AN: Thanks for the review everyone! So someone asked about whether some of Captain Marvel's old foes will show up. As this is almost completely New 52 and central conflict is still Brainiac, old Captain Marvel villains will not appear here.
#3 Day of Learning
Before Monday came around Billy insisted on going to Fawcett City first. He might no longer be the green hand training under a goddess in mortal form, but when trouble hits, his first instinct was still to go to his math teacher. So Alfred drove the limo to Fawcett City on a rainy Sunday morning, with Damian and Bruce sitting on either side of Billy in the back. They were deathly quiet on the way to Fawcett City. Billy couldn't speak, and the others did not want to remind him of his curse by chattering.
A few hours of silent driving later, they stopped at a perfectly ordinary suburban house in Fawcett. Billy opened the front gate and walked right up to the door. Before he could press the doorbell the door swung open. Areia Glaukos looked down at the boy, all calm and no surprise. She took Billy's hand and said kindly, "Come on in, Billy."
Bruce and Damian followed Billy into the house. Damian was truculently silent and wore a hostile frown. Bruce was tempted to do the same, but for image's sake he greeted the hostess with a proffered hand and his best attempt at a smile given the awkward situation.
"Enchanted to meet you, Ms. Glaukos," Gotham's billionaire prince said, "Billy has talked quite a bit about his math teacher. Sorry for visiting on such short notice, but Billy insisted. He thinks you can help with him out with his current problem."—Bruce was aiming for a generic greeting. He wanted to at least try to appear as a regular doting father, however futile this attempt.
Areia took his hand and shook it, replying in kind, "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Wayne."
Everyone sat down in the living room, as if it was no more than a gathering of friends, Alfred even offered to make everyone tea and then busied himself in the kitchen. But that was all of the pretension they had the mood for. Areia all but ignored the other occupants in the room and looked at Billy only.
She began, "You should know better than I do, but there is only one way to unwind the curse. You must find another key to unlock Captain Marvel's power. The good news is, it can be done; the bad news, it will be difficult, perhaps even impossible for you, Billy."
The boy blinked a few times with puzzlement. He moved his lips, as if wanting to say something, so Areia passed him a pen and a small notepad. Billy took it and quickly scribbled down: I thought the word is the only way.
Areia shook her head, "Not exactly, the key to unleashing Captain Marvel is the lightning. That is why just about anyone can change you back using a strong electric current with some magic-draining power. Granted, unleashing the power is vastly more difficult than turning it off; you will need the true lightning bolt of Zeus, not just any electric current, but it can be done. I can grant you the right to use Father Zeus's lightning as you are now, William Joseph Batson."
Billy looked back at his mentor with wide, hopeful eyes, but Areia stopped.
"So?" Damian cut in as silence dragged on, "Do I sense a 'but' coming?"
"The 'but' is, it is a mighty task for a mortal body to invoke Zeus's lightning, permission notwithstanding. In this form even I had to learn the spells of electromagnetism first because I can unleash the lightning, though the lightning bolt has long been my weapon."
Areia held up her hands, and suddenly blue-white sparks flared between her palms, igniting the air.
"This is a spark of Zeus's power, but it is also a current generated from the two hundred thousand volt potential difference between my hands. The permission to use Zeus's lightning does not give your mortal body the power to create electricity; that is a skill to be learned."
Billy scratched on his notepad furiously: how can any normal person learn that?
"There are enough magic users who can manipulate electromagnetism, even if they cannot tap the power of Zeus. The question is whether you will be able to acquire that skill. Magic requires something innate."
Billy pursed his lips as he wrote down with extra force: I will learn. Swear. Whatever it takes.
Areia put a hand on the boy's head and said in a gentle voice, "Hopefully it would take only a few months of practice. By no means do you need to become a powerful wizard, you only need to master the couple spells to gather charged particles and manipulate electric fields. So long as you can create two or three megavolts at will, that should be enough of a spark to invoke Zeus's power. Here, take this grimoire; I made it many years ago when I was trying to learn some magic. The first two are wordless spells to create electric and magnetic fields, exactly what you need to master right now."
Billy took the thick notebook into his hands with reverence, flipping to the first page. On the thin, time-yellowed page there were pictures of hand gestures and a diagram of arrows, accounting every step in this spell.
"The gestures are simple enough," Areia said, her long fingers twisting and turning, tracing the diagram in the air, "The key is in something insubstantial and unexplainable." She snapped her fingers, and then every unsecured object containing iron in the room moved towards her, only to stop dead before they actually hit.
Billy looked at her and then looked at the spell book again. He raised a hand and began tracing the diagram in the air with trepidation. As expected, nothing happened. Billy glanced at his math teacher, who looked back at him with a small and almost sad smile, "Take heart, Billy, no one really gets it on the first try. Come back to me when you have mastered that spell."
Billy noticed his teacher said "when", not "if". He nodded very slowly and hugged the grimoire to his chest.
In the days that followed Billy was getting absolutely nowhere with learning magic. Sometimes he could not help but wonder, perhaps he really has no aptitude for this kind of thing. No matter how hard he tried, how often he practiced, and how much he concentrated, he never did create even a single electric spark. Billy became even more frustrated and morose when Jason somehow short circuited the entire house upon trying the spell (out of sheer boredom, no less). Jason had to give an embarrassed speech all about coming back from the dead and training with a warrior clan steeped in mysticism, how Billy should never feel inadequate because what other people can do and how he just need to keep at it. Of course, Jason was simply terrible at this kind of speeches, and it went wrong in every way imaginable except for the intentions.
But none of this could compare to the gravity when the news broke to the whole world: Superman had gone rogue. Apparently Superman was infected by the Doomsday virus after his battle, and Earth's greatest hero was slowly turning into a world-killing monster.
Billy was terror struck at the news. He sat there, staring at the news anchorman on TV with unbelieving eyes, face ashen. Damian listened for a few lines, got the gist of the story, then he promptly clicked the TV off.
"We have school tomorrow," Damian said briskly, "Don't watch too much TV."
Billy turned around and gave his brother a look, half affronted half incredulous, as if wondering how Damian could talk about going to school at such a time. He pulled out his notepad and pen from his pocket and quickly scribbled: That's why father never home last week and now; how could he not tell us anything?
"Because telling us does not help, not at all."
Billy forgot to write this time, for his hands were shaking so very hard. His lips moved; no sound came out, but Damian could tell it was something along the line of "but I could have, maybe, done something". Damian could not help but releasing a long-suffering sigh.
"Look, you couldn't possibly have known things would go this way; no one could have known. And even if you did know, what then?" Damian said, poking Billy in the ribs, "Stay as Captain Marvel indefinitely, kill off this body, kill off my brother—is that what you really want?"
Billy lowered his head. Of course the only possible answer was "no", so he had nothing else to say. But a moment of silence later he started scribbling on his notepad again: Will you help me?
"With what?"
Practicing magic, Billy wrote.
Damian breathed a sigh and rubbed his forehead. The youngster looked at his brother and said with a rare patience, "You know I am no good at this mystic mumbo-jumbo. Do you want me to call up Todd? He probably is more help to you." Seeing Billy's surprised look Damian shrugged, "No, I still think Todd is a useless delinquent, but for you I will call him up and tell him to get over here."
A small smile surfaced on Billy's face, but then he shook his head and wrote down, it's okay, Jason probably busy, can use your help, you will help.
"Alright," Damian sat down right beside his brother, "What do you need me to do?"
They spent the entire night drawing and redrawing spell diagrams, practicing gestures, flipping through the grimoire forward and backward. Alfred brought them tea and snacks at one point and kindly reminded them it was still a school night. But Billy simply turned on the TV again—there was a discussion about Superman-as-Doomsday on almost every channel, and Alfred had to agree if there is anything they might do to help they should certainly try. Damian couldn't quite remember if they actually accomplished anything, probably none whatsoever, only woke up finding himself still in the living room, somehow fallen asleep on the sofa. Billy was actually on the floor, curled up by the fireplace on the lamb skin, the grimoire hugged against his chest. The morning light streamed in from the wide windows, heralding a new day.
Damian rose and stretched, then shouted with a yawn, "Get up Billy, still a school day!"