a voice called out, cutting through the chaos. It was Talky, standing in an intersection, the crowd flowing around him like he wasn’t even there. “Billy. You know what you need to do. Say the name. Say-”

And like a bolt of lightning, the memories came flooding back. Everything, from the terrifying, unreal ride on the subway to the feeling of power as he called upon the gods. He remembered it all, and almost without even realizing it, said “SHAZAM.”

A true bolt of lightning crashed down onto him, splintering the concrete he stood on and setting off even more car alarms in the area. As the smoke cleared, he saw his perspective was changed, his stance, his clothes, everything was different. And he knew he could help. Something within him spoke, and he knew the hydra was his responsibility to deal with. As much as Superman could do to help Earth, this mythological monster was his duty.

He snapped into action, launching from his position faster than thought. There was no art to it, no grace. There was only the raw need to act. So act he did. Flinging himself bodily at the creature, he nearly missed it despite its size, and slammed into its lower body, then the ground. The beast was rocked when the Olympian man crashed into its side, bringing the quadruped onto two knees and triggering a roar of pain. Two of the necks unwound from their savaging of Superman to deal with the newcomer. They whipped down towards his recovering form, hoping to snatch him up and polish him off without any further trouble.

They were not so lucky. As they arced downwards, Shazam swung his fist to try and protect himself. It did more than that. The heads crashed into one another and recoiled, with broken teeth and bleeding maws. More heads whipped out of the mass that still struggled with the Man of Steel, but anything that could cause permanent damage was a much higher priority to the savage thing.

Its lack of thought served it badly. As soon as Superman was unoccupied by the endless gnashing maws, he broke free. He wound one neck around another in an attempt to stop the ruthless attacks without spawning any more heads. Its attention split, the hydra could pin down neither of the superheroes it was combating. Superman’s skill made up for the lack of permanent damage, and Shazam’s unchecked strength rocked the beast with each blow. The ground cratered beneath his mighty fists, crushing the hydra into the rubble pile of the street. The beast never let up. Cruel cleverness it may have had, its thoughts were no more than its own mindless hunger, beaten back by the duo. Broken teeth fell, shattered, to the ground and dissolved into nothingness, and soon the monster was a slumped pile of necks and bruises.

Superman floated to the ground carefully, perfectly controlled even after the struggle. He landed next to Shazam and eyed the lightning that still fizzed and popped around him. Fearless, he approached Shazam and extended a hand. “Thanks for the help there. I appreciate it. I’m Superman.”

Shazam’s eyes widened as his hero – THE hero – came close to shake his hand like he was a friend or a coworker. He sputtered. “I know. I mean, I know you’re Superman. I’m – I – Wow. I’m Shazam. Just wow. I never thought I’d – I mean I had always hoped to meet you.” He grabbed the Man of Steel’s hand enthusiastically.

With a chuckle, Superman accepted a handshake that would have crushed any normal person. “Shazam. That’s a good name. Careful with the lightning, though. People are about to start coming back.”

“Oh. Ha. Yeah. Umm, I’m not entirely sure how, but – Okay.” A deep breath later and the lightning did start to taper off, just as the crowd of people Superman predicted began to surge towards them.

But just as suddenly, they recoiled, and screams resounded once more. The hydra surged up again, more heads than before and more savage. It ignored strategy and tactics to seize the Man of Steel in two sets of jaws, trapping him immobile, lest he cause even more heads to rain destruction on the city. The heads that lunged after Shazam were not as on target. Bruised and swollen eyes misjudged their target even as they healed and tore up the earth even further as they skidded by, lunging back to wrap him like an anaconda’s coils.

Superman was pinned by multiple heads, all trying to tear at his impenetrable skin and failing, but still trapping him. Shazam’s cohort had him trapped, wrapped up to his waist and crawling higher, crushing tighter and tighter. The coils wrapped tighter and higher, capturing him, now, up to his chest and seeking to move higher. His arms were free, and he used them to beat down upon the rising tide of flesh.

There was no panic in him, though. There was fear – fear of failure, fear of what would happen in they couldn’t stop this thing, but surpassing all the fear was the courage to act and the wisdom to find a solution. The lightning scattered more strongly, and Shazam thought back to when he transformed. There was more power to what he was than strength and speed. He had more gifts to bring to bear than that.

He raised his fist, focusing on it. Focusing on the lighting that pumped through him, as vital and strengthening as blood. He focused and called upon all the power that he knew was inside him, feeling the charge build in his hand, and, once it reached a critical point, clenching and crushing the bolt into a mote of power more focused than anything he had ever seen. It only felt right, as he slammed this concentrated blast of everything he could bear into the scaly neck of the beast, to call out his name, his title, the essence of his power.

With that blow, the charge he had compressed and built was sent into the hydra, paralyzing it and filling it with more energy than its tenuous grip on reality could bear. It froze, twitching slightly, as the lightning carved a path to its core and filled it. Veins of visible electricity spread over its skin, drowning out the tone and color of its hardly real flesh. And as the fragment of power expanded further, past the capacity for the hydra to contain it, it shuddered, and with a flash, detonated and disintegrated.

Its body was no more. All that remained was the stolen scaffolding it had used – any stone, metal and wood it could grasp as its bulk expanded still remained and fell to the ground. The hydra was gone, entirely this time. The one bone that had began the hydra’s growth and eventual rampage gave off its last feeble energies, then flickered and gave out, falling inert. With that great bolt, the sky, too, announced its finale. The heavens opened and began to rain, the strange lightning and thunder that had plagued the city meeting their counterpart as the water finally fell.

Superman was less jocular, this time. Shazam was almost cowed to apology by the seriousness but for the part of him that screamed he had done nothing wrong. Despite his more sober look, there was still warmth in his voice as he said “That was quite some power there. And I didn’t know you could fly, too.”

With a startled glance down, Shazam realized he was flying. Well, less flying than floating, stationary in the air. But still effortlessly opposing gravity. Superman continued, “I think we need to have a talk. Mind if we head somewhere to speak privately?”

Shazam could only respond with agreement. He tried to steer by leaning, then by a sort of lunge forward, but nothing worked until his pushed some of the same power that called the lightning to move him forward. With that, he rocketed after the receding figure of Superman, barely maintaining control of his speed and steering in his excitement.

Chapter Text

They flew high, to the top of an office building. High enough that the low-clouds that carried the rain could be seen as a grey blanket covering the city. Far enough that none of the crowd could have followed them on foot, but it seemed Superman planned on staying close enough to help in case problems arose. Shazam thought it a good idea, given what had happened the first time they disabled the hydra.

“So. Shazam’s an interesting name. Not something I think I’d forget. How’d you decide on going by that moniker?” It was casually mentioned, but Superman seemed intent on getting an answer.

Shazam blithely responded “It’s the name I was told to use. A list of the gods that give me my powers. I think it sounds kind of silly, but I guess they’re the gods!”

“Gods. Like Zeus and Hades?” Superman’s voice stayed calm and level as they touched down.

“Well, Zeus, yeah. I think that’s where the lightning comes from. But not Hades. He’s the fire-headed guy from hell, right?” Shazam wobbled as he landed, gracelessly.

“Sort of. So Zeus is the ‘Z’. What about the others?”

“Well, there’s Solomon for wisdom, Hercules for strength, Atlas for stamina, Achilles for Courage, and Mercury for speed. Put them all together and you get Shazam! It’s better than going by ‘The Champion’. That too much of a mouthful.”

“Huh. My mythology might be a bit out of date,” Superman said ruefully, remembering his multiplication of the hydra’s heads, “but I don’t think all of those are known as gods. Certainly not Solomon.”

Billy was a bit abashed at that. As “out of date” as Superman’s knowledge was, it was leagues better than Billy’s own. “Oh. I didn’t know. He said that they were all gods, even though Zeus got to be the boss of them.”

“I see.” Even though he didn’t, really. “So they gave you your powers?”

“Well, kind of. They give me the powers, but the wizard was the one that gave me them first.”

‘This kid really is an open book,’ Superman thought. ‘Not a hint of duplicity, no hesitation.’ “And who is ‘the wizard’? How did he give you these powers?”

“He mostly just asked if I wanted them. When I said yes, he hit me with lightning, and, well, here I am! He was Shazam before I was. He’s really old, though. I think he just got tired.”

“I see,” he repeated, still not seeing. “I think I’d like to meet this ‘wizard’ sometime.”

“Oh, for sure. I have a lot of questions for him. I think he cast a spell that made me forget all about everything until I saw that hydra.”

Superman trusted the wizard even less, now. He had never heard of Shazam or any “Champion” before today, but something about this wizard put him ill-at-ease, despite the easy nature of the man before him. “So that was your first time fighting anything like that?”

“Yeah! It was pretty scary, but so cool. I know you could have handled it, but I got worried when it had you all wrapped up like that.”

Superman deflected the inherent compliment with a chuckle. “I don’t know about that. But I appreciate not having to find out. You did very well for a first fight. I remember my first tries didn’t go nearly so well.”

“Thank you so much! I mean, you’re, like, my favorite superhero, so you saying that is just… wow. Thanks.”

“We should probably get going, soon. We wouldn’t want people to miss us as they clean up.”

Shazam started. “Oh yeah. I gotta get back or Echo’s going to go nuts looking for me. So how do you, well, get back to things after superhero stuff?”

Superman weighed his options. The guy seemed likeable enough, but this wouldn’t be the first time a threat had masqueraded as an ally. “Mostly I just change how I look and do my best to appear out of an alley that it makes sense I’d have hidden in.” That was a measured enough response. Enough to help the guy out if he was genuine without revealing anything important.

“That makes sense. Alright then. SHAZAM!” And in a flash, what was once a man who stood broader than Superman was once more Billy Batson, smiling broadly at the shocked gaze of Superman. The smile slipped from his face as Superman’s shocked gaze grew first more serious, then into tightly controlled anger.

“Who did this to you? Where is the wizard?” he thundered.

“Why are you mad? He gave me superpowers! He talked a lot about how it’d be hard, but I know what I’m getting into.”

“Where. Is. He.”

“He had a whole cave-thing underground. Why are you mad? I can be a superhero! I can do it!”

“You’re a child. You shouldn’t have to do it. It’s just like a wizard to do this to someone who doesn’t know any better. I need to speak with him. Can you take me there?”

Billy looked away. “I dunno. I was only there once. It was in the subway.”

“What line? What stops?”

“B line. 45th to 32nd.”

In Superman’s anger at Billy’s situation, he didn’t realize that the child had closed himself off. There was no information volunteered, only the exact answers he asked for. “Go home. Stay out of things. It’s not your place.”

“But-!”

“Go. Now. You should never have been put in danger like that.” And with that, he was off like a shot to the tunnel that Billy had described. He didn’t see the frustrated, red face or the angry tears that accompanied Billy’s shaking fists.

He arrived faster than any car could have taken him there, flying in a high arc over the city to avoid notice or distraction. A gust of wind followed him into the tunnel. He could always just fly the other way if a train came at an inopportune time. Once he was in the tunnel, past the nearly deserted platform, he could see a shining in the dark. The same crackling energy that surrounded Shazam marked a bolt engraved into the wall, illuminating a gateway into an path that seemed to eat up the meager light of the tunnel. This was a sign for him to find. There was no mistaking it — more magic. This wizard knew what he had done, and was waiting for him.

He flew down the path, cautious but quick. He had a wizard to find.

Chapter Text

As Superman’s feet touched down on the dark stone of the Rock of Eternity, he immediately focused his gaze on the craggy visage of the Wizard, seated upon his worn, stone throne with a massive tiger laying near his legs. The Wizard opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a sound, Superman broke the pressing silence of the Rock.

“How could you? He's a child. His life shouldn't be about this.” Stepping closer to the Wizard, who remained seated, Superman expected the Wizard to argue, to deny the weight of what he had done. Instead, the Wizard bowed his head.

In a weak voice, he sighed and said, “I know. I know the burden. And I know the weight I have placed on his young shoulders. It is a weight that no mortal should bear.”

After a moment of stillness, Superman asked “Then why give him the power? Why not someone mature enough to know what his decision meant?”

“Because, Superman, I have seen what becomes of men that receive the power of the gods. Even good men. Even men with no evil in their hearts. Their desires overtake their judgment, and they fall.”

“There are good people with power. Men and women who have the strength of will to do the right thing instead of the easy thing.” Superman countered. But the Wizard was unfazed.

“And you are the best of them. I know this. But mankind is a fickle race, and I have seen men as good as you fall before temptation. I have chosen wrongly before.”

“You’ve chosen champions before Billy?”

“I have,” said the Wizard, shame in his eyes. “I chose a man among men. Peerless and admirable. And beloved by the gods.” He paused, lost in memories of ages past, but eventually continued, “But to grasp the power of the gods is… intoxicating. And my beloved Teth-Adam turned upon me. And I will not make that mistake again.”

There was old, old pain in the Wizard’s voice, but Superman had to press for more. “That's not good enough. Why him? He's a good kid with a good heart, but he's not perfect.”

“Because his desires are not the selfish wants of a man burdened by life. His worries are not things that can be solved by power. His greatest wish is to be good. Is to be like you.” The Wizard’s words grew heavy and deep as he spoke, like they themselves were a burden being cast off of him. “You, Superman, Clark Kent. Son of two worlds. This burden is not his alone. He sees you through his own eyes and idolizes you. He sees you with the eyes of my Champion and knows the truth of your life. You must guide him. No one else can. I place a weight upon your shoulders, too. Be his guide, for I cannot. Even if I could, I must not. It was my love for Adam that blinded me to his cruelty. My place is here. Gaoler and imprisoned alike. My place is here.”

With that, the Wizard sat back in his chair, looking more ancient and frail than before. Superman could see his weakened arms give up the effort to lift him out of his seat. The Wizard spoke soon after. “I am old now, and growing weaker. Perhaps I should have waited until he was older, more ready. But he must learn the extent of his Fate. There is a great trial I must undertake, and he must defend this world from threats long forgotten by the stories of Man while I cannot. Teach him well, Kal-El. Inspire in him the best of all mankind. Doom comes, and he has been chosen as your Champion.”

Superman stood, frozen. He heard the weak beat of the Wizard’s heartbeat, and knew he had little time left. The wizard sagged back, closing his eyes and breathing faster. He seemed exhausted by the simple act of speaking, burnt out like he had overexerted himself. The tiger glanced at his companion, then rose and spoke in a sonorous voice, “Come, Man of Steel. You have blundered greatly in your dealings with young Billy, and you must make it right, if you can.”

Without a backward glance at Superman, who was stock still, frozen in surprise at the talking animal, he stalked toward the exit. “Come along. We may yet catch him before he returns to his domicile.”

Superman turned and walked after the feline form that was already halfway into the tunnel. “And who are you? I assume you’re another magic-user, shape-shifted into a tiger.”

“Not so glamorous as that. I am here to provide counsel. To Billy, now, as I once did to the Wizard. Quickly, quickly. We wouldn’t want to miss our train.”

It was a much shorter journey going back out than the one heading down to the Rock. They passed into an area of light, spreading from the open door of a subway car. As they entered, Superman saw that the tiger that had once led him had changed into a man, stocky, with wild, grey hair, wearing grimy, layered clothing. He beckoned him onward, into the traincar. When Superman glanced down to see his footing, he saw that he, too, had changed. He was wearing the navy suit that he had changed out of before the battle with the Hydra, but cleaned and crisply pressed. There were few things that Clark Kent seriously disliked, but magic was one of them.

He suppressed a shudder at the fact that he had been unknowingly enspelled. “You know my name, obviously, but what should I call you?”

“My name is Talky Tawny. But I would prefer you not speak of me at all. My work is best done invisibly. Sit.” Talky sat down in a seat near the door of the train and held out his hand as if asking for something, and nodded for Superman to sit across from him.

“Fair enough, I suppose. Do you know where to find Billy?” Clark realized, now, that his anger toward the Wizard had fogged his judgement. His anger had affected how he interacted with Billy, and he had pushed him away.

“I do. And I hope that you might still repair the bond you have frayed. Hush now, and follow me once we stop.”

Without waiting for Superman’s response, the train passed into an area of darkness, and when it was light again, there were people. More than the usual number, probably avoiding the traffic jams and chaos that inevitably followed destroyed streets and panic in the aftermath of a battle. Talky said nothing. He looked like any other panhandler, riding the subway and asking for some change, but there was a sharpness to his eyes. A predatory look that was almost concealed by the distractions of grime and untamed hair. He was perfectly camouflaged in the city.

They said nothing to each other for several stops, but soon Talky rose and turned to exit the car, and Superman followed. Talky walked fast enough to make Clark work to keep pace without being obvious, and moved intently towards his destination. Crowds parted without thought around him, but Clark had no such benefit. He managed to stay within sight of his homeless-looking guide, and joined him in an alley across the street from a drab building that looked more like the most depressing Brady Bunch home than like the apartment buildings that populated the area.

Billy trudged towards it, soaked to the bone by the recently stopped rain, desolately sloshing through puddles without even attempting to avoid them. Tawky tsked towards him. “He’s just being childish now. Well, what are you waiting for? Go change and, I don’t know, Superman at him until he’s better.” With that, he turned and walked deeper into the alley, leaving Clark alone and watching Billy enter his home.

Chapter Text

As Clark focused his gaze onto the house, seeing through the walls and hearing the myriad conversations inside, he was surprised that there were so many children there. All different ages, and only a few adults present to watch over them all. He found his answer in the sign affixed to the fence that bordered the small front yard - “Fawcett Group Home A3”. Not a very creative name, but bureaucrats weren’t well known for their wit. He looked back in, waiting to find a chance to speak with Billy.

For Billy himself, he was surprised to be greeted with a clamor and shrieks of small children, all shouting that he was back. Mr. Hayman, when he heard of Billy’s return, ran to the front room and clasped him in a tight hug. “My God, Billy. You had me so worried. Are you hurt?”

Billy, still startled by the throng of pressing children and their shouted questions, was hardly able to answer over the din. “No, I’m fine. I ---”

“Thank the Lord. We’ve had people looking everywhere for you, and Echo and Sophia have both been calling since you disappeared. And you’re soaked! Go up and change, and then make sure Freddy isn’t jumping out the window to go after you. Then come right back down. We are going to be having a long talk about what happened.”

Billy’s face reddened as he went up the stairs to a chorus of “Ooohs”. Now that he had proven himself to be alive, the children had immediately reverted to type, and reacted to the imminent lecture as if he had never been missing.

Freddy was not, as Hayman had predicted, climbing out of the window. He was, however, staring at the laptop the school had provided to Billy for his Journalism class. A stream of the local news was up on one side, with the official report of the event open on the other side. He was so intent on the page that when Billy came in, he didn’t even realize he had company until Billy called his name.

“Billy! You’re alright! Man am I glad to see you. Morgan was here, telling me there was something going on at the museum, and I knew you were supposed to be down there. What happened?!”

Billy hesitated a moment. He wasn’t really sure what to say to Freddy. He knew that superheroes kept their identities secret, especially from the people that could be used against them. “I, uh, we were just getting to the museum when the thing burst out. Echo and I got separated in the mess and I hid in an alley for a while. Then it was so packed I had to walk to a station to get anywhere near here.” He gathered up a change of clothing and went around the corner into the closet to change.

Freddy was more animated now that he wasn’t worried. He dove back into the news articles, poring over the scant pictures of the battle. “That’s no fun. Did you at least see Superman and that other guy? He came out of nowhere! They only got a few pictures of him, though. Real fuzzy, too. Some commenters are saying it was all the lightning and static in the air. I wonder if that’s his power. Maybe he’s like Static Shock but with flying and super strength!”

“Y-yeah, maybe. He was pretty cool, right? I saw a little of them.”

“Definitely. I’ve never seen him before though. Where do these guys even come from?”

Fresh, dry clothing was a relief. He hadn’t realized just how cold they had been until he was already warming up. “Who knows. I gotta go talk to Hayman. I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya,” he mumbled, already lost in the articles.

Mr. Hayman was still on the phone when he went downstairs. He gestured for Billy to sit as he finished reassuring Echo that he didn’t blame him for Billy’s temporary disappearance, and said his goodbyes.

“You scared him pretty bad, Billy. He was blaming himself and searching for you for nearly an hour. He’s calmed down now, but you owe him an apology for just walking off. Now tell me what happened.”

Clark, still listening in from the alley, could tell that Billy wasn’t a great liar, and that this Hayman fellow didn’t believe a word of it. He was surprised that the man didn’t call him out, going so far as to let the boy finish his scattered, inconsistent story and leave with nothing more than a reprimand, a cold dinner, and an order to turn in for the night early. Billy trudged obediently upstairs with a plateful of food, staying quiet when he noticed Freddy, asleep on his bed, the laptop resting on his stomach still playing video.

Billy lifted the computer off of him, turned the volume down, and lowered the lights by switching to using a bedside lamp. He sighed and resigned himself to a cold dinner, still feeling like the most pitiable guy in the world.

He had hardly finished when he heard a very gentle knock on the window behind him. He jerked around and gaped, surprised, to see Superman floating there, finger to his mouth in a reminder to stay silent. Billy narrowed his eyes, seething at the man. He heeded the advice to keep quiet, though, when he opened the window and spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have better things to do?”

Superman, too, spoke in a voice conscious of Billy’s sleeping roommate. “I’m sorry, Billy. I’ll try to make this quick. I was too harsh with you, and I apologize for that.”

Billy had expected another lecture, or some sort of argument. An apology had thrown quite the wrench into his righteous anger. He was still processing when Superman continued, “I spoke with the Wizard, and while I disagree with his decision, I understand that it wasn’t your fault, and I can’t blame you for making the decision that you made. Is it alright if we speak in private?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Alright, then. Would my shoulder work to carry you?” he asked as he floated low enough for Billy to climb on and gestured with his opposite hand.

Billy looked uncertain, but there was no way he’d tell Superman he was scared. Not only did he refuse to look like a baby to Superman – of all people – but he could hardly claim to be mature enough to be a superhero if he was nervous about this. And wait – why was he scared if he could use his powers and just fly if he fell?

With that, he steeled himself and nodded, then climbed into the windowsill, turned, and sat onto the rock steady shoulder of the Man of Steel.

Superman flew smoothly and calmly over the empty street towards an apartment building a ways down the block. He set down on the roof, lowering to a knee to let the boy on his shoulder down.

They stood for a moment, awkwardly. Billy held back from saying anything because Superman seemed to be working himself up to something important. When he finally began, what he said did not endear him to the still upset boy in front of him.

“You’re, what, 11 years old?”

“I’m 13!” Billy said, hotly.

“Regardless, you’re still a kid. The Wizard and I had words, and to be honest, I’m still upset about the situation. But I’m not upset with you. I understand why you did what you did. I know I would have in your situation. There’s nothing I can do to change what’s happened, and I’m not going to lecture you on what you’ve done or should do. If there’s one thing that the Wizard said that I agree with, it’s that you’re a good kid. But there’s going to be a lot of pressure on you as you grow up, and that’s only going to get worse by taking on the responsibilities of a hero.”

“I can handle it. I’m not a baby, and I know what I can do!”

“And I believe you. But being a young adult can be a challenge on it’s own, and adding on the trials of being a hero will not be easy. You’ve got a lot of responsibility on your shoulders now. I just wanted to make sure you understood that, and that you know that I’ll be around to try and help. Remember to be careful. There’s a lot going on in the world that you don’t know about, and some people that would try to hurt you just because of what you could do to them.”

“I’d never hurt anyone. I’m supposed to be a hero!”

“I know that, and you know that. But there are people out there that don’t know, or care. People that would hurt others if they had the power to.”

“Like Lex Luthor?”

“Lex is just one of them. And as much wrong as he does, I honestly believe he wants the best for the world. He just needs help realizing how much harm he’s doing on the way. There are a lot of people like that out there. Not many people wake up and think that they want to be a bad guy. Most people think that what they do is okay, or at least justified.”

Billy thought about that. He hadn’t really considered stopping ordinary criminals, but he supposed that what Superman said made sense. He said, slowly, “I... guess so. But what about the people that hurt people just because they feel like it?” He was thinking back to Kyle and his buddies beating on Freddy.

Superman looked somber as he considered what to say about that. “There’s a lot of those people, isn’t there? Some of them do it because they’ve never stopped to think about who they’re hurting. Others just think it’s how things are – the people on top hurt those below them. Maybe they have someone even bigger or meaner than they are hurting them. That’s the hardest part of being who we are. Sure, with your powers, you could fly around hurting everyone who ever hurt you. But that would make you just like them. It’s much harder to look at those people and work to get through to them.”

“Did you ever get bullied?” No one had ever really talked like this to Billy about bullies. Most people just said to get an adult or to walk away. He hadn’t wanted to worry Hayman, especially because of how… involved he could be if he thought he could help.

“There were a few times.” Superman said, remembering back to a few angry newcomers targeting the biggest kid in the schoolyard and walking away with broken hands. “But the important thing is to give them the opportunity to change. No one was ever punched or kicked into being genuinely kind.”

“I think I get it, but don’t people get hurt doing that?”

“And that’s our job. That’s what makes a hero. We do everything we can to stop that hurting. We’re not the punishment, and we don’t decide who gets warnings and who goes to jail. All we can do is stop them from hurting other people. We stop the damage. Because we can handle the hurt. And that’s why I was so sad and angry when you showed me who you were. I didn’t, and still don’t, think that a kid should have to deal with that hurt.
I have to go, now. I wouldn’t want people to wonder where I’ve been. I’ll keep an ear out for you, though. If you call my name, I’ll know it.
Would you like a lift back to your room?”

Billy thought for a moment, then said “Thanks, but I kinda want to fly around by myself a bit. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Billy. And good luck.” He took off with that, coasting easily through the air in his trademark pose.

Billy called upon the power of Shazam and then took off the other direction, wobbly and uneven.

Chapter Text

Some time later, below the city, below the world, in a place neither real nor fantasy, the last remnant of a dead age was falling. Mamaragan’s once sharp mind was now clouded and foggy, empty of any thought but jumbled memories of times long past. Each labored breath rattled in his chest, and once powerful limbs shook and twitched feebly. The man was near his end.

As his body continued to fade into death, the mortal shackles that held his soul broke loose, and he was free. His soul came disconnected from the mortal world, loosed into the aether that existed in that same semi-real place that the Rock of Eternity hung. There was nothing but the void and a fading connection to the physical realm that was his home for so many, many centuries.

At last came clarity. Once, his body was a vehicle for his soul, eager to leap to his bidding. As he aged, its capabilities failed, and it became a cage. Now he was free. His consciousness expanded, growing to understand the realm he could before only just touch through the help of his powers. He saw his prisoners, still held frozen and dormant, present through all the realms even in their weakened state. And he saw another presence. A living one, for a certain value of life. It drew near, and it spoke in a melodic, calm voice.

“Hello, Mamaragan. It’s been a long time.”

It took the Wizard some effort to remember where he had heard that voice. It was as familiar as thought, but waited just outside recognition until he thought back to the beginning. It seemed it had changed, or perhaps his memory was flawed, but he knew that patient tone. It was Solomon.

Solomon spoke again, gentle and slow. “Stay calm. You are unused to your form. You will learn to act without a physical shell in time.”

Mamaragan didn’t speak. He couldn’t. It was like had no control over his mouth, but of course his mouth was no longer present. He wanted to weep for joy in seeing his dearest friend. He wanted to ask all of the questions he had never had answered. But most of all, he wanted to know why he still remained, despite his death. Solomon seemed to understand all of his confusion.

“When mortals die, they pass beyond their living realm and into another world. But you, Mamaragan the Wizard, once the Champion of the gods, are not mortal in the way that your fellow man is. You have held the power of the gods. You have served as a host for our immortal power, and have been changed by it. You are not a mortal man. You are like we were when we first came to you. Young, weak, and defenseless, but not alone.”

Mamaragan’s panic changed into understanding. Not full comprehension, but he had heard enough and trusted Solomon enough to no longer worry about the details. Solomon had never lied to him, and he believed. It was what had drawn all the gods he had helped to him in the first place – his ironclad belief. He felt the chaotic roiling of the not-air around him calm to a standstill as he calmed himself, and grew aware of the definition of the non-shape of his soulstuff. Not speaking, though, was difficult, so he concentrated on forming a mouth, or at least a way to talk.

Solomon chuckled at his efforts. The rash, impulsive boy had grown into an honorable man, and since he had left, the man had grown into a wise sage. “You have thousands of years of belief and experience behind you. I think you will find yourself quickly. But that is the trick of it. You’ll have to find and define yourself in the face of all that you could be. We’ll be waiting for you, my friend.”

As the Wizard faced his greatest trial, a stirring began upon the Rock of Eternity, and creatures from foulest hell began to awaken. All of the plagues of ancient days that the gods had striven to protect their beloved people from were straining at their weakened bonds, eager to ravage the world once again.

And the new Champion of the gods had few allies in his struggle.