Oddly, he felt no guilt at taking a new bride so many years after the untimely death of his first wife. Or perhaps it was not so odd; somehow he sensed that Shiruta, wherever her spirit now resided, would want him to find happiness again after all these lonely centuries. Kahndaqi tradition allowed a man more than one wife after all, provided it brought no disharmony to his household. He could only hope that someday they would all share eternity together beyond this vale of tears.
He nodded at Billy, signaling him to begin the ceremony.
"Let us repeat the wizard's name in praise," Captain Marvel instructed, "to summon the Virtues." .
Ordinarily, the wizard's name would transform them back into their mortal guises, but apparently Captain Marvel's new capacity as the guardian of the Rock of Eternity allowed him to grant them a special dispensation in this instance. Without fear of falling, all four champions loudly called out the name of power.
"SHAZAM!"
Thunder sounded in the clear blue sky and a bolt of enchanted lightning suddenly appeared before the wedding party. Rather than disappearing in a flash, the coruscating pillar of energy crackled in the air alongside the floating heroes. The pure white light of the stationary thunderbolt was reflected upon the shimmering surface of the reflecting pool forty feet below.
"The Seven Virtues of Man are now with us in spirit," Captain Marvel proclaimed. "Courage, kindness, hope, faith, humility, patience, and love." His booming voice rang out over the courtyard, so that all could hear him. "Do you hear them bless this union?"
Black Adam felt the calming presence of the Virtues. For the moment, they silenced the angry demands for vengeance that never entirely stopped crying out from the darker corners of his soul. He felt happier, and more at peace, than he had in millennia.
"I hear them, Billy," he said sincerely.
"As do I," Isis affirmed. They stared blissfully into each other's eyes, seeing only joy and contentment ahead.
Captain Marvel smiled broadly. "I am delighted that I could be here to see this day. A day when the union between man and woman, god and goddess, looks to spell hope for the future of the world."
Captain Marvel Jr. swooped by overhead. Renee waved her arms and tried to get his attention, but all eyes were on the solemn ceremony taking place far above the heads of the spectators. Her frantic cries were lost amidst the hubbub of the crowd. She shared a worried look with Vic. They had been searching for several minutes, but seemed to be no closer to finding the suicide bomber hiding somewhere in the audience. As the wedding neared its climax, she knew they were running out of time.
"Hold on!" she told Vic as a new tactic occurred to her. She climbed up onto his shoulders, causing him to grunt beneath her weight. "Hold still!"
"Hey!" he blurted in protest. "A little warning next time?" He held her ankles in place as she rose to a standing position atop his shoulders, hoping for a better view of the packed courtyard. She tottered awkwardly, trying to maintain her balance.
"Keep me steady!" she pleaded, while she searched the swarm of people ahead of them. A raised hand shielded her eyes from the incandescent white lightning bolt overhead. "C'mon," she muttered fretfully. "Where the hell are you ... ?"
Her gaze fell upon the rows of orphaned children lined up at the front of the crowd. Her eyes zoomed in on a suspicious backpack strapped to one of the kids' shoulders. Unlike the other children, who were practically dancing with excitement, and laughing merrily amongst themselves, this kid seemed to stand apart from the others. The body language was all different, more subdued, less gleeful. A hooded, olive-colored robe shrouded the figure's slight body.
That's our bomber, Renee realized. Every instinct in her body told her that she had the right person. Then the hooded figure glanced back over her shoulder, revealing a youthful face whose fatalistic expression and somber eyes only confirmed Renee's suspicions. To her shock, Renee spied the winsome features of a girl who looked maybe twelve years old. Thirteen, tops. "Oh my God," Renee whispered. "She's just a kid."
"I ask all who bear witness to this spiritual matrimony to gaze up at their glory." The words were more formal than was usual for the unassuming Marvel. Adam suspected that Billy was channeling the wisdom of Solomon, or perhaps even the immortal spirit of Shazam himself. "The glory of Kahndaq's champion and his bride-to-be. Look into their light. Behold true love. And pray."
Captain Marvel solemnly addressed the bridegroom.
"Teth-Adam of Kahndaq, do you take Adrianna Tomaz of Egypt, Nature's blessed queen, to be your wife?"
He answered without hesitation. "I do."
Renee sprang from Vic's shoulders, landing onto the floor of the courtyard. Elbowing her way through the crowd, she sprinted toward the hooded girl wearing the backpack. She snatched the ray gun from her satchel as she raced against time. "I see her!" she shouted back at Vic. "It's some kid. They're using some girl!"
Angry protests and curses assailed her as she forced her way forward, roughly shoving uncooperative Kahndaqis to the side. "Out of my way!" she yelled in English, but her foreign tongue fell on uncomprehending ears. She glimpsed the hooded girl up ahead, still several rows away. "She's got a bomb!"
"Adrianna Tomaz, also known as Isis, do you take Teth-Adam of Kahndaq, Black Marvel, as your husband?"
Her smile outshone the sun. "I do."
"Take the shot!" Vic called out to Renee. She could hear him fighting his way through the crowd behind her. There was no way he could get to the would-be bomber before Renee. It was all up to her. "Dammit, Renee!"
"She's just a kid!" Renee cried out in anguish. Her fingers held on tightly to the grip of her ray gun, which felt impossibly heavy in her hand. She was close enough to the girl that she could hear the teenager praying quietly to herself.
Renee couldn't make out the words of the prayer, which sounded like Arabic, but she couldn't help wondering what kind of twisted devotion Intergang had inspired in the girl that would drive her to martyr herself like this. Had she been brainwashed by Whisper A'Daire or something? "I can't shoot a kid!"
Vic refused to let her off the hook. "You're not going to reach her in time!" There were too many oblivious people between Renee and the hooded girl. She pushed helplessly against their unyielding bodies. "You've got to do it, Renee! Take the shot!"
The girl opened the front of her robe, revealing a belt of C-4 plastic explosives strapped around her waist. She removed the firing mechanism from her backpack, touching it to her forehead as she closed her eyes in prayer. Most people were still watching the gravity-defying ceremony above their heads, but a few of the girl's nearest neighbors spotted the explosives and started to back away in fear. The press of the crowd hemmed them in, trapping the terrified orphans well within the bomb's blast radius. The same horde stubbornly blocked Renee's path, unaware that they were only moments away from being blown to shreds. She stared at the suicidal girl through the mass of bodies. Vic kept on yelling at her.
"Take the damn shot!"
Captain Marvel nodded in approval. "By the gods and goddesses of all universes and all worlds, I now pronounce you man and wife." Caught up by the emotion of the moment, Mary Marvel wiped a tear from her eye. "Now let's have some more lightning."
"God forgive me," Renee whispered.
A blast of corrosive energy erupted from the muzzle of the ray gun.
The girl didn't even have time to scream as a searing beam cut through her torso, vaporizing her explosive belt.
Her lifeless body collapsed onto the pavement.
Black Adam and Isis embraced passionately. Their lips met and thunder pealed overhead, drowning out every other sound, even the fervent beating of their hearts. Lightning electrified the sky. Lost in the kiss, Adam knew that nothing in heaven and earth could possibly spoil this moment. A glorious new era had begun . . . and perhaps a new dynasty as well.
"Mary, full of grace ..."
Renee dropped to her knees, emotionally exhausted. Nearby, the bomber's body lay sprawled across
the polished stone tiles. Acrid fumes rose from her charred flesh. Blood spread from the gaping hole in her torso. Her lifeless fingers still gripped the firing mechanism. The startled cries of those nearby were lost amidst the deafening thunder and the cheers of the overjoyed populace.
"Just a kid," Renee murmured. Tears streaked her face. She felt sick to her stomach.
A gentle hand fell upon her shoulder. "You didn't have any choice," Vic said softly.
His words did little to comfort her. Disintegrating a scaly man-monster was one thing. Killing a deluded teenage girl was another. She looked at the girl's smoking body.
"Tell her that."
WEEK 17
CINCINNATI. OHIO.
Clark Kent had no memories of his own funeral, of course, but he had viewed TV news footage of the event after he came back to life. Superman's funeral had been a massive affair, attended by pretty much the entire Justice League and every other super hero on the planet. Thousands of ordinary men and women, wearing black armbands that bore his distinctive S-shield insignia, had turned out in Metropolis to bid farewell to the Man of Steel.. . temporarily, as it turned out. Watching the footage much later, Clark had found the proceedings both impressive and deeply moving.
Booster Gold's funeral was something else altogether.
Corporate logos and trademarks were plastered all over the cheap pine casket. "Soder Cola mourns your passing" read one of the stickers pasted to the coffin. Similar sentiments were expressed by labels bearing the logos of Lit Beer, Pep Cereals, and some of Booster's other sponsors. Furthermore, the six pallbearers carrying the coffin out of the chapel were hardly the cream of the super hero community. Clark recognized:
The Blimp, an overweight member of The Inferior Five, capable of floating slowly through the air. A finned green costume heightened his resemblance to his namesake.
Mind-Grabber Kid, a former teen hero still clinging to what remained of his short-lived celebrity. He mostly signed autographs at nostalgia shows these days.
The Yellow Peri, an amateur sorceress whose spells tended to go awry more often than not. Clark had first encountered the witchy blonde in Small-ville years ago.
Beefeater, a would-be British crime fighter whose elaborate scarlet and gold uniform, resembling that of the Yeoman Warders of the Tower of London, was more impressive than his abilities.
The Odd Man, a clownish-looking individual wearing garish face paint and a motley-colored business suit. He was known (barely) for playing pranks on minor villains.
And Honest Abe, a lanky individual who was a dead-ringer for Abraham Lincoln. To be honest, Clark had no idea what his powers were.
The mild-mannered reporter shook his head in dismay. As far as he knew, the obscure heroes meant well, but... they weren't exactly League material. A handful of bored bystanders watched the proceedings. They looked disappointed by the costumed turnout. Clark couldn't blame them.
"Classy," he observed. He looked dubiously at Skeets, who was hovering nearby. "Two weeks to arrange this?"
“believe me, mr. kent,” the robot insisted, “i»m equally underwhelmed. BUT THAT’S HOW LONG IT TOOK TO FIND A HOST CITY FREE OF, SHALL WE SAY, ANTI-BOOSTER SENTIMENT.”
Clark peered through his glasses at the sorry spectacle. "Skeets, Booster's never even been to Cincinnati."
“exactly,” Skeets said. They watched as the coffin was loaded into a waiting hearse. No other reporters were on hand to cover the funeral, “but
HE HAS NOW, SIR.”
Relieved of their burden, the undistinguished pallbearers lingered on the sidewalk. They looked uncertain what to do next. Listening in on their conversation, Clark wondered if any of the costumed mourners had even met Booster before.
"This is chunkage," Mind-Grabber Kid complained. Despite his name, the "Kid" was pushing thirty. A metal helmet and tinted visor concealed his features. "I don't see a single network here." He glanced at the Yellow Peri. "Did your agent promise you media coverage?"
"I don't have an agent," she admitted. A Midwestern accent betrayed her corn-fed roots. Golden bracelets matched her flaxen tresses.
"Really?" Mind-Grabber Kid leaned toward her, eager to make a connection. "If you want to swap numbers, I can hook you up with—"
"No," she said curtly.
A few feet away, the Odd Man chatted with Beefeater. "I didn't know Booster/' the clown divulged. "I got this gig off HeroList, which kind of creeps me out." His squeaky voice hinted at years of helium abuse. "Didn't he have any family?"
"Oi," the Brit said with a thick cockney accent. " 'E was a time-traveler, remember? 'E won't be born for five 'undred years, guv'nor." A round-brimmed Tudor bonnet capped his head. A white ruff collar circled his neck. His scarlet tunic bore the emblem of the royal crown, above the traditional thistle rose and shamrock. "Oi."
The Blimp offered the two men a ride, and they clambered onto his considerable girth. He wafted into the air, carrying the pair of heroes with him as he slowly drifted after the departing hearse. The Yellow Peri, Honest Abe, and Mind-Grabber Kid had chosen to climb atop the long black limo instead. The blonde waved at the meager crowd as though riding a float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Abe recited the Gettysburg Address.
"This isn't right," Clark said ruefully. "Booster didn't die in disgrace. He was off his game near the end, but this world is too quick to forget the good some men do." He could only assume that Green Lantern, the Flash, Martian Manhunter, and the rest were too busy saving the world to attend Booster's funeral. He knew that both Bruce and Diana had other matters to deal with at the moment. "I'll write this up for the Planet and hope that Perry doesn't bury it under the fold or behind a hyperlink." He glanced at the levitating robot beside him. "Skeets, do you want a ride to the cemetery?"
The robot didn't answer at first, apparently distracted by one of the civilians looking on from the sidelines. Skeets' sensors seemed to be focused on a blond-haired man wearing a loose flannel shirt and jeans. The thirtyish stranger bore a slight resemblance to Booster. Was that what had caught the robot's attention?
"Skeets?"
“I’ll fly on my own, mr. kent,” he replied. “I SEE SOMEONE I WISH
TO SPEAK WITH.”
His journalistic curiosity aroused, Clark watched discreetly as the robot zipped toward the startled bystander, “excuse me, sir, but you seem
VAGUELY . . . FAMILIAR. MAY I ASK YOUR NAME AND WHAT BRINGS YOU TD THE SERVICE?”
"Who, me?" The man was understandably taken aback by the robot's interest. "I'm Daniel Carter. I'm here 'cause ... I dunno. Had a lunch hour, felt like I oughta be here for some reason." He took a few steps back from Skeets. "Should I... uh ... know you, or something?"
Good question, Clark thought.
A metal probe extended from Skeets' gleaming carapace. A miniature scanner projected a ruby red beam that swept over Carter's face and physique. “genealogical analysis,” Skeets said aloud, his voice briefly taking on a more robotic tone, “subject: daniel jon carter, dna analysis of
ANCESTRAL LINK TD BOOSTER: 93.2% . . . 95.8% ... 1 DO%.”
Carter scratched his head, thoroughly baffled by the robot's technobabble. His face lit up as an idea occurred to him. "Hey, am I on TV?" He looked around hopefully, as if expecting a camera crew to emerge from hiding at any second. Maybe someone from American’s Funniest Super Hero Encounters?
“not yet,” Skeets informed him. “but contact me soon atthe number I JUST BEAMED TO YOUR CELL PHONE, DANIEL CARTER.” The robot
flitted away into the sky. »we need to talk about your future. . . .”
Clark watched the robot head toward the cemetery on its own power. What was that all about? he wondered. It sounded like Skeets thought this "Daniel Carter" might be one of Booster's direct ancestors. Always possible, Clark supposed. Booster's DNAhad to come from somewhere. Maybe Skeets is just trying to track down Booster's next of kin?
He made a mental note to find out if Booster had left any sort of will behind. I
n the meantime, he had to head to the cemetery himself. Someone from the Justice League needed to be present when Booster was lowered into the ground, even if Clark could only be there incognito. Whatever his motives, Booster Gold had saved himdreds of lives over the course of his career, both before and after the Crisis. He had lived and died a hero.
He deserved better than this.
WEEK 18
SHIRUTA.
The solemn ceremony took place within the royal hall of the palace. Towering marble columns supported the high ceiling. Carved Egyptian hieroglyphs embellished the decorative cornice running along the tops of the walls. Robed courtiers and advisors stood in attendance as Black Adam, with Isis at his side, addressed their honored guests. Or one of them at least.
"On the very day of our wedding," Adam declared, "a vile and sinister attempt to kill hundreds by means of a suicide bomb was averted by your heroic actions in the defense of Kahndaq and her people."
A profound anger simmered within him as he recalled the details of the nefarious plot. Enraptured by the beauty of his bride, and the joyousness of the occasion, he had failed to notice the life-or-death drama that had unfolded outside the palace that day, but his security team had soon made him aware of just how close his people had come to a grisly tragedy. Numerous witnesses, as well as the personal effects of the would-be assassin, had confirmed the foreigners' role in preventing a massacre.
Such valor deserved recognition, which was why he now held a cedar box before him. A pair of gleaming medals rested within the box, atop a black satin cushion. Polished sapphires were lodged in the medals, which were forged of electrum, an ancient alloy of gold and silver prized since the days of the pharaohs. Silk ribbons adorned the medals.
"Thus it is my pleasure to present you and your partner with the Order of the Scarab, the highest honor Kahndaq can bestow upon those not born of her soil."
Isis took one of the medals from the box and draped it over the head of the man standing before them. "Wear it with pride, Charles Victor Szasz." She smiled warmly at the American as the scarab settled against his chest. "And know that you and Renee Montoya will always be regarded as friends by Kahndaq and its rulers." •