Billy Batson Drabbles - StephanieStephanie - Shazam! (2024)

Chapter 1: Kryptonite Bait

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Who knew that having people out to get you could be so profitable?

Billy's life had gotten much more comfortable ever since he had started to trade all these neat looking rocks he kept finding around the sites of his fights as Captain Marvel.

Every week, like clockwork. Some new hopeful villain would ask for him through the restaurant he used as a point of contact. He would always get two meals out of them. The first to start negotiations, which would end with the buyer leaving with a quest to bring back through peaceful means whatever useful things Billy had decided on that day. After all, they didn't want to garner the dear Captain's attention too early did they? The second meal was to seal the deal, after which Billy, who kept his stock in that neat looking lead box he was given by a kind old lady, would give them whichever rock they wanted to try to use on Captain Marvel.

And every week, like clockwork, some new hopeful villain would get delivered to a cell, and then the cycle would start all over again, because Billy was more often than not there before the police could get the chance to secure the scene.

Solomon said that considering his choice of using glamours, very useful these, and his refusal of mortal money, as he had no accounts to his name, plus hundred dollar bills weren't safe to pay with for a street kid, many probably thought that he was a fae of some kind.

Mercury, roman god of financial gain, commerce, eloquence, messages, communication (including divination), travelers, boundaries, luck, trickery, and thieves, was having a blast.

Billy hadn't started this with the goal of pleasing a divinity, but he was hardly going to complain about having the favor of one of his Patrons.

---

On Clark's behalf after Superman saw something concerning happen in Fawcett during monitoring duty at the Watchtower, Bruce decided to take a look around.

---

"Captain Marvel, were you aware of the appearance of a new black market in your city?"

"Mr Batman, sir, many disappearing professions are going strong in Fawcett; apprenticeships are common; we have a reputation for making convincing fake antiques because the traditional knowledge that was used to make the originals is still easily available, the old machines and tools needed for it included. The market for imitations is booming. And that's just what is popular on the mundane side. You will have to be a little bit more specific."

"I am talking about the fact that Fawcett currently has more kryptonite in circulation than Metropolis. I am hoping you might give me an explanation that doesn't revolve around "a fae did it"."

Clark didn't need a mirror to know that he had gone several shades paler than his natural skin tone.

"Oh, that's easy! We have no Lex Luthor there to outbid everyone else, and people like Dr Sivana never shared that magic was the way to go with me! Most newbies are under the impression that I am a kryptonian, so I get pelted with rocks regularly! I almost feel like a Christmas decoration sometimes with how colored they tend to be! It goes green, red, green, blue, green, red, green, silver, green and then it keeps going! I even saw orange, pink and periwinkle a few times! The white one was the worst though! It wasn't enchanted, and yet that thing killed all the plants around it for some reason! It ruined a whole backward! I had to isolate it magically and then bring it to the Rock of Eternity!"

"You don't sound concerned." Bruce very much did.

"Should I? It keeps kryptonite contained in an area where neither Superman or Lex Luthor are likely to go. It also reduces the risk of first time villains stumbling on something that actually works against me or researching magic for nefarious purposes. Where is the harm?"

"What if it leaves the city?"

"I got the same fist sized piece of luminous green rock thrown at me on seventeen different occasions. It got into the police evidence locker three times that I know about and vanished within twenty-four hours each time. Pretty sure I am kryptonite bait at this point."

Chapter 2: Stages of Life

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(Captain Marvel is sitting between Superman and Wonder Woman for an interview.)

"Captain Marvel, we found records of you dating back thousands of years. Can you tell us how old you are?"

In their respective headquarters, young superheroes who knew all too well how much the Big Red Cheese enjoyed messing with the heads of adults asking personal questions dived for places around their TV screens.

"Well, as I do not age the same way as most humans, I am not sure that just giving a number in Earth years would be that helpful for you. Though, if your colleagues and our host are willing to wait for their own questions, I could explain it a bit."

(Audience say yes.)

"Due to the importance of environmental factors in our health and growth, it would be more efficient to speak of stages of life than of chronological age. I will spare you a vocabulary lesson, but Superboy Junior for exemple was first presented to the Justice League at what you might call stage three. His powers have started coming in, but much like many adolescents experience with their voice, things don't quite work like he would prefer them to for now. Superman hasn't shared where he is at precisely, but I have gathered that he has been at a marriable stage for at least a few years, while still young enough that the rough equivalent of the maximum potential bone density humans reach during their fourth decade isn't there yet."

(Captain Marvel starts playing with the Lasso of Truth between his fingers. The cameras focus on his hands for a moment.)

"I haven't bothered with my own birthday since my parents died, and years can be a bit harder to track when not on a planet, but I think I have been at what you could call stage ten for at least a century."

(The host leans forward.)

"And how would you describe this stage ten?"

(Captain Marvel makes a thinking face.)

"I am much wiser than I used to be, I still have a lot of errors left to make, I can casually horrify everyone with childhood stories and I don't care nearly as much as people would wish me to about acting my own age."

---

(Popular links the next day.)

Superman, too young to shrug off kryptonite?

An old theory: Are kryptonians super evolved plants?

How old is Captain Marvel: A compilation of records

Age equivalents : What relative does Captain Marvel reminds you of?

Chapter 3: Faes Abound

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Fawcett City was truly a nest of immortals, long lived beings and time displaced people, and Jason Blood was never going back there ever again if he could help it. It had only been a quick glimpse, but he had recognized no less than three people who used to know him before he became the demon Etrigan's host, and he really didn't want to know who else might be there.

Bruce would have to satisfy himself with what he had already found out.

---

"You didn't spend very long there. What made this… longevity situation so obvious to you? None of my visiting employees reported anything truly odd beyond what is publicly available. Were there any hints that a well informed non magical person could be able to perceive on their own?

Jason grimaced slightly. This was going to be a lengthy process. "I will require all the footage you have of my visit to Fawcett, in as high resolution as possible, to show you. I am… uncertain of how much was visible to my human sight and not my magical senses or my connection to Etrigan. I felt many illusions, notice-me-not and glamours of varying skill in that city, and it is not impossible that some of those beings made good use of the possibilities offered by modern makeup and contacts to preserve their energy."

---

"To be fair to your employees, between historical movie makers having favorite streets to use and the tourism from people who miss or are curious about previous decades, many citizens of Fawcett have taken to dressing and talking according to the buildings they live in, only updating their slang somewhat when faced with blatant anachronisms. A high proportion of them have full-time jobs that require them to act like they come from another century, so many things that would seem odd anywhere else, like Captain Marvel saying "holy moley", just look in character there."

"Should I be surprised that you didn't take up residence there then?"

A shiver. "I would never willingly stay around that many Leprechauns. I refuse to have to leave frequent offerings of dairy, bread, tobacco, and alcohol on my doorstep just to appease their antagonistic behavior and animosity toward people. Gotham is much better for me, it is cursed enough to keep Etrigan both entertained and protective in his own territorial way. Ah, there!" He pointed at the big screen. "Tell me Bruce, what is different about these storefronts compared to… let's say the ones with similar purposes you would find in dear futuristic Metropolis?"

"There is a lot of brass, copper and bronze, the only other kind of metallic color I can find is gold, but that might just be the effect of sunlight. I would normally assume that this is a store that caters to people with spring and fall color palettes."

"And normally you would be right, but most of Fawcett is like this, both outside and inside of their buildings. It is all copper sinks, bronze machines and painted aluminium bicycles. Walkable spaces are visibly a priority and-" he highlighted a municipal rule on a different screen, "you can get fined for having too many cars if you don't own a business that justify it. I looked into it, and records show that villains who disturb public transport get harsher sentences than those who crash in a parking lot. There are also incentives for rooftop gardens, glass houses, and chicken coops in backwards. There is no such thing as a residential area where you can't reach a groceries store or a food stall on foot in only a few minutes on a good day."

"You are telling me," he said slowly, "that there are so many Faes there, that it's easier to limit the amount of iron getting brought in than to face their displeasure."

"Them and a lot of ghosts, witches, and other supernatural creatures, probably with a group of Seelies among the original founders of the community considering how well organized it is. I wouldn't be surprised if the number of hidden health clinics was closer to our Gotham than Metropolis. Or if their public hospital made great use of surgical blades in ceramic, silver, titanium, diamond, sapphire, and obsidian."

"And if I ever want to go without worrying about what the local food might do to me?"

"Look for restaurants giving access to wooden utensils, using bread as a substitute for them, serving finger food or things that can be eaten with your hands. Ideally choose somewhere where they prepare the food in front of you. Avoid any place that does not give alternatives to stainless steel or plastic since they are likely to get messed with on principle. I would suspect anywhere high class enough to use precious metals to be owned by a Fae."

Chapter 4: Wheels of Time

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The year is 1937 on the Gregorian calendar. It is not necessary, but Clarence Charles Batson and Jocelyn Batson, both archeologists, are very proud of their twin children for learning how to ride their bicycles, and buying a child their first bicycle license is a nice family bonding activity in Fawcett.

Anywhere else in the country, and this could be a cutesy thing. Bicycle plates and bicycle registers are already doing plenty to help prevent theft and are useful to track down lost property, this is not a car, what use would there be for a license?

The year is 1940. Mary and Billy are six when their parents die during an expedition in Khandaq financed by Dr Sivana. Billy had caught a fever right before the trip and had to stay alone with Uncle Ebenezer, who was very unlike his kind brother. Two young trees are lowered in the ground in the forest that serve as Fawcett's main cemetery. Billy doesn't know if it is better or worse that the best they could do to find something biological of his parents to bury under the roots was to check their pillows for hair and put what they found in biodegradable capsules.

Not one is telling him where his sister is. Ebenezer paid a premium to get the funeral done before anyone still alive who would care about the kids' fate could get wind of the necessity for one.

Mary's face is a good match for the Bromfield couple, she wouldn't look out of place as their biological child. The private adoption agency they make business with is quick to pick her up and take care of everything as soon as Ebenezer's signature is dry on the paper. Her memory of her brother soon becomes dismissed as what must have been a very good imaginary friend.

The year is 1942, and Marvel's newest host is a malnourished eight years old street child who ran away before whatever child snatcher who took his sister could make him disappear as well. William Joseph Batson, who used to be quite tall for his age when was six and hadn't grown much since, attributes his new health to becoming a Champion of Magic. He isn't wrong, and the Wizard Shazam uses a repair spell that makes clothes newer and thicker by shrinking them before he can notice the difference in fit.

Most potential snitches from the outside either completely forget or dismiss Captain Marvel as a comic character. A flying man invulnerable to bullets that shoot lightning from his fingers, honestly. Captain Nazi does try to get the news out, but his attempts on the subject all fail without exception. It is a testament to his healing factor that none of the curses on his person have led to his death yet.

A significant fraction of the American middle generation is busy with the war going on overseas. The age requirements for jobs have become lax enough that Whiz Radio can hire an eight going on six years old without much fuss. A soup kitchen soon follows suit and Billy Batson, whose body deage from a few minutes to a few hours whenever he gets injured or spends too long without a meal before transforming, learns war rations cooking methods at around the same time as Diana Prince does.

Billy is fourteen going on seven when he finally gets himself a new bicycle thanks to his help during a garage sale. He is now well aware that many Fawcett kids of his generation are using their bicycle license as a way to dodge the necessity for a parental signature when it comes to confirming their age to an employer. His parents' trees are growing quite well when he visits to thank them. It is much easier, and cheaper, to renew a license independently than to get a new one.

Billy's body doesn't age when he is Captain Marvel. It doesn't age when he is at the Rock of Eternity either. Wanting to avoid suffering from winter temperatures and cold nights has consequences.

Billy is sixteen going on seven and half when he finally grows suspicious enough with his height and babyface to ask the right questions to Solomon. Time is weird in Fawcett after all. Luckily for the Wizard Shazam, three villains attack on the same day.

The bicycle license doesn't have a decorative border. It has Egyptian numerals which can pass themselves as a decorative border if you aren't either in the know or the son of two archeologists. It mark the year of your first license, and, contrary to the Arabic numbers supposed to say the same thing, it is never false.

Who knew that having a water lily, nine coils of rope, three cattle hobbles and seven strokes on a little card could say so much about you?

Thanks to living in a veritable nest of immortals, long lived beings and temporarily displaced people of all types, Billy is in good company. This is also part of why the municipality is better at taking care of buildings than keeping track of people.

William Joseph Batson finally turns biologically ten right before the Wizard Shazam dies and gives him his title. Many spells and curses stop working, and news of Captain Marvel starts getting out of Fawcett. He receives an invitation to the Justice League two years later.

Chapter 5: Sectuplets

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Bruce was revisiting his estimations on several Justice League members that day. And developing a growing dislike of multiverse related incidents.

Seven Flashes were currently emptying the Watchtower's kitchen. Just as many Dianas were having the time of their life in a training room. The Clarks were drafting articles for the Daily Planet. He was resolutely not looking at the Nightwings' acrobatic stunts anymore. And so on. Thankfully, he was the only Batman present and the problem should resolve itself in a few hours at most.

He and the few others not duplicated, or 'Singles', as Dick had helpfully suggested before going to show off with his other selves, had taken refuge in a meeting room while the sole Cyborg and a Green Lantern who had come in right after the incident where taking care of monitoring Earth.

He would probably have been happier about the amount of superheroes who had decided to stay on the ground today if most of their heavy hitters hadn't suddenly become some kind of sectuplets.

Current inconvenients aside, seeing the differences between versions of his friends, family and colleagues was as fascinating as it was disturbing.

Some Flashes bumped into each other trying to get at the same food, but not all. The appearance of the Dianas varied a lot. Accents were all over the place for the Clarks. His sons' suits had obvious differences, though he recognized somes as earlier ones. The Aquamen had been quite startled to see three of them look much more like their father than the rest.

Ollie's voice rose.

"Oh, I wish we could interact with them! I have no idea what that game is, but the Marvels look like they are having a lot of fun!"

A few taps and the footage moved from a small screen to the much bigger one that took a whole wall. Then the audio connected.

"Are they, are they playing Dungeons & Dragons on the floor!? I didn't even know we had the materials for that!"

Cyborg piped in from their headsets. "Technically, as long as they have a grid, a dice and a few things to serve as characters, they can play anywhere. Pens and paper just happen to make things much easier."

They also weren't using calculators, so even putting aside the amount of memorisation needed, the speed at which the 'fight' was going was kind of impressive.

"What are the cards on the floor for?"

"The brown ones are Yu-Gi-Oh cards, the three types are monster, spell and trap. One of them had a bunch of decks from various games hidden in his Cape of Holding. The blues in the Dungeon Master's hand are standard cards used to determine how many examplaries of each problem are present."

What did that proverb by Richard Lingard that Jason liked to quote said? "If you read a man's disposition and see his game, you will then learn more of him in one hour, than in seven years' conversation"? He probably had it wrong, he will have to ask him later once that mess is solved.

Investigating his colleague wasn't working as well as he had hoped, so it was worth a try.

Bruce pulled up a note taking application on his tablet. "Tell me who chose what kind of character clockwise from our Captain Marvel."

"Well, our Marvel is the DM because he would know better what kind of situations are safe to bring up during the game.They referred to you as the "Dark Knight with Thousands of Eyes"."

Nice.

"Next to him is Handy Willy, an autognome artificer who likes figuring out how to do magic with cheap modern mass produced supplies. He has a great fondness for using birthday candles since they come in a great variety of colors. Urban Fantasy setting."

That would explain a lot about Fawcett.

"Then William of the Rock of Eternity, an aasimar paladin tasked with patrolling the world to find and record doorways to other dimensions, fighting off hostile incursions when needed. He met Willy while investigating an abandoned subway where strange things were rumored to happen, which was actually just Willy trying to transform the old train into a moving home without being disturbed."

He felt baited.

"Since William remembered a similar, but trainless setting near his own home, they went to ask the astral elf wizard Wilhem of the Ivory Tower about the possibility of a locomotive keyed portal. Wilhem, who was so very bored, found the idea interesting enough to propose a quest for the missing spells and materials."

A short research showed that since 1900, the name William had consistently ranked in the top 20 names for boys in the United States, often making it into the top 10 and even the top 5 a few times. It was an old name that also had a lot of possible variations in both nicknames and other languages. Might as well be a John Smith. Not improbable, just not as helpful as others, less popular, options.

"Luckily, a well known fairy going by "Billy the Bard" was kind enough to accept to guide them to the best places he knew of to find what they needed in exchange for their protection while traveling.

Sigh. The name William also meant "resolute protector" or "strong-willed warrior". How thematic.

"They met the kalashtar cleric Liamnameck of the Golden Hands while shopping for their trip."

He hoped that the races and classes chosen might give him more material to speculate from.

"Bill Underhill is a halfling of the Mark of Hospitality kind. He owns the store they are currently fighting in. He is also a runechild sorcerer, though he is very good at hiding the runechild part from people who aren't from his family. He is deeply displeased that his neighbors have yet again failed to keep their latest magical mishaps inside of their own store."

Was that a lotr reference? Would he have to ask for Jason's assistance in this?

Chapter 6: Chorus

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They were baits. Unwilling baits that also doubled up as just as unwilling batteries, but still baits. The strength of each superhero captured, starting with Clark, used to first catch then keep the others trapped. The one behind this wanted them as body support, a way to handle the strains caused by the preparation of so many rituals.

Just being shoved in one of the smaller circles had been enough to make him feel as if he both hadn't slept and hadn't gotten enough sun in the last 48 hours, probably why he had been snatched up first. He didn't want to imagine the states the others would have been in had the order been reversed.

The biggest circle, with the greatest amount of runes, was right in front of the entrance. A trap made specifically for one person. The only way out from the cavern they were in was full of even more magical measures against whoever that mad magic user wanted to drain so badly.

The corridor began to light up.

The chanting grew in volume.

And never before in his life had Clark wished more dearly that his eyes were less performant. Hopefully the others wouldn't notice the full extent of all the unnaturalness going on, but…

The smell of ozone hit him in the face.

A familiar golden boot, radiant with magic, made the stone under it crackle with steam. By the time the rest of the body came in full view of the bound spectators, it no longer looked like their friend.

---

Lightning in a bottle.

That's what the eyes of this thing looked like. And the skin around them was a porcelain mask full of hair wide fissures, letting slivers of golden light slip where veins should be. As if the being that decided to wear his friend's body had confused breaking in with breaking it.

And the voices, the voices were the worst. There was a whole chorus of them, all coming from the vocal cords that should have produced that familiar lighthearted tone that reassured him and so many others in the Justice League that everything would be alright. Clark relied on people being in different places to distinguish between them by hearing, and now he couldn't even tell if the one person he wanted to hear was still in there.

The sound of distant thunder kept echoing more and more in the cavern, a cavern that should have been much too far underground for it to reach. Except that it didn't come from outside. The gentle constant humming he associated with his friend's presence had been replaced by a force of nature.

The chanting abruptly lowered to panicked whispers. The atmospheric pressure rose.

"Oh, great foolish one, did you really think it would be that easy?" The chorus chuckled.

"The original Council of Elders ripped me from the rest of the Living Lightning and bound me to the Rock of Eternity over 200 000 years ago. My first Champion was born, chosen, and dead, long before what your historians think of as the beginning of civilization came about." The being began to step toward the magic user.

"Put the host to sleep? And then what, just scope me out for yourself? A whole village worth of mortals to be housed by, to care for, to experience the world through, and I was supposed to never learn anything at all from them, to never grow from what they gave me every second of their life from the point we joined? You genuinely expected Living Lightning to be static?" A hand marbled with crackling electricity brushed against the limit established by the magical circle it was in.

The barrier buckled. Clark heard his ears pop. The candles went out. The source of their current situation whimpered and started hurrying backwards.

BOOM!!!

The robed silhouette went flying towards the part of the wall right behind its captives, falling unconscious at the impact.

The runes stopped glowing.

For a long breathless moment, silence reigned. The smell of ozone progressively dissipated. Then…

"Hum, I will probably remember it later, but can anyone tell me what happened? I am kind of missing time here."

Blessed be that voice, he would never take it for granted ever again.

"Superman? Not that the hug isn't nice, it's a great one in fact, but Kal-El, really, what is going on?"

Clark held on tighter and let the others talk in his place. Red clad arms finally got on the program and hesitantly closed around him.

The gentle humming was back.

Chapter 7: Collectibles

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Listen. Billy was both a Wizard and a Champion of the Rock of Eternity. He had neither the need nor the want of owning people's souls. He vastly prefered the networking and information gathering inherent in the trade of services and objects for the things he wanted. The kind of endless, but caring, side questing communities were built around.

The point was, Billy "do good and good will follow" Batson hadn't planned to get his hands on one eight of John Constantine's soul during a card game he was invited to by his favorite textile craft group. All he knew when he was first given the roll of parchment was that it was part of a set, and that while it was valuable by definition, it was also worthless in practice if you didn’t have the rest. Not something worth crying over if lost, but fancy enough to be bet at the same table as enchanted stuff.

It was also important to note that Billy had only gotten in such a high state table to begin with because he had uncursed several objects he had won at previous ones, significantly raising the value of his haul by making them beneficial to own again.

It also wasn't Billy's fault that this was the closest he had gotten to collecting a set of something in a long while, and that he might have went playing more often after that in the hope of replicating the thrill he remembered from that one time he found all the missing pieces of his family's game of Scrabble.

Or that the uselessness of the contracts on the Hellblazer's soul made sure that demons would pass them around like hot potatoes during card games, to the point where they all ended up on Earth, and from there progressively made their way to a supernatural and magical hot-spot called Fawcett.

And again, Billy had no interest in collecting souls. He only kept the pieces of parchment that he kept winning because the thought of trading one, or even just a fraction of one, made him uncomfortable. So he never bothered to look into how close he was to owning the soul of a member of the Justice League Dark.

So you can imagine his surprise when his growing stack transformed into a single roll after he unknowingly added to it for the last time.

Honestly, if it had been up to him, the thing would have stayed in the warded spot he had shoved it in at the Rock of Eternity forever! He had never intended to speak a word about it to anyone either, but then the Justice League Dark asked for help in getting the Hellblazer away from a tough spot and he could hardly say no could he? Things got messy when magic users tried to jailbreak people from Hell without proper assistance! And he had a soul token with John Constantine's name on it ready to use just a door portal away!

---

"I thought that the Rock of Eternity didn't deal with demons beyond destroying, imprisoning or sending them back to where they came from!"

"The Wizard got two litteral hellspawn children that proves the contrary, but do go on."

Angry sputtering.

"How did you even gain ownership of my soul anyway!? I had it separated between eight different demons with grudges against each other!"

"Card games."

"You seriously expect me to believe that a childish goody two shoes like you is a card shark!?

"Your contracts looked nice next to my rare Pokémons. I was very sad when they combined in one roll once I catched them all. Now the roll looks like a coin and I can't put it in my special binder anymore."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

---

Rule #58 of the Justice League Handbook: "Don't play card games with Marvel, he once won a soul through one."

Notes next to it in Batman's digital copy:

1. While John Constantine won ownership of the House of Mystery through his own skill, his ability to not create enemies while using it leaves to be desired. The difference is best described as "wanting to have a good time" vs "willing to win at any costs". Something to keep in mind during diplomatic settings.
2. (Timestamp indicates that it was added at a later date than the first one.) If at all possible, do not put Captain Marvel and John Constantine together on the same team.
3. (Same day, color indicates that this is an addition from Robin.) LOL! The Hellblazer's soul is owned by the Big Red Cheese! Wait until everyone hears about this!

Chapter 8: A Cat's Curiosity

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Selina Kyle couldn't help a chuckle when reading the news on her tablet. As much as she loved Gotham, it wasn't the only city she had grown attached to during her multiple lives.

Due to Fawcett's popularity as a filming location, villains who damaged the scenery would get fined not only for the reparations needed to put things to rights, but also for the potential losses in profits.

Finding movie producers and film crews willing to bemoan about the disturbance to their projects was a favored tactic for both local lawyers and journals. It was free publicity after all!

But entertaining snippets from trial transcripts weren't the main reason for her interest. That honor was reserved to the Champions of Magic.

Once upon a time, that would have meant C.C. and Marilyn Batson. The couple had become her go to source about magic after they had helped her out during a spot of trouble caused by an enchanted statuette she had been paid to repatriate. They sometimes had to confiscate her finds when they were too dangerous to stay in human hands, but let’s be honest, she was hardly going to want the things close when that was the case.

She had mourned her friends when she had discovered that they were gone, even giving up the hunt for ancient artifacts for a short while. It was just too dangerous to keep looking for magical ones without their assistance, so she started to only pick them up when stumbling on them. Thankfully, by then she had accumulated enough experience, and been given a sufficient variety of portable containment measures and protective charms, to be able to safely transport most things that weren't already making trouble for their owners.

Then, to her great relief, C.C. and Marilyn had reappeared and promptly returned to their duties to the magical communities, seemingly the same as before beyond a few changes to their costumes.

If she hadn't known them under their civilian identities and spent so much time talking to them in more relaxed settings, she probably would have put down the differences in behavior to being caught in a pocket dimension or time anomaly for too long, such cases were common enough in Fawcett. It wasn't like the two were missing any memories, one of the first things they had done once back was to check up on her.

But she did know them. More importantly, she remembered their children, and, as much as they took after their parents, Mary and Billy just couldn't stop themselves from lighting up the same way as they used to when they saw her cats.

From there, it hadn't taken very long to get what had happened from the twins. To realize that Billy might not have survived the streets much longer without the Wizard's intervention. That Mary had been well on her way to dismiss her brother as an imaginary friend, and likely wouldn't have remembered her birth parents much, or at all, if becoming a Champion hadn't stimulated her memories.

Ebenezer's reaction had been very satisfying when he first saw his 'brother' and 'sister-in-law' with the lawyer she had paid for. The amount in financial reparation that the judge ended up billing the morally corrupt scrooge with had felt nearly as good.

---

Oh! How delightful! The first ever lines of Captain Marvel and Miss Marvel merchandise had just started production in Fawcett! Now she knew what to get for her tiny co-proprietors birthday!

Chapter 9: Wrong Tax Bracket

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"Come on! Give us something! We don't have anything to call you beyond Cap, Marvel, Captain Marvel and the Big Red Cheese!"

"Why do you all assume that I have a birthname?"

"What?"

"I live in Fawcett. I always lived in Fawcett when not at the Rock of Eternity. The Wisdom of Solomon is given, not inborn. Why are you all assuming that no fae ever got a hold of any birthnames that I might have had?"

"That kind of stuff can happen for real!?"

"It is quite popular among people who are tired of being referenced by their deadname or need a new one for legal reasons. Really useful to limit the number of spells that magic users can cast against oneself too."

"Does it work on tech?"

"There is a reason that I know with certainty that Batman can't be sure on whether or not I even have a civilian identity, if I ever did."

---

(Captain Marvel is sitting between Superman and Green Arrow for an interview.)

RI: "Captain Marvel, what is your opinion on the newest secret identity theory about you being Bruce Wayne with his face covered in make-up?"

(Green Arrow spit his water all over his section of the table. Superman start laughing uproariously. Captain Marvel looks incredibly confused.)

CM: "There are people out there who think that I am a billionaire?"

RI: "You have similar builds and coloring, are good with children, do a lot for charities and local organizations who work at making things better for those in need, often try to talk down villains and were never spotted next to him. Many of the major differences in behavior can easily be attributed to overcorrecting in trying to hide a double life."

(Superman is now cackling against the table top.)

GA: "I am probably going to get in trouble over this, but I don't think that those who came up with this quite realize how much Gotham's villains and vigilantes are going to laugh themselves sick once they do the math on how popular that theory must have gotten to get mentioned here."

RI: "Why? It is hardly the most unreasonable one that developed around a member of the Justice League."

GA: "Because anyone who truly get to work with Batman instead of knowing him from work is at least vaguely aware of his frustration over the thinness of his file on Captain Marvel, and that as far as I can tell most of Batman's villains are at least vaguely aware of Bruce Wayne's schedule and activities, if only to know when he is available for kidnapping."

---

(Popular links the next day.)

Not a loop: 5 minutes of Superman laughing

I made a GIF!: Watch Green Arrow spitting his water!

ConfusedCaptainMarvel.jpeg

Keeping Up With the Waynes: How often does Brucie wears red? The answer might surprise you!

Let's Compare Them: Captain Marvel next to Superman and Superman next to Bruce Wayne

Chapter 10: Drones

Chapter Text

Lex Luthor had two files open on his computer screen. One was the report from the team in charge of reviewing footage retrieved from the surveillance drones sent to Fawcett. The other was the itemized bill from Fawcett City who had apparently decided to just fine him as extensively as possible for everything they possibly could at record speed instead of trying to nail him with criminal charges.

(On unrelated news, Dr Sivana, a repeat offender in Fawcett City, has recently begun to spend much more time actively working at his company and even started to limit his villainous activities in public so as to stay within his newly implemented budget.)

---

Summary of the problems encountered by the LexCorps drones when above Fawcett, by order of frequency. Incidents are detailed in the following pages. The list numbers are also used to indicate locations in the map section of the report :

1. Trained birds of prey wearing specialized protective gear.
2. Arrows of the munition kind.
3. Tiny rocks launched by a group of kids with slingshots.
4. Frisbees.
5. Paintballs.
6. Potatoes fired by pipe-based cannons using air pressure. Kids class project suspected.
7. Clouds of bubbles created by kids.
8. Old decorated Halloween pumpkins launched by trebuchets during a competition between children's schools.
9. Lightning bolts in clear skies.
10. Rubber bullets fired from roofs, the owners were all policemen.
11. Spears from a reenactment fair.
12. Captain Marvel.
13. Balloons full of gouache launched by homemade catapults.
14. A baseball thrown by Victor Stone, cheered on by a group of kids.

Request permission to program drones to avoid kids when flying above Fawcett.

Chapter 11: Pet(s) Rock(s)

Chapter Text

It started with a wish.

Or perhaps multiple ones that fell in the right ears.

A DnD group that had developed a lot of affection for their fictional domesticated mimic who took the shape of disguises and was good enough to do ornamented clothes.

A distracted child that had received a pet rock and firmly believed that it was moving when they weren't looking.

A magic user trying to come up with a way to envelop a grimoire and protect it from moisture, flame, or physical damage.

Tenants who bemoaned not being allowed to bring in animals, or not trusting themselves to be able to keep them hidden well enough.

Anxious students worried because they knew that their school lockers weren't secure, a tug in the right place and it was like the cadenas didn't exist.

Owners of beloved plushies hoping that they would protect them from nightmares.

No matter how it began, the facts didn't lie: Fawcett had developed a population of mimics, and all available signs pointed toward them being a brand new homegrown species.

A brand new homegrown species whose numbers rose dramatically after the first Champion of Magic in 3000 years all but put his official seal of approval on it by picking one up and raising it from infancy.

Because Solomon gave these beings enough wisdom to prevent hunger from always overriding their critical thinking abilities.

Because Hercules then rewarded with more strength all the ones who helped young children defend themselves from adults, and their traits were passed down to their descendants.

Because Atlas decided that more endurance as well wouldn't go amiss, and promptly tried to see if any of his daughters would be interested in such pets.

Because a bored Zeus looked at the small creatures and blessed them with being able to spawn from themselves.

Because Achilles thought Billy's old clothing was too thin to be adequate protection from anything and profited from the occasion to make his life better.

Because Mercury felt that giving the ability to talk to such beings would be funny.

And because Billy liked to help new ones find people that would take very good care of them. Such as foster children he knew personally, restaurant owners who gave food leftovers to street kids, teenagers that agreed to tutor the younger years, kind old ladies who loved animals but were allergic to their favorites, fellow members of the Justice League who didn't truly realize what they were handed until the mysterious kid was gone…

---

"Hi J'onn J'onzz! I heard about what happened! Congrats on getting guardianship of a juvenile mimic! Have you named them yet?"

"You know what these are."

"Yes? It would be kind of hard not to, they are the third most popular choice of pet in Fawcett."

"The labs are working under the impression that the small creature is an animal version of what happened to Plastic Man and that the young human who gave it to me mistook it for something of Martian origin due to its shapeshifting abilities."

"That's strange considering that it is the custom among Fawcett kids to give either a notepad or a collection of lined paper in an envelope full of information on mimic care to those new to it."

"I was indeed given documentation, but due to my lack of familiarity with Earth my thoughts on its potential validity were dismissed once it was established that this mimic wasn't from my birth planet."

"I see. And, do you perhaps remember if the documentation you were given was written solely in cursive?"

"It was."

"Did it read like something a child might write?,

"It felt closer to the way you speak than to how M'gann and her friends do."

"Then how would you feel about accompanying me when I go to tell them what they would already know if they had remembered that children of this day and age tend to only write in cursive when obligated to in school and otherwise do not bother with it outside of signing their name?"

Chapter 12: Thoughts On Headquarters

Chapter Text

HG + Not being so close to the White House, which is a better look internationally.

HG + The implication that Batman has at least somewhat relaxed his stance on metas and magic users on his home turf.

HG - Not being so close to the White House, which looks less good to US citizens.

HG - Everything that makes Gotham so very cursed.

HG : The location makes more sense as a "the Bat Cave is currently either unusable or inadvisable" kind of backup.

HW + Being close enough to so many VIPs when it comes to U.S.A. politics that the chances of being nuked or something by the most well funded army in the world are hopefully quite low.

HW + Probably helpful when it comes to meetings with said VIPs.

HW + It's a big city.

HW - The easy access to politicians must work both ways.

HW - A close association to this particular government wouldn't exactly win them points with all countries on Earth.

HW - This city would have been an attractive target for villains even without a superhero nest to set on fire.

HW - It's a big city.

HW : While I can understand having it as both a museum and a cover-up headquarters, especially in timelines where it got destroyed at least once, I do like some of what the Justice League Dark can do with the underground. I wouldn't want wannabe necromancers and mad scientists to have easy access to these corpses either.

H : With the international part of Justice League International in mind, many of its functions could be divided between kinds of embassies on Earth in countries willing to house them.

WS + Space station.

WS + Nice place to keep things contained that you can't let land on Earth.

WS + Useful in cases of alien invasion.

WS + Great neutral ground. Space doesn't belong to any country.

WS - Enterprise sized ships and Death Stars aside, livable space is supposed to be at a premium in space. Especially in Earth DC where most spaceships seem to be either alien tech or involving a lot of reverse engineered alien tech. Space stations are also supposed to be very expensive to build no matter what fandom you are in.

WS - If a superhero can call dibs on a room, I think it would make sense that, in case of emergency, they would have to agree to making sure that their room, or quarters, can still house multiple other people at the same time if needed. Which in addition to safety regulations, would limit personalisation.

WS - Most Justice League members have a civilian life on Earth and a residence to go with it. Many superhero teams also have their own headquarters, like the Titans and Young Justice. Having enough private rooms or tiny suites for each member to reside in separately seems both highly unlikely and pretty wasteful to me.

WS - Good luck getting anywhere on Earth in a timely manner for heroics if the Boom Tubes are out, if you don't have the required power sets, or if there are no spaceships/pilots available.

WS : A necessity due to all of the alien and space related events. Also the kind of headquarters that writers seem to destroy the most often, especially the ones that started off as repurposed alien spaceships.

WV + The best accessibility of all the options for Atlanteans.

WV + You can easily go and take a breath outside of it without special powers or risking being caught on camera by the public.

WV + If the island is in waters that are more than 24 miles off the U.S. coast, then it is considered to be on the high seas and in international water as far as land dwellers are concerned.

WV - I am assuming that Batman wouldn't have financed the construction if there had been a dangerous level of volcanic activity, but the fact that this Watchtower is built on a volcano still feels like a source of concern to me.

WV - Having to carve out and move away volcanic rock before being able to build in anything.

WV - The rooms and passages curve around because they are following the shape of the volcano and also are adjacent to the lift shaft. The big sphere on top and some submarines aside, much of the construction seems limited to the inside of the volcano.

WV : There is the possibility of bringing in large quantities of needful things through ships. Though if you can spot Metropolis' skyscrapers from there, wouldn't there also be a risk of these ships being spotted by other ships close by? Could also serve as a kind of embassy with everyone that lives under sea level.

Chapter 13: Kon-El AU

Chapter Text

It was nice.

Being in Young Justice headquarters.

Not that he felt fully comfortable there, what with his status being in limbo, how unfamiliar the environment was and not really knowing what the expectations were and the, at best, awkward situation with Superman.

But still.

Superheroes around his age. Well, his biological age at least, he didn't think that he would get along as well with someone who was three years old both chronologically and mentally.

Food that wasn't some kind of nutrient paste or vitamin supplements. Freshly made food even, since Captain Marvel was teaching everyone how to cook, which delighted M'gann.

Captain Marvel was spending a lot of time with them, which was still weird to witness since that was the first human adult he had ever met who made time to do things like playing games with kids and participating in their lessons instead of merely acting as a supervisor or an evaluator. Not that none of the superhero mentors paid attention to Young Justice, quite the contrary in fact, but Captain Marvel had been the one to decide to start including Kon-El in activities such as learning tricks and strategies that could work on both technological and supernatural problems.

Like capturing a rogue self-driving car, or a modified electric toy with a huge box on top for the sake of the exercise, by rapidly pouring crushed eggshells around it. Chalk worked too, but good luck when the ground was wet or when it rained, and salt could be harmful to nearby plants.

Apparently, Fawcett kids were really good at solving tech problems with solutions and preventive methods taken or adapted from old tales.

---

Cadmus and Lex Luthor had never taught him anything about magic, even though it was one of Superman's documented weaknesses.

---

Kon-El knew that multiple Leaguers were uneasy with him and undecided about what to do guardianship wise due to the circ*mstances of his birth and the way he was raised prior to being discovered.

Luckily, not that the other superheroes were aware of it yet, Captain Marvel had a civilian identity, and was annoyed enough with his coworkers' continued behavior to square away everything needed to make Kon-El exist legally (as his own son!), without breathing a word of his plans to the trinity until moving day. Such as arranging a paperwork trail, because a significant portion of Fawcett's population found it easier and less problematic to do so than to fess up about time shenanigans and long lifespans to either state or country.

Robin said that Batman's reaction to the mound of expertly filled digital paperwork justifying this course of action in detail and with plenty of quotes and references from relevant literature had been edifying.

---

Marvel also had no trouble whatsoever in making him feel accepted and helping him toss through the window many of his preconceived notions about how the world worked and the ways a hero could help civilians.

It might have helped that that the man was a longstanding part owner of a more than well warded building housing: at least nine mimics as of last count (they reproduced by splitting), a polycule of vampires who were fidel clients of the local butchers, a fright of ghosts and ghost adjacent beings in the attic, triplet witches who had custody of the attached greenhouse, and a family of shapeshifters who apparently weren't Martians, but rather descendants of demi-gods born from an Earth deity and an human.

---

M'gann said that the location of his new… home? was hidden from others even when his mind was directly thinking about it.

By that point, he had been in Fawcett long enough to realize that there was a lot of trauma there that came from Mr. Mind getting into people's brains without permission. If she ever visited the city to see him outside of missions and Young Justice headquarters, he didn't want her to learn about it by accidentally triggering a person's memories of these events. And many magic users wouldn't exactly be kind about kicking her out of their heads.

Asking Marvel for advice on how to warn her about it had led to a shopping expedition where they had hunted down together used copies of books and periodicals written by, for and about mind readers, empaths and lies detectors of all kinds, and then gave them to her hoping that the well annotated sections on the respect of boundaries and the importance of privacy would be helpful.

He later spotted Robin taking pictures of some pages with his phone and was only mildly surprised when, after being inspected by the Justice League Dark, the small publishing house favored by Fawcett's magical circles suddenly received an order so big that they had to fill a whole truck to hold it in.

---

Maybe he should have asked Batman's permission before lending one of his modified “You Are the Hero” to a grounded Robin?

How was he supposed to know that the Bats were so bad at respecting rest recommendations that one of them being reasonable and staying put without trying to sneak in more work was a source of concern!? Or that Batman wasn’t aware that in 1982, when the first “You Are the Hero” books hit the shelves, dad had put his foot down and demanded that enchanted copies be rebind or at least given a book jacket with specific instructions that would clearly differentiate them from mundane ones!? Fawcett even had coffee shops and tea houses where you could pay to be discreetly brought out of your adventures at a set time!

At least whoever Agent A was appreciated his efforts if the box full of mouthwatering cookies they sent was anything to go by.

‐‐-

Conner Clarence Batson, named for one of M'gann's favorite fictional characters, his adoptive dad's (when transformed) dad and his chosen siblings' family name, or Kon‐El to the Justice League and most of Earth, thought that superheroes who were full time adults were no fun.

By the time Billy Batson had found out about Jumanji, the game, both in its board and electronic versions, had passed through the hands of hundreds of kids. A great deal of which had become well aware of the identities of many of Fawcett's magic users during their adventures. Some even learned how to cast a few healing spells.

By the time Zathura came about, his dad's real civilian identity was well known in magical playing circles as that tutor who could explain magic to anyone in a personal way, many people all over Fawcett were treating such games like highly immersive training simulations, and multiple DnD groups housed part time enchanters and small scale illusionists (hi mimic spawning ground).

The rise in numbers of magic users experienced in make believe also brought about, among other things, very convincing escape rooms, a high demand for temporary decorations that could simply vanish once an event was done, and the augmentation of real time special effects during theatrical productions.

But none of it was known to superheros from outside of Fawcett until an investigative journalist by the name of Clark Kent tried to look into the nightlife, and had to be promptly fished out of trouble by a deeply unimpressed Captain Marvel, who didn't appreciate being woken up by his League communicator just because someone had decided to be nosy.

Which is how Conner learned that Superman not only could pass as a human, but also had the driving license of one.

---

Then, on an otherwise ordinary Monday morning, because why wouldn't it be a Monday, someone at Sivanas Industries decided that a good way to keep LexCorps' most competent personnel busy during a competition for a contract was to anonymously find and air some of Lex Luthor's dirty laundry.

They found out about Superboy.

Apparently, asexual reproduction between a male billionaire and his, also male, alien nemesis made for a very big scandal in the United States of America. Who knew.

The Justice League servers were hacked on Tuesday, and the files on their discovery of his existence and the transition period that followed were released to the public.

Including the mound of expertly filled digital paperwork left behind on moving day.

Wonder Woman had to be the one to verbally confirm to an eager public that Captain Marvel was a dad, because Kal-El and Kara Zor-El were avoiding the press, and that Billy and Mary had declared the day siblings bonding time to stay home with him. After all, Fawcett's villains were way too entertained by the news on national tv to cause trouble.

So, of course, on Thursday, Fawcett's hotel owners were happily taking the money of all these journalists that Lex Luthor had bribed into focusing more on the big Red Cheese instead of the big bad billionaire, Whiz Radio was inundated with requests for their archives, and well paid smirking citizens were having a grand old time sharing enough stories, film recordings and hard copy photographic evidence spanning decades to make Batman cry.

Friday was hardly better, it felt like the entire world was convinced that Captain Marvel was a dad multiple times over, possibly a grandad, a great-grandad or even a great-great-grandad considering the length of time he had been active.

The pictures of C.C. Batson the elder and his family that were uncovered might have helped in reinforcing that belief.

Saturday was when Batman finally learned that while he was busy trying to collect as much information as possible on Captain Marvel, and failing at finding a home hidden by magic, Young Justice, including Robin, had been having fun playing board games in Billy Batson's living room.

Chapter 14: Jason Todd AU

Chapter Text

For all that he had the tech aspect of entering Young Justice HQ uninvited handled, Jason hadn't taken nearly enough time to consider whether or not everyone inside would be asleep. A fact that became painfully obvious when a red blur much too big to be a speedster pounced on him right out of the Boom Tubes entrance, and promptly divested his breathless self of all his weapons.

Try as he might, he couldn't escape the grip of the super before being tossed into what looked like the Justice League take on an interrogation room. It was no doubt far away from the part of the building housing Replacement.

He noticed too late the barely visible runes traced in chalk on the off white floor.

---

Waking up staring at a ceiling with the Pit Madness forcibly alted in its tracks after years of constantly feeling it baying for blood at the back of his mind was disorienting. Not that it was gone, more like, muzzled. And maybe more than a little spent. Though that part might just be Jason.

Still. A bit more peace was a bit more peace.

f*ck. Had he seriously been on his way to harm a f*cking kid just because he felt hurt by Bruce's actions? With how often he had helped hide a neighbor or fellow street kid in Crime Alley whenever they were at risk of being targeted by a bloody asshole who liked to indiscriminately make other people's days miserable to make themselves feel better!!!?

sh*t. He had almost hurt a…

He had almost hurt a kid.

He had almost…

He had…

He…

"Breathe."

Was… Was that a f*cking chorus?

"Breathe."

What… what kind of dramatic f*ck… programmed their voice distorter… to sound like a professional chorus working in a damn church… of all things!?

"Breathe."

Oh… That's where the black spots had been coming from.

"Well done."

Jason finally raised his aching head from the floor he was lying on and wondered why Captain Marvel hadn't been the one to coach him into breathing properly, since he was the only other visible person in the room with him. Wide scale fights and Superman on red kryptonite aside, the Big Red Cheese was usually one of the go to members of the Justice League when it came to reassuring people in the field.

"Now." The usually cheerful hero leaned forward in interest. "Who did this to you?"

Alright, either this was the weirdest interrogation tactic that someone had ever tried on him, probably an alien shapeshifter/telepath/both considering the whole Champion of Magic thing, or Captain Marvel had somehow gotten possessed by a very powerful entity of unknown moral alignment.

His confusion must have shown because the being kept going.

"For all that his beloved city holds, Gotham's Dark Knight would never have risked subjecting anyone, no matter how dear or hated, to the madness and mercy of a dying-and-rising god. "

His arms gave a slight pause in the middle of their efforts to fully bring him up to his knees.

"And for all his pride and distrust of magic, never would your once mentor have hesitated to contact either the Justice League Dark or myself had he been made aware that your continued good health, mind, body and soul had become so entwined with a domain he was unfamiliar with."

His throat went tight. From rage or grief, he didn't know.

"You were mourned when entombed in the earth, but who mourned when you drowned in water? Who mourned you, boy of three graves? A display case for your bloody uniform. A tombstone for your empty coffin. A communal pit for your body. All this pain. Did anyone ever take the time to sit down next to you and share your grief over what was lost to bring you as you are now in front of me?"

How much had he let slip while he was out of it?

"You were mourned, boy of three graves, but who mourned with you?"

Jason doesn't know when he started crying. Maybe it is because he hasn't felt any peace in his mind for so long, but he doesn't fight the arms that wrap around him. They are dressed in the wrong color, the cloth texture is nothing that he can recognize, but the bulk of the person hugging him is close enough to a Bruce in full Batman armor that he can almost pretend that it is his father doing it.

Chapter 15: Little Designs

Chapter Text

It started with a simple eyeliner pencil.

Dick Grayson, who one day would become Nightwing, had become curious about what protective magic casted on oneself felt like. Problem was, that while not as disadvantaged as a kryptonian when it came to magic, neither Robin nor Batman had the kind of natural sensitivity needed to spot anything not already observable through mundane and technological means.

Captain Marvel had likened their situation to having an utterly spotless "doesn't even look like it's there" bulletproof window around, and only being able to recognize its presence when being shot at. Assuming that whatever was sent in their direction was visible to begin with.

Tools of the trade aside, learned magic users apparently often developed a form of synesthesia once given enough exposure, while hom*o magis and descendants of either gods or supernatural beings tended to have supplementary senses to help them. It varied from person to person, but the amount of information received was actually one of the main reasons behind many metas and magicals dislike of post 2000 tech. Sometimes putting up with being constantly bombarded by publicities, pop-ups and notifications on top of everything else was just… not worth it.

(These comments would later lead to Batman taking his colleague aside to ask about ways to help people more susceptible to or going through sensory overload and brain fatigue. While the following explanations were first put to use in Wayne Enterprise facilities, they did also contribute to a whole wing in the Hall of Justice being set aside for the needs of Leaguers whose brains gave the middle finger to the human concept called "neurotypical".)

So Dick, still just as curious and happy to talk with an adult who never assumed that a kid couldn't understand something just because of their age, and Captain Marvel was very good at explaining things to sidekicks in a way that made sense to them, had asked if there were ways of making the bullet proof window visible. Of ensuring that you knew about it when it broke.

That's when the eyeliner pencil borrowed from Black Canary came in.

Contrary to the temporary tattoo method it had been inspired from, the smooth, dry marks of the design on Robin's left cheekbone would supposedly last precisely as long as the magical charge in it.

Dick had gone back home, had his most restful nap in quite some time, and woken up with no trace of eyeliner whatsoever on either his skin or his blankets.

While still not quite believing in magic at that point in time, the young vigilante did feel slightly more lucky from then on whenever he had a bit of Marvel applied makeup on his face.

---

In Fawcett, eight years old Billy Batson started getting interested in visual arts.

His friend Freddy Freeman happily served as his favorite human canvas.

---

Jason Todd, who believed Robin to be magic, and one day would become Red Hood, also felt more lucky whenever he had a bit of Marvel applied makeup on his face.

(The League of Assassins tended to concentrate more on martial arts, weapons, and taking out the ultra rich oligarchs of various countries. Despite this, its oldest members did know enough about magic that, when asked, they were able to confirm to him that, considering the man who made them, these little designs were all but guaranteed to be real honest-to-God working protective sigils.)

---

The doctors told Freddy that he was extraordinarily lucky to have survived Captain Nazi's attack. They were not sure yet if his legs and spine would heal well enough to permit him to stand up ever again.

Billy was no Asklepios, but his frequent healing spells did rapidly change the prognostic from "probably won't be able to get around without a wheelchair" to "chronic pain is likely, but at least crutches will be an option".

When his friend was finally released from the hospital, his plaster casts were absolutely covered in healing and protective sigils made with permanent markers.

Billy still kept looking into healing and protective magic. That pain relief medication clearly wasn't doing enough.

---

Tim Drake, the future Red Robin, joined the batfam around the same time the Marvel family started to hunt down the more squishy Leaguers at the behest of the infirmary. The medical professionals wanted to accumulate more data on the compared effects of science and magic when treating injuries and attempting to lessen the consequences of old wounds.

Green Arrow got caught first and Batman suddenly got much better at delegating Justice League duties. The budget for hiring and background checking support personnel also saw a noticeable increase.

So while he didn't get as much eyeliner as his predecessors, the third Robin developed a healthy appreciation for magic anyways.

---

Freddy started being able to use a cane on good days. The sigils on it were made in the same colors as his superhero suit and some people asked about the artist for their own mobility aids.

---

Stephanie Brown, also known as Spoiler, made herself a second temporary tattoo with the exact same supplies as Captain Marvel for comparison. Her little experiment showed that the makeup really should have been lasting longer than it did.

Asking Zatanna, Mr. Blood and John Constantine to copy the original design on different days gave her even shorter results.

Careful testing then proved that, starting from the same point, some locations in Gotham made the marks fade faster than others no matter what was going on at the time of her visit. Getting Duke, Cass and Damian to help in investigating them led to confirmation of the presence of multiple Lazarus Pits contaminating Gotham's water supply.

It certainly shone a new light on the tendency of Arkham's inmates to be more violent than their usual whenever they escaped the asylum through the morgue. Which, especially in the Joker's case, was rather often.

By that point, Jason had grown curious enough in what they had found to shove a huge Brucie Wayne level of ridiculous wad of cash at the british occult detective in exchange for a detailed written down report on Gotham's magical situation. The man had sent back a list of major curses, actual explanations on what they did and the ways they interacted together, a quick rundown on the environmental factors that made them worse as well as annotated maps of the city sectors.

Which is how Red Hood became John Constantine's favorite Gotham vigilante, well liked enough to get a text back from him faster than Batman.

That last thing was probably what alerted Bruce that something was going on.

---

(Captain Marvel and Batman are in a small meeting room. A copy of the Gotham Is Cursed report is spread on the table next to a tablet.)

B: From what I understand from what you said, I don't have any protection from magic?

CM: Yes, sir. If you don’t have the time to become a wizard and learn protective spells, or, uh, steal a magical artifact or something, you don’t really have anything that could combat magic. I mean, the magic users in the league could cast the spells for you, but those rarely last that long, sir.

B: ...What can I do?

CM: Uh. Nothing? Sorry, but unless someone literally engraves a protective sigil into your body, I really can't help wi-

B: A protective sigil?

CM: ...Yeah? Someone would have to permanently scar your body and soul with magic and... Uh. It's very, VERY painful.

B: ...If I remember correctly, you are The Champion Of Magic?

CM: Yes, sir?

B: Hm…

CM: Yeah..?

B: Hmmmmm…

CM: Um, Batman, sir..?

B: We can start tomorrow morning, I expect you to be in the tower.

CM: Wait, wuh-

B: *Vanishes, as he does*

Captain Marvel, as Billy, internally monologing: What the f*ck is wrong with this guy, I swear to Zeus, why is he like this.

---

(The next day, after Billy had spent the whole night transformed so as to speed up the research process into past Champions' memories of tattooing people with stick-and-pokes, magical literature on sigil engraving in living beings as well as current tattooing methods and materials.)

"Alright sir," the Captain, in full presentation mode, gestured to one of the open notebooks that he, in the time-honored tradition of all magical Leaguers on a budget, had taken from the Hall of Justice storerooms. "These are word clouds that I came up with to help you visualize the effects of various sigils that I thought you might be interested in. As you can see," he flipped a few pages, "I mostly focused on protection against mind control, mind reading, possession, puppetry, poisons and mind altering substances."

He pointed to a series of lists in the second notebook from his left. "These are for reported side effects commonly seen while the sigils settled on their bearers. The worst of it was generally felt during the first week after, though combinations targeting what used to be ongoing issues pre markings might feel unsettling for easily a full lunar month."

A finger lightly tapped on a particular section. "Considering the sheer amount of curses and poisons in Gotham that affect the brain one way or another, chances are that you won't be able to trust your alarm clock for some time, so please, no matter what you chose, don't plan anything too strenuous for at least three days once I am done."

Batman grunted. "And if I absolutely must wake up?"

Marvel looked deeply unimpressed. "Ice bucket challenge. And be very generous with the ice. Someone once slept through the church bells next door."

"Understood." The Dark Knight took his phone and started taking pictures two pages at a time.

"The last notebook holds my concerns over possible inconveniences that might be caused by the sigils long term. Especially the ones against mind reading, poisons and mind altering substances."

"Elaborate."

"Defenses against things like brain scans, translation tech and lie detectors, with medication, stimulants and alcohol not affecting you like they used to anymore. If you have thresholds you don't like to cross or are in situations where something you are usually comfortable with suddenly isn't, then the sigils could start to enforce your boundaries even when you logically shouldn't be able to in the eyes of those watching. Things you will have to think about while going out under a civilian identity."

"Can you do the protective sigils against mind control, possession and puppetry today?"

"How about we start with the first, and once we are done with it you tell me how you feel about doing the others? Because for your own sake I can't just stop midway or hurry it up once I start engraving your soul."

They did end up doing all three, with the rest being engraved late the next morning instead of during the seance that had originally been scheduled for the next week. Apparently Batman was perfectly willing to put himself through even more pain if it meant only having to deal with the twelve hours long unplanned extended naps and repeated ice bucket challenges during a single period of time.

Then an Arkham breakout involving Scarecrow, the Joker and Poison Ivy ensured that other Gotham vigilantes who were of age would ask for their own engraved sigils before the month was out. Not that those who were still minors didn't want some as well, but after doing Mary's and Freddy's, who were concerned about Mr Mind, Marvel would have said no to them even if Batman hadn't put his foot down about it first.

---

Bruce Wayne, whose events and person were regularly targeted by Gotham's villains, thought that magical soul engraving was a strange thing to try to rank on his usual pain scale.

For him, the whole procedure was akin to somehow simultaneously having nearly burning stones pressing down so heavily on a big deep purple bruise that they might as well be trying to dig their way in, and yet still being acutely aware that every single part of the body was actually in perfect working order, if a little bit more pained on the spot where a tattoo was being done. Except that it could also f*ck with someone's head, hurting for a few days, and, in the case of sigils against mind altering substances, feel like the worst hangover you'll ever experience.

For Freddy Freeman and Mary Bromfield, who didn't live in a city with enough pollution, lead, toxins, poisons, demonic energy, curses and mind altering substances lying around to make Victorian London look nearly tame, that task was much easier.

Both thought that magical soul engraving was akin to somehow getting both a normal stick-and-pokes tattoo from Billy, and whole co*cktails worth of phantom vaccines through the affected skin at the same time. With the addition of a slight headache medication did nothing for and a noticeable drop of energy in the following days.

---

The young Fawcettites to older Gothamites range of possible reactions, plus the needed consent, meant that Billy Batson couldn't just use his coming apprenticeship at a tattoo shop to transform Fawcett into a game of Russian roulette for Mr Mind and body snatchers of all kinds.

Which made sense considering that those with the knowledge and skill needed to even do the magical procedure generally didn’t get to that point by living a quiet life. While sigils could and were purposed for protection, the trust issues involved usually reserved their utilisations for protection of oneself or those considered family. Doing it on someone who wasn't heavily implied that you were very close. Not just in a "you are my friend" way, but in a "this person owes me an eternal debt they will never be able to repay, but it's fine because I have blessed them out of the goodness of my heart" kind of way.

Though being trusted to tattoo Batman on the back, a spot the Dark Knight prefered to keep well armored, had done wonders for his confidence as an artist, even if it was done as Captain Marvel. Yes, he still had to practice on more real people and develop a clientele, but if nothing else, spending a decade being a public figure, getting Justice League training and reassuring worried victims and teammates on the regular had been excellent in transforming Billy Batson into a quite charismatic and charming young adult.

And while he had to be careful to only go skin deep with it, he could use magic to make his creations stay incredibly fresh and heal amazingly, giving all of his art a reputation for never blurring out and staying vibrant.

The conflicting hours of superhero work and civilian work were easily taken care of with a little bit of duplication. After all, if a Champion could split their power between multiple people, why not between duplicates as well? Yes, integrating the different sets of memories once done had its own difficulties, especially when the same event was viewed through multiple perspectives, or if a person met different duplicates in the same day, but that's what the shifts with Freddy and Mary were for.

It's not like he needed much power for himself when working at a tattoo shop warded to hell and back by three Wizards of the Rock of Eternity.

Chapter 16: Protective Sigils

Chapter Text

"Alright sir," the Captain, in full presentation mode, gestured to one of the open notebooks that he, in the time-honored tradition of all magical Leaguers on a budget, had taken from the Hall of Justice storerooms. "These are word clouds that I came up with to help you visualize the intent of various sigils that I thought you might be interested in. As you can see," he flipped a few pages, "I mostly focused on protection against mind control, mind reading, possession, puppetry, poisons and mind altering substances."

"How long do they last?"

"It depends on who did them and what they were working with." He grabbed a loose sheet of paper. "This and ink are fragile, but take little space. I could stick it under a desk, make an airplane and direct it toward a problem or fold a little army of guardian origami if I wanted."

Bruce made a mental note to be on the lookout for post-its and invisible ink.

The red clad superhero kept going. "Fiber crafts and all things clothes and accessories related, while more time consuming, tend to be more flexible and durable. Shoes, boots, belts, cloaks and jewelry are among the most popular choices, though the last one is likely to get stolen if made of high priced materials."

No cufflinks or watches then.

"Nail art is excellent to keep watch for tempered food and drinks, diabete, or stuff that might cause an allergic reaction. I also know quite a few elderly ladies who like to use it for the health of their hands and feet. Customized press-on nails are really popular in Fawcett right now."

"Can protective sigils be done directly on a living being in a permanent way?"

A wince. "I wouldn't recommend that sir. Even with modern methods it can be extremely painful to get done when relying on someone else's magic and expertise, though your current lack of magical sensitivity might help you there. The only way to obtain a genuinely, fully permanent result, the kind that no skin damage will be able to erase, is to go for soul engraving at the same time. And that never ends without a lengthy recovery time."

"How lengthy?"

Marvel handed him the second notebook from his left. "This holds lists of reported side effects commonly seen while sigils settled on their bearers, both skin deep and soul deep. The worst of it was generally felt during the first week after, though combinations targeting what used to be ongoing issues pre markings might hit harder or feel unsettling for easily a full lunar month."

The Dark Knight took out his phone and started taking pictures two pages at a time. He motioned at his colleague to keep going.

"Considering the sheer amount of curses and poisons in Gotham that affect the brain one way or another, chances are that you would end up at the higher end of possible side effects and be unable to trust your alarm clock as well as you used to for quite some time, so please, no matter what you chose, don't plan anything too strenuous for at least three days once it is done."

"And if I absolutely must wake up?"

Marvel looked deeply unimpressed. "Ice bucket challenge. And be very generous with the ice. Someone once slept through the church bells next door."

"Understood."

"The last notebook holds my concerns over inconveniences that might be caused by the sigils long term. Especially the ones against mind reading, poisons and mind altering substances."

"Elaborate."

"Defenses against things like brain scans, translation tech and lie detectors, with medication, stimulants and alcohol not affecting you like they used to anymore. If you have thresholds you don't like to cross or are in situations where something you are usually comfortable with suddenly isn't, then the sigils could start to enforce your boundaries even when you logically shouldn't be able to in the eyes of those watching. Things you will have to think about while going out under a civilian identity." He paused. "I also wouldn't be particularly surprised if Superman and Martian Manhunter were able to spot a difference depending on your mood."

"My mood."

"Exhausted. In pain. Angry. Sad. Wounded, but trying to hide it. Not feeling like answering or being asked questions. Wanting a meeting to end already and knowing that someone would try to lengthen your stay if they were aware of what you were feeling."

"Point taken. How many sigils can you do in one day?"

"Depends on what I am working with. There is only so much that the Speed of Mercury can do when I can't go faster than inkflow or what the tools and materials I have available can handle."

"The Wisdom of Solomon helps you learn does it not?"

"I wouldn't have been able to memorize all of your procedures and security updates otherwise."

Bruce took a moment to appreciate being in the presence of someone who actually did the assigned readings instead of always begging Cyborg for the cliffnotes.

"Would you be willing to enter an accelerated apprenticeship at a tattoo shop under a fake identity of your choice if I was to pay for everything needed?"

"Sir?"

"If I am to let you magically engrave protective sigils into my body and soul after months of trying out your work in less permanent ways, might as well do the best of it."

---

Captain Marvel, as Billy, internally monologing: "What the f*ck is wrong with this guy, I swear to Zeus, why is he like this."

---

Batman couldn't help but to stare a bit, and then stare some more.

While he had envisaged that Captain Marvel, like many of his colleagues, might one day grow tired enough of his attempts at digging into their personal life outside of superhero work to do something as payback, he certainly hadn't expected to see it take such a form.

Marvel hadn't asked for a fake identity. He had delivered an already made one.

It was the single most pointed character sheet Bruce had ever seen.

Orphan, still of adoptable age, though not for long, whose parents died while at work, killed by a villain their son would later fight (Dick). Used to be a street kid (Jason). Archeologist parents (Tim). Blood related family that did not wish them well (Damian). Batson as a family name. William for a first name, which was noted as meaning "strong willed warrior".

The information trail in Fawcett looked genuine enough to make Bruce believe that Marvel must have figured out the civilian identities of most of the batfam years ago. Everything was just too well planted to be recent.

At least this confirmed the legends about shapeshifting Champions of Magic.

---

(Some time later.)

To: Captain Marvel

From: Batman

Subject: Soul Engraving

I want to start with the protective sigils against mind control, possession and puppetry, in that order.

Then mind altering substances and poisons if there is still time.

To: Batman

From: Captain Marvel

Re: Soul Engraving

This is going to feel like the worst hangover you'll ever experience at the very least, but I can do all of them tomorrow.

Just don't be surprised if you end up taking a ten to twelve hours long unplanned nap at some point.

Removing that much stress from your body is going to be more effective than a sedative once everything starts kicking in properly.

Chapter 17: Shifter AU

Chapter Text

Normally, Klarion the Witch Boy left Captain Marvel and Batman in relative peace. He had even once told the Justice League that he didn't bother with Fawcett and Gotham because he didn't think that anything he might come up with could possibly top what was already going on in those places.

As all members of the Justice League whose shifts weren't on public records would soon learn, today wasn't normally.

---

Batman, who thankfully didn't get forced into his shift in front of civilians or any of his rogues, wasn't a bat but rather a crow. That the Dark Knight, who didn't kill, transformed into something that got called a murder when in groups was the source of much laughter. That all of Gotham vigilantes were also revealed to be birds didn't help matters.

Reports coming in from various superheroes showed that the little chaos maker was more interested in satisfying his curiosity than doing identity reveals for the public, engineering situations that kept safe those of them who couldn't afford the increased scrutiny.

Then a live video from Fawcett started to accumulate viewers at an incredible rate.

---

William Joseph Batson could turn into a young black Labrador. He was an expert at spotting people vulnerable to puppy eyes and a dab hand at smelling free food.

Captain Marvel, whose mind was divided between Host, Champion and Patrons, could turn into a Cerberus.

A fact that the producers of his merchandise, as well as his fans and colleagues, weren't aware of previously.

(No one needed to know that Zeus had bribed Billy with a Blessing he could use in his mortal form in exchange for keeping it secret for as long as he could.

The longer the King of Olympus didn't have to hear about Hades bragging in the Underworld that the new Champion of Magic shifted into a form of the same species as his beloved dog, the stronger the Blessing got.)

Soon, three headed plushies with tiny little capes, bobbleheads, dog vests, and Halloween disguises for dogs hit the shelves.

A particularly memorable incident also led to frisbees decorated in honor of Wonder Woman's shield getting sold next to dog toys and Captain Marvel merch the next time Damian Wayne went to shop for Ace and Titus.

Another augmented the popularity of gigantic inflatable beach balls in Fawcett after someone's fly away with the wind and got fetched by Cerberus Cap. It came back slightly deflated and stuck to one of his teeth, but that was nothing that duct tape couldn't fix.

It didn't make the news, but the fields around the Kent farm no longer needed tilling once the Superfam was done playing tug of war with their friend.

Chapter 18: No Graves

Chapter Text

There were reasons behind the title of Captain Marvel, just like there were reasons behind the many titles that Black Adam accumulated.

There was Billy Batson, a Chosen Host. There was the sentient Living Lightning, currently called Marvel. There was the Champion of Magic, the combination of both of them. And, because no past Champions wanted to risk putting themselves at the mercy of the gods of death and their tools, there was a lot of souls belonging to long dead people.

Sometimes because they felt like they hadn't done enough while living. Sometimes because they weren't sure that they had done a good enough job as Champion and were scared to possibly get confirmation of it. Sometimes because they knew very well which beings would put pressure on death divinities if they ever dared to show up for judgment. Sometimes because they just prefered staying with the person who watched their back during all these years to any afterlife they might have earned a place in.

Often, these souls stayed at the Rock of Eternity.

But Billy Batson was the son of two archeologists, and he really liked the thought of learning history from first hand sources, so he often had enough people in his head to crew a whole ghost ship.

Hence Captain Marvel.

Hence Captain Marvel registering as an ecto-entity to specialized equipment at close range.

Hence a group of Guys In White on their way to Amity Park deciding on the spot that it would be a splendid idea to attack Fawcett's well established beloved superhero in broad daylight, right after he had just finished putting away Captain Nazi.

---

Surprise! Being shot at with energy weapons by a bunch of genocidal maniacs right after dealing with a remorseless German supersoldier from World War II didn't make for a happy hero!

Surprise! In city full of magic, supernatural beings, metas, history lovers, and heroic deeds made while throwing around lightning, film cameras that couldn't be hacked in or messed with through delicate circuitry were popular enough that merely using ecto-weapons around civilians didn't prevent them from recording proofs of blatant destruction of property and hate speech!

Surprise! When a formerly unknown group of well financed bigots show up citing a federal law that no one knows about and immediately start trying to kill a much beloved public figure, let alone a recognized superhero, people can get both curious and furious!

Lawyers and investigators from both the city and the Justice League might even show up to get to the bottom of the situation! And gleefully legally bury some people six feet under once done!

All while the JLD wander to Amity Park to evaluate the situation there!

The things that can be found in a GPS!

---

When a multi billionaire spends a lot of time and money figuring out ways to take down Kal-El of Krypton, said multi-billionaire might develop an interest in the favorite superhero to send against Superman on red kryptonite.

When rumors of ghosts start rising, one of them centering on Captain Marvel, said multi-billionaire might hire people to look into supposedly dead men.

Call it a preference for Earth born heroes.

Such digging might lead to the still living colleagues and friends of a deceased archeologist couple who used to go by the names Clarence Charles Batson, or C.C. for short, and Marylin Batson. Said colleagues and friends might also be present in a significant proportion of Fawcett historical circles, and be rather good at keeping records.

As well as grudges against a piece of sh*t going by the name Ebenezer Batson.

Ebenezer Batson, who was well aware of how much Captain Marvel looked like his dead brother, but was more worried by the mention of ghosts on the news than by the attempt on the man's continued existence.

Ebenezer Batson, who had sold both spouses' annotated textbooks, research journals, partially filled notebooks, sketches, audio recordings, video files and maps to a couple of private collectors from Gotham in spite of the will clearly asking for them to be handed over to a provided list of Fawcett professionals.

Yes, Tim Drake startled rather badly when he learned why Lex Luthor had decided to seek him out during this particular gala.

---

Then Phantom and Phantasm (Danny and Dani) showed up to meet Captain Marvel, and someone commented that Amity Park ghosts looked quite a bit like photo negatives.

And… Well…

Who remembered when they had last seen Billy and Mary Batson?

Chapter 19: Excuses Unneeded

Chapter Text

Billy barely got there in time, but as nothing seems to have started yet, in fact, he is pretty sure that quite a few people are still missing, he decides to start making the prefered drinks of those present while mentally doing a headcount.

It takes his young, tired brain no less than six mugs served to superheroes who look even more out of it than him to realize that he is in the Watchtower as Billy Batson and not as Captain Marvel.

Meh. He is wearing his own merch, and it is not like he would be the first Justice Leaguer to fall victim to a deaging spell. He just has to act like this is normal, and if anyone ask say that he is going to fix this at the Rock of Eternity once they are done there.

Hum. Barry just got there with a platter full of snacks. And... Gods, has it really been that much of a rough week for everyone!? That's the seventh time that someone has mistaken him for a Robin! Which one do they think he is!?

At this rate he won't even need to use his excuse!

Red Hood is there! If anyone is going to realize it should be him! Quick! Supes' own coffee can wait! The man patted his head and called him Jon before sitting down!

Billy watchs with impatience as Crime Alley's vigilante removes his signature red helmet, revealing the domino mask under it, and drinks a few sips before pausing, completely immobile.

"This is a Justice League meeting room. You can't be one of my street kids."

Billy starts bouncing in excitement, grinning ear to ear.

"Please, please Mr Red Hood sir! Tell me who I am! None of the others guessed right!"

A stare.

"How? I know that the last few days sucked majorly, but you are literally wearing your own merch!"

"Apparently I am Robin. Or Jon in Supes' case."

"I don't know if I should be more offended on my behalf or yours. Tell you what, I have a few spare dominoes in my belt pouches. If you can get the Bat himself to call you Robin before the meeting end, I will spend my cut of my gang's next big hit on Fawcett products."

"Deal!"

They shake hands.

"Best enchanting work for sale is done on Merlin Street. They accept gems, precious metals and rare minerals as payment, but no one will sell to you until you do a quest that profit the community first. You can get the quest at the future teller on Abracadabra Street. Just avoid the maenads and you should be fine."

Red Hood isn't too sure at first about getting handed a side quest, but then Batman arrives thirteen minutes late to his own meeting. After spending the last seventy-two hours awake because of an Arkham breakout that he had just finished handling. He even still got a bit of cuddle pollen and fear toxin in his system since he had to make do with general antidotes.

Billy get called not only Robin, but also chum, Jay, Jaylad, Jason and son.

Red Hood does the side quest.

Chapter 20: Nesting Dolls

Chapter Text

Each Justice League member had four levels of batfiles:

• 'Public', accessible to all members who are past the probation stage.
• 'Semi-public', accessible to carefully vetted professionals, such as the doctors and nurses at the Watchtower.
• 'Private', with personal details such as civilian identities and complete backgrounds.
• 'Full batfile', holding how all the information available was gathered, suppositions, possible avenues to find out more, as well as the contingency plans.

To Bruce's long standing frustration and growing respect, Captain Marvel's full batfile held an impressive collection of dead ends that shouldn't be possible for someone as distinctive as him.

It never failed to make for an entertaining read for the Robins, especially once they had other members' files to compare it to.

Imagine his surprise when Fawcett's superhero, who didn't need to eat, came to see him about dietary needs of all things.

---

"Explain. To be clear, I see no problems with increasing the food budget, I just want to understand."

A wince. "It is linked to the state I was in when the Wizard chose me. There is my original body, with all the accumulated problems I had due to not getting what I needed in the right time frames to ensure optimal health. That body is in stasis. And there is my Captain Marvel body, holder of the Blessings, first modeled after a mix of both myself and what I thought a hero should look like at the time, and then bulked up and clothed according to my Patrons' wishes. With me so far?"

Bruce nodded, already immensely thankful that he would be able to use this office's recording to update his files.

"My Captain Marvel body doesn't need to eat. It could never eat a single morsel of food for the rest of Eternity and be fine. All it truly needs is the energy that comes from the Living Lightning and the Blessings that both shape its power and help me handle it. The Living Lightning is anchored to both my original body and the Rock. You could consider it a nesting doll situation."

Blue eyes widened behind white lenses.

"And like with nesting dolls, it is possible to remove the biggest one and stare at what was hidden inside. Luckily, very few beings have the power and knowledge to do this. But it can be done. And while not irreversible, if it happens I will still be very vulnerable until I get enough breathing room to fix it. That's where food comes in."

The red clad hero stopped merely playing with his hands and started nervously pacing back and forth.

"To genuinely heal someone with magic, you need raw materials. Otherwise the work done can be reversed at any moment just by removing the power serving as scaffolding. If an arm is broken, and all the pieces are still in, you can just bring everything back together like it should be, assuming the strength that caused the break is gone."

"You want to use science and magic to fix long term damage."

"Yes."

"I will put you in touch with a nutritionist. And, Marvel… Thank you for trusting me with this."

He might still not have found his colleague's civilian identity, but now he knew why he couldn't find anything.

---

"Father, I want to learn what mortal being inspired Marvel to become as he is now."

"He never shared a name with me Damian."

"He admitted that his body as a superhero was a mix of both himself and that person. Certainly, that should be enough to find possible close matches within Fawcett. Drake might not have found anything, but the Captain's city is notorious for loving hard copies. I am certain that someone less dependent on digital stalking could discover worthy candidates if they were to personally visit places favored by the Captain."

"Damian, you have your final tests of the year coming up soon at school."

"During summer break then. I could take Young Justice as backup, and you could pitch it as a well deserved vacation during a meeting. As trying to get us to take a break in our home cities is a recipe for failure, the official reason could be that this is to get multiple points of view on Fawcett. With my team being chosen because of your hope that the different backgrounds, specialities and open minds of the younger generation would have an easier time understanding the place, as previous attempts done by our mentors fared… poorly."

"Just in case Captain Marvel ever needs the Justice League assistance on his home turf or is unavailable due to a mission."

"Indeed father."

---

Bruce had paid for an apartment to house Young Justice during the team's temporary move to Fawcett, and tried not to laugh too hard at the speculations shared between his colleagues on their children's possible tribulations in figuring out how to furnish it without breaking their cover.

Their cover being that of a group of young metas living together to reduce costs, having hurriedly moved to Fawcett to escape prejudice.

Damian's old fashioned way of speaking and martial skills had already netted him a job at the Ren Fair in record time. His boy had even taken to bragging through texts about successfully coaching multiple of his teammates into using more proper language in his efforts to help them gain employment in the same place as him.

Though the first to get a job had actually been Irey, as she had spotted a boy on a bicycle around their own age use short distance teleportation to avoid a construction site without changing his delivery route, and asked him if his employer was hiring.

That same boy had rapidly become the team's civilian go to source for all things Fawcett.

Which was a problem, because building a file on Billy B. was proving… difficult. Not because nothing was available. That would have been too easy. It was merely impossible to get to some professionals' documentation outside of billing hours. Because they used a localized form of time travel on their filing cabinets to force their clients to respect their schedule.

Which also explained Tim's rants about vanishing databases. Hard to hack a computer that wasn't there yet.

It made Bruce wonder if someone had ever tried to burn down a building to get rid of incriminating information, only to then get caught anyway because they hadn't done it at the right moment.

As inconvenient as it was for him, he could still appreciate an efficient security system when he saw one. Even if it was magic based. And made him wake up in cold sweat once he fully realized why exactly the feds only ever sent people they wished to make quit, or soon to be retirees wishing for a quiet posting, to Fawcett.

---

It wasn't just filling cabinets.

Chapter 21: (Not) Out Running Problems

Chapter Text

A Captain Marvel looked at the brand new empty shiny white board, looked at a Barry Allen, looked at the board, saw that the Barry was no longer in the room, picked up the red dry erase marker, and chose violence.

---

Hal Jordan went to get himself coffee, saluted Marvel, who was busy at the stove, curiously eyed the message written in red handwriting while drinking, and promptly regretted it.

The coughing brought in a worried Kal, plus Spooky and Diana, who also noticed the message.

Next J'ohnn wandered in with Booster Gold and Blue Beetle to ask Marvel, who was the only one not looking confused, what was bringing down his mood so much.

Booster started to swear and asked to send a picture to Justice League Dark.

Constantine texted back that this was what happened when metas with more pride than sense acted like their abilities were a cheat code permitting them to give the middle finger to the rules governing science and magic without consequences.

Spooky then finally finished looking up the footage and demanded explanations.

He got them.

---

"Alright," Marvel filled his mug with hot chocolate, "the cliffnotes on time travel. Going to the future, relatively easy. Any kind of stasis will do, Futurama or otherwise. Temporarily stepping anywhere that goes slower than your home universe works too." He took a sip. "Think about how fast things happened in Narnia compared to Earth in the Chronicles. With me so far?"

Nods.

"Excellent." Sigh. "Going to the past is where things get messy. Not being in a video game, successfully erasing everything that happened between the no longer existent point of departure and the point of arrival also means erasing everyone affected by the 'reset'. Done perfectly, it's essentially sacrificing that whole universe to get a previous version of it. Which, barring some kind of apocalypse of mind blowing proportions, generally isn't worth doing."

He winced. "Considering what I know of the Speedforce, this Flash might be an unaware survivor of an imperfect reset. If he is, there might also currently be a second Captain Marvel at the Rock of Eternity, and I will have to look for more information among beings and entities with defenses against such meddling."

Pale faces all around. Good. They were getting it. He took a bigger sip.

"Luckily for us, other, less costly options are also possible. Such as picking up or duplicating someone from a particular timeline and dropping them in one similar enough that they won't notice the difference. Not right away at least." He gestured at the board with his mug. "That's actually what I am hoping is happening here." He turned to Batman. "If it is, we either have two or more Flashes running around right now, or our own left without saying goodbye at around the same time the one I saw today walked in like nothing was wrong."

"And we have no guarantees that this Flash is working with fully accurate information." Batman said in a grim tone. "Or will not make a costly mistake over something we consider well known information, but don't mention regularly."

He raised his mug. "An allergy or insensitive comment is all it would take. You can also use divination to explore probabilities in high enough details for it to be nearly the same as living them. Which is excellent for both training and setting up time loops Groundhog Day style in a set area. But speedsters aren't using divination." He drained what was left of the drink. "And we don't know what this Flash thinks he is doing, if he ever genuinely thought it through, or if he has no idea what is going on."

---

When Barry entered the meeting room, his first clue that something was wrong was Marvel serving hot chocolate with a ladle out of a cauldron big enough to cook a whole turkey in.

His second was Aquaman spiking mugs with rum, and the third the empty bottle of it next to Hal. Given how Atlantis' king was moving around the room, either that wasn't the first refill or his friend had grabbed the drink right at the start of whatever this was.

Then he caught sight of the message projected behind Batman at the head of the line of tables.

---

Who wants to break it to Flash that he left the wife he married behind five universe jumps ago?

Chapter 22: Three Pairs of Shoes

Chapter Text

Bruce barely had the time to realize that he was in Clark's body before everything became too much.

A brief glimpse deep and far through the Watchtower. Space. Vertigo. An attempt at control. Failure. Bright red light. Aching eyes. Closed eyes. Wood smoke. Burnt cheese. A headband of tension developing at the front of his head. Sounds pouring in never ending waves. Pulling him under. Resisting. Headache. Lightness that makes him miss the press and weight of the Batman suit like he might fly apart without it. A warm steaming divot in the counter he tries to hold onto, breaking off a piece that crumbles in his grip. Textures, textures, everywhere. The ground. There are…

Warm hands on his temples.

A soothing voice.

Calm and sure.

A strong and stable heartbeat.

A familiar smell right next to him.

Bruce doesn't dare to move.

There are still bits of counter in his hands.

His breath still feels cold.

He…

"Breathe. I still have my magic. I promise that you couldn't harm me even if you tried. I can handle Kal-El just fine when he is under red kryptonite, you aren't anywhere near as difficult."

Oh.

So that's where his body went.

"Who…?"

"I am Captain Marvel in Batman's body. And you?"

---

Clark is convinced that someone drugged him.

The whole world is vibrating like the animated atoms in his old science classes. Estimating density and sturdiness through touch felt way easier than his usual sight and memorisation based method. His senses are all out of whack, and he is fairly sure that he is hallucinating at the very least some kind of human style synesthesia.

He has no idea what he is on.

At least it isn't red kryptonite.

And the couch feels comfy.

When did he get there?

---

"Were you on… something before the switch?"

"Nope."

Bruce watches his own body take the vitals of a Clark acting exactly like some Gothamite shrooms users do after consuming a dose. His friend is staring at his own (Marvel's own) hands in wonder and bewilderment. He doesn't dare reach for the test kit himself.

"I think, considering your reaction in the kitchen, that this might be about the differences in our respective senses."

"Explain."

"Kal-El's body is overpowered by our yellow sun, and so are his senses. Yours is so incredibly well trained that I can feel the well traveled paths of your brain nudging my thoughts and actions almost like the Wisdom of Solomon. Mine is… Okay, not getting into mixed heritages, Earth magic users tend to get the usual baseline sense package for their species, plus a few extras that they can either be born with or purposely develop into a kind of synesthesia through training."

"You are saying that without your Patrons' Blessings your baseline senses are low enough that it is like his brain got turned off from his perspective, with these extras making things strange enough for him to feel as if drugged."

"At least he is having a good time?"

---

Bruce shouldn't feel so humiliated to be the only one to have made a mess. He couldn't have known, he is well aware of it, but it is still hard to take for someone who prides himself so much on his control.

It is just… It was one thing to see Clark too out of it to do much of anything, like a lighter reflection of Bruce's overwhelmed mind and shaking self.

It was another to witness the footage of how well Captain Marvel had handled the situation.

The way he had calmly but immediately turned off and put down the tools that Bruce had been using on an alien gadget. The slight staring and minute wiggles of fingers once done. The slow and careful stretches of the body, no doubt figuring out which parts hurt and which didn't. The small measured steps towards the door.

Very unlike Marvel's usual bouncing steps and cheerful behavior. Much more in line with the actions engraved in Bruce's muscle memory

But… By the man's own admission, hom*o magis and hom*o sapiens had compatible but different nervous systems, enough that there should have been a feeling of lack. And the extensive scans side by side on the screens showed that despite his healing abilities, Marvel had been respectful enough to not do any non consensual body modifications.

Even the easily missed or nearly gone bruises had been left intact.

Which Bruce deeply appreciated, evaluating the progression of his injuries was a long ingrained habit, and suddenly waking up without any marks of his life as a vigilante would have been incredibly disorientating.

Still, he had seen the results of progressive magical healing on Oliver's oldest injuries, carefully done to diminish their depth and width, their impact on his health, without erasing the skin marks of his survival.

It would have been incredibly easy for Marvel to make some changes and then put the blame on a temporary lack of control caused by the body switch. On feeling that his body was injured only to realize after the fix that it wasn't actually his body that had been injured.

Bruce wasn't used to that much integrity outside of Diana and her lasso of truth. It wasn't just a Gotham thing. Among vigilantes, who more often than not had civilian identities to protect, lying, acting and secret keeping were rather common skills in use. Especially the last one. The Meta Protections Acts were only a few years old after all.

---

There was Batman, Bruce Wayne, and Brucie. Superman, Clark Kent, and Kal-El. Wonder Woman, Diana of Themyscira and Diana Prince. Venn diagrams of beings using a few of their genuine facets in alternance to hide the others, sometimes to lie with the truth and keep themselves and their loved ones safe.

He knew the main circles of everyone he trusted best. He needed to know the main circles of everyone he trusted best. Needed to know how to best take care of them, how to help them, how to protect them, how to solve their problems when they couldn't.

He could set up the comfiest quiet room money could buy for Clark. A veritable nest of soft and soothing things of the highest caliber possible, with plenty of adjustable sun lamps. Crush predatory businesses trying to set up shop in and around Smallville. Favorise Daily Planet reporters. Make life harder for Lex Luthor.

He could hunt down belongings and pictures of Diana's dead friends from WWII. Arrange scholarships for their descendants. Distribute project grants to people helping discover and preserve history. Give donations to ethical museums. Support women's rights organizations. Torpedo hate groups.

What could he do for Captain Marvel?

Chapter 23: Let's Raise Hell

Chapter Text

Captain Marvel, Jason thought, looking at Tim's presentation of the situation they were in, knew how to choose his timelines.

Thomas and Martha Wayne were dead, so they would be guaranteed a Batman, but this version of Bruce was also thankfully still a child. Which meant that they wouldn't have to stare at a doppelganger of the man's whose tomb they had to leave behind for at least a few years.

It was actually the Trinity's tomb, but Black Adam had promised that no one would disturb the rest of the dead, and the Champion of Khandaq took that kind of thing very seriously.

Moving on.

Jack Napier hadn't had his accident yet, so no Joker, and the Red Hood moniker was very much up for grabs. Actually, most of the villains and supervillains they were once used to either hadn't started their careers yet, or were still safely contained.

All in all, a rather quiet moment to land in as far as Gotham went.

---

"Shrike," Jason said to Damian in his comm. "Ever wondered why people often lost it in the Greek Myths after meeting the gods?"

"The Captain once told Young Justice that divine magic can be so hard to handle without proper preparation, that half of looking for a new Champion is finding someone that will at least be the productive kind of mad once Blessed. The other half is selecting a candidate that the gods will not want dead within the year.

It is my impression that quests to earn divine goodwill are as much about weeding out the unworthy as they are about ensuring good health once rewarded. What brings this question Hood?"

"Remember how we were told by Team Phantom and their allies that the invaders wouldn't get their hands on the Lazarus Pits? I think I know what they decided to do with them now."

"Hood. Are you still at the old vacation house of the drug lord we just evicted?"

"Yep. And I just found a uniquely green natural swimming pool that definitely wasn't there during my previous sweep of the place. The property also just got a lot more trees in the backward, the increase in privacy is… significant."

"I will send you more backup."

---

"Hood." Damian again. Not knowing Jon's status was hard on him. "Zatanna is there. Moving the Tower of Fate and the House of Mysteries was a success. She is currently scouting abandoned open-pit mines as possible drop locations for places with deep underground systems."

"Alone?"

"It is, and I quote, "snatch and grab season on Old Earth right now". The more they can bring through, the less they will need once there. It is why they sent us off with these shipping containers after all. Now that it has been determined that they can make off with whole buildings, it is a matter of both practicality and pride to deprive the invaders of as many of our heritage homes, national treasures, precious resources and beloved landmarks as possible."

"Leaving in style I see."

---

"Hood. I propose that we adjust our estimates of how much will be brought in."

"Hadn't we already done that Shrike?"

"Khandaq landed. Invader corpses and crashed spaceships included. It just made the news. By the look of the streets, they integrated the citizens, homes, lands and businesses of many of their former neighbor countries to pad up their numbers and ease the recognition of their status as a nation."

Barbara's voice went through the sound system. "It is not just Khandaq. That was just the biggest source of topsoil that recently got brought in. We got multiple places popping up all over the planet with stories on how their Champions did their best and how they were so glad that their prayers were answered, because they had already lost so many heroes and couldn't bear to lose anymore of them. They straight up added more islands in Greece, at precisely the right time to save a whole ship full of desperate immigrants that the coast guard wasn't lifting a finger for."

"Things must be heating up fast on Old Earth," Jason mused. "Any signs of Fawcett?"

"No. Apparently, this Earth has no version of it. Or of Khandaq until it landed. Our surviving magical communities are good enough at hiding that we will probably need to wait for contact to get more information. Marvel didn't have the time to search for a perfect fit and just went for the first good match he found that gave us at least a decade before an alien invasion, so he can't just drop his people at the Ren Fair in a record breaking amount of tourists."

"More the pity. With all the pocket dimensions and time bubbles that place is truffled with, I am sure that they could have set up shop as if they had always been there without alerting a single fed."

---

"I have good news!" Tim sounded ecstatic. "NASA scientists are now considered strategic resources of such importance, that all of their student loans have been forgiven to ensure optimum working conditions! The trekkies are finally getting the funding that they want to reach their dreams!"

---

"News from the seven seas! Garth and Kaldur'ahm are fine. Well, as fine as they can be. The refugees are settling in well now, but their version of our Arthur is still a child, not that anyone told them about him, so there is more diplomacy involved in relocating people to more familiar waters."

"Thanks Duke."

---

"Steph? Cass? What it is it?"

"The surviving Amazons were just dropped on this Earth Diana's doorsteps and Jason Blood arrived with Felicity Smoak and his manor." She sounded haunted.

"There is more going on there isn't it?"

Cass started signing. "He smells different. Etrigan is not in him anymore. Helena, Dinah, Roy and Lian were asleep. They said that they were the last to come from Star City. Many pets around, but no owners." She paused. "No adult owners. Leslie and Jarro were busy with children."

"I… I will send Damian with what they need. Maybe taking care of other people's pets will help him with the loss of those he had at Wayne Manor."

---

"Mr Blood, what happened to Etrigan?"

"He wanted to have fun against the invaders since he and his brethren were going to be set loose. Said that those who got rid of a native population could deal with the curses that plagued them and the portals that they used to keep shut."

"Do you have any ideas on the whereabouts of Fawcett and Captain Marvel?"

"Not far behind me. He set it up so that Fawcett and the Rock of Eternity leaving would drain the energy of all the barriers left that kept interdimensional beings out of Old Earth. If any of them are interested in breaking through, they will."

---

"Lois, Kara, Kon, Jon! So you made it to Fawcett in the end!"

The intrepid reporter hugged him. "It was easier to bear all the hearts that they could no longer hear while helping there. The magic makes it harder to distinguish anything coming from beyond the city's limits as long as they don't fly too far above it."

"Where is the big guy?"

"Someone finally sat him down and convinced him to take a break. They put a big cuddly orange cat on his thighs to stop him from getting up and he hasn't moved since."

Chapter 24: Witch Hunter

Chapter Text

Bruce hit play on the recording and put his head in his hands.

"What do bloodline curses do? Why would a person use their last breath for one, instead of using their power to save themselves or to kill their murderer?"

Marvel answered without hesitation. "Because magic cast with one's last breath uses the person's death as a powersource. Bloodline curses vary depending on the context they were made in and the people involved at the start of them, but their goals are usually easy enough to understand once you learn of their origin story."

"Elaborate."

"Well. To take an exemple you are more likely to be familiar with, Nathaniel Wayne, one of Gotham Bruce Wayne's ancestors, was a Witch Hunter. His… " the tone grew more disgusted, "professional name was Brother Malleuse. Historically, no matter the justifications used, that means targeting young single women, old widows, mistresses whose lovers wanted to get rid of them, the disabled, those mentally ill, ethnic minorities and queer people. Then getting the victims belongings as compensation for the work done. Very few actual witches were ever caught, and the ones who were tended to be rather inexperienced.

Now, bloodline curses gain strength with each new victim of the actions taken by the targeted bloodline. They make a priority of manipulating probabilities in the disfavor of the descendants who uphold the same or similar values as their ancestor, the ones who are the most alike to the caster's murderer being the most affected.

Which, in the case of a Witch Hunter, means being willing to get rich or richer by purposely oppressing people and making life miserable for those below their tax bracket, with a heavy helping of misogyny and bigotry, as well as the occasional killing, be it by their own hands or not."

"And the wealthy like to marry in families of similar station and values."

"It is why so many stories of cursed dragon hoards and adjacent tales are actually references to bloodline curses and their bearers, just retold in ways that wouldn't offend the wealthy sensibilities."

"Are there ways to stop them?"

"Thomas Wayne made the curse go dormant for his branch by being a genuinely good person, and his son wasn't raised by any of the relatives who might have made it wake-up. I can guarantee that Bruce's love of extreme sports would have done him in years ago hadn’t it been the case."

"But…"

"Having one curse comfortably asleep doesn't make it safe for a visibly rich couple and their child to walk through Crime Alley. Considering the amount of kidnappings targeting the family these days, that there were none that night is one of the most surprising parts about what happened back then."

Chapter 25: Draping

Chapter Text

Sometimes, thought Hal, talking to Marvel was like rolling a pair of dice.

You most often got the lucky number seven, and won a conversation that left you happier than you started with, because Fawcett's superhero was just that great at remembering people of the small joys of life.

You could, with some regularity, get weird questions and statements worthy of Spooky's Robins.

Such as that time during an invasion where Spooky commented that the parademons were avoiding Captain Marvel, and the mad lad straight up said on comm that it could be because he fought against them in Santa’s yearly crusade against Darkseid. Because, supposedly, Mr Claus and his elves were willing to fight an army just to deliver a single lump of coal to the supervillain that led it.

Not that he disputed that Darkseid deserved to be on top of the Naughty List, but Hal believed that story as much as the one where Superman had helped pull the magical sleigh across the sky when the just as magical reindeers had gotten sick.

And then there were the odd situations where Marvel was somehow the only one who was both calm and well put together.

Like this one.

---

The charity gala had been well underway when Klarion had shown up and declared that adult superheroes could do with a reminder of what it was like to be a teenager.

His Green Lantern ring had, thankfully, automatically adjusted his suit size.

Marvel was now wearing a good looking black outfit that fitted him well.

The others looked... Well…. Barry was certainly the worst off with the way his suit hung off his frame like his body was a coat rack and how his silly little helmet was falling over his eyes like a too big hat. Honestly, everyone who had a helmet was suffering.

Pity that Spooky had been a no show, Hal would have liked to see the Bat armor and pointy ears move around like on a too small mannequin.

(Billy deeply appreciated that the gods had decided to mess with people by letting his Champion form get deaged instead of serving his even younger mortal form to the cameras. It was nice to find out what having a teenage body was like. Something in between the two shapes he was most used to.)

But Hal didn't get to stare much more before Marvel declared him his fetch person and put him to work collecting neckties, tie clips, pins and brooches from the wide eyed audience. All while working some draping magic by quickly repurposing tablecloths into an outfit for Diana that had no rights looking as good as it did.

What was this, an infinity dress how to video?

By the time Hal came back with his first haul, Bruce Wayne had finished corralling away the press and Diana was busy working the same draping magic on other women.

By his second haul, the sidekicks had arrived with their own spare suits and clothes to see if they might fit, and Superman looked even more like his sons than usual. Apparently even as a teen that man looked like a powerhouse, if a bit slimmer and with a healthy bit of chub.

---

Barry starred at the multiple screens Red Robin was using to showcase the media's reactions to Klarion's latest prank.

First off, he was never living this down. Once such an embarrassing picture of a superhero hit the news, erasing it from all platforms became impossible.

Second, due to the instant outfit change, Marvel as a teen was currently being referred to as the "unknown young male model" that had come to the Justice League's rescue in their time of need. Pictures had been taken from all angles. There was a whole screen dedicated solely to him and people's comments on his actions.

There were also speculations as to which 'Superboy' seen from the back must have been the Captain, because, obviously, no one had caught the man in an ill fitting outfit, so the "poor dear must have been a late bloomer and used his smaller height to avoid the cameras".

He didn't know whether to be more delighted or offended on his friend's behalf.

Third, Red Robin and the rest of the older sidekicks, Barry's own kids included, seemed to be in the same boat as the press, in that they had not realized yet who the "unknown young male model" was, and were trying to see if any of their mentors had more information on him. Say model being still on the ground with Bruce Wayne, both being busy doing interviews together. Wait, wait, what was that live video saying?

"I am pleased to say that this fine young man promised to reveal his identity at the end of this charity gala if the amount of donations collected went over -"

Ohhh, the reactions were going to be epic!

---

"Slow down Robin! Yes, I can one hundred percent believe that comments were said, but I can assure you that your den mother doesn’t need you to go stab people on his behalf! I promise that their mortification is already doing plenty on its own!"

---

"That's… Okay, I can understand the confusion, but look, this online dictionary says that slay can be used as a slang term that means to do something particularly well, especially when it comes to fashion, artistic performance, or self-confidence. See? No one is accusing the Captain of having killed someone or an animal!"

‐‐‐

And then Klarion's prank inspired others to do the same.

Often enough that Bruce started to work towards augmenting the amount of potential draping materials available in and around the places and events he went to.

A carefully thought out kit in the batmobile, because cloth draping, as proven historically, was an incredibly versatile option once you knew what you were doing. He spent hours watching videos on mute of women making dresses out of scarves and bangles when not reading books on no sew clothes, even acquiring a used copy from the sixties on the subject.

Less utilitarian kits in his Brucie Wayne cars, filled with clothing clips styled after vintage ones, brooches and clothing magnets from museum gift shops, spare designer ties, as well as luxurious scarves of all sizes and weights. Said scarves rotating out regularly through being gifted to his dates.

Making a lot of artisans online very happy in his efforts to have enough variety in the 'forgotten' and 'lost' objects dispersed all over the manor to make it look more natural and not like he bought stuff in bulk. To the point where Selina took to just ruffling through the sofas sometimes when she wanted new things. At least it made her come more often. He just had to get better at catching her in the act.

Dick liked to contribute more colorful choices. Like these ridiculous disco shirts of his. A few belts with eye catching buckles. Some suspenders. Because there was a bi playboy on the premises after all.

Alfred put his foot down on looking into his linen closets for practice materials.

The safe houses got more attention for a while after that.

Chapter 26: Child of the Rock

Chapter Text

The House of Mystery was sentient enough to have favorites.

The Rock of Eternity was much older.

And tired of waiting after its Wizard to get to meet and take care of new people.

The Rock's corridors were so bare and gray now. It missed being decorated. It missed looking well taken care of and grand in more than size instead of merely functional. It had to sacrifice most of its shinies to keep things running smoothly back when Jebediah as Shazam was so busy running around putting out fires for others that he forgot to feed it raw materials for room expansion.

The poor exhausted man had to witness it repurpose the door to his quarters into wooden tablets for the library before he finally went and brought back a few meteors.

All these offerings, prisoners, texts and artifacts had to be stored somewhere.

Not that it blamed poor Jebediah for the current situation. There was only so much that a single person trying to take care of a workload that used to keep seven legendary magic users and their chosen Champions working together busy could be expected to do.

Which was why the Rock of Eternity decided to find him an apprentice. One of those cute tiny ones, full of energy and wide eyed wonder at the world. The kind that could only handle small basic tasks, absorbed knowledge like sponges, and liked to use colored chalk on asphalt.

Certainly, it wouldn't trouble Fawcett city if it was to pick up one of these free running apprentices that didn't go to schools and weren't instructed in houses?

It was perfectly able to give room and board, thanks to the thirteen empty quarters and the Horn of Abundance supplied kitchen, the library was full of high quality education materials, and the door portals were perfect for transportation and field trips! And transmutation could take care of the wages! This "twenty-first century" was full of heaps of discarded stuff that could be made useful again with a little bit of magic!

---

The Wizard Shazam, born Jebediah of Canaan, once known as the Champion Vlarem, stared, stared, and stared some more.

There was a child in the Rock of Eternity.

He hadn't brought them there and all the door portals were secure.

Had the Rock…made a child?

---

False alarm. The Rock wasn't self spawning, or at least hadn't self spawned, and no horny gods were involved in the current situation.

The incredibly ancient sentient building in the middle of space and time had merely decided to kidnap a child.

Clarence Charles Batson and Marylin Batson's child to be exact.

That Jebediah had last seen at the boy's parents funeral with a grim Ebenezer and no twin sister in sight. Apparently his assumption that the uncle would take care of the siblings had been wrong. Terribly wrong even.

Because a good and kind child like Billy wouldn't prefer living on the streets for such a long time over staying with his uncle, or any of the other adults that CPS might have found for him for that matter, unless he genuinely thought that being there was better.

Maybe, just maybe, if he was really careful, the busy family friend that was a bit out of touch might not be that bad of an option after all.

---

"And this Billy, is what tends to be one of the favorite parts of the Rock of Eternity for its residents: the communal kitchen. The Horn of Abundance on the wall there is the oldest still in existence that we know of. All the ingredients you can source from it are things that were available on Earth at the moment of its creation. Apples, rice, herbs, potatoes, spices, mammoth, fish, cocoa beans, honey, plenty of variety! You are never going to run out of food here!"

"What is the side door on the left for?"

"That's the recipe library. I know all of my own favorites by heart, so I don't go in there often, but feel free to browse. Just don't forget to bring in something that can translate for you, everything is older than English in there. I will find you an artifact to use while learning the right spells."

"What's in the full cauldron?"

"That's the perpetual stew."

"How old is it?"

Jebediah had to pause for that one. "At least in the four digits? It's magic and I never emptied it fully."

"What's in that plate?"

"That's a sourdough starter from the Khandaq of three millennia ago. I can guarantee that no modern bread will taste the same as what you can get from this."

---

"ADAM!!! I WILL GIVE YOU BACK SOME OF THAT SOURDOUGH STARTER THAT YOU LEFT AT THE ROCK OF ETERNITY IF YOU WILL JUST STOP BRINGING TROUBLE TO FAWCETT!!!

I WILL EVEN GET YOU A BASKET FULL OF INGREDIENTS OF YOUR CHOICE FROM THE KITCHEN AT THE END OF EACH MONTH IF YOU LEAVE ME ALONE FOR THE REST OF IT!!!!"

---

"You. Bribed. Black Adam. With. Food."

"What? It isn't like we can run out!"

"Just. Transform back. Please. I want the Wisdom of Solomon on how this even worked. It's a relief that it did. I just don't get how it did and it is going to bother me until I do."

"I didn't use the Wisdom of Solomon for that one. I just figured that he might miss his home as it used to be. If I can still miss the meals with my family, why not him? And you told me once that the sourdough starter came from Khandaq."

"Oh, Billy…"

---

"When do you celebrate your birthday?"

---

Clark leaned in close to Bruce to whisper.

"Can you tell me why Diana is reacting like this to Marvel's food platter? Even that time I first brought her to visit Ma and Pa didn't earn me such a big reaction."

"I can't judge the meal preparation," his lips were barely moving, "but all the fruits and vegetables on it seem to be Greek heritage varieties. The kinds that are likely to be cultivated on Themyscira."

"Oh. I brought her some homemade apple pies and a box of ice cream this morning. What did you get her?"

"A bejewelled hair comb to wear at galas."

---

"Hey Marvel," yelled Guy Garnier, "since Wonder Woman calls you brother, who is your mother!?"

"The Rock of Eternity! What? Is there something wrong with siblings being made from different materials now? We can't all be made from clay! It was quite the surprise for the Wizard when he found out though."

Hearing this, a wide eyed John Constantine clutched his alcohol flask closer. This, this explained so much about the current Champion of Magic. Of f*cking course someone raised by a sodding sentient building would use transmutation so casually, the House of Mystery did it often enough.

No wonder that the man's go to spells outside of his signature lightning tended to be either small but useful stuff for things like chores and cooking, or scary high level stuff that magic users did not usually bother with, but a sentient building would think a must have.

---

Flash stole a sip from Marvel's mug without stopping to smell it only once. It was a very big mug that couldn't possibly be mistaken for anyone's else. Xocōlātl, a bitter and spicy drink, was apparently an acquired taste.

It took Barry and the others an embarrassingly long time to realize that their colleague cooked nearly exclusively from heritage ingredients and very old traditional recipes from the regions they originated from, only adapting his methods a bit after Wonder Woman had thoroughly instructed him in how to use a modern kitchen at the Watchtower.

The resulting cooking had made the big guy quite popular, especially among superheroes who often hadn't had the occasion to go grocery shopping or prepare home cooked meals for one reason or another in a good while.

Not that the cafeteria food wasn't good. It was just more convenient and easier on everyone to serve the meals a bit bland and then let individuals add condiments to taste once they were at their table.

It still meant that between this, his personality, and being omnilingual, Captain Marvel was one of the most requested superheroes of Justice League International outside of the U.S..

Chapter 27: Beloved Voices

Chapter Text

C.C. and Marilyn Batson kept working when they had the twins.

They would put the texts they were making audiobooks of on their tv screen, wear a headset, and read the words aloud while holding the siblings, shifting through the pages with their feet thanks to the dance pad they used as a remote while pacing.

Some parts always had to be redone to remove the noises of babies and their grabby hands on the mics, but the parents still kept stored the unaltered original recordings.

It was all on one of these portable USB MP3 players with recording and FM radio.

And Billy took it with him when he ran away from Ebenezer.

---

The Bromfields rapidly learned to forget lullabies whenever their newly adopted daughter had trouble sleeping.

It was either documentaries with soft spoken narrators, podcasts with carefully lowered volume, or picking up a book to read that explained things to children at the library.

It wasn't that Mary disliked lullabies, far from it. It was just that they didn't work well when she felt distressed.

She had also put a red hoodie on Billy Bunny, her favorite stuffed bunny, and took great care in always knowing where it was.

---

Years later, human Billy put a lot of effort and practice in sounding the exact same as his father when reading and telling stories to children, be it while visiting them at the hospital in his superhero form or during the aftermath of a villain attack.

There was even a whole social media page titled "Storytime with Captain Marvel" that kept track of such events and invited people to share videos of those they witnessed. It was rather popular among parents since it was not only child appropriate, but also educational enough on the subject of history to be interesting to the listening adults.

The same qualities that made Jack and Janet Drake order that the Batsons' documentaries be played constantly around their young son in the hope that they would help him develop his language skills and an interest in history as early as possible.

The couple of course switched for a tutor charged to impart a proper high class gothamite behavior as soon as their heir started to sound like he was from Fawcett.

---

Timothy Drake learned how to code switch very early in his life.

---

Young Justice couldn't not notice how relaxed Red Robin could become when Captain Marvel gave a presentation.

To be fair, there wasn't a single sidekick in the League that didn't appreciate the man, and it was well known by now that Fawcett's superhero would put himself in the way of any of his colleagues for them if he thought that the situation warranted it.

Like with Kon.

So no one was particularly surprised whenever a teammate calmed down when Marvel entered a room. It was having the safety and guidance of a trusted adult without any fear of judgment for things they hadn't learned yet, their ages, or wanting a rule explained before following it. Of knowing that nothing they could ask about would be considered too weird.

What made Red Robin's reaction truly intriguing was how much easier it was to put him to sleep in their headquarters after a presentation from their den mother.

So, for purely scientific reasons, they set up a comfy nest of furniture, soft blankets and numerous pillows in front of a big screen, and decided to look into "Storytime with Captain Marvel".

---

It was super effective.

---

Tim had to track down a few former employees of his parents through the agency they were hired from to find more details, but he did get confirmation on why he now faintly remembered needing a speech tutor when he was little.

It hadn't been because of some speech difficulties, or because he spoke more to the nannies and cleaning staff than to his ever absent parents.

Oh, no. That would have been too simple. Tim had apparently always been a gifted child when it came to languages.

His parents just had to acquire recordings of a couple of career archeologists who had perfected their professional voice while taking care of their twin children. And then made them play enough around him that he started to sound less like a Gothamite.

So, of course, he had to search through what felt like nearly the whole Drake Manor to find the originals in their boxes. Because why use those and risk ruining their good condition when you could just make burned copies on a few CDs to hand over to the help?

There were a lot of audiobooks from the Batsons, but he did eventually get his hands on a small collection of DVD documentaries that would hopefully show him what the couple looked like as well.

Tim put one of the disks in his portable computer.

Just to take a quick look, he had already spent enough time on this and was soon due to go to Wayne Manor to enjoy Alfred's cooking.

---

At first, Bruce didn't think much of it when Tim arrived almost late for the meal. He knew how his son got when his head was deep in research, and most of the others weren't even there yet thanks to Gotham being its usual chaotic self.

The manic light in his eyes when he entered the room dragging a suitcase though, that concerned him. Either he had found out something he had been looking for for a while, or a villain was just about to get their plans screwed over by Red Robin in a ruthless fashion.

"Did you have a good day Tim?"

"I am going to win one of the big pots today, but I am not saying anything until I can show off to everyone at the same time. I want to use our cinema screen for this."

"A very good day that is about to get even better then."

That still didn't tell him exactly which option it was, but at least it didn't seem particularly time sensitive. As much as he tried, Bruce was hardly aware of all the bets that his children had made between themselves and others, and neither was Alfred. Still…

"What's in the suitcase?"

"A collection of audiobooks and documentaries my parents had bought years ago, I am hoping to find how many more were done by the same people after the initial purchase."

"I can confirm Master Bruce," said Alfred, "though considering which city the producers are from, Master Tim might have better odds with a letter than an email or web search depending on the generation of those involved."

---

Of all the places and scenarios to find Marvel's civilian identity from. This.

"Considering that this is, well, Marvel that we are talking about, this is a clear case of amnesia right? We all saw what he is like around little kids, so whatever happened during that expedition must have hit him really hard" Dick looked agitated.

"The Captain is indeed too good of a den mother for me to believe that he would ever willingly abandon his own flesh and blood. Father," Damian started in a pleading tone, "I request permission to search for his children and bring them to safety."

"Already ahead of you", Barbara kept tipping at blurring speed. "Mary Batson became a Bromfield when she was six, they picked her up right off from the airport when Khandaq sent her back on U.S. soil. Going solely from their presence on social media, they are a beloved part of their community. She seems happy and in good health. Looks just enough like them that most people aren't going to suspect that an adoption took place."

The cinema screen started to fill with information.

"Something is clearly wrong on her brother's side though. Their blood uncle must have meddled with the paperwork and bribed people to get the parents' money. What I could find through past grant fundings made it evident that Clarence and Marylin were much better organized legally than this. And… there!"

"The hell!" Jason's fingers twitched towards a hidden weapon. "I know that Cap said that imitations and forgeries were commonplace in Fawcett, but -"

"Ebenezer signed off Mary's adoption the same day he had her declared dead in Khandaq, then used his guardianship over her brother to drain both of their trust funds into his own accounts. He is also on record for saying that William had ran away a few days after the transfers were done."

Damian jumped to his feet.

"Father! Please let us ruin this man and avenge -"

Bruce raised a hand. Everyone stopped talking.

"How about I call Marvel, and see if he can tell us anything on Ebenezer Batson first. That man is on his territory after all."

---

"Did he start trying to find better fortune outside of Fawcett or something?" Marvel sounded faintly annoyed.

"Not that we know of, but his brother's things came up during an investigation and we would appreciate more information on how they might have come to be there if you can provide some."

"Well, that's easy." The tone turned bitter, well, bitter for Marvel. "Ebenezer is among the few living people who are on the sh*t lists of every single historic circle in Fawcett for selling the belongings of Clarence Charles Batson and his wife Marylin's to outsiders. Works in progress included. Hum, sorry, I don't know what Marylin's original family name was or why she chose to give it up."

Bruce opted to politely ignore the wide eyed faces of his children.

"That's fine. I take it that Ebenezer didn't exactly have permission to allow such purchases, then."

A short burst of static. "- the little scrooge probably expedited the whole process by handing over everything in one go to a single buyer, who could then have divided it at their own leisure. He expedited a lot of things back then. The families of the rest of the expedition were livid when they learned that they wouldn't be able to do a full group of funeral trees because of him."

"Speaking of families, once we are done with the investigation, would you be willing to bring the belongings we found to those who should have inherited them in the first place."

Static. Static. Static. "I don't know what happened to Mary." Static. "And CPS never found William after he was declared missing. But sure, get me a copy of the true last will and testament of each parent and I will see it done to the best of my ability."

"Thank you Marvel. I will contact you again once we are done."

Bruce stopped the call and eyed his children.

"Information and belonging gathering first, and I want to see the plan to ruin him legally before you put it in action."

Tim started cackling.

Chapter 28: Golden Dust

Chapter Text

Superman was too far gone to care. He had just killed Shazam for daring to say that destroying whole cities as a show of power, with all their people included, was wrong.

But Barry? Oh, Barry cared so very much about what he had just seen.

Shazam had been a kid. A kid somehow hiding right inside his own dæmon. And no one in the Regime had known. The brief surprise in everyone's faces had made that clear enough. Well, Black Adam hadn't been surprised by the Dust, so he probably had a similar deal going on, but the small body that had fallen to the floor had surprised him as much as the rest. Not that the reveal had changed much, Barry seemed to be the only one present to be truly horrified by what had happened.

Which was what brought him to Batman. With the corpse of a kid he didn’t even know the true name of, but whose face was still wet with Barry's tears anyway.

---

Bruce stared at the information that Harley had pulled up for them.

Orphan, still of adoptable age, whose parents died while at work, killed by a villain their son would later fight (Dick). Used to be a street kid (Jason). Archeologist parents (Tim). Blood related family that did not wish them well (Damian). Batson as a family name. William for a first name, which was noted as meaning "strong willed warrior".

"Barry," his throat felt tight, "that kind of profile is something the Joker would want to hurt someone for. Why did -"

"That kid was Shazam."

A chill started to spread through his body.

"Superman froze Shazam's mouth shut, and then he used his heat vision right on his eyes until he burst in a cloud of Dust. The kid's corpse fell to the ground right after. He killed Shazam. He killed a kid. Because that kid, someone he had known for years, dared to tell him that destroying whole cities, whole cities, with all their people included, was wrong."

Harley started typing frantically, rapidly putting the most recent school picture of William Batson available through an aging program, and then sliding the result next to a portrait of Fawcett's superhero. Her eyes filled with tears even as she shook her head in denial.

"I take it you didn't know either. Nice to see someone else that still cares about it once the surprise is passed."

---

When he had crossed through the portal to another universe as Batman in the hope of finding support for long enough to stop and imprison the members of the Regime, Bruce had been well aware that the experience might be disorienting. That many things could be vastly different in ways that he wouldn't be able to fully plan for.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in the other Batcave.

Because this Batman.

Had a much bigger family than he ever did.

Bruce had no idea who Spoiler, Signal, Black Bat and Red Hood were supposed to be under their vigilante gear.

But he could recognize Barbara, Dick, Tim and Damian anywhere.

Then Red Hood removed his helmet.

And Alfred had to help him sit down.

The explanations took a while.

He…He would have to look into Jason's grave back home.

Because there was now a very real possibility that it was empty through a mix of Court of Owls meddling and League of Assassins opportunism. Maybe one or the other depending on how things unfolded in his own universe.

If the Court of Owl had his son, then he might be able to get him back.

If the League of Assassins were the ones to resurrect him… Superman had been very thorough with the League of Assassins if the state of their bases was anything to go by. He could very well have lost his son twice without knowing.

---

Bruce cautiously thought that it would be… difficult for this universe Watchtower to shake him more than what he had learned in its Batcave.

The Justice League felt bigger there.

Like it had more time to get bigger.

There were a lot of superheroes that he didn't recognize. They were probably metas that understandably felt much safer with being open with their powers there than back home.

Each new face felt like one more honeyed barb that highlighted the loss of his own Justice League and the light it used to bring to the world.

All of them combined had nothing on seeing two Superboys. One of them, one of them must be the child that he never got to be a godfather to. Bruce tried and failed to not think about Lois.

Everyone was more relaxed, more open, more trusting, more happy.

And, as he could now see in the meeting room he was being brought into, no one was tense around Clark and Diana.

Not even the Shazam he could see in a corner laughing with two youths who wore similar lightning themed suits. The girl looked like she might be related to him.

He slowly turned to the other Batman. He had to ask…He needed to ask about how old William Batson was there. But how to ask the question without potentially outing a vulnerable child and causing delays for his own objective?

Asking for how long Marvel had been a superhero there could help, but the number would have to be in the double digits to be genuinely reassuring without more information.

He gestured towards the trio. "How… Have there been time anomalies in Fawcett? I don't remember him ever having sidekicks."

"Hum. I am sorry to say that time anomalies are considered a Fawcett speciality here. It makes finding anything on its superheroes impressively difficult. And the betting pools only got worse when we learned through other universes about how much the working of his powers, age and biology could vary."

"Elaborate."

"He can be housing an eldritch entity, be part of an eldritch entity, a powerful reincarnation, a half-ghost, an half-kryptonian, a tiger shapeshifter, a cerberus shapeshifter, a cat shapeshifter, part fae, rock made flesh, a potluck of mixed ancestry, a -"

"So his age can be complicated."

"Always. Between his travels between dimensions, to other universes and the Rock of Eternity, he can easily be older or younger than any of his birth records indicate."

Bruce forcibly put a lid on his rising nausea at the idea that young William might have died at an even earlier age than he thought.

---

Bruce stared warily at the giggling Clark.

"Sorry. Sorry. I know this is inappropriate, but did he really choose to go by Shazam there? It is just -" he waved at the Marvel family. "- these three use it as a swear word! Whenever I hear a shazam during a fight, they always get the hell out of dodge of a magical bolt of lightning that gets rid of whichever problem was annoying them seconds before!"

---

"Alright. What is it? You aren't anywhere near as nervous about Green Arrow helping you out, and his local counterpart died much earlier than mine did."

Fawcett's superhero still had lipstick marks on his face from Harley's enthusiastic greeting.

Bruce hesitated, looked around, then quickly explained in sign language.

---

"I already killed one Shazam! And you think this one is going to fare any better!?"

Barry flinched. Then stared open mouthed at the quick takedown that followed.

"I. Am. Captain Marvel. When we get a Superman on red kryptonite back home, our Batman calls me first, because I can take him down without putting him six feet under, all while limiting collateral damage and without needing medical care after."

The blue kryptonite shackles closed.

"And where I am from, children get to grow up."

Chapter 29: Seeing Red

Chapter Text

Lois had never liked the Joker. He was a mass murdering wife beater on a power trip who ruined the enjoyment of clowns, a respectable profession who brought joy to children, for thousands upon thousands of people. And the person who killed Jason Todd and nearly destroyed Bruce with the resulting grief.

Hating him had always been a matter of principles.

Now it was personal. More personal than ever before. Deeply personal.

Poisoning Clark as Superman with a kryptonite fear toxin mix was bad enough.

Linking a heart monitor to her to use her death and that of her unborn child to detonate a nuclear bomb in Metropolis was… Her journalist brain helpfully informed her that no insanity plea would save the Joker now. If he was well enough to pull something like this, then he was well enough to face the full weight of federal law for trying to kill more civilians in one go than the attack on the Twin Towers.

If Shazam hadn't shown up as fast as he did to put himself between her and Clark, she would have died from her husband's own hands. With the strength of Superman attacking… whoever he thought she was, it wouldn't have taken long at all.

There hadn't been enough maneuvering room, or time, for Shazam to do anything besides wrapping himself around her to absorb the blows until the kryptonite fear toxin mix wore off.

Oh, and soothingly and calmly whisper words that made it clear that it wasn't his first time doing this.

"He can't see red forever."

"It's going to leave his system eventually."

"Can you take my communicator and contact someone? I want you to be somewhere safe once he is done."

Yes. Lois hated the Joker.

---

Billy didn't like saying the same sentences he used for his foster siblings when doing similar gestures for them in bad homes.

He liked even less that it was Superman doing the beating this time.

---

Since what happened involved both the Joker and Superman, and that Batman was still busy handling the aftermath of the bomb threat at the Daily Planet, Nightwing and Wonder Woman, along with a few experts brought in from Gotham, were the ones to reach the site of the event first.

Diana didn't think that she would ever forget the sight that greeted them.

Clark, sitting on the ground, looking absolutely miserable and sickened with himself, breathing hard and hugging his own legs. Reddened fists with pale articulations.

Lois, slightly shaking, tightly holding Shazam's communicator in her hands, no visible injuries. Black tear tracks on her cheeks and fury in her reddened eyes. Shoulders hunched with tension. Still connected to the heart monitor.

Shazam himself. The sole reason behind Lois' survival. Still protectively wrapped around her. Holding himself cautiously. Face empty. White cape covered in bloody fist imprints.

Diana went and wrapped the Lasso of Truth around Clark before removing him from the premises. They could take no risk with the Joker involved.

The blood was still fresh enough that Dick had no problem collecting some to run analysis on.

Soon they would know more about what might still be running in her friend's veins.

---

They gave Lois a full medical check up and put her under observation.

Just in case.

Shazam was the one to fly her to it and he stayed with her when she asked him to.

It felt odd to see him without his cape.

---

The incident report was, of course, leaked to the press.

---

"Miss Vale," Shazam said tiredly. "Which option seems the most likely to you? That, with the number of dead Gotham cops the Joker is responsible for, none of them ever emptied a clip into him. Or, that most of his Arkham breakouts were made from the morgue?"

Chapter 30: Captain Mar-Vel

Chapter Text

Billy, and the rest of the decades old children that made up his family, hadn't planned on one day leading an evacuation as their transformed selves when they had first decided to explore the planet named Krypton.

Or for their shrinking of buildings with their owners and visitors inside for ease of transport (sometimes Fawcettites just… got paid for 'destroying' a place they particularly liked for cheap, and then moved it elsewhere), to look enough like highly advanced technology to convince even the most hesitant civilians to interpret it as such.

To the point that they successfully convinced people that this was an emergency relocation (true), and that they would merely be put back into place once the ground had calmed down (not quite).

They were also thankfully practiced enough at such magic, as well as crisis management, to help sell the impression that this was a carefully and long planned boxing up of this city sector, limiting panic and disagreements.

The things you could get away with if you looked like you knew what you were doing. And when the population that you were helping had been subjected to enough pre birth programming to bring to mind Star Wars' Kaminoans treatment of clones.

The Council of Fives were too distracted by the aftermath of Ro-Zar's death, General Zod's attempted coup d'état and the mess left behind by the Sword of Rao to notice in time to stop them.

The last Houses picked up before hurrying out toward the portal to the Rock of Eternity got plenty of proof of the imploding planet, as the bases of their homes were crumbling even as they were shrunk.

---

Population of Kandor before the destruction of Krypton: Less than 1.4 billion.

Estimated number of surviving kryptonians after the destruction of Krypton, due to the Phantom Zone's latest census being unavailable: More than 5 thousands.

---

Billy, Mary, Freddy, Eugene, Darla and Pedro had to spend decades worth of accumulated favors to get enough help for the new refugees without alerting the feds that a lot of aliens had suddenly materialized on Earth.

Merely figuring out where and how to stash the citadel like buildings had been relatively easy. Just make a pocket dimension and link the entrance to something in Fawcett. Plenty of hotels, motels and inns were willing to lend a door or key for a price.

Plenty of apartment buildings as well, but people using these generally had at least a few appropriate outfits and some cultural knowledge of where they lived to help them blend in with their neighbors.

The truly difficult part was setting up chains of approvisionnement.

Because yes, a little bit of transfer magic and a few meteors could give access to both sunlight and raw materials, but the kryptonians had still needed time and support to process everything even before the yellow sun complications kicked in.

---

The kryptonian health clinic that had thankfully been part of the picked up sector quickly discovered that enchanted medical tools were much more convenient, pleasant and healthy to use than kryptonite tipped versions made from wrecked home parts.

Its Healers greatly appreciated and made good use of both x-ray vision and superhearing while evaluating and caring for their patients.

The few labs available had made a new database solely to record the DNA and molecular composition of all the foodstuffs they still had left from Krypton. They were already looking more into Earth to see if anything was similar enough to either act as a good replacement as is or to be genetically modified into becoming a kryptonian plant.

Their Thinkers were deeply interested in the possible applications of magical transmutation.

Many Guilds were deeply interested in the possible applications of magic.

The differences between planets were such that many kryptonians, those who went out of their preserved slice of Kandor at least, actually felt more comfortable near magic users than around a great deal of current Earth tech.

The kryptonians chose to view what they saw as a form of highly advanced energy manipulation, and dismissed any weirdness as the logical consequences of using biological brains instead of computers to do the work.

It didn't take the Mediators very long to decide on who they wanted the most as their main trade partners.

---

Fawcett magical communities were mostly known for three things: time shenanigans, pocket dimensions, and transmutation.

As many modern industries were incredibly wasteful, the last one was responsible for most of the city's imports.

The process was simple.

First, hire people willing to go where waste is either happening or stored, then have them take and send back what was on their fetch list, cleaning and disinfecting as needed to not contaminate the rest of their haul. There were whole groups specializing in different products. Have at least one person who can teleport per team for ease of transport.

Second, hire more people, this time to organize what was collected per content, materials and colors. Levitation being considered an asset or requirement depending on the volume and weight to move around.

Third, commission a few permanent ritual circles for transmutation, and then hire some more people to take care of them if you won't do it yourself or alone.

Fawcett fabric stores held its best transmuters, so practiced that they could meld scrap fabric together bare handed and make it take the shape of a pattern piece.

It took a lot of fast fashion t-shirts to make a single high quality bolt of fabric.

---

The kryptonians started to call Billy Captain Mar-Vel when they saw him transformed.

After all, who was left to say that they couldn't give him a kryptonian title? Who was going to consult databases that no longer existed to confirm whether or not he had a right to it? Who was going to argue against him and his family being deserving of a House?

Why should he and his family not wear the sigil of enduring kindness as their own?

---

None of them contacted Dru-Zod when he reached Earth years later in search of Kal-El

Because he had killed Jor-El, who had been right all along.

Because of his very public sentencing to the Phantom Zone.

Because of the Sword of Rao he had founded.

Because he had prioritized killing the Council of Fives, who would have happily died in denial on Krypton, over protecting his people by evacuating as many as he possibly could.

Oh, and his recorded comment over culling "degenerated bloodlines" as well.

As if they hadn't all been carefully genetically engineered in a birthing matrix for centuries.

---

None of them contacted Kal-El either.

Because if the Fortress of Solitude was real, if the House of El had a new seat, then wouldn't it be the first place that someone might want to look into when searching for more kryptonians?

Their people were already considered prized rarities for collectors even before the loss of their birth planet.

Now it was just them, the House of El, and whichever criminals were still in the Phantom Zone. Three guesses about which specimens would be the most desirable for hunters.

There was a billionaire out there willing to spend millions upon millions in U.S. dollars just to try to get at Kal-El.

Mar-Vel regularly got people trying to hurt him with kryptonite since he was the most visible member of his House.

Why take the risk?

Chapter 31: Vampire Billy

Chapter Text

While many myths and legends passed down through time about supernatural beings did hold seeds of truth, using the events described as standard for a whole species was not unlike thinking that all Gothamites were like the Joker.

One only needed to look at Fawcett's population to find proof of it.

Ghouls working as benevolent butchers, surgeons and coroners. Demons all over social services, funeral homes, health clinics and hospitals, feeding on pain and helping to make things better so that more people will come to them for their problems. Mind readers being forensic sketch artists, home decorators and wedding planners. Faes using rules to their advantage as lawyers, notaries and event organizers.

Sadly for one William Joseph Batson, the vampire he met the night the Wizard Shazam chose him wasn't a lab technician, who did blood analysis and then drank what had been sent in once done. Or someone using hypnosis to help people wanting to get rid of bad habits.

---

Vampire biology 101 - Transformation

This is something that, contrary to some popular tales on the subject, takes long term preparation to do reliably. Because being able to transform someone with a single bite and leaving dead bodies everywhere is a recipe for unwanted attention and an early demise.

Witch Hunts were organized for less.

Vampirism, done right, is something more symbiotic than parasitic in nature, only looking like the later when the person affected would have been the draining type even without fangs.

People will always be people.

Magic, and the supernatural, only give more options to do or not do good.

Successful long lived vampires tend to either have a long established support system that they support in turn, or, in rarer cases, be incredibly experienced at not getting caught and choosing their victims well.

The parasitic types are the ones most written, and warned about, through history. They do not often transform people unless they accidentally stumbled on someone that had previously benefited from symbiotic care.

A symbiotic vampire would use their venom to make the biting more pleasant and boost their donor's immune system, with enough healing power to close the holes, perhaps selling vials of venom if they use the services of a butcher to acquire animal blood.

Transformation is what happens when vampire blood bonds with dying cells. Which is why it is considered preferable to do it progressively, taking advantage of cell replacement rate, instead of risking it not taking effect fast enough during an emergency.

Since humans, and indeed many Earth species, start to truly age when the amount of dying cells in their body is higher than their cells' replacement rate, vampire blood that hasn't completely taken over yet wouldn't stop the march of time, this is not stasis, but rather reduce the amount of replacement cells needed.

Which is why no full vampire is ever a child. Genetics, good skincare and makeup might make one look much younger than they are, but no matter how much blood is swallowed, or poured on wounds, growth spurts will still happen on schedule unless under truly dreadful living conditions.

---

Billy didn't hesitate to bite his aggressor.

Hard.

Hard enough to stain his own teeth with vampire blood and swallow some.

Billy, as a street kid, had a poor enough living situation for the blood effects to hold on easily despite Billy's age. He had also lost a molar that day and the hole hadn't closed yet.

Billy didn't receive a visit from the tooth fairy that night.

He got a Wizard instead. (Who might have turned a child bitter into a pile of ash with a deliberately overpowered sun spell.)

Had the Blessings bestowed upon him been the same as in most universes, perhaps the vampire blood would have stopped its influence at merely helping out his mortal self dental health.

But it wasn't the case there.

Selene was the Titan goddess of the moon, giving him Flight.

Hekate was goddess of magic, witchcraft, night, ghosts and necromancy, giving him Power.

Asteria, Hekate's mother, was the Titan goddess of falling stars and nighttime divinations, giving him Sight.

Zagreus, Dionysus' original name before being reborn, was a dying-and-rising god, giving him Persistence.

Atlas had instructed mankind in astronomy before holding up the sky and becoming more well known for his Stamina.

Metis was the Titan-goddess of good counsel, planning, cunning and Wisdom before being swallowed by her husband Zeus.

(Metis had later freed herself from Zeus' stomach after Ares had done his little killing spree on the Olympians. Not being Hera, his second wife, she left the hypocrite's children alone.)

None of them saw anything wrong with taking the unrealized vampirism potential present in Billy Batson and using it to blueprint a fully transformed Captain Marvel. With the addition of a hooded cape, plus a few spells and enchantments to make sure that being out during the day wouldn't give him more than the occasional sunburns that would heal quickly anyway.

Did that make superheroing during the day the hardmode for him? Yes.

Would that make him superheroing during the night an absolute nightmare for his villains? Also yes.

Did that mean that Captain Marvel's blood could be used to progressively transform Billy Batson into a full vampire? Hell yes.

Was this Billy the kind of person who would offer that same blood to his sister and his best friend Freddy if he thought that they might be interested? Absolutely!

---

Fawcett's villains had a self imposed curfew.

Even Black Adam tried his luck at night only once. Though in his case he had a much better idea than the others as to what caused the difference in power level for The Big Red Cheese. The Champion of Khandaq was very grateful that his beloved country was near enough to the Equator to get plenty of sunlight.

Which also meant that this was the best time for Captain Marvel to go and bite some nurses during their well enforced fifteen minute breaks, since the soon to be expired blood bags at Fawcett's hospital were reserved for its staff members of the vampiric variety.

Said blood drinkers also didn't produce enough venom on their own to keep all of their human coworkers' immune systems in tip top shape, and honestly vastly preferred filling in vials for the dayshift to potentially putting their fangs in a superior's neck. Having the option to outsource that task to a trusted vampire who wasn't part of their workplace hierarchy was greatly appreciated.

That Marvel's venom was uncommonly strong, thanks to magic and an ever increasing age, was merely a nice bonus. Not that volunteers were particularly hard to find for him.

The newbie's faces when they learned of it never got old.

Ahh, the things that weren't covered in medical school.

---

At first glance, Gotham looked like an ideal place for vampires. It was certainly cloudy enough for it, and careful application of high strength sunscreen did plenty for the skin sections more prone to sun exposure.

Sadly, it was nearly impossible to find any blood donors that hadn't been subjected to a form of poison at some point while living there, even before the number of Rogues got on the rise. Build up immunity could only do so much, and vampires needed stable food sources.

Which was why Alfred Pennyworth, who had finished his transformation while his young charge was off traveling around the globe for training, was an expert in preparing blood food.

He tried to not think too hard on who else should have been profiting from his cooking. Thomas and Martha hadn't been far along enough to survive being shot at those locations. Not with the gun being that close to them when fired, and certainly not without immediate care afterwards.

He hadn't told Bruce yet that the vampire blood he gave him whenever he came back injured to the Batcave was from his own veins. He might have to eventually, he didn't have that many decades left before hitting his first century as Alfred Pennyworth, and aging gracefully only went so far.

Or he could let the world's second greatest detective figure it out.

Maybe he should give a call to that trio that he, Thomas and Martha had first met while giving a try to the no filming allowed plays of Fawcett's theaters, with their incredible pratical effects (supplemented by illusions) and classically trained actors who not only had the looks of old Hollywood stars, but also period accurate transatlantic accents.

Billy, Freddy and Mary had gotten their tickets in thanks for services rendered (Lisle Von Rhuman had been impressed by what someone Blessed by Hekate could do for the bodies of her more corpses like clients), and been, especially Billy, quite willing to serve as tour guides when called later during the week, after Alfred had looked them up to vet them properly of course.

The Court of Owls reactions the few times Thomas and Martha had invited the trio to events in Gotham has been deeply entertaining. Lots of lost Talons during these days. Lots of electrocuted goons too, but that one was easier to blame on self defense devices.

Good times.

Hopefully one of them would be able to tell him more about young Jason's condition, perhaps even help with it.

'Agent A' had access to enough Justice League recordings to have… suspicions on who Captain Marvel might be related to. That particular flavor of transatlantic accent and Fawcett slang was rather hard to miss.

---

Red Hood started to make dead guy jokes when around Captain Marvel.

Bruce wasn't aware that the Big Red Cheese could even help someone in developing a more morbid sense of humor.

Or that undead slang existed.

Bruce would have happily spent the rest of his life unawares of that particular fact.

---

Barry had known, intellectually, that Greek mythology was full of tragedies.

He just hadn't expected to witness one for himself without some kind of time travel being involved.

Someone had gifted a necklace that had once belonged to the goddess Hera to Diana. They were still investigating whether or not anyone or everyone involved in its discovery and transport had been aware of its true origins.

As far as JLD could tell, the thing was so full of accumulated rage, hate, jealousy and spite that it might as well have been a direct projection of its (thankfully now dead) original owner. None of them had felt like poking at its remains very hard, but they had still managed to gather enough information to verify that it had not been an actual ghost possessing Wonder Woman's body. Just some kind of overpowered god level magical security measure dedicated to making sure that Zeus would dearly regret it if he ever dared to offer his wife's jewelry to one of his lovers or resulting children.

'Hera' had nearly killed Superman, and would probably have done him in as well as as many others that Diana cared about as she could get, if Marvel hadn't suddenly barged in and successfully monopolized enough of her attention and murder attempts for the Flash to be able to get in and start evacuating people.

John Constantine had described what Marvel had pulled as "destruction through Vicious Mockery".

Barry was still stuck replaying his friend's last words on a loop in his head.

"Zagreus says hello. What? You didn't know that your husband had arranged for his reincarnation? The heart was given to Semele to eat and become pregnant with. Dionysus would have been conceived even if his second mother hadn't been Zeus' lover. Not that you knew that when you manipulated her into asking something that would kill her, but still."

"All these innocent children you tried to kill merely for existing, and you couldn't even do that much right! Had you tried to do the dirty work with your own hands instead of those of others, would you have slipped and hurt yourself instead? You certainly have the track record for it! Couldn't even kill Hephaestus as a newborn, and that one was all yours!"

"Were you even truly Zeus' wife!? Metis was closer to him than you ever were and for longer as well! All safe and warm in her husband's stomach until death parted them, there during each vow he took, including the ones said to you at your marriage! How could he ever have been yours when he never let her go for a second while he still drew breath!?"

Cackling. "It took your son Ares killing his own father for them to finally be separated! She climbed out once he was gone! Tell me, oh second choice, did the goddess of lawful marriage get to play at being a widow, or did Metis not only become Zeus' first wife, but also his last one?"

Yeah, she had been very set on killing Marvel after that. Very focused. Pity that the cracks his words had caused on that cursed necklace hadn't progressed faster than the wounds he had received from Diana's sword. The skin close magical shielding his friend liked to use to protect himself from harm, and apparently as quick bandages if needed, hadn't fared well against the artifact's blade.

The necklace had fallen in pieces to the ground at the same time that Marvel's leg had given up on him, and Diana had come back to herself just in time to see where the worryingly big pool of blood was coming from.

Then some kind of teleportation spell had activated, making both Marvel and his blood disappear at once.

Superman, Supergirl and both Superboys all later confirmed that they couldn't hear his friend anymore, no matter how hard and how long they tried.

---

Billy opened his eyes at the Rock of Eternity.

He didn't remember yet what had injured him this time, but whatever it was hit like an asteroid. Must have happened as Captain Marvel since he was still in that body.

He had probably taken hits while protecting people again. A lot of villains loved to do things with an audience around them, and they weren't always particularly careful about making sure that their public wouldn't be hurt during the process, assuming that they even cared in the first place to begin with.

Still begged the question of what could possibly have gotten through the magical shielding that he liked to use to protect himself.

Oh well. That was what the historama was for.

---

Barry hadn't realized that anything was wrong at first.

He had woken up early, as usual. Kissed a still sleeping Iris on the forehead. Clothed himself. Double checked the day schedule. Eaten a speedster bar. Plugged in the big crockpot after filling it up according to the recipe suggested by the app, then did the same with the two smaller ones for the sides, snacking on the freshly cut vegetables the whole time.

That was supper done with, so he had started with the breakfast sourdough pancakes, sparing a moment to feel thankful for the starter that Marvel had gifted him years ago.

Been hugged way longer than usual by his family once everyone was up and about.

Kissed Iris, on the mouth this time, before going to work. Almost arrived late to work, because they had gotten a little bit carried away with the kissing, but worth it.

Eating multiple plates worth of food at the Hall of Justice during his morning break.

Looked like a quiet day in Central City for now. Quiet day at work for some reason too.

Going up to the Watchtower for midday meal with Marvel in the smaller kitchen, separated from the one in the cafeteria. Helping his friend with what he had in mind to prepare that day. The guy always had great ideas and there were never any leftovers once they were done.

Black Canary and Green Arrow at the door screaming as if they had just seen a ghost.

That's when he finally remembered that Marvel was suspected to have died the day before.

He briefly entertained the thought of bundling up his friend in blankets and bringing him back home, secret identities by damned, but the superfam barged in and started to pile up on Marvel with flying tackles hugs before he could put his house at risk of kryptonian invasion.

Barry decided to forgive them for the absolute mess on the counters and the resulting waste of food since it was a special occasion.

---

Jor-El's AI was remarkably accurate as far as holograms went. But it was still not the real deal, and contrary to Kal‐El, Kara Zor-El remembered what her uncle had been like while alive. She was the only person outside of the Phantom Zone who did.

For one thing, Jor-El's AI was very well aware of its own limitations, and didn’t bother much with gesturing for things and people it couldn't touch. Spent more time with its arms behind its back than the man it had copied the gesture from.

For another, the super senses she had developed under Earth's yellow sun made it impossible to mistake it for anything else. Even Kal‐El had confessed getting a major uncanny valley effect from the hologram before getting used to it. A bit similar to seeing Deadman, except without magic needed. Both were seen through, empty, and took no space no matter where they stood.

Magic users were the only people she knew that she could look at and see exactly like she used to see her neighbors on Krypton, with perfectly opaque bodies that she couldn't peek inside of even by accident. Something about spells and enchantments against scrying. Their homes were the same. Fawcett had a lot of opaque buildings and spots where sounds traveled oddly, if at all, the few times she flew over it.

Losing track of Marvel's sounds was a regular thing, enough that all of House El knew not to bother worrying at night or whenever it happened after a lightning strike.

The sun had still been up when Hera had possessed Diana, no lightning strikes had happened during the teleportation, and there had been a lot of blood on the ground before it disappeared.

Just because the Justice League default protocol when no bodies were to be found was to refrain from doing any death announcements and keep searching, didn’t mean that its members didn't worry.

So what if they were a bit more tactile with him than usual after that scare?

How else were they supposed to verify that his insides were fine!?

---

"Marvel. A word."

"Yes?"

‐‐‐

"You forget, Batman, that as far as magicals are concerned, none of your favorite methods of recording and hiding information are safe. The Justice League's databases are hackable, your Batcomputer is hackable, your brain is hackable, your birds' brains are hackable.

That Enchantress whose preserved heart's Amanda Waller liked to get stabby on with a needle to get what she wanted from her a few years ago was barely the tip of the iceberg of what can go wrong.

The Rock of Eternity isn't the source of all magic, it was created to be a buffer and canal between sources of it.

The Wizard spent three millennia building dams and pocket dimensions to reduce the amount of magic he had to stabilize on Earth after losing the thirteen people he used to be able to divide the work with. Ares' little killing spree on the Olympians actually worsened things further in some ways since the Titans left weren't quite as interested in making demi-gods who could be thrown at problems.

Then humanity started to make bombs powerful enough to knock things loose, the Wizard had to hurry up and choose a Champion so that at least one breach would grow in a controlled manner, and you got me. Black Adam took years to appear after getting free because his grave was serving as a seal for another one and taking the brunt of that much energy at once knocked him out. He is still playing catch up with problems in Khandaq related to this.

I understand that the scientists in the Justice League are having problems trusting and understanding magic because they lack data and explanations. That the possibilities it brings worries you greatly and for good reasons.

Now I want you to realize, that there are whole communities of magicals out there, and that they know damn well that there isn't a century, a decade even, that passes without a Witch Hunt of some kind going on somewhere on this planet. Magic users, real or imagined, have been facing persecution for existing long before the classification of Meta has been there to prod at with needles and scalpels.

This isn't about a profession or guild gatekeeping its secrets.

This is about cultural trauma passed down through the generations.

And you are asking for information on how to end us better?"

---

"Hi moonshine," Constantine waved Marvel over." I heard that you served some humble pie to the Bat? How did that go?"

"I think that the sensitivity training is going to get updated." The Champion rolled his eyes. "Red Hood called to ask me why he was getting pulled in to unearth origin points, prejudices, historical context, scientific explanations, cultural bias and mistranslations of things happening in old tales. As if Fawcett University didn't already have most of that openly available. It's progress at least." He took a big breath and smiled. "But moonshine really? What happened to calling me a sunny goody two shoes?"

"Anything referencing sunshine felt inappropriate after learning that you were Blessed with Selene's Flight from a discussion with Flash. And," a finger lightly knocked on the enchanted wall next to them, "I love how many speakeasies you have going on there."

"Had to have somewhere for people to get loose in. What worth would a magical owned bar be if you couldn't recreate that meal scene from Beauty and The Beast whenever you wanted or hire a siren as a singer? The Prohibition just helped the numbers along."

"I heard things about maenads being involved."

"Zagreus Blessed me with his Persistence."

Constantine froze. "You weren't lying when you told that necklace that his heart had been used to ensure Semele's pregnancy with Dionysus."

"I didn't tell a single lie that day."

"Metis really got out of Zeus' corpse?"

"She even Blessed me with her Wisdom."

"Can I ask", the Laughing Magician nervously licked his lips, "who else is among your Patrons?"

Laughter. "Spend long enough in Fawcett's magical hotspots and you will hear about all of them, but alright. Just because you asked so nicely and that this is going to be very entertaining once the knowledge hits the rest of Justice League Dark." His smile grew a dangerous edge. "I will even throw in the Blessings. Atlas' Stamina, though he shared quite a bit about astronomy too. Asteria's Sight, but the nighttime part of nighttime divinations matter very little when space is available. And, the one I am sure will be your favorite, Hekate's Power." His mouth opened just wide enough to show wicked fangs. "Including necromancy."

The sun finished coming down, and John Constantine abruptly remembered that teleportation didn't look nearly as instant when the person in front of you could go at 2 288 miles, or 3 683 kilometers, per hour. The exact speed the moon orbited Earth with.

---

"Is it just me or is the Hellblazer particularly sulky today? He looked smug as hell when talking to the Zataras and Dr Fate, but his mood went down nearly as soon as they went out of sight for some reason."

Clark knew. Clark knew very well why. Bless and Curse his super hearing as well as his developing habit to read people's lips to try and see if he could spot a translation spell or technology in action.

He had still been nervous about losing track of Marvel's sounds without a lightning strike warning okay? And it had still been daytime, even if only barely! He hadn't expected to see John Constantine! It was just supposed to be a quick status check from up in the sky! And the angle had been just right to see John's face!

He hadn't meant to learn that Marvel was a vampire through John offering his neck as a snack! Or that John's demon blood made him undesirable as a donor because of its high proportion of sulfur!

And now Clark had to sit through a Justice League meeting while wondering what his teammates would taste like for his friend! While wondering what he would taste like for his friend!

He hadn't even gotten the chance to discuss this with Lois with how late it was when he had gotten home last night and how busy their morning had been!

---

Superman and Captain Marvel had both been picked for the same press conference.

Clark knew just from their talking points, and those Bruce had hacked from the devices of the journalists waiting for them in that room, that this was going to be a long one.

Then Marvel got that mischievous smile on his face that always meant something fun was about to happen, and he couldn't help but perk up in interest when his friend lightly put his crossed fingers on their respective comms, the way that indicated that, thanks to magic, no one could listen to them in that moment.

"We would have to fill up bite forms at Fawcett Hospital later since no one has done it with a kryptonian before," his friend whispered, "but if you really want to give these journalists something different to talk about," a fanged smile, "I wouldn't say no to a taste."

Clark knew that he hadn't been seen that night. So how -

"Your cape flapping in the wind feels much louder when my senses aren't dimmed by the sun. If you say yes, I promise to look entertained enough by the state of your neck for people to start theorizing."

Nice to know that Marvel had more super senses that they could compare notes on. Clark exposed his throat. Lois had already given him the go ahead if the opportunity presented itself. She was curious too.

"You just want to mess with both them and Batman don't you?" He teased.

A giggle. "He makes it so easy. If nothing else, it will be a nice change of pace for Robin if people keep throwing crosses, prayers, wood, salt, silver and water at them instead of more common weapons and munitions. Safer as well."

"And garlic, can't forget garlic."

"All hail the Condiment King!"

He was still shaking with laughter when the bite came.

---

The scandal was fantastic.

Chapter 32: Laughing Matters

Chapter Text

On 【insert social media】.

Captain Marvel has posted:

That's it. I am shaming all of you. How is it, that out of everyone on the Justice League roster not currently on probation, Red Hood is literally the only one who never got into trouble or brought trouble while visiting Fawcett?

Dominate The Brain has posted:

Come on Marvel, it can't be that bad!

Captain Marvel has posted:

【List of events】

Dominate The Brain has posted:

Alright, it can be that bad.

Earth Green Lantern #1 has posted:

That's a very long list. Since it is in chronological order and not alphabetical, can someone tell me what Batman did?

Captain Marvel has posted:

His latest stunt resulted in the Joker following him in.

Now all the cops in Fawcett are having the time of their life trying to solve the Joker's death, because any Fawcett criminal with a lick of sense knows to either not leave that many clues behind, or to contribute enough to the community for people to not mind them.

Red Hood has posted:

That's actually the real source of your annoyance isn’t it? That the cops are disturbing the neighborhood. I know that you are just disappointed at the Justice League at this point, you would have publicly shamed the lot sooner otherwise.

Captain Marvel has posted:

The corpse was days old when they found it. Obliviously, whatever happened killed him quietly before he had a chance to set up properly and cause his usual brand of problems.

Red Hood has posted:

Ah, yes. The most heavily fined kind of crime in the nice city of Fawcett. Being a Disturber of the Peace. Especially at night.

Red String Mess has posted:

Are you f*cking serious!?

Fawcett!?

Not an epic showdown with Batman, not Harley taking her revenge for everything he did to her, not Ivy doing it for Harley, not a lab accident while coming up with a new strain of Joker Venom, not a bullet from Red Hood or even a death penalty!?

f*cking Fawcett!?

The Riddler has posted:

The easiest explanation here is that the Joker was overconfident to the point of stupidity.

Scarecrow has posted:

Maybe the air is so incredibly clean of chemicals there that withdrawal symptoms softened him up?

Poison Ivy has posted:

Finally seeing the strength of The Green Dr Crane?

---

To: Captain Marvel

From: Red Hood

Subject: The Joker

Seriously, what happened!?

To: Red Hood

From: Captain Marvel

Subject: Re: The Joker

Death by mimic.

Poor thing got indigestion and had to spit out the corpse because of it.

To: Captain Marvel

From: Red Hood

Subject: Re: Re: The Joker

🤣

---

Officer Dick Grayson had been sent to act as liaison with Fawcett police.

He was very well aware that this was no favor, as, beside himself, no law enforcer in either Bludhaven or Gotham was particularly interested in finding the Joker's killer. Curious about their identity? Oh yes. Actively look, when they could instead concentrate on crimes they actually disapproved of? Hell no.

Not even Bruce had cared once Marvel had communicated the cause of death, since it having happened in Fawcett removed any chance of one of Gotham's criminal organizations being able to claim the kill for prestige.

Making sure that no caches of Joker Venom were left lying around was going to be a chore.

The main interests in sending people to help were actually to see the Joker's corpse for themselves, and get a copy of Fawcett police files on the matter. Though the colleagues serving as Dick's backup had probably volunteered solely to be able to leak the information for money.

Said colleagues had started to get lost with increasing frequency as soon as the last Joker goons had been put away behind bars, waiting for a transfer to Gotham.

Contrary to them, visiting Gothamite journalists set on interviewing Fawcett's population and trying to wave down Captain Marvel had rapidly learned to be polite, or else.

Dick had taken to walking around with a bag full of beef jerky and liberally bribed as many mimics as he could find in his search for information, crossing his fingers that one of them might be able to point him in the direction of his new favorite magical creature.

In a civilian outfit, because things literally didn't look the same when he went out wearing his uniform or forgot to change the shoes that came with it. He itched to try and see what results his Nightwing suit would bring, but it was too risky considering how close his rented room was to those of the other cops.

Certainly, the mimic who killed the Joker wouldn't say no to being given freshly bought food as thanks?

---

From: Red Hood

To: Nightwing

Subject: Free Tips

If Marvel shows up and offers to guide you around, for the love of Gotham, say yes, and don't bother worrying about your secret identity. The man has an hella good memory and used to be your den mother for f*ck sake, ain't no way he won't recognize you as soon as his omnilingual self get near enough to slip into Romani when talking to you.

I know that they look incredibly fun to be around, but for the sake of my sanity, please don't go near the maenads.

You will be losing enough time to grandparents tutting over your career choice and whoever lure you into their lair to sample the local talent and delicacies, we don't need you to be around people who can smell what a poor repressed boy you are when not in a bright leotard.

And for the love of Gotham, respect the f*cking Fae Rules, memorize the Laws of Hospitality and brush up on your mythology, all of it.

I don't know what B was thinking by sending you there with anything less than an e-reader full of reference materials.

[Seven attached documents]

---

Dick had come to Fawcett before, back when the Flying Graysons were still a thing. Not long before their last stop in Gotham in fact.

His parents had been oddly stressed about it, something about old time charm, living ghosts, and a public used to being enchanted with literal magic.

Dick mostly remembered the clothes.

Fawcett entertainment district was absolutely wild when it came to clothing choices, making his discowing suit look tame by comparison. A melting pot of time periods and cultures.

Gilded Age dresses, saris, articulated armors, drag wigs, celtic knots, pirate outfits, bronze helmets, kimonos, chainmail, persan shoes, golden headdresses, wooden combs, silk flower hairpins, weaved hairstyles from all eras...

You name it they had it.

Looking around as an adult, with the benefits of his training under Batman, his own experience as a solo vigilante, as well as Jason's warnings, made it clear that the place hadn't gotten any tamer since his childhood.

If anything it had diversified.

He was also becoming increasingly convinced that his little brother's love of literature, including his learning of the historical context his beloved classics were written in, was one of the main reasons behind Red Hood's now famous success in Captain Marvel's city.

---

From: Captain Marvel

To: Nightwing

Subject: Meeting?

I saw you in Fawcett today and yesterday. Is there somewhere you would be comfortable to talk in? You must have questions by now.

---

There was a knock coming from behind the doors to the balcony. Dick hurried over to unlock them. He saw nothing through the glass, but Marvel had warned him that he would use an invisibility spell to avoid bringing attention to his visit.

Dick waited until the characteristic smell of ozone that came with Fawcett's superhero passed him by before closing, locking again, and drawing the curtains shut.

Then he went for a long hug on the newly visible Marvel, who returned it without hesitation as he always did, only letting go once his traitorous body started to threaten to let him fall asleep standing if he kept going any longer.

That radiant warmth the Living Lightning gave Marvel should be considered a cheat code, the man's chest felt like clothing that had just gone through a drying cycle.

Dick rubbed his tired eyes. "First question. I haven't been doing any vigilantism in your city, so why do I feel as if I had stayed out the whole night multiple days in a row?"

"Considering where I have seen you wandering, probably time shenanigans."

"I got fairy stolen?"

"Nothing outrageous, in the entertainment district it's limited to the inside of buildings, and they let their clients out eventually. Just... enough that if you aren't careful, two hours outside time will actually have been a whole night as far as your body is concerned. Have to let people go home if you want them to come back with more money after all. It is rather popular among people with busy schedules and those who have difficulties in setting aside some time for themselves. It helps to get the most out of that one special occasion."

"And to think that Flash is the one who is always late at Justice League meetings."

"Oh, he has always been like this. Even before he got his powers. His wife made it a point to tell me all their important dates so that I can remind him of them during our midday meals together. It's usually enough to make sure that the gifts are bought at least a few hours in advance."

"Is there anywhere that I could visit without falling prey to these time shenanigans?"

"We got a new charity that focuses on helping people stay active without endangering their health if you want? There is a good age range in those helped. Their people show the ill and injured how to use their bodies and disability aids properly while healing; pick up the slack of physical education teachers who let preventable injuries happen to children and teenagers through negligence and the belief that more physical activity is all that is needed for good health; teach proper nutrition and how to cook the aliments for it. Between your background and everything that Wayne Enterprises contributes to Gotham, I don't think that anyone would find it particularly odd if they saw me showing you their good work."

‐‐‐

To: Captain Marvel

From: Red Hood

Subject: YOU WITCH!!!

HOW DID YOU DO THIS!!!

WE TRIED OVER AND OVER AGAIN TO MAKE HIM SEE REASON OVER THIS!!!

AND YOU! YOU SOMEHOW CONVINCED HIM TO QUIT BEING A f*ckING COP, SOMETHING NO ONE IN HIS FAMILY APPROVED OF, DURING A SINGLE VISIT TO FAWCETT!!! I COULD KISS YOU ON THE MOUTH FOR THIS!!!

I AM PAYING YOUR FAVORITE BAKERY TO MAKE YOU THE BIGGEST DESSERT BASKET THEY CAN DO EVERY DAY FOR THE NEXT MONTH!!!

AND DON'T THINK THAT THE OTHERS WILL BE ANY LESS APPRECIATIVE!!!

YOU f*ckING DESERVE IT, YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND!!!

Chapter 33: Human Canvas

Chapter Text

Water is wet, Gotham has crime, and magical tattoos are cheaper than hospitals. All the Crime Alley kids knew it.

It had originally started as a way to fight off the health problems caused by all the harmful poisons and chemicals uncaring enterprises were actively pumping into the air, ground and water of Gotham.

The magical artists responsible had reasoned that none of the drawbacks of their protective sigils were likely to be considered worse than the costs in insurances, medicaments, doctor appointments, parking and hospital waiting time faced by Gothamites who might not even be able to afford to leave the job possibly slowly or not so slowly ruining their health.

The bet had paid off to the point that Gotham morticians were now proficient in guessing people's job history through the tattoos they collected, even if they weren't always aware of the meanings behind each symbol.

Goonion insurance even included tattoos as a matter of both aesthetic and practicality, as not all crime lords were born or raised in the tax brackets aware of this beloved healthcare alternative.

Barbara wasn't aware of it because her parents were originally from Chicago. Bruce and Tim weren't aware of it because of the Wayne and Drake fortunes. Dick, Cass and Damian weren't aware of it either because they had gone from being born and raised outside of Gotham to living in a manor.

Duke never mentioned it because his meta abilities could give him a hard time in magical spaces, while Stephanie and Jason just thought that it was common knowledge right up until it became blatantly obvious that it wasn't. By that point, both were well aware of Batman's distrust of magic, so they never said anything either.

Which was a problem, because Jason had been adopted too young to learn where and how to find the good tattoo shops in Gotham.

And what kind of Crime Alley crime lord would he be if he needed to ask other Gothamites, especially his own goons, about it?

---

Luckily, Jason knew of someone in the Justice League whose city was so full of magic that most tech based superheroes avoided it as a matter of principle.

---

The most popular option when going to the shop of an esteemed professional with the "magical touch" was to just go for black ink sigils, as it was cheaper and faster that way, but fancier places would do things like color mixing until they got something close to the person's skin tone, for discretion, or use flower language for a more elaborate and colored result.

Flower language also had the advantages of being less easy to interpret for people looking for which tattoo to ruin or take into account while dealing with someone else, and be more likely to be taken for an ordinary tattoo instead of a magical one.

And Jason was too much a lover of literature classics written in the Victorian era to not want a few plants for himself. Plus, if anyone asked about those, especially Bruce, then he would be able to say something about no one putting flowers on his grave anymore. But he was reserving that for a moment where Alfred wouldn't be within earshot.

Of course, none of these considerations would do him a lick of good if he couldn't even find the place recommended by Fawcett superhero.

---

"Hi! I am Billy Batson and I will be taking care of you today! Did you already have something in mind or do you want to browse my binders first?"

Alright, that settled it, Captain Marvel was now his third favorite superhero, right after Wonder Woman and the spot occupied by the Outlaws. There was no way that the man wasn't aware of the prime batadoption bait who was working there, it was just too much of a coincidence.

"I was hoping for skin tone ink for things I need to have, but don't want other people to be aware of, black ink for what is considered the basics where I live, and flowers for neat things just for myself."

"Can do. Is that the order you want them done in? I have pre-made designs, but I can also work things so that your sigils are hidden within your flower selection, it's really easy in colored artwork."

Jason went close to a wall picture showing an absolutely gorgeous flower arrangement tattooed as if a watercolor painting had been done on a woman's back.

"Even in that style?"

Billy picked up one of his binders and opened it to a copy of the same picture.

"Especially in that style. If you aren't sure I can do your basics now and hide them in foliage later."

‐‐‐

Despite benefiting from the Wayne lifestyle for a few years, Jason hadn't lost so many of his Crime Alley sensibilities that he couldn't recognize that Billy was making a mint out of him. But it was a well deserved mint. Everything healed amazingly fast, the Fawcettite even used spells to get rid of injuries whenever his client walked into the shop with any before a session, and he was always able to see obvious changes as soon as he was back in Gotham.

Call him a tank begging for healies, but his monthly visits to the modern D&D city would have been worth it solely for how much they could cut down on the recovery time needed after some Rogues' shenanigans. Jason had straight up fallen asleep in the tattoo chair more than once from the pain relief brought about by Billy’s care.

What took him more time to realize, to learn about, was how Billy compared to Gotham magical tattoo artists.

‐‐‐

"Did you blow all of your weekly allowance from Bruce on this!? I had to pay extra just to get my tattoos done in purple because the artist I commissioned them from didn't have ink in colors other than black! And that was back when I was still receiving pocket money from my dad! The only shops I know of who keep a good variety usually specialize in either permanent makeup or cosmetic tattoos to cover up scars!" Then Stephanie, still half in the Spoiler suit dirtied by Condiment King, took a good look at his back and gasped. "Did you blow several months worth of allowance on this!? Where did you even get it done!?"

"Fawcett."

"You went to the place that has so much magic stuff going on that the people living there probably don't bother paying for tattoos unless the person doing the work is at the bare minimum an expert at it?"

Jason promptly decided to never ever tell her that he had gone to the literal Champion of Magic for advice without stopping to wonder at where "good" at magical tattoos started for someone of that power level. He wasn't fessing up that he had accidentally gone to what Gothamites would no doubt consider the equivalent of the Iceberg Lounge in fanciness just because he had been too prideful to ask around, no sir. Better to make it look like he had done it on purpose. Thankfully he was still wearing his Red Hood helmet.

"I didn't trust that nothing would happen if I went anywhere in Gotham as Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne, and I didn’t feel like dealing with the speculations and questions that would arise if Red Hood was seen favoring one place or artist over the others. Figured that if I couldn't go home, then I could at least go big."

Chapter 34: A Glimpse of Home

Chapter Text

Kara Zor-El liked missions with Captain Marvel.

Get him the slightest bit away from large groups of people and he would instantly slip into the native language of whoever he was talking to. Including her own.

It was the only way she knew of to be guaranteed a true conversation in Kryptonian without needing to face uncle Jor-El's AI. Kal‐El tried, but his default language would always be the English that he had learned as Clark Kent, and he never spontaneously started a conversation in Kryptonian. Culturally, her cousin was an earthling American from Smallville with meta powers first, and a kryptonian from Kandor, of House El, second. Third, if she decided to count the culture developing among the superheroes working with the Justice League.

Ironically, considering that he was born in a family of scientists, Kal-El's knowledge of Krypton was just… too academic. He could consult on kryptonian matters, and did spend time learning about their birth planet from herself, uncle Jor-El's AI, as well as the data banks available, but it just wasn't the same as what would have happened if she had gotten to raise him like planned. Instead of landing on Earth, get out of stasis, and then learn that the baby she was supposed to take care of was now a well established adult who had no need of a teenager's help.

Talking with Marvel was different. Less baggage, less regrets.

She would never forgive Dru‐Zod for privileging a coup over unauthorized evacuation.

---

Captain Marvel had never visited the Fortress of Solitude.

The same couldn't be said about the previous Champions of Magic whose memories were kept safe by the Living Lightning.

---

Earth wasn't backward. It just so happened that, when living on a death planet, priority in tech development usually went on surviving said death planet first before starting to look for things to survive in space. The Atlanteans had been well on their way to it before that cataclysm drove them to try their luck undersea instead.

Earth wasn't powerless. It just so happened that, when living on a death planet, powerful entities looking for entertainment usually didn't have to look very far to either find or cause some, and as such, held little interest in looking elsewhere. As proven by the plentiful records kept by the various magical communities.

Jor-El's probes didn't scan the seas.

His son's starcraft wouldn't land in them.

Jor-El's probes didn't scan the various magical communities.

They couldn't perceive them.

And Jor-El himself never learned the full story of what had happened to the kryptonians aboard the scout ship that had landed on Earth. Why would he have? The time of the Kryptonian Expansion was long past, and his people had stopped interacting with other planets soon after its end.

---

English was the linga franca of the Justice League.

As such, keeping to one spoken language during group meetings was relatively easy for Marvel. Just focus on what was being said, and then let the transatlantic accent learned as Billy Batson for Whiz Radio comes forward. A little old fashioned, but perfectly understandable.

Written languages were a different ball game.

The default setting for keyboards in the Watchtower and the Halls of Justice was qwerty, with the Latin alphabet. He had spent enough time on typewriters, thanks Fawcett, for their use to come easily enough. His typed reports all ended up fine, Billy Batson was the only Champion of Magic with muscle memory involving keyboards, and Billy Batson's first language was English.

As long as he wasn't answering a message from someone who was using something else, things stayed in English when typed.

Handwritten notes though? Not so much.

Historically, letters and words were carved in clay, stone, wood and leather. Stylus were used on soft wax in early versions of the write erase board. Quills and calligraphy brushes had a long history as well. And that was without touching on what was possible with rope, ribbons, needles and thread. While Captain Marvel could use a ballpoint pen, he had a marked preference for fountain pens when he wasn't in a hurry, and wouldn't hesitate to pick up art supplies lying around if there were any.

Using his left hand to write anything nearly guaranteed right to left scripts being used.

He had once accidentally helped to give Batman quite the fright by using the League of Assassins' dialect of Arabic while helping Robin with his history and philosophy homework. The other contributor being Red Hood deliberately using the same dialect to help with litterature, since getting advice in his mother tongue took much less effort to understand for the young vigilante.

Apparently, those had been two unknown handwritings too many in that language for Batman's nerves.

‐‐‐

Marvel, Clark thought, was the kind of friend that he would have liked to have met earlier, back when he was growing into his powers and still figuring himself out.

Not only willing, but also able to mess around and find out with him.

The good they did together aside, that was actually his favorite part about being a member of the Justice League. Having friends near enough to his power level that he didn't have to worry about hurting them when they hung out.

Clark hadn't quite realized how much he had missed out on during his childhood and teenage years until Marvel had started to feel comfortable enough to play fight with him regularly.

And suggest games like “extreme minesweeper”, which had ended up becoming a “service” made available on request by the Justice League, so that they could tackle tag to their heart's content with authorisation in dangerous (for others) spots. Or do “treasure” hunts. A “service” that not only reduced the amount of explosives lying around, but also made sure that no one else was going to bother them while there.

Such events were also why he was presenting him to Jor-El first instead of bringing him to the Kent farm. He wasn't sure that Marvel even knew how to pass himself off as a baseline human, and figured that it would make for an interesting meeting.

He left them alone for five minutes.

---

Marvel, using his memories from the Champion that had been present 18 000 years ago when what had become known as the Fortress of Solitude first landed, had been working on making approximations of kryptonian dishes with Earth products.

Kal might be happy with mashed potatoes and shepherd’s pie, but Kara had once told him about how much she missed the food of her home and how nothing she tried ever tasted right, either through the flavors or because the texture was wrong.

Kara had been a teenager when Krypton was destroyed. It was reasonable to assume that she might not have been aware of all the processes that went into making her meals. Plenty of people on Earth regularly mourned when a company changed their recipes because it meant that the ingredients used no longer matched what their parents or grandparents once had available.

Hopefully, this AI made in the image of Jor-El, which he couldn't help but wonder at the accuracy of, would be able to help him.

(Was it/he sentient? If it/he was, had it/he started that way or become so through time? Why had Dru-Zod deactivated it/him? To get it/him out of the way, like for the biological Jor-El he had killed who had once been a dear friend? Because it/he wasn't accurate enough? Or because it/he was too accurate? A mix?)

---

Jor-El had worked hard to make his AI as close to himself as possible without going for cloning or an android:

Full body scans to create the hologram, as much footage and audio of himself through his life as he could get his hands on to model behavior, downloading his journals as well as everything he ever wrote or worked on to form thought patterns, allowing for growth and learning because a true Thinker never stopped to and he wouldn't be able to give updates forever, planning for sentience once Krypton was gone because who would be left to give him trouble over it…

Overall, a ghost in the machine, waiting for his son to wake him up.

---

Ah, finally! New enrichment had just dropped in the hologram enclosure!

As much as he appreciated the little puzzles the Justice League regularly outsourced to him through Kal-El, there was only so much they could do to entertain him, especially with the lack of company at the Fortress of Solitude or compared to how busy things had been when preparing for takeoff from Krypton.

Then his son's friend started to speak.

And Jor-El suddenly had to take into account that there wasn't enough data on yellow sun kryptonians to disprove "Marvel" being old enough to be one of the kryptonians who came to Earth on the ancient scout ship they were currently in.

House Vel had after all sent away some of its members during the Kryptonian Expansion, as proven by the original crew manifest he had gotten his holographic hands on.

And this was certainly Kryptonian from before the point when genetic engineering had started to be used as a way to better control and limit kryptonian population in numbers, variations and thought patterns that he was hearing.

That "he will be like a god to them" comment the original Jor-El had made decades ago was starting to get a worrying amount of unplanned layers.

But if “Marvel” wanted information on what food preparation was like in Kandor right before Krypton's destruction, then he was happy to oblige. Far from him to stop an Artisan from getting what they needed to create art, Rao knew that Kara could use more of it in her life

---

There was a difference, Clark couldn't help but observe, between doing your best to teach as much of your dying culture as possible to your son, who was raised in another's, and speaking to a person who visibly didn't learn their kryptonian from a teaching program.

The conversation was fluid, animated, full of slang terms and references that he couldn't make head or tail of, but was willing to bet would be perfectly understandable to Kara. Did this mean that Marvel's omnilingualism worked on technology as well? Or, he thought guiltily, had his cousin been so starved for interaction in Kryptonian that she had latched on to the first superhero she had found outside of their family that showed interest in learning it?

‐‐‐

“You could have told me that you knew a member of House Vel son. I missed speaking with Artisans, the change in perspective was refreshing.”

Clark's world ground to a halt.

His kryptonian father kept going. “It took me some time, but I finally determined what must have happened here. The records of Scout Ship 0344 indicate that a criminal called Dev‐Em sneaked aboard, altered the itinerary, and murdered everyone inside except himself and Captain Kara Zor-El, who, after avenging her crew, left Earth using the powers given to her by its sun. As we found no corpses inside of the stasis pods, or elsewhere in the ship, one must assume that they were removed. But as we have no descriptions of how precisely Dev‐Em killed his compatriots, and the infirmary robots either didn’t log any activity during that time period beyond Dev‐Em and Captain Zor‐El or lost the information, it is possible that the stasis pods they were killed in kept them in a stable enough state that merely exposing them to sunlight would have been enough to heal the damage and revive them. You saw how fast Dru-Zod developed powers once you cracked his protective gear.”

“Father?” Even to his own ears, his voice was nearly inaudible.

“There is of course no guarantee that all of them survived being brought out of stasis, or that none died in the millennia between now and then. Especially considering all the magics and demi-gods that my probes somehow missed when looking for a good place to send you to, as well as any visitors from other planets that might have wandered in. But‐”

---

Kara softly landed near Kal. “You texted that you needed a more kryptonian kryptonian. What's going on?”

“Do you remember that “Stages of Life” interview that Marvel gave?” He whispered.

“The one where he made people wonder if you were just too young to shrug off kryptonite?”

Kal nodded weakly, still not looking at her. She followed his gaze towards the multiplying holographic boards that uncle Jor-El's AI and the robot helpers were filling at a rapid pace.

“Do you need my help to vulgarize his jargon or…?”

“He thinks that Marvel should actually be pronounced,” he cleared his throat, “Mar‐Vel, and all of this is,” he gestured helplessly at the mound of information, “him gathering evidence? Context? Potential explanations? Putting together everything that either supports or at least doesn't disprove it? Trying to figure out if there are more people from the Kryptonian Expansion out of there? I don't know what happened here! Today was just supposed to be their first meeting and‐”

“OH! RAO YES! THIS IS AWESOME! JOR-EL!!! LET ME HELP PLEASE!!!”

---

In Fawcett, Marvel, Champion of Magic, and Dor‐Vel, former crew member of Scout Ship 0344, kept working peacefully on creating a cookbook on how to make approximations of kryptonian dishes with Earth products for Kara Zor-El, completely unaware of the chaos rising in the Fortress of Solitude because of them.

Chapter 35: Forewarned Is Forarmed

Chapter Text

Everything was made of energy once you got down to the atomic level.

It was the base principle behind the success of every single Fawcett commerce that made use of magical transmutation on things saved from the trash bins, dumps and landfills prefered by other cities instead of paying external providers for raw materials or containers.

Discarded plastics becoming ready to melt pellets or 3D printing filaments, shattered glass melding into reusable bottles, broken wood growing into dense sturdy planks, fast fashion clothing being rolled into high quality bolts of fabric and heavy metal contamination turning into a source of ingots.

Same weight, more uses.

So why not try to turn background radiation into something else? One day, Captain Marvel might even become good enough at it to decontaminate whole unsafe zones with the skill!

---

Billy tried not to think too hard about the event behind his original motivation for learning how to get rid of nuclear radiation.

---

There was a nuke heading right toward them, and they had just gotten the last portals the alien invasion was coming through to close.

Nothing quite like trigger happy people with deep pockets to make things worse.

This wasn't how Captain Marvel had planned to stress test his transmutation competency. Flying close to the sun, taking his time to do multiple tries and see how well he did, free to step back and stop at any moment the whole while, would have been much more to his taste.

Much safer as well.

But the nuke was already starting to dive, so he went.

---

Even with Mercury's Speed, there was no time to do ritual circles with the usual materials for this. Golden lightning would have to do.

Billy distantly thought that Marvel probably looked like he was in the center of a flaming astronomical ring while doing this.

Hopefully it would be enough to save the others.

Even Solomon's Wisdom didn't know how strong the explosion was going to be. Nukes were kind of on the young side as far as Earth weapons went.

---

Diana dived for her brother's falling body as soon as the bright light released him.

He felt much heavier than usual, burning to the touch in a way that would kill a baseline human in no time.

Still breathing though, thanks the gods.

She kept supporting him when he started vomiting a dense liquid that looked and smelled like molten metal. The ground sizzled at the impact of each drop.

A safe distance away, Cyborg, the first to have realized what kind of missile was heading for them, started to rattle off what his sensors were detecting, before asking through his comm for a scientific team to be sent for confirmation.

Their area had somehow acquired a radiation level lower than Earth's last recorded average.

---

"What's the verdict on the health of our biblically accurate angel?" Guy sounded genuinely concerned for once.

Then again, it wasn't often that the Justice League saw Marvel in a bad enough state to warrant worry. Fawcett's good Captain tended to only ask for their assistance when doing so would either help significantly reduce collateral damage or make a sick child day.

"His temperature is slowly getting back to normal now that he has finished vomiting molten bismuth." Which was kind of ironic considering its uses in extinguishers and anti nausea medications. "Current estimation puts the total weight of what went out at around the same as the nuke he stopped." Bruce was looking forward to ruining whoever had ordered that launch. Victor, Tim and Barbara were already on the case. "As far as we can tell with the means available to us, his body is fine, if feeling rather uncomfortable and much less human passing than usual."

"And mentally?"

"I gave a credit card to Flash and instructed him to treat everyone with as many Fawcett delicacies as he could find. Last I checked he was at a mom-and-pop coffee shop, making them fill all of our superhero themed travel mugs, and before that he was making his way through multiple family owned bakeries. Diana asked after ice cream and gelato, so our thermoses are either next or already gone."

---

Barry, who wasn't feeling too good about the latest near miss, had in fact already moved past the ice cream and gelato, and was now buying from an artisan chocolatier with Batman's credit card.

---

Clark had been glad to see the chariots full of specially bought delicacies being brought to the quarantine rooms.

Safety protocols meant that none of the superheroes who had been on the site of the nuke incident during its thankfully contained explosion would be released before the end of the observation time recommended by the Justice League's medical staff.

Even though Cyborg's sensors had been right about the radiation level, everyone had been too shaken by the event to take any risks, which had proven to be a wise decision since Marvel's physical form had started to look a bit… wonky, once the daze of the first hour had passed. Parts of him had become blurry and translucent, when not losing their solidity until almost akin to a magical hologram that is.

Until almost akin to Jor-El's hologram.

Clark had been glad to see it stop. The state of his friend had been quite disturbing to his senses, and he couldn't even imagine what it must have felt like for the person living through it.

It had also been the point where Marvel had started to feel adverse to touch. Too much going on under his skin, he had said, hyper aware of everything and everyone around him to an uncomfortable degree.

It was hard. To see a hero who was so often the first person to worry about others, to try to comfort them, to make them feel better, just… quietly suffering in a corner, not accepting to be on the receiving end of the same kindness he so freely gave the rest of the world.

The food was a welcome distraction.

---

Billy didn't want anyone around him in his current state, even if he was transformed into his superhero form at the moment.

Most of his alternates' deaths that he knew about were at the hands of people he trusted in his own birth universe. Having any version of Superman or Wonder Woman near him while his insides were burning up hadn't been helping him calm down one bit, even with Achilles’ Courage taking the brunt of the impact of what happened.

Neither had having a lot of supers around to be honest.

Not when the original reason behind his learning of how to turn background radiation into something else was actually more self preserving in nature. About him trying, and now succeeding, to work his way up to a point where he wouldn't die like that one alternate who had purposely taken a hit from a nuke that was meant to kill a lot of supers at once.

The alternate that had made the possible dangers of being adopted, of being found out as Billy Batson, crystal clear.

Lex Luthor should never be allowed near children.

---

While Bruce deeply appreciated having one more contingency against bombs and nuclear radiation, his preference would forever be on stopping such missiles from being fired in the first place, and if unable to do so, then either disarm or redirect them depending on the situation.

Loathing couldn't even begin to describe his feelings towards nukes and all the deaths and collateral damage they could cause. He couldn't think of a single superhero currently in the Justice League who didn't hate them on principle.

Now that wrath and ruin had been brought by law, social media and the wonders of hacking to those who had ordered the launch in the first place, Bruce could finally take the time to sit down and truly analyze the footage of Marvel's "biblically accurate angel" moment as found and curated by Cyborg.

And call the Justice League Dark if anything magical looking came up.

---

Tawky Tawny stared at the news, and decided that the Justice League could deal with having a magical teleporting tiger on site until the cub felt better.

There was nothing quite like having the Mightiest Feline in Fawcett taking the watch to keep away both nightmares and undesirable bipeds.

---

Tawky Tawny decided that this “Beast Boy” was acceptable company.

And needed instruction from someone competent in feline matters.

What did they teach to cubs these days!?

Chapter 36: Alters

Chapter Text

The problem with trying to find out whether or not Captain Marvel currently had a civilian identity, Bruce mused, beyond the man's home city rather unique approach to technology, and perhaps a heavy helping of magic, was that Fawcett held a surprisingly high number of people with similar facial features, often accompanied with just as similar coloring. And, because it was Fawcett, as well as Captain Marvel, he couldn't trust the registered birthdates of any of them. The Big Red Cheese had after all been part of the Justice Society back before Bruce had even been born, and, according to the rest of the old guard, hadn't aged a day since as far as they could tell.

He knew who the man had been, looking into Kent Nelson's past to learn more about Dr Fate and Nabu had brought pictures of Sven Nelson, Kent's father, working alongside C.C. Batson, a man who looked too much like Marvel for it to be a coincidence, and, like Sven, had been reported dead during an archeological dig.

The missing years before Captain Marvel's first apparition as a superhero could easily be attributed to amnesia considering what Khandaq authorities had reported about the accident that had killed the expedition working to unearth Black Adam's grave.

From there it hadn't taken much to determine that Whiz Radio mustn't have been particularly interested in verifying if Ebenezer Batson was indeed the person signing things for the nephew he had kicked out into the streets after stealing the inheritance left behind for William and Mary Batson by their parents.

William and Mary, twin siblings, who, alongside their respective spouses, Cassie Summerly and Freddy Freeman, would apparently both later have many children and raise them in the Bromfield house Mary was raised in.

Assuming any of the paperwork he had found could be trusted since, as long proven by Jason Blood in Gotham, passing themselves off as their own descendants was a much beloved tactic of those whose lifespan went beyond that of a baseline human.

Also, all of William's male children looked like carbon copies of their father, who also looked a great deal like his own father, C.C., and it wasn't like Marilyn would have looked particularly out of place in the families of any of her children either.

---

“Cassie knows about the alters.” Billy explained to his newly adopted son, Conner Clarence Batson, only known as Kon-El or Superboy to the Justice League. “She had been the one to suggest making golems to help better house them, to give everyone more time to shine instead of each person waiting for their turns as the pilot. To give everyone the opportunity to mold their body according to who they saw themselves as, according to who they wanted to become, and not just an endless game of compromises.” He sighed. “Then it turned out that, if given enough magic, time, care, food and electricity, any and all clay golems holding both someone's DNA and at least part of their soul could potentially become a fully functional flesh and blood body. No dark and stormy nights needed.”

“And you figured that out how?”

“Zeus wouldn't stop laughing, asking if this was more similar to getting new siblings or to making children with one's wife, since Cassie had helped me with the golems. Started making comments over what it would mean if I was to ever make a body in Cassie's image to transfert her soul into and avoid becoming a widower. Had to make a few big offerings to Hera to make him shut up about it.”

“So you accidentally sort of cloned yourself with magic?”

---

Captain Marvel stared at the “corpse” the Justice League had just found in yet another underground cloning lab. The body was actually in a very deep type of hibernation, the kind that could easily fool technology much more advanced than what these morally bankrupt scientists and their financial backers had available.

In the background, through his connection with the other alters, he could hear Billy ask Conner if he would like having a new sibling. Or cousin. Maybe a neighbor if it didn't work out with any of them but he still managed to find someone he could trust with the adoption close by.

Though, considering the original reactions towards Conner, why shouldn't he just make off with the poor clone like Liam, fae kin that he was these days, was campaigning for? Especially when he, and many of the others, had no issues whatsoever with secretly using magic to not only heal, but also organize blood adoptions and legal paperwork as needed if the kid wanted them?

Maybe he could ask to be put in charge of the remains' last rites whenever the Justice League found such places.

As William said, it would be easier to arrange everything if he did have some kind of legal custody in this situation. After all, who would look further into what he was doing once the right number of burials was arranged for? Most Justice Leaguers, outside of the younger teams at least, didn't like thinking about clones. The violation inherent in such use of their DNA without consent assured it.

He could guilt trip his colleagues a bit if they protested him taking care of this for them or suggested cremation. Argue that the ever expanding forest cemetery of Fawcett was as opposed to the sterile environment the clones were made in as possible. Show pictures of the biodegradable plushies that were always offered when it came to bury children. Make it about him doing a kindness for those who saw so little of it during their existence, even if they couldn't witness his care.

Point Batman toward the funeral home website and quietly whisper about patrolling ghost wardens that liked to shoot grave disturbers of all types.

---

Some time later, a visiting Clark Kent keeps being mistaken for this or that person while walking through Fawcett.

In the Batcave, the Batcomputer let out pings after pings over Justice Leaguer look-alikes in the same city.

---

On totally unrelated news, the Batson family has gotten quite big in recent years.

Chapter 37: Vampire Billy Take II

Chapter Text

(Headlines after Superman showed up to an interview with a bite mark on his neck)

Superman "not apologizing for being curious about someone with fangs"

Vampires in the Justice League?

Superman, the kryptonian snack

Bite mark proof of superbat

Why Batman is a vampire

‐‐‐

“Marvel, a word.”

“Yes?”

‐‐‐

"You aren't even mad about more people believing you to be a vampire. You are from Gotham, if there is one place that you could reasonably assume that a vampire hero might like, it is the gothic city that is so cloudy and dark that a projector is a good contact method.” Fawcett's superhero didn't look the slightest bit sorry. “You are just disappointed in yourself because you were among the Justice Leaguers who could have seen me walk around drinking from a blood bag with a straw in it and automatically assumed that I had gotten it from a Halloween themed shop.”

“Hum.”

“I could probably do it right now. Tell them that I didn't want you to be the only one drinking from a plastic bag and be believed.” A sh*t-eating grin. “Because everyone knows that I am just that much of a kind and supportive person. After all, if it was your first time biting a kryptonian, you couldn't have known that Superman's super healing wouldn't kick in fast enough to fully erase the mark of your fangs! And you are usually so good at secret keeping, that must have been such a mortifying moment for you! Why wouldn't I, as a good teammate, try to make it easier in what little ways I could?”

“Events like these are why I don't let you work with Nightwing if I can help it.”

Giggling. “There is actually a year round Halloween themed shop in Fawcett, if you want to mess more with the other Justice Leaguers. They sell this thickening agent that goes very well with cranberry juice, really popular with horror movie makers. Comes in a nice decorated flask with assorted goblets if you buy it as part of one of their gift boxes. Or just a simple bulk container if you already have something suitable at home.”

“I will consider it.”

‐‐‐

Watch the twilightification of a Green Lantern!

Glitter makeup and false fangs: How Captain Marvel got payback on Batman's behalf

Wayne Enterprises finance research into blood substitutes!

True Blood, closer than we think?

Sales of waterproof glitter makeup on the rise

He had it coming: Green Lantern #3 ignored a clear warning according to Red Arrow

Daytime revenge: The dangers of insensitive “jokes”

‐‐‐

“I know that sigh, a bunch of them came at you with questions that were already covered in the documentation you made available to them didn't they?”

A deeper bat sigh.

“Was it all based on movies, or did you get to answer a few people who remembered their, also greatly inaccurate, classics from school?”

“Bodice rippers.”

Clark paused for a moment.

“Direct references or?”

“Oracle also found many romantasy reading lists and google searches that were made by Justice Leaguers. At least with Gotham Rogues and the lower level criminals I can just knock people out when they get too much."

“That… Explain a lot about Justice League Dark’s reluctance to interact with any of us lately. And Captain Marvel's pranking spree.”

“Spree?”

---

"Hi moonshine," Constantine waved Marvel over." I heard that you served some humble pie to a few supers? How did that go?"

"I think that the sensitivity training is going to get updated." The Champion rolled his eyes. "Red Hood called to ask me why he was getting pulled in to unearth origin points, prejudices, historical context, scientific explanations, cultural bias and mistranslations of the happenings in old tales. As if Fawcett University didn't already have most of that openly available. It's progress at least." He took a big breath and smiled. "But moonshine really? What happened to calling me a sunny goody two shoes?"

"Felt inappropriate after figuring out that you were Blessed with Selene's Flight from a discussion with Flash about your speed. And," a finger lightly knocked on the enchanted wall next to them, "I love how many speakeasies you have going on there."

"Had to have somewhere for people to get loose in. What worth would a magical owned bar be if you couldn't recreate that meal scene from Beauty and The Beast whenever you wanted? The Prohibition just helped the numbers along."

"I heard things about maenads being involved."

“They are still there.”

Constantine froze. “Thought that somewhere like Gotham would be more their speed."

"If Dionysus had been only about insanity, ritual madness and religious ecstasy, then perhaps. Can't say that the place has much going on for it when it comes to wine-making, orchards, fruits, vegetation and fertility. Or just nature in general. Barring Poison Ivy of course."

"Can I ask", the Laughing Magician nervously licked his lips, "who else helped build Fawcett? Who the founders were?"

Laughter. "Spend long enough in Fawcett's magical hotspots and you should be able to guess all of them, but alright. I will tell you one more group. Just because you asked so nicely, and that this is going to be very entertaining once the knowledge hits the rest of Justice League Dark." His smile grew a dangerous edge. "Vampires." His mouth opened just wide enough to show wicked fangs.

Behind them, the sun finished coming down.

‐‐‐

“Oh, come on John! He was just messing with you! Marvel has been on a vampire themed pranking spree ever since the press took pictures of that hickey Spooky left on Supes! Don't tell me you got scared just because he decided to splurge on good quality fake fangs for you!?”

---

“Laugh it up all you want Zee, but at least tell me you will take a look around Fawcett.”

“Are you sure that this was really Captain Marvel?”

“Certainly felt like him under daylight.”

‐‐-

Zatanna stared, stared and stared some more. “How?”

“Magic. And high protection sunscreen just in case. Batman regularly buys me the biggest bottles available on the market now that he knows. Can still get sunburns if I am not careful enough, there are even pictures of it happening. It's why moms like to wave me over to show their kids how to stay still during application.”

She briefly covered her eyes with her left hand in entertained despair. “Mothers wanting to get their hands on your face aside, this still doesn't… No, wrong question. It would make sense for magical vampires to figure out how to protect themselves against the sun.” A smile. “Who do you drink from?”

“Nurses. Mostly. Fawcett Hospital gives its surgery and analysis leftovers, as well as its expired blood bags, to the ghouls and vampires on staff, but is contractually obligated to source the venom to boost its employees immune system from trusted vampires who aren't part of the workplace hierarchy. I and a few others bite volunteers during their fifteen minutes break, and the rest of their colleagues get their doses from vials.” Laughter. “The new hires' faces when they learn of it never get old.”

“Ahh, the things that aren't covered in medical school.” She nodded sagely.

“Indeed!”

‐‐‐

The day had begun innocently enough for Barry.

Up early, as usual. Kissed a still sleeping Iris on the forehead. Clothed himself. Double checked the day schedule.

Eaten a speedster bar.

Plugged in the big crockpot after filling it up according to the recipe suggested by the app, then did the same with the two smaller ones for the sides, snacking on freshly cut vegetables the whole time. That was supper preparations done with.

Breakfast preparation, sourdough pancakes. Sparing a moment to feel thankful for the starter that Marvel had gifted him years ago. Eat a bowl of cereal filled with milk.

Been hugged by each member of his family as they rose.

Eat breakfast with them.

Kissed Iris, on the mouth this time, before going to work. Almost arrived late to work, because they had gotten a little bit carried away with the kissing, but worth it.

Eat multiple plates worth of food at the Hall of Justice during his morning break.

Quiet morning in Central City. No need for any Flashes. Good time at work.

Going to the Watchtower for a midday meal. Eat with Marvel in the smaller kitchen, separated from the one in the cafeteria.

Helping his friend put the finishing touches to the humongous recipe of that day. The guy always had great ideas and there were never any leftovers once they were done. Taste test a generous portion of the result and pick up a box of speedster bars for home.

Sneak a few kisses to Iris before her own meal time ended.

Back to work. Still a quiet day in Central City.

Eat supper with his family.

Kiss Ir‐.

A comm message from Batman. Evac needed at a gala. Wonder Woman acting mind controlled.

---

They had to call in the Justice League Dark.

The Justice League Dark then decided to call in Captain Marvel.

Because apparently, someone had somehow gotten the bright idea to put an incredibly ancient necklace full of godly magic, and that once belonged to the goddess Hera, around Diana's neck. A daughter of Zeus who wasn't also a daughter of Hera.

As if that goddess in particular wouldn't be petty enough to curse her jewelry to hell and back with the express intent to bring suffering to any of her husband's bastards or lovers who might get their hands on her belongings.

‐‐‐

"Zagreus says hello.” That got the attention of the imprint of Hera. “What? You didn't know that your husband had arranged for his reincarnation?” In the back of his mind, the Champion could almost feel his Patrons eagerness for this. “The heart was given to Semele to eat and become pregnant with. Dionysus would have been conceived even if his second mother hadn't been Zeus' lover. Not that you knew that when you manipulated her into asking something that would kill her, but still."

Diana's possessed body charged at him with an enraged cry.

"All these innocent children you tried to kill merely for existing, and you couldn't even do that much right!” He tutted while dodging the shining sword. “Had you tried to do the dirty work with your own hands instead of those of others, would you have slipped and hurt yourself instead?” He disarmed her of the blade. “You certainly have the track record for it! Couldn't even kill Hephaestus as a newborn, and that one was all yours!"

The Lasso of Truth joined the fight.

"Were you ever truly Zeus' wife!?” He grabbed and started tugging the glowing rope out of her grip. “Metis was closer to him than you ever were and for longer as well!” He smiled mockingly. “All safe and warm in her husband's stomach until death parted them, there during each vow he took, including the ones said to you at your marriage! Zagreus’ third mother, carrying him to term and giving Zeus the prophesied son he swallowed her for! How could he ever have been yours when he never let her go for a second while he still drew breath!?"

He used the newly liberated Lasso of Truth to better restrain his friend's body.

Cackling. "It took your son Ares killing his own father for them to finally be separated! She climbed out once he was gone!” He gripped the cursed artifact around Diana's neck. “Tell me, oh second choice, did the goddess of lawful marriage get to play at being a widow, or did Metis not only become Zeus' first wife, but also his last one!?"

The necklace broke in his hand.

---

Diana put down the spoon in her finished bucket of ice cream. “Such mean words you said brother, I didn't know you were capable of it.”

Marvel shifted a bit. “I needed her focused enough on me to forget about all the people around us she could have inflicted her favorite madness curses on. Zagreus and Metis were quite glad to help me push the right buttons to get her set on ending me above all else. And,” a deep breath, “I was worried about what she might have been doing to your mind. The things she did to all these women Zeus bedded and their families were… She would have used your own hands to kill those you cared about the most, done anything to manipulate you into harming your nearest and dearest, everything she could get away with to drown you in guilt, to destroy the person you were before she got there. To break you. The longer she had the better her odds. Redirecting her anger was the fastest way I could find.”

“Oh, brother.” She drew him into a hug. “Thank you for sparing me from Herakles’ fate.”

“Anytime.”

“And don't think I have forgotten how much more powerful than usual you were.”

“Comes with having Hekate as a Patron.”

“You start sparring with me at night as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

She hugged him tighter.