Mightiest Mortals #1

[lissilambe]

Mightiest Mortals #1
"With a Stroke of Lightning!"
Written by Don Walsh
Art by Roy Flinchum

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Young Billy Batson staggered in shock down the rain-drenched alley. His curly mop of hair hung in soaked clumps as he stared straight ahead. Not that he saw what was occurring before him. His eyes were actually filled with the events of the last half hour, the bizarre subway, those leering seven statues and the regal but wizened elderly man with the weird name.

He stumbled over a trash can, rousing a ruckus and sending the metal cylinder rolling and clattering. Suddenly, the alley was awash in the bright high beams of a car’s headlights. Dangerous eyes checked out the source of the noise, and Billy dropped quickly to the alley floor, his heart pounding.

“Go check it out, dammit!” a large, thuggish figure growled as he hunched into his black raincoat. His thick brow was knit in frustration as the rain poured into his eyes. His broad ham-hand was wrapped around the throat of an older man, scared and desperate. “We won’t be havin’ any witnesses, got it?”

A leaner man, taller with long black scraggly hair streaming down his face from the pouring rain, started down the alley. He slipped a gun from the pocket of his bomber jacket and held it waist-high from his bent arm. “Step out! C’mon, where I can see you!” he shouted in a thin, reedy voice.

Billy was in a filthy puddle, the gritty water filtering into his blue jeans, into his ragged read sweatshirt, his mouth going dry despite the oppressive, relentless wet.

“Finish with the old man, Gibbons,” snapped a squat man in the driver’s seat. Well-dressed, well-groomed, he looked up at the large man with the small beady eyes. “I want to finish this up. Deliver the message so we can get out of here.”

“You heard Kano,” the brute called Gibbons said to the frightened older man in his grip. “Message time. Mister Ibac is unhappy with the lack of proceeds coming from ‘Stones, and he knows it because of you, Mister Bruchanksi.”

“No!” the threatened man squeaked out. “Not me, not me! I’ll…I’ll find them for you! I’m…I’m Mr. Ibac’s biggest supporter!” He felt his voice get cut off as Gibbons’s hand squeezed tighter.

“Mr. Ibac’s much too smart for that,” Gibbons replied in his gruff, low voice. “He knows. He looked over the situation carefully and decided, it’s all you.”

As fear lit up Bruchanksi’s eyes, the tall, lanky gangster moved ever closer to the soaked huddled mass that was Billy Batson, newsboy. Billy’s mind raced, those thirty minutes coursing through his brain. “Speak my name, William Batson, and fight for truth, fight for what is right!”

“If only it worked that way,” Billy muttered as a footstep splashed closer. “If only things got better by saying a stupid word! I can’t believe I stumble onto a hit by Boss Ibac, that I’m going to die, and all I can think of is Shazam!”

[lissilambe]

The rains had just opened up over the streets of Fawcett City, pouring down in thick heavy drops that swiftly drenched anyone caught outside. One of these was Billy Batson, who had just barely closed up the small newsstand and protected his wares from the unrelenting storm. He shielded his eyes as he glanced up at the black clouds, but quickly dropped his head back down under the pelting rain. He was already soaked to the bone as he started to trudge through the streets of his home. Around him were the tall buildings of the financial district that made up the Plaza: wide clean avenues flanked by a combination of bright new glass spires and older but elegant art deco structural confections.

Soon enough though, he'd left that part of the Fawcett behind him, and moved on into the less glamorous, more utilitarian, and more rundown Parker Flats. Street after street of dilapidated warehouses and factories lined the rougher streets as Billy's shoulders slumped further under the weight of the rain. His feet squished through the water collected in his shoes and the threadbare jeans and sweatshirt clung tight to him as he sighed heavily.

As he neared street that turned him into the nest of narrow lanes and rundown slums that made up his home in the Tangles of Fawcett City, he paused. The city had begun an ill-considered attempt at a subway system, but abandoned it over a decade ago. In all the times Billy walked this route back to his shabby little room in one of the many shabby little buildings of the Tangles, he'd never noticed one of the abandoned, boarded up subway entrances at this corner. Where had it come from, he wondered. Where did it go to? He felt a nervous smile as he approached the mysterious structure and slipped into the darkness. This could be the break he'd been wanting, a way into the radio station KWHZ, in whose shadow lurked his own little newsstand.

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The heavens parted and a powerful golden stroke of lightning crashed into the thirteen-year old boy. The approaching gangster froze as he felt the raw force of the lightning, mere feet from him. When his eyes had at last adjusted from the flash, he felt for sure his eyes still weren’t working. For standing little more than a yard from him was a god in red cloth. Well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a powerful chest, the new arrival stared down the alley with his deep black eyes. His white cape fluttered off his right shoulder, the scarlet shirt buttoned to his left shoulder veritably glowed in the high beams of the car. Gold glinted from his sleeve cuffs, his boots, his sash. It gleamed from the stylized lightning bolt on his chest, and the three gangsters just stared while smoke roiled off his body in the rain.

“Holy Moley” Captain Marvel said aloud in a shocked voice. He looked at the powerful hands before his eyes. His mind raced as Billy thought, I didn’t just say that, did I?

“It’s one of those long-john types!” Kano shouted from inside the car. “Plug him, Bench!”

The lanky gangster lifted his gun straight up and pulled the trigger several times in succession. Not that it mattered at all, for the bullets didn’t even mar the Captain’s costume. While inside he flinched, outwardly a slow grin creased Captain Marvel’s chiseled adult features.

“That’s not working on me, you twerp,” Captain Marvel said in a laugh. He took a lurching step forward and struggled to adjust to a brand new foot of height. His hand reached out, the back of it slapping Bench in the face and sending the criminal sprawling after bouncing off a wall. “Oops!”

Billy’s inner voice continued to wince. I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Twerp? Oops?

“Gibbons, get him!” Kano commanded as he started to rev the engine. Bruchanski slipped to the ground gasping for air as Gibbons released him and stalked towards the Captain.

“You are steppin’ into some big trouble, pal,” Gibbons sneered as he looked ever so slightly up into the Captain’s eyes. “Back out now, or get whacked!”

A squeal of tires indicated Kano’s retreat, causing Captain Marvel’s smile to further widen. “Your friend doesn’t seem to have the same faith in your abilities.” Instinctively, Captain Marvel gently swatted Gibbons and sent him sprawling. He looked at his hand again and nodded. “Wisdom of Solomon. Hmm.”

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Water dripped ominously off in the darkness. Billy's eyes tried to adjust to the utter void of light, but it was useless. He had no idea which way to go, he wasn't even sure now about turning around, as he was utterly surrounded in the black of the tunnel. Not even the stairs he'd walked down remained in his vision.

But there was another sound. A rumbling sound, growing louder, more powerful and insistent. Then a dot of bright light shone in the depths of the dark, and it grew larger and brighter with each second that the roaring grew louder and more fierce. Billy felt his heart beating in his chest as the light sliced through the darkness to reveal a glittering, silvery dragon of a subway train. It was hunched on its wheels like a great beast of legend, the bulk of its body laced in sigils and weird letters like Billy had never seen before, its eyes blazing comforting warm light as doors at the side slid open. Billy felt almost compelled to step inside, and before he even had the chance to turn to find a seat, the beast roared to life and streaked down the rails into the darkness. Within moments, it screeched to a halt and the doors slid open wide and Billy stared in shock, awe, maybe a little horror, at the chamber that awaited him.

Large, vaulted ceiling, lined in leering, monstrous faces from seven statues, each labeled as one of the Seven Deadly Sins of Humanity, stared back at Billy's wide eyes. And down at the end of this chamber, almost out of sight, sat the regal, majestic figure of a man in rich robes of ermine. His aged, wrinkled face was framed in a thick white beard and scant white hair at the crown of his head.

“Enter, William Batson, and come to know your purpose here!” The voice boomed out, much louder than the teen would have thought could come from such an aged, slender figure. But in response to the invitation, one sodden shoe stepped out of the train and into the surreal chamber, and soon, Billy found himself walking toward the strange figure.

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He approached Bruchanski, who looked back up at him like a frightened rabbit. “Good evening, sir,” the Captain said, reaching his hand down to the elderly gentleman. “I’m Captain Marvel, and I’m here to help you.”

Bruchanksi slowly stood up and nodded in a daze. “Thank you. Very much…uh, what now?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re willing to talk about what’s happening in your neighborhood, right?” Captain Marvel asked. When he saw Bruchanski nod again, he smiled warmly. “Excellent. You go call the police, have them take these two into custody. I’ll go pick up the third man and drop him off at the nearest precinct house. How’s that sound?”

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“Wh-who are you?” Billy asked the elderly man, who sat in a large ornate chair on a small dais. As Billy drew to within steps of the man, his eyes caught sight of a massive block hanging by the slenderest of threads. “Y-you gotta move, mister. That stone, it's gonna--”

“Break? I know, William,” the elderly man said, bright blue eyes alight with life despite the aged appearance of his body. He leaned forward and a smile grew obvious despite the heavy layers of snowy beard. “Would you like to know a little secret?”

Billy nodded his head slowly, eyes now focused wide on the aged figure. “It's metaphorical. It's not really a stone block. It's the weight of all my years. That thread is what's left of my life. When it snaps, the Weight of Years will come crashing down on me, and I'll pass on from this mortal coil.”

“I don't understand,” Billy stared back up at the block and shook his head. “Then get up and get away from it.”

“No man escaped Death, William” the figure said. “Not so easily. I have chosen you though, because every man wishes to be immortal. And in legacy, is immortality.”

“Now I really don't understand all this, mister,” Billy said as he took a step back from the strange old man. “What do you mean? And why do you keep calling me William? Everyone just calls me Billy.”

“Very well, Billy. I am the wizard Shazam, and ages and ages ago, I crafted a spell that would allow a good and true person to use the powers of six gods to do good deeds and protect the world. Now, as my life draws near to an end, I would pass that gift to you. I've watched you, struggling with your life on the streets, never giving up hope, never surrendering to the easy way of getting ahead, never failing to try and do the best you could. You have in your heart the very innocence and virtue to best use these gifts. It will mean a great responsibility to accept this gift though, Billy. One I am sure you can shoulder, but it must be your choice.”

“I'm dreaming all of this. I must be, this is just all so crazy,” Billy replied, more to himself as much to the wizard. “You want to make me a super-hero?”

“If that is the word you would use for a champion, then yes. Now, Speak my name, William Batson, and fight for truth, fight for what is right!” The wizard has his arms raised above him, soft crackling noises coming as his voice rose and small arcs of electricity seemed to jump from fingertip to fingertip.

“Your name? You want me to say Shazam?”

A powerful bolt of lightning blasted down from the high dark ceiling, utterly rending the slender thread as it crashed into and coursed over Billy Batson. The last sight the youngster saw was the block crashing down onto the smiling wizard, crushing man and chair and dais alike. The lights of the train revealed six lines etched into the block for the occupant of the room to read.

“The Wisdom of Solomon
The Strength of Hercules
The Stamina of Atlas
The Power of Zeus
The Courage of Achilles
The Speed of Mercury”

And then the train roared off away and plunged the room into darkness and silence.

And then, young Billy Batson staggered in shock down a rain-drenched alley. His curly mop of hair hung in soaked clumps as he stared straight ahead. Not that he saw what was occurring before him, not at first. His eyes were actually filled with the events of the last half hour, the bizarre subway, those leering seven statues and the regal but wizened elderly man with the weird name.

[lissilambe]

Bruchanski continued to nod, fumbling for the cell phone in his coat pocket while his eyes followed the elevating form of Captain Marvel, who offered a farewell salute. Then, in a scarlet blur, the hero was gone.

Kano was streaking down the streets, panicking as he struggled with how he’d explain this to his boss. So wrapped up in thought was Kano, he didn’t even realize at first that the car was no longer on the ground. He looked around in fright as the ground slipped out from beneath him, until at last the vehicle was set down before the police station. Three officers were running out of the building, guns drawn as Captain Marvel stepped out from behind the car.

“Officers, it’s good to meet you. I’m called Captain Marvel, and Mr. Kano here is an associate of the other two gangsters I’m sure you’ve been called about by now.” He looked down at the snarling gangster then back to the police. “I’ll be in touch, gentlemen.” With that, he lifted off the ground, leaving behind several stunned observers.

As the crimson-clad hero soared through the air, he pondered all that had occurred on this stormy night. When he neared the run-down tenement that was his home, a new thought entered Billy’s mind.

What do I tell Freddy?

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The Terrace
“Well, Mr. Ibac, what do we do?” asked the nervous, scrawny man in the ill-fitting suit. He stood next to his employer, a large burly man bristling in short wiry hair. Ibac reclined in a luxurious leather chair, wrapped in a silk robe, and glanced up at his aide.

“Let the three of them reside in prison for the time being,” came his low rumbling voice in answer. A thick hand with stubby fingers pulled up a book from the side table, and began to thumb through the pages. “We shall teach them to let me down, and lose a portion of my business.”

“But what about this Captain Marvel guy?” the aide asked as he poured Ibac a sherry into a crystal goblet.

“What about him? A costumed strongman with delusions of grandeur,” Ibac answered in a dismissive tone. “Hire the good Doctor Sivana to handle this ‘hero’. My mind has other, more important issues for now.”

The aide scurried off into recesses of the grand building, leaving the crime lord to peruse his book and let his labyrinthine brain wander.