Earth's Mightiest
August 14, 1942
"We're dead," said Captain Marvel. It was funny seeing Billy's features break the heroic mold of the captain's face, as his childish fright came through.
"Relax," said Captain Marvel Jr. They glided down to a soft landing in the park that bordered their neighborhood. The lightning struck, turning Jr. back into Freddy without so much as a thunderclap. It was as though the magic could sense when subtlety was the objective. It always brought along his cane.
"She's been getting suspicious," said Billy.
"She won't even know we were gone."
The boys hurried back to their street, round the back to the rear door of their home. It recalled nights sneaking out in his childhood home, when the arguments reached their fever pitch and anywhere else was better off. Freddy tapped one upraised finger to his lips, then gripped the handle gingerly. The back door had a rattle that could betray them. It opened quietly, faithfully. Freddy flashed Billy a grin before stepping inside.
It was premature.
"You're home late."
Rosa Vasquez was not a woman prone to anger. She had been patient with Freddy, to the point that her patience engendered a kind of tension in the boy. Yet, he could tell in the irregular rhythm of her tapping foot and the deeply measured tone of her voice, that Mrs. Vasquez was at last knocking on the gates of anger.
"We..uh," Freddy's tongue felt too big for his mouth, tripping over his words before they were fully formed.
Billy leapt into the opening. "It's my fault. Freddy was helping me wrap up a story for WHIZ."
There was little doubt their actions this evening would be in the radio tomorrow. Sending another incursion of the Crocodile Men running was the latest chapter in Freddy's increasingly convoluted life story.
Mrs. Vasquez remained still, her expression fixed. "Mr. Morris shouldn't have you running around at this time of night." Though she was impressed by Billy's achievements, Mrs. Vasquez had made it abundantly clear she was not altogether fond of his work arrangement. "Or does he only have ten year olds working for him?"
"It was my idea," said Freddy. "I asked Billy if he could show me his job."
"Are you done working with Mr. Bernard?"
Freddy shook his head, playing up how much he had to lean on his cane. "No, no. I was only curious about WHIZ."
"We didn't realize it had gotten so late. Plus, the bus got held up by that new construction on Sixth." Billy was a surprisingly good liar. Not that children didn't make good liars. Freddy certainly had his practice at it. No, Billy had the aid of the Wisdom of Solomon, begrudgingly steering him along the route. Billy had described it as an intrusive whisper. Freddy's connection to the gods that powered them was less definite. Whatever wisdom he inherited was more of a gut feeling.
Mrs. Vasquez let Billy's tale hang in the air between them for a while. Freddy shifted his weight, his bum leg sending a tendril of pain to his hip, an unpleasantly common occurrence. His spasm of discomfort broke her silence.
"Tell Mr. Morris even star reporters have a bed time. As do their friends."
"Yes, ma'am," said Billy, Freddy echoing a moment later. The boys hurried up the stairs, careful to be quiet as they entered their room. Mr. Vasquez's snores emanated from his bedroom. He woke before the sunrise to head off for the factory to build tanks for the war.
Freddy was trying in vain to fall asleep when Billy spoke to him from across the room.
"You know, there is a job for you at WHIZ if you wanted it. I've told Mr. Morris all about you and he thinks you're swell. It makes thing easier for Captain Mar-"
"I'm fine with the newsstand," said Freddy. He kept his back to Billy, his fact towards the wall.
"Alright pal."
Freddy was lucky. He knew that. This was better than back East. Better than the boys homes. But, six months on and that knot in his stomach wouldn't settle. His grandpa wouldn't go away. Not in the way that mattered. Freddy was the kind of kid who didn't belong here. Anywhere. Mrs. Vasquez could sense it.
It was only a matter of time before he blew it.
August 21, 1942
"You see that story on Superman?" said Mr. Bernard.
Freddy shook his head, moving over a fresh pile of magazines to the forefront of the stand.
"He flushed out the real killer in that case down south. Made a whole lotta folks mad," said Mr. Bernard, chuckling. Freddy wondered how his boss would react if he knew that Freddy had met Superman a few times. In passing.
Mr. Bernard grabbed another paper. "Looks like our boys are giving the Japanese payback on Guadalcanal. If I was a few years younger I'd join em."
If only Captain Marvel Jr. could join them, the war might be over in an afternoon. He had been warned against it. The Nazis had some mystical doodad and the Japanese had their own countermeasure. It did little to ease Freddy's impatience. Too young, too hurt, too useless.
His imminent brooding was interrupted by Mr. Bernard. "Looks like your friend is back."
Freddy put down the last pile of magazines, turning to face the street. Mary walked up with a slim smile already on her face. The girl had made a habit of coming by the stand once or twice a week. To pick up her mom's magazines or her dad's newspapers. To chat with Freddy.
"I gotta get something from the store. Watch the stand will, ya?" said Mr. Bernard. He winked at Freddy, who blushed. In spite of his boss's read of the situation, Freddy didn't have a crush on Mary. At least, he didn't think so. She was cute, sure, with her waves of brown hair and the splash of freckles across her face, but it wasn't that kind of feeling. She was separate from the other nonsense in Freddy's life. An island of normalcy. A friend.
"Been a while," said Freddy.
"My parents took me on a trip. Father's business required him in Chicago and Mammoth City."
Freddy had been to those places. At least in a fly-over. "You'll have to tell me all about it. You need the usual?"
Mary nodded. They spoke while Freddy took his time finding her magazines. She slid him the coins.
"Any more exciting trips in your future?"
Mary shook her head. "Not for a while. I've got the spelling bee in a few days."
"Spelling bee?"
"Oh come on. Don't give me that look."
"I knew you were an egghead," said Freddy.
"Don't be churlish," said Mary, emphasizing the final word. She was all top marks and teachers' favorites, Freddy was sure.
"Are you planning on winning it?"
"Of course," said Mary, that flash in her eyes, the one that drew Freddy to her in the first place.
They chatted for a while longer. Mary was drawing it out more than usual, even past their transaction.
"Say," said Mary. "Would you want to go see a picture show? I have a bit of extra time today."
"Well...I have the stand to watch…"
"Nonsense," said Mr. Bernard, returning with a fresh cigarette in his mouth. "Take the rest of the afternoon kid." Freddy ignored the man's wink as he joined Mary.
They caught a showing of a film called the "Red Eye of Doom." It was an adventure show, about an archeologist fighting Nazis in the jungle. The kind of thing that would have been right up Freddy's alley a year or two ago, before his own life made the whole thing a bit dull by comparison. There was also a cornball love story.
He was all ready to dislike it, to yawn and check his watch, when it caught him when he wasn't paying attention. The hero's mentor, an old fellow, had his big moment. A self-sacrifice to save the others. The guy didn't even look like Freddy's grandpa, but he felt the hot tears stinging his eyes all the same. He pretended to sneeze, wiping them with his sleeve. A side glance to Mary caught her enraptured by the movie. If she had noticed him being a wuss, she didn't show it.
After the movie, they wound up at a diner. Freddy tried to pay for it, but Mary used her change from the newsstand. His eyes still felt dangerously close to tearing up. This was what lingered after that day on the water, more than his leg at times. Freddy was made of glass, always waiting for another crack, another chance to be shattered. It was a raw deal.
"That Rita Hayworth is something, isn't she?" said Mary, sipping from her milkshake.
"Sure," said Freddy, trying to remember who that was. The archeologist's gal. Right.
"She's so refined. Classy. Tough too. That's how I want to be."
"You think she did many spelling bees?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," said Mary.
Freddy finished his fries. "You ever feel out of place?"
"Hm?"
"Like you're the odd one out?" He regretted the question, sure as it was to make things awkward.
Mary pondered his question, her eyes drifting up, like the answer floated over Freddy's head.
"I suppose I get lonely at times. I have friends at school. But… I get these notions…"
"That?"
"My life is not quite right," said Mary.
Freddy didn't know what to say to that, beyond a solemn nod.
"You have a foster sibling right?" said Mary.
Freddy didn't exactly think of Billy as a brother, but he understood her point. "I live with another boy, yes."
"Do you like the company?"
"Yes. Mostly. He can be...a bit much. But, he's my pal."
"Do you have siblings back home?"
"A couple of sisters." Freddy was ashamed at how little he thought of them these days.
"I think that's what is missing. I dream all the time about having a brother or sister. Lord knows, how often I've asked mother and father why they never had another child."
"What do they say?"
"One is enough, when they're as special as me." Mary's expression read as disappointed, like that was a phrase that no longer meant what it said.
Freddy sat up straight. "Is everything okay Mary? At home?"
That shook her from her slouch. "Of course. I don't mean to worry you. They do so much for me. They can just be… distant."
The Vasquez's were many things, but distant wasn't one of them. He thought of the concern on Mrs. Vasquez last night.
"That's tough."
"Oh it's okay," said Mary, gulping down the last of her shake. "This was fun. Sorry it ended on such a down note, but I hope we can do it again."
It was later than Freddy thought. Late enough a bout of flying was in the cards. The smile on Mary's face made it worth it though.
"You will come to my spelling bee won't you?"
"Wouldn't miss it."
August 24, 1942
The gymnasium was packed, with the front rows filled with schoolchildren adorned with their numbers in the spelling bee. Banners announced the patriotism of the endeavor, coupled as it was with a drive to raise funds and supplies for the troops. Freddy shuffled to an empty seat as close to the front as he could, accidentally planting his cane on a man's foot, earning a spiteful retort. He scanned for Mary, his eyes instead settling on the master of ceremonies.
None other than Billy Batson.
It hadn't taken much convincing to have Mr. Morris back Billy's petition to MC the spelling bee. There was a novelty in having a kid reporter run the show. So here he was, on the gymnasium stage, microphone in hand, beckoning up each contender for the venerable title of Fawcett City Spelling Bee Champion. It was the kind of thing that would have made Billy nervous a few years ago before he had made a habit of fighting monsters and made men. The Courage of Achilles burned bright in his chest, to the point where he scarcely noticed the tatters of where any fear would have been.
Until, he noticed the girl in the red sweater and his heart went for a jog.
Mary. And her "parents."
Mary was midway through spelling "confidential", keen to stand up straight and speak clearly, as mother had harped on her about, when she realized why the boy running the show was so familiar. The encounter in C.C.'s department store, strange enough to have taken up a humble residence in her memory. The boy was the one who had made the outrageous claim of being Mary's brother, a claim her mother laughed off in the car ride home.
From the expression on his face, as Mary finished her word and returned to her position in the order, told her that he was having a similar experience. On her way off the stage, she glanced at her mother and father, confident in their demeanor, before sweeping the crowd. No sign of Freddy. Knowing he was here would be a welcome pillar of stability.
She was more rattled by the time she reached her seat than she had thought. Before, Mary's biggest concern was if anyone would see the stuffed tiger she was keeping in her bag, beneath her chair. A lucky charm, her Tawky Tawny. Father had advised her to leave it at home, a needlessly childish choice. Now those questions, dredged up by that boy fought for space in a mind previously preoccupied with matters of spelling. He was wrong. He had to be. But, there was a familiarity to him that eluded sense. Mary remained tuned out from the ongoing show, the minor triumphs and tragedies that befell her fellow contestants. Where before she did her best to spell the word below her breath before each contestant had it, now all she could do was stroke her doll's fur pensively as her mind wandered. That boy was so convinced in the store. So sure of himself. Mother said it was a scam. Or a mistaken identity. Mary repeated those assurances, still aware of every fleeting look the boy gave her from his podium.
She was back on stage before she knew it. Mother and Father peered out from the crowd, their faces fixed in an appraising manner. Her foot nearly caught on the steps, only barely avoiding a humiliating fall. Mary took deep breaths to ease herself, in vain as the boy awkwardly acknowledged her.
"The word is dilettante."
Freddy caught the exact moment Mary lost it. There was a flicker by her eyes, a spasm that preceded the coming fall. She was sleepwalking through the word, missing a "t" in the middle. By the time Billy announced that it was incorrect, she was already hurrying off the stage, snatching up her bag as she left. Freddy was out of his seat as fast as he could manage, clumsily straddling the other members of his row, as he followed Mary out the side door of the gymnasium. He and Billy briefly met one another's eyes.
He found Mary outside, clutching her bag tight to her chest, a plush tiger doll peeking out through the opening. She wasn't sobbing, but tears flowed over her cheeks, her face fluctuating between anger and something else.
"Mary," said Freddy. She barely turned to him, her cheeks flush with frustration and embarrassment.
He limped over to her, aware of how stiff his leg was from sitting. "Are you okay?" He knew how little that question meant in a time like this, but Freddy said it anyway.
"Do I look like it?" she said.
He hesitated. There was no surefire way to help someone in this kind of place. He thought of arguments back home. Slammed doors and broken plates. Trying to mend it all regardless. His mother laughing as she picked up bits of broken glass.
"Pretty selfless of you," said Freddy, leaning closer, smile creeping over his features. He was prepared to get a sharp rebuke.
Mary shot him a confused, almost annoyed look.
Freddy shouldered past his hesitation. "Yeah, I think it was a real big thing you did back there. Taking the fall like that so one of those other schmucks could win."
"What are you talking about?" He at least had her full attention. Tears continued, but her body wasn't shaking anymore.
"I saw what you were up to. There's no fooling a perceptive guy like myself," he said tapping his forehead. "You realized this was too easy for you. You had it in the bag. But, then, you thought, wouldn't it be nicer to give it to one of the others? Maybe that girl with the pigtails. Or that boy with the buck teeth."
Mary's face had taken on an expectant quality. Her stuffed tiger stared at Freddy as well.
He persevered. "Course, you couldn't just throw it. They'd know it wasn't an earned victory. You had to make it convincing. You'd give that Rita Hayworth a run for her money I know you fooled the rest of those crumbs, your parents excluded, but not me. Not you pal, Freddy. I know a faker when I see one."
The gap of silence had Freddy convinced he had blown it, until Mary let loose an ugly, unrestrained snort of laughter, followed by a bout of giggling he couldn't help but be swept up in. This carried them along into full-on laughter, the sort that leaves one bent over. By the time it ended, the only tears left were from the laughter. Mary wiped her cheeks, while Freddy swayed. "You're a lifesaver Freddy."
"I live to please," he said, taking a mock bow.
Her eyes flicked back to the gymnasium. "I'll need that for later."
"You'll get them next year. When they're not expecting it," said Freddy.
"I got distracted. That boy…"
"Billy?" Freddy let it slip before he could think about it.
Mary turned to him, puzzled. "You know him?"
Too late now. "He's the one I live with now. The one I told you about."
"That's Billy?" There was more force in her reaction than Freddy anticipated.
"How do you know him?"
"He came up to me in a department store around Christmastime. Said some nonsense about.. well, about being my brother."
"What?" Freddy couldn't hide his incredulity. Yet, something clicked into place. The arrangement of the features. Her eyes. That early familiarity. Billy hadn't gone into much detail about his family, the one before the Vasquez's. Something about them being archeologists. And a sister that was out there somewhere.
"It's silly, but that's what distracted me up there." She saw something past Freddy that made her cast her eyes down, her jaw tightening. "Oh."
A firm hand grasped Freddy's shoulder. "Excuse me. What are you doing with my daughter?"
The speaker was a tall, thin man, with a narrow mustache and an annoyed look on his face. The woman next to him clasped her purse tightly, moving past Freddy to Mary. The way Mary had spoken of her parents, in such formal terms had been odd to him, unnatural. Seeing them up close, he understood why.
"That's Freddy, father. He was just trying to help me," said Mary, softly. She had pressed her doll back into the bag.
"Ah. No need for more of that," said her father. "You should go." His voice left no room for argumentation. Freddy began to leave.
"What was that Mary? You floundered," said her mother.
"It was humiliating," said her father. "Why participate in anything like this if you aren't going to win?"
Freddy spun around, as best he could. "Hey!"
Mary's parents gave him their attention, with the same reaction they would give to roach that scuttled under their door. For her part, Mary mouthed a silent "no". Freddy ignored it.
"She did her best up there."
"If that were true she would have won," said her mother.
"You don't need to talk to her like that."
"The Bromfields are not runner-ups," said the father. He got real close to Freddy. In a lower, harsher tone, "No sniveling cripple is going to disrespect me in front of my family. Leave." A foot tapped Freddy's cane, the implication clear.
He was forming the words "Captain Marvel," consequences be damned, when the door to the gymnasium swung open. "Freddy?" cried Billy.
"Oh good, another one," said the mother.
"Mary, how many of these urchins are you spending time with?" said Mr. Bromfield.
Billy got closer. Freddy backed off, his own face red. "What is going on here?"
"Wait, I know this one. He's the nut that approached Mary at the store," said the mother. " The other one is from the newsstand she likes to go to." This prompted Mr. Bromfield to address both boys.
"I will make it clear as possible for the two of you. Stay away from our daughter. She isn't meant for the likes of you." He glanced at Mary. "I wouldn't want you to drag her down."
Freddy gripped his cane so hard he thought his knuckles would pop as the Bromfields left. Mary didn't look back, her mother tight on her side. Billy was as stunned as him.
"You know that girl?" said Billy.
"Don't start."
"What?" Freddy was already walking away. "Wait."
He didn't stop. Billy kept pace with him. "Where did you meet her?"
"The stand."
"She's my.."
"Your sister?," said Freddy, nearly shouting. "I got that. Or at least you think so."
"I'm sure of it. Why didn't you tell me?"
Freddy stopped. "How was I supposed to know? I'm sick of this."
Billy was silent.
"I had one normal thing left. One normal friend. And you managed to ruin that too."
"Ruin?" said Billy. His face betrayed the hurt Freddy had done. Whatever anger was bubbling in Freddy, Billy hadn't been prepared for it. "I didn't cause any of this."
"You did. You did dammit. If you hadn't have MC'd this thing, she would have done fine. Probably won it."
"That's not my fault."
"You ruined all of it. You knocked that German bastard into the lake. Without that..without that grandpa would…" Freddy couldn't finish, aware that that line of thought would break something fundamental. Something he couldn't go back on.
Billy's hurt, mixed with anger. His own defensiveness. "I saved you. I tried to save him too!"
"But you didn't." Freddy felt it all spill over the top. "I don't want to be a hero. I want my grandpa. I want me leg to work. I want normal friends. Not a friend I have to be with. Not fake parents."
"Don't say that. Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez are here for you."
"Well I never wanted them!"
The boys stood there in silence with that final outburst. Freddy stared up into the night's sky. He was sick of it. Escape was all that mattered.
"CAPTAIN MARVEL."
Billy could've followed, but he didn't. It did not take the Wisdom of Solomon to tell him that Freddy needed space. He had known his friend was having trouble settling down, yet the depths of the problem were deeper than Billy ever imagined. The absence that was Billy's parents wasn't the same as the jagged wound that Freddy's grandpa had left. How cruel that loss made its own unique mark on each person, that it served to divide rather than unify.
Mary combed her hair out, her nightly routine. The drive home had passed as a blur, her parents' declarations falling on unhearing ears. More restrictions. More expectations. No more trips to the newsstand. They were still debating the extent to which her continued participation in activities like the spelling bee could be allowed when Mary went to bed.
She thought of Freddy trying to stand up for her. The anger, the disappointment when her parents stepped in. The same one that Amanda had two years ago. Olivia before that. She loved them, she had to, but it was as though they were perpetually walling her off from the world. The only exception was when she could be a trophy, a sign that the Bromfields were winners. Tonight was supposed to be such an occasion. Only Mary couldn't even get that right.
When Mary went to get into bed, she noticed that Tawny wasn't there. A shard of fear pierced her. Had she forgotten him? Had Father finally followed through on his threat to rid her of him. He had tried before, but she always found a way to keep the stuffed tiger. He was a piece of Mary, a touchstone. She left her room, stepping lightly, aware that her parents were in no mood for further breaches in her behavior. He wasn't in the hall. It was on the edge of the stairs, by the railing that overlooked the parlor, that Tawny sat, perched as though he were ready to pounce on unseen prey below. Mary crept to him.
"..in all honesty, that boy is the real problem," said Mother. The voice came from the kitchen. Father was in the parlor, his back to Mary. Still, she went prone, as she had when she was younger, to better hide behind the railing. Mother emerged carrying glasses of wine, which she handed to Father.
"How could he know about her?" said Father.
Mother shrugged. "Who knows? He's younger than Mary. She hasn't shown much in the way of memory from that time. Perhaps someone told him."
"Who's left to tell it?" said Father. He was pacing. Mary scooted back from the edge to avoid his gaze.
"Again, we don't know. Wild speculation will do us no good. Besides, it's not as though he has much leverage. His word against ours."
"It's attention though."
"The good doctor assured us that all the paperwork is in order. She is our child."
What were they talking about? That dreadful dizziness opened below her. Only the fact that Mary was already on the floor spared her.
"It may pay to reaffirm that commitment."
"You suggest we talk to him? Is that even possible?"
"Leave that to me. I'll contact Doctor Sivana."
Footsteps started up the stairs. By the time Mary was back in bed, sleep would not arrive. Tawny lay on her chest, beady eyes looking at her expectantly. She called him Tawky because it seemed as though he was always about to burst into conversation. At least that's what she said now. The name was right, for reasons beyond what she could articulate. It fit him.
"Oh, Tawny, what am I going to do?"
"I have a few ideas," said the doll.
August 26, 1942
Billy was on his way home from school when he saw the flash of light over the city. Freddy's absence had dominated his thoughts. Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez had been out late the past two days, talking to the police and anyone who would listen about the missing boy. All Billy was sure of was that Freddy was safe. He could feel that distant ebb through the power of Shazam. There was no forcing Freddy to return. It had to be of his own free will. The matter was compounded by the reintroduction of Mary. Who were those people claiming to be her parents? Billy meant to look into it, but he had been sidetracked again and again.
Today was no different, as he flew towards the light, his childish form shed to reveal Captain Marvel. It was worth it to take a peek. In Fawcett City, it paid to be curious about everything. Sure enough, the source of the light was a swirling disc over the lake. It was bright enough that even Captain Marvel could barely look at it directly. The disc began to roam over the city, settling above the Fifth Street bank. A tendril of light snaked out from it, through the walls. Before long, a steady flow of money was being funneled towards the disc.
Typical.
Captain Marvel flew closer. "Who is it this time? Sivana? Too clever for Ibac. The Dummy? Mr. Who? Come on folks, save yourself the trouble."
"As expected," bellowed a hollow, tinny voice from the disc. Sivana it was.
"I thought you might have retired doc. It's been a while." He bisected the tendril, the bills falling back towards the bank.
The disc retreated, zooming over the skyscrapers. The Captain followed, weaving between buildings as it soared. It warped its shape to fit the occasion, but it wasn't a match for the Speed of Mercury. He cut it off over the museum of natural history.
"Call it quits doctor. You know how it ends"
Captain Marvel grabbed at the disc. The light intensified, overtaking him. He blinked away spots, the passing sensation of falling coursing through him as well. He was on a mountaintop on a breathtakingly beautiful day. Doctor Sivana stood atop a rocky rise. On the man's shoulder was a green caterpillar.
"Mr. Mind!"
"A displeasure as always you mammalian moron," said the alien invertebrate. Or at least, he kept claiming he was an alien.
"Two of my foes for the price of one. You shouldn't have," said Captain Marvel. He made to seize them, before they could pull a trick.
His feet wouldn't move. His body wouldn't move. Captain Marvel was still as a statue.
"Leaping without looking," said Doctor Sivana. He hopped off his perch, coming closer to the Captain, confident as could be. "There's a lesson here."
Something coiled around Billy. An inky black and red smoke. It wrapped his limbs like manacles, fading as it made contact. The power within him recoiled at the sensation. Solomon's voice echoed faintly. "The Spear."
"You Earthlings can be so narrow-minded for being on such a small patch of dirt. Did you ever even consider where we are?"
Too late Billy saw the complex below, built into the mountainside. The red and black flags that flew on them, their symbol of hate blazing high and mighty. The haze fell over Billy. The haze that whispered it was out of his hands from here on out. The last thing he could perceive was a man in uniform approaching them.
"Most excellent work," said a man with a pervasive German accent.
"Colonel Klepper, here is your weapon."