The Life Of Billy Batson | Shazam

Scars | PART 1

~ ~ ~ Scars | PART 1 ~ ~ ~

* Enjoy! *

Nighttime in Fawcett City was always something to enjoy. Especially on nights like this, when a cool breeze came from the hills, and an air of calm blanketed the town. Stars shined brightly above the peaceful town, twinkling beside the moon.

Captain Marvel made his usual rounds about the city, flying above buildings and over rooftops as he searched for any sign of trouble. It had been a quiet night so far, with only a possible argument going south to break up.

The hero had become lost in his thoughts, worrying over the upcoming League meeting that warned importance. He had been wracking his brain trying to figure out what it could be about, and even with the Wisdom of Solomon, he was no closer to finding the answer.

Once finished with his nightly patrol, Captain Marvel checked his surroundings before descending into a dark alleyway. He looked around once more, and, finding no one in sight, said the words that would transform him back to his mortal state.

"SHAZAM!"

Lightning cracked in the sky and smoke billowed up from where the transformation had occurred, and Billy Batson stood in the place the hero had been only moments earlier. The 10-year-old coughed and waved the smoke away, pulling up his hood and unrolling his sleeves. He did so quickly, trying not to look at the raised pink flesh that covers his arms.

He had had these scars for a while now, ever since he first transformed into Captain Marvel, but it still bothered the boy to see them. It didn't help, either, that whenever the World's Mightiest Mortal got into a particularly nasty fight, extra scarring would show up on his other half's skin.

Billy had thought about showing the League before, back when it first happened, because, at the time, he wasn't sure where the scars were coming from or why he had them. Over time he had learned that anything that would scar Captain Marvel, wouldn't, because of his healing factor. But that didn't stop the scars from appearing on Billy's body.

His decision not to tell the league had been set in stone when they discovered he was actually a child and had really overreacted.

Billy shook the confusing and saddening thoughts from his head, continuing on down the dark street. He soon came to an abandoned building, the place he called home. The boy crawled through a hole he had made in the fence, pulling his shirt down when it had come up to cover the scars on his back.

He walked with his hands in his pockets up the cracked sidewalk, opening the fragile door and closing it behind him. Billy looked around at the barren room of the first floor, then made his way to the staircase that was against the back wall. He climbed it slowly, lost in his thoughts once more.

Once on the second floor, he looked around to find that his things were still there, thank god, though as minuscule a blessing that may be. Billy saw that the old mattress still lay on the floor against the mildew stained wall, a thread-bare blanket laid half-hazard over it. In the corner near the window, there was a red sweatshirt with a hand-sewn lightning bolt on it, a souvenir from a civilian Captain Marvel had saved.

He couldn't wear the token out in public, for fear of someone questioning its origin, or worse, finding the person who made it and having them think Captain Marvel didn't appreciate the gift. However, that didn't stop the boy from using it at night for extra warmth. He put the sweatshirt on overtop his shirt, smiling at the warmth the fabric gave him.

Billy lay down on the mattress, staring up at the old ceiling above him. His mind wandered back to his scars, something that had been happening quite often lately, and furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath and pulled off the sweatshirt, shivering at the sudden cold. He pushed through it, taking off his long-sleeve shirt as well. Billy stood, walking over to the mirror with a single crack in it, and examined his body.

He swallowed thickly as he touched a long, tree-like scar that ran from the edge of his jaw, down his shoulder blade, around and under his armpit, down his side, and disappeared into his pants at the pelvis. the scar branched off at different points, curving around his would-be pectorals had he not been so small, curving around his arms, the left coming all the way down to his wrist, along his spine, and coming just under his collarbone.

He flinched as he touched the scars, practically able to feel the electricity that lay beneath the surface. Billy sighed, knowing this scar would be one that would never fade, for it was the same path the lighting always travelled whenever he became Captain Marvel.

The boy moved onto other scars, ones gained through battle, and the ones that reminded him of the dangerous things he did as a lifestyle.

He gently touched a small pink line just above his pelvis, a mark from where he had been stabbed by Dr. Sivana, the sight bringing back an uneasy feeling in his gut. He focused his attention on a different scar, this one running from his left collarbone to the top of his bellybutton. It reminded him of the particularly painful and rare time that he had been Billy Batson, not Cap, and had gotten this on his own accord.

Cap himself had been captured by the now long-dead villain Captain Nazi, drugged and tortured to the point he couldn't hold his godly form anymore. He had been forced to change back into Billy Batson, and the man had leapt at the chance to do some permanent damage.

Billy really didn't want to think of the memory, or of any other memory that came to mind when looking over his scarred body. The thought of it all made tears well in his eyes, and he fell to his knees as he stared at his cracked, broken reflection.

This was the price he paid to protect those couldn't protect themselves, and sometimes, it was hard to live with. Sometimes the memories and phantom pain was hard to live with.

~ ~ ~

Billy woke up the next morning in his bed, both his shirt and sweatshirt on. He yawned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The boy scratched at his jaw, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through the window.

He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, bare feet hitting the wooden floor of the room. The boy stood slowly, carefully scratching his back at places he knew there weren't scars. He then pulled on his socks and shoes, and took off the over-sized sweatshirt and hung it over the chair near the window.

Billy stretched one more time, this time letting out a small grunt. He opened the cupboard against the wall to find it, unsurprisingly, empty. he sighed, shaking his head. The boy then opened the door and walked out of the room, down the stairs, and into the bright morning air.

What the boy didn't know was that the small, nearly microscopic camera that had been hidden in his room by a very sneaky cowled superhero had recorded everything from the night before.

Up in the Watchtower, Batman sat at a desk, watching tiredly as footage from each of the heroes civilian lives was recorded. He flicked through footages, from Hal Jordan eating dinner, to Clark reading a newspaper and sipping coffee on his balcony.

That was, until, he got to Captain Marvel's footage.

Batman paused when he saw the young boy kneeling before a cracked mirror, running his fingers along massive, terrifying-looking scars. They were the kinds of things only grown men or war heroes should wear, and yet, there sat a young man, no older than 10, running his fingers along what looked to be lightning scars.

The caped crusader noticed there were various other scars, from bullet wounds to knife scars, but the most definable and one that shook the man to his very core was the one that looked like plantlife, spiraling and running around the small boy's frame. If this was what happened when the boy became Captain Marvel....

Batman had to tell the rest of the League.

~ ~ ~

~To Be Continued~