The last thug hobbled onto his feet and booked it clear off, too scared to look over his shoulder. The Man In Red initiated a celebratory dance, humming to a tuneless beat only he could hear in his head.
"Cut the lights," said Clark.
Victor took only a moment to configure the settings before the streetlights extinguished from the entire square block.
The Man In Red wasn't humming anymore.
"Move in."
Bruce and Diana stepped off the ledge in tandem, plummeting. Mid-fall, Diana pulled her lasso attached to her hip from beneath her cloak, wound it up, and launched it downward. The Man In Red's reaction time was too slow. By the time he looked above, the lasso had already looped around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. Diana landed hard before him, bending her knees to absorb an impact that barely fazed her, and pulled strong. The rope's incandescent, golden glow lit up The Man In Red's astonished expression.
Bruce's descent was slowed by his grappling hook gun, squeezed in his gloved hand. His pointed cape was flared like ominous wings and he landed in a crouch on top of a sleeping streetlight for the high vantage.
Barry was the fractional second of a crimson blur before The Man In Red was downed to his knees, having been kicked out from behind. Victor floated down by the rocket-fueled propulsion systems in his feet, touching down at The Man In Red's side, pointing his arm cannon threateningly.
"Don't move," warned Victor.
Arthur landed as hard as Diana did, the poor sidewalk taking the full brunt of his landing. He planted his trident firmly down, standing underneath Bruce's streetlight as the immovable, final fourth position of the boxed on-ground formation trapping their target.
Before The Man In Red could sort out the members of this impromptu ambush, he heard a flapping noise and looked skyward. Clark was floating down from above, keeping him well within his sights.
The entire block was dark enough to leave the League their much-needed privacy in dealing with their new potential recruit. Or adversary, whatever the case may be. They were prepared for either.
The Man In Red, downed and outnumbered, flashed his palm in a sheepish greeting to everybody in attendance. "Uhhh...hi."
Diana's grip was firm. "Who are you? The lasso compels you to tell the truth."
The lasso's soft gold light cast shadows on their faces like a weak flashlight under the chin, making them look a lot more menacing than the civilian bystander shots made them appear. This was not quite how Billy planned this run-in to go. And by not quite, he meant not. At all. What was with the third degree?
I don't even have a superhero name yet! Okay, come on, think. Every superhero should have a name. The news called me Captain Thunder once. Red Cyclone? Yeah! Use that, I'll—William Batson, but I go by Billy! Born in Minnesota! Fourteen years old!
WHAT? No,, no, no, don't tell her that!
Tell her Red Cyclone. Tell her—William Batson, but I go by Billy! Born in Minnesota! Fourteen years old!
Stop it!
The Justice League watched expectantly. The Man In Red seemed to be in some mental discomfort. He grit his teeth and would occasionally flick his head as if shaking a thought away. He stayed awfully non-compliant, however.
Arthur leaned unsurely toward Diana. "I thought you said this thing worked."
"It does. He's just doing a very good job resisting." She pulled her lasso tighter, adding to its boa constrictor squeeze. Her lips pressed as she gave a little more effort than she expected. "Who are you?" she reiterated.
Oh, Freddy was going to shove Billy's face into the garburator for sure! He didn't know where blowing your secret identity fell on the DO NOT'S Of Superheroing List, but that one had to be top three at least.
He looked down at the incandescent golden rope.
You mean this thing actually works?!
Blabbing his real identity was not just a string of consciousness thought, it was pushing itself to the forefront. A compulsion was driving him to admit everything. A pressure in his mouth was building to form the W to say William. He concentrated harder to beat the urge back, which he found he could actually do if he willed it hard enough.
Just tell her nothing. Don't say anything.
"This isn't possible," said Diana, keeping her grip on the rope as iron-clad as ever. The Man In Red's eyes were open now, and though his mouth still seemed a little tight, twitching just once, he was looking straight at her as if bored with the proceedings. "Nobody can resist the lasso's power. Nobody except..." Her eyes blanked as she considered the possibility.
"Except?" said Arthur.
Diana faced him. "A god."
Wow, thought Billy, stricken. She's so much more beautiful up close...
Wonder Woman's eyes tightened. "Who bestowed you your powers?" she demanded.
Billy blinked out of his reverie. "Hey, wait a second. If you guys get to keep a secret, I think I'm entitled to one, too."
Wonder Woman glowered.
Billy gulped. "Ma'am."
Superman broke rank from his lofty position, landing beside Wonder Woman. "Let him go," he intervened.
Billy looked between the two, just as confused as Wonder Woman was.
"I did not say we'd let you go free," warned Superman, answering the question that must have been telegraphed through Billy's expression. "Not yet. We all need to have a serious talk."
"Oh, well if you guys want some privacy..." offered Billy.
"He meant you, Bolt Man," said Aquaman.
Billy shrank under his stare, shifting nervously. "You're the boss," he said cooperatively.
Superman's voice was quite even. Stern, but not domineering. Not that it mattered, Billy wasn't going to try anything. He wasn't sure if his powers could truly withstand going toe-to-toe with Superman's, but he certainly did not want to try and find out. Plus there was the respect factor. Major respect. You don't back-talk the guy who saved the world from intergalactic takeover. Singlehandedly. And then did it again a second time, just in case you forgot.
Superman's mouth was set in a firm line, like there was some debate in his mind, but his decision was final. "Let him go," he repeated. He also nodded at Cyborg to lower his arm cannon.
Wonder Woman looked hesitant. She shifted, as if hoping that perhaps the lasso's effects were delayed. Alas, even she had to contend with the truth. Reluctantly, she loosened and removed the loop binding the mysterious man. She coiled the rope over her forearm, staring at it as if it would give her the answers, mystified.
Aquaman stamped his trident down, creating a very attention-grabbing clang. "Don't even try to run. You won't get far," he advised.
Billy raised his open palms in a show of surrender, elbows tight to his sides, motor-mouthing, "Hey man, I'll sleep here if you want me to, it's cool, I won't try anything funny, promise."
He suddenly regretted every fish joke he ever made at the guy's expense and silently prayed that nobody in the group had hidden mind-reading powers to rat him out. Aquaman's amber eyes pierced him to the spot. Water or no water, that trident was looking awfully pointy. Did bullet-immunity automatically mean stab-proof? Were bullets just too rounded to pierce the skin while knife points were small and sharp enough to create an entry point to breach his skin's defences? But didn't the bullet's velocity cancel out its bluntness? The last thing he wanted to do was get too cocky and claim he could survive anything, only to be downed by a thumbtack. He'd have to (safely) find out for sure at another time. Either way, even if he could survive being kebabbed by Aquaman's trident, it probably wouldn't be pleasant, and it was probably for the best he avoided any event leading to it.
Superman offered his hand. Billy looked at it warily. Was the Man of Steel about to shot-put him into space? Because Billy wasn't one hundred percent on whether he could survive that, either. Nobody said anything about lung capacity in the Shazam instruction manual. Now that he thought about it, though, maybe the stamina of Atlas fell into that jurisdiction. There was a lot of grey area he still had yet to discover, and most of that only came with trial and error.
He wasn't hurt in the slightest, he could easily get up on his own, but if Superman's extension was the proverbial olive branch, it was probably for the good of Billy's cred to take it, and he did. Plus there was also the fact that Freddy would never forgive him if he snubbed Superman of all people.
Speaking of Freddy, Billy realized in that moment that he totally forgot to be starstruck for a while. Now that he was standing and at eye-level with the League, it was really sinking in. He basically just got hog-tied and interrogated by the Justice League! This was probably the one time anyone would consider it an honour to be spied on.
"You know," said Billy in an attempt to break the ice, "you guys could have just texted and invited me out for pizza. I totally would have come."
The Flash was swaying on his feet, like he was trying to find an appropriate time to say something to Superman. He leaned in aside. "Why did we let him go again?" he asked him.
"He didn't struggle," answered Superman, looking at Billy with what seemed to be a miniscule measure of respect. "He didn't try to escape. Forcing the truth from him didn't work. The least we can do is hear him out. As equals. Do you agree to our terms, stranger?"
Billy nodded so hard his head was practically a vibration. "Yup, mm-hmm, totally."
"Good. I'm sure you have some questions. As do we."
"Uh, yeah, actually," said Billy, twisting to look at his surroundings from every angle, "isn't Batman supposed to be part of your little—" Billy jolted and then shut his eyes to collect himself. "God...geez," he muttered. He found him. Had Batman been perched up there watching him this entire time?
A/N: Welp, the audience has spoken! Overwhelmingly. I have been given the unanimously positive go-ahead to keep this story going. Now all I have to worry about is whether I can actually pull this off. I've got an ending set, but the middle I'm practically improvising at this point.
Note: The Greek gods who regularly appear in Wonder Woman's neck of the DC woods are one of the few beings that can resist the lasso of truth's powers. Shazam has the "power of Zeus". Therefore I conclude that Shazam is one of the very, very, very few who are immune to the lasso of truth. I like to imagine that Billy's inexperience made the resistance just a bit tricky, though, so that was my creative license at play.