Isis clutched her heart, deeply moved by her husband's strength and generosity. "Amon?" she asked, wondering how he was coping with his transformation. It could be disorienting, she knew.
"I am Osiris," he answered, taking on the name of the ancient Egyptian god of the underworld, who was also the brother of the goddess Isis. His youthful brow wrinkled in confusion as he touched down on the floor before her. "Even though I'm not yet sure what that means."
Black Adam smiled warmly. "It means you are family now, brother."
Fragrant roses sprouted from the walls as Isis joyfully embraced Osiris. "Let these lands bloom with life," she called out. Tears of happiness flowed down her face like the eternal Nile. "For mine has finally returned!"
The reunited siblings hugged each other as Black Adam proudly looked on. All but forgotten in the excitement of the occasion, the Question turned his non-face heavenward.
"Black Adam!" he shouted. "Shazam! Isis!"
Renee scowled at him. She was soaking wet from the rainstorm. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Seeing if it's catching."
1MEEK 24
eOTHUM CITY.
"Thou shalt steal. Thou shalt kill. Thou shalt bear false witness."
Bruno Mannheim stared out tnrougn tne picture windows of his penthouse
headquarters as he contemplated the city he intended to rule with an iron fist. His beefy hands were clasped behind his back. A permanent scowl was etched onto his bellicose feattires. The mob boss was unafraid to turn his back on an entire roomful of ruthless criminals.
"You think small," he scolded his guests. "For me, Crime is the moral standard, the universal principle, the natural successor to free market consumer capitalism. I'm looking to establish a new world order of Crime, with its own capital city." He gazed approvingly at the diseased urban jungle spread out before him. "Every Caesar needs a Rome. I'm taking Gotham. If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll step out of my way and tell the other local bosses to do the same." His gruff voice brooked no dissent. A crude accent betrayed his roots in the slums of Metropolis. "I'm making this easy. You affiliate with Intergang or you die." He turned and gestured at a massive tome resting closed upon a lectern before him. "You swear upon the Crime Bible or you die."
He waited to see which of his guests would defy him. There's ahvays a few, he thought. The ones whose egos are bigger than their brains.
"The what?" A masked super-villain, who wore an orange hood over a bright yellow costume, approached the lectern. Mirage had managed to turn a minor talent at hypnosis into a modest criminal career. "What the hell are you talking about, Mannheim?"
That's Boss Mannheim to you, the ganglord thought. He rapped his knuckles against the thick granite binding of the Book. "Cain used that stone to commit the first murder when he battered his brother Abel to death."
"A stone book, very artsy." Mirage failed to appreciate the unholy sanctity of the ancient tome. He peered at the petrified front cover. "Is that blood?"
"Take a closer look," Mannheim urged him. "You'll never see anything like it again."
Mirage bent to inspect the volume ... and Mannheim slammed the man's hooded face into the unyielding granite. Flesh and bone crunched. Blood and tissue sprayed from the torn cowl.
"Those are your brains trickling onto the carpet, smart guy." Mannheim dug his fingers into Mirage's scalp and yanked his face up from the bloodstained book and pedestal. Then he used both hands to ram the hypnotist's face back down onto the stone volume. Mirage's skull shattered into a bloody pulp. "Guess they weren't worth a crap in the end."
He let go of the gloppy mess and Mirage's lifeless body slid onto the floor. Dietrich Laszlo, Mannheim's personal aide, stepped forward. The thin, officious-looking individual clutched a clipboard against his chest. He beckoned to a waiting janitor, who plugged in a carpet cleaner. "Allow me to take care of that trash for you, boss."
"Bring him down to the kitchens, Laszlo." Mannheim licked his lips. "Building an empire is hungry work."
Startled gasps came from the remainder of his guests. Mannheim smirked as he wiped the blood from his hands with what was left of Mirage's orange hood. It amused him that such hardened felons should be so taken aback by the merest hint of cannibalism. They had much to learn, and he was just the person to show them the light.
He turned to address his guests, who were seated around a long boardroom table. He knew their nicknames and rap sheets intimately: Magpie, the Ventriloquist, the Squid, John "the Butcher" Morgan, Carl "Junior" Grissom, Ginjer Bread, and other Gotham mobsters. Most of them were still alive, but he had already made an example of some of their more obstreperous colleagues. Wendell Lewis, the so-called Sewer King, was slumped over the table, a letter opener stabbed deep into his back. Kite Man's body had fallen back against his seat, a bright red smear expanding across the front of his ridiculous costume. "Silk" Jefferson's broken neck was twisted at an impossible angle. Magpie, aka Maggie Pye, pushed her chair away from Kite Man's corpse. She lifted her feet to avoid the pool of blood spreading across the floor. Her ashen face suggested that no further demonstrations would be necessary, at least as far as she was concerned. Ditto for the other survivors.
Each of his guests, both alive and dead, had controlled one of Gotham's many warring gangs and syndicates. Conspicuously missing from the summit meeting were the Joker, Two-Face, Scarecrow, the Mad Hatter, and the rest of Arkham Asylum's most famous inmates and escapees. All were too unpredictable to play a part in Mannheim's grand design. He was looking for lieutenants and foot soldiers here. Lunatics need not apply.
"Let me spell it out for you." He took his place at the head of the table. "You Gotham bosses work for me, or we make you extinct. Wipe your names from the annals of crime as though you never existed." He kicked over Jefferson's chair. The pimp's body tumbled onto the carpet. "Dinner will be served shortly."
The smell of spilled blood made his mouth water.
"Enjoy the meat."
WEEK 25
BOSTON.
It was Halloween, a time for playing at being scared, but tonight the screams were real. Panicked trick-or-treaters and their parents ran shrieking through the tree-lined streets of the city's historic Beacon Hill neighborhood. Pintsized ghosts, ninjas, princesses, and super heroes fled in terror past rows of elegant Federal-style townhouses. Discarded bags of candy spilled onto the brick sidewalks.
A second later, Captain Marvel Jr. crashed into one of those sidewalks, barely missing an eight-year-old boy in a glow-in-the-dark skeleton costume. Shattered bricks exploded into the air, along with a spray of lost Tootsie Rolls and chocolate bars. Ow, Freddy Freeman thought. Even with the endurance of Atlas, the crash landing left the young hero momentarily stunned. That actually hurt. .
"The souls of your innocents will belong to me!" A sixty-foot-tall demon towered over the neighborhood. A taloned hand, that had just batted the World's Mightiest Boy out of the air, reached out for the fleeing children. Curved horns sprouted from the giant demon's brow. His shaggy hide was scarlet. Hellfire burned in his yellow eyes. A bristling blue beard adorned his chin. Cloven hooves pounded the pavement. His sulfurous breath polluted the cold night air. "And thus will begin a century of fire! A hell reborn on Earth, so hot it will melt the flesh off your bones." His booming voice held a thick Russian accent. "So swears Sabbac, King of Devils!"
In fact, Sabbac was a Russian mobster named Ishmael Gregor who had used black magic to transform himself into Captain Marvel's evil opposite. Just as the magic word "Shazam!" imbued Billy Batson with the powers and attributes of six mythological gods and heroes, the word "Sabbac" granted Gregor the hellish abilities of six arch-demons: Satan, Aym, Belial, Beezlebub, Asmodeus, and Createis. The Marvel Family had squared off against him before. This was hardly the first time Sabbac had gone on a rampage.
Lucky us, Captain Marvel Jr. thought. Wincing from his close encounter with the sidewalk, he sat up slowly and shook the pulverized brick from his tousled
black hair. Beacon Hill shuddered beneath the demon's colossal tread. How many times do we have to beat this guy anyway?
Mary Marvel touched down on the sidewalk beside him. The night breeze rustled her cape and pristine white skirt. "I told you to wait for me, Junior."
Probably would've been a good idea, he admitted. He looked around for her brother. "Where's Cap—" He caught himself before saying the name that would have transformed him back into a crippled teenager. "Er, Billy? He said he'd be here."
"It's Halloween, Freddy." She helped him to his feet. "Do you know how many extradimensional planes are crossing over into ours tonight?" The question was strictly rhetorical. "Billy's got his hands full dealing with an invasion from the Phantom Zone."
That's a pretty good excuse for not showing up, Freddy conceded. He glanced over at the towering demon and clenched his fists. Looks like we're on our own.
To his relief, he saw that Sabbac had not snagged any kids yet. Beacon Hill's narrow streets seemed to be slowing him down somewhat. His sides scraped against the front of the buildings, causing chunks of dislodged masonry to cascade down onto the sidewalks. Trees and gas lamps toppled before him. His hooves left smoking tracks down the middle of Cambridge Street.
Shrill screams alerted Captain Marvel Jr. to the plight of four small children who appeared to have lost track of their parents in the confusion. Dressed as Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, the Flash, and Black Lightning, the huddled kids stared upward in fright as a monstrous red hand descended toward them.
"Children, you are mine!" Sabbac roared.
Before either Freddy or Mary could react, a svelte figure clad in fluttering white linen whooshed beneath Sabbac's hairy palm and whisked the kids out of harm's way. The demon's pointed claws closed on empty air. A baffled expression came over his satanic countenance. "What?"
Isis gently deposited the children onto the sidewalk by Mary and Freddy. The wide-eyed kids looked startled, but unharmed. Captain Marvel Jr. blinked in surprise. What was Isis doing in Boston of all places?
And was she alone?
"After all that candy," the Egyptian heroine advised the children, "take care of your teeth and eat some apples." A warm Middle Eastern wind, redolent of exotic spices, lifted her back into the air. "They're Nature's toothbrushes."
Freddy and Mary exchanged puzzled looks. Their gazes followed Isis up into the sky, where two more figures came flying down from the moonlit heavens.
"As they say in America, Sabbac ..." an exuberant voice called out from above. Freddy watched in amazement as an Arab teenager, wearing a streamlined version of Black Adam's somber uniform, punched the gargantuan demon in the nose. "Trick or treat!"
Who? Freddy wondered.
"A solid hit, Osiris," Black Adam praised the youth. Soaring toward Sabbac like a missile, he rammed both fists into the demon's stomach. Bile spewed from Sabbac's lips. The monster reeled backward.
High above the street, Black Adam, Isis, and Osiris converged upon Sabbac. Even with the infernal might of six arch-fiends at his disposal, the horned devil was clearly on the ropes. He tottered unsteadily upon his hooves. A noxious black ichor dripped from his snout. Osiris' punch had drawn first blood.
"Holy Moley!" Freddy exclaimed.
Mary was just as astonished. "It's a ... Black Marvel Family!"
Freddy recalled attending the royal wedding in Kahndaq. Could this "Osiris" be Isis' missing brother? That must be Amon. Freddy didn't need the wisdom of Solomon to figure that out. Who else could it be?
"Watch where you send him falling, you two," Isis reminded Black Adam and Osiris. "People live here."
"Not for long, witch!" Sabbac snarled. He charged at the flying trio.
Isis waved an arm and a venerable old chestnut tree defended her. Bare branches awoke from hibernation, grabbing onto the outmatched demon. Gnarled coils snared Sabbac's straining arms and legs. "Nature called to me from thousands of miles away," Isis informed their foe. "You wish to torch its beautiful land." Her lovely face held a look of serene determination. "We will not allow it."
Apparently not, Captain Marvel Jr. thought. He felt funny just standing on the sidewalk, watching the battle from the sidelines. "Should we help them?" he asked Mary.
"I don't think they need it," she replied.
The Black Marvel Family certainly seemed to have the crisis well in hand. The rescued trick-or-treaters crowded past the two original Marvels to watch Isis and family teach Sabbac a well-deserved lesson on the perils of interfering with Halloween. The kids' eyes were as wide as jack-o'-lantems. Their tiny jaws hung open. "Wow wow wow!" the miniature Flash exclaimed.
Side by side, Black Adam and Osiris zoomed at Sabbac. "Can we do it now? Can we do the Lightning Strike?" the teenager pleaded. "We've been practicing for days!" .
Adam smiled indulgently. "Very well."
Wood and bark shredded loudly as Sabbac tore himself free from the branches binding him. He gnashed his jagged fangs. Yellow eyes glowed with malignant fury. He bellowed in rage.
"I will eat your souls!" •,
"You'll be lucky if you're eating anything after this," Osiris boasted. He slammed his fists into the right side of Sabbac's head at the exact moment that Black Adam barreled into the left. The simultaneous strike ignited a blinding flash of mystic lightning. Thunder rumbled across Boston as the unleashed thunderbolt put Sabbac down for the count. Broken fangs sprayed from the demon's mouth. The fire in his eyes sputtered and went out.
"Careful," Isis said. A powerful gust of wind swept a few stray bystanders out of the way as Sabbac's enormous body toppled down onto Beacon Street. A low moan issued from the demon's lips. Smoke rose from his charred horns.
Cheers and applause arose from the rescued children and their reunited parents. Freddy hesitated for a moment, then he and Mary joined in the clapping. It felt weird to be applauding Black Adam, after all their battles in the past, but there was no denying that Adam and his family had definitely saved the day. Freddy made a mental note to practice that "Lightning Strike" move with Billy and Mary someday. That was a pretty nifty trick!
And the Black Marvel Family weren't done helping out yet. Landing a few yards away, Black Adam and Osiris thoughtfully lifted Sabbac's immense carcass from the pavement and hefted it into the sky. The limp colossus resembled a Thanksgiving Day balloon as it rose above the rooftops. Isis smiled proudly as she wafted ahead of her menfolk. Osiris beamed down at the cheering crowd.
"Happy Halloween, Judeo-Christians!"
The heroes and their captive disappeared into the distance. Freddy wondered if they were planning to transport Sabbac all the way back to Kahndaq or if they were just going to drop him off at the Rock of Eternity for Captain Marvel to deal with. Either way, it looked like Boston was safe for trick-or-treating again—and without him or Mary even lifting a finger.
Wonder if Billy needs any help ivith that Phantom Zone thing?
On the sidewalk in front of them, the kids Isis had saved started arguing over who got to be their latest heroes.
"I wanna be Black Adam!" the chubby boy in the Captain Marvel costume proclaimed. He pointed proudly at the golden thunderbolt on his chest. A little black dye would easily convert the costume into a Black Adam disguise instead.
"I get to be Isis!" said the little girl dressed as Wonder Woman. Her childish voice mimicked Isis' exotic Egyptian accent.
"No, I do!" another girl insisted, despite the fact that she was wearing Supergirl's bright blue dress and red cape.
The little Flash wannabe stayed out of the fight. Instead he dug through his bag of treats until he found a fresh green granny apple. "Nature's toothbrush!"
None of the children paid any attention to Mary or Captain Marvel Jr. Mary contemplated the starstruck munchkins with a bemused expression on her face. "Is it just me," she asked, "or are you suddenly feeling like yesterday's news?"
Freddy shook his head, not entirely sure what to make of this new Marvel Family, especially now that they had a
Black Adam Jr. of their own.
"Nope, it's not just you."
WEEK 26
THE HIMALAYAS.
When Renee was ten years old, she found a pile of old Congo Bill World Travel magazines dumped in the trash behind the tenement where her family lived. Nearly fifty years' worth of them, abandoned like so much garbage. She had carried them up the nine flights of stairs to their apartment. Almost six hundred issues, and she carried them all. Afterward, she couldn't even remember how many trips up and down the stairs it had taken. It was like running a marathon and it had been worth every step.
She had loved those magazines, losing whole days staring at pictures of places she knew she would never go: India, Vlatavia, Egypt, Bhutan. She'd always known she was never going to see the Great Pyramid or the domed kingdom of Atlantis. As of six months ago, the farthest she'd ever been from Gotham was Keystone City, and that was for a prisoner exchange. She'd figured that if she saw the bright lights of Metropolis before she croaked, she could die happy.
All things considered, she thought, I'm counting myself very lucky right now.
Cradled in Isis' slender arms, Renee soared toward the snowcapped peaks of the Himalayas. The majestic mountains loomed ahead, while remote plains and valleys stretched out far below her. The icy wind blowing against her face did little to dampen her spirits. A fur-lined parka helped protect her from the cold. A packed duffel bag dangled from her shoulders.
She glanced to the left, where Vic clung to Black Adam's back, his arms wrapped tightly around the flying immortal's neck. The entire Black Marvel Family was escorting her and Vic on the next leg of their globe-trotting odyssey. Unburdened by a passenger, Osiris flew ahead of both Isis and Black Adam. He did loops in the frigid air, visibly delighting in the sheer joy of flight. At the moment, Renee knew exactly what he was feeling.
Beats flying coach, she thought.
Vic soon indicated that they had flown far enough and the party descended onto the western slope of a towering mountain. Renee's boots sunk into the snow as Isis gently put her down at the base of a steep incline. Nothing but snow and ice surrounded them; Renee guessed that they had to be at least fifteen thousand feet above sea level. The thin air made it hard to take a deep breath, but Renee didn't care. She wouldn't have missed this for all the gay bars in Gotham. She was standing on the roof of the world.