HERE YOU GUYS GOOOO NOW THIS MIGHT BE LAST CHAPTER UNLESS SOMEONE ASKS FOR ANOTHER (I dont keep track of all my works so idk how many I've already done, Anyway-) sorry this took so long I had a bunch of work to do, like school work, my job and other things
The Watchtower’s meeting room had never felt so claustrophobic. The glow of the timers above them, that constant tick-tick-tick, had drilled into their minds since the battle. But tonight, it was worse. They could all see it: Captain Marvel was breaking down.
He stood in front of them now, shoulders hunched, sparks crawling across his skin in wild, uncontrolled bursts. His cape hung heavy, damp with sweat, his jaw clenched hard enough to shake. The booming, effortless voice they were used to was gone; when he finally spoke, it was frayed, desperate.
“You can’t panic,” he said. The words were clipped, raw. His fists trembled at his sides. “If you panic when you see this—if you so much as flinch—it’s over for me. Do you understand?”
The League glanced at each other, confusion and tension flickering across their faces. Superman leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Captain, what are you—”
“Promise me!” Marvel’s voice cracked like thunder, the force making the lights above them rattle. His chest heaved. “Promise me you’ll hold steady. Because the second you don’t—” He swallowed, eyes tight with fear. “—that’s the second I die.”
The silence after that was suffocating. Even Flash didn’t breathe too loudly. Finally, Diana gave a solemn nod, her voice calm but firm. “You have our word. We won’t panic.”
Marvel’s hands curled into fists. He closed his eyes. For the first time, they saw not a god, not a Champion, but a boy steeling himself to jump off a cliff.
The word fell from his lips, soft, terrified, but unmistakable.
Lightning ripped through the room. Blinding, golden-white, deafening like the world was cracking in two. The blast threw sparks across the marble floor, scorched the walls, rattled the very bones of the Watchtower.
When the light cleared, the League froze.
Where Captain Marvel had stood was a small body crumpled on the floor. A boy. No older than ten, blood already soaking his shirt, pooling beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the marble. His chest rose shallowly, then hitched, then stilled.
And above his head, his timer wasn’t frozen anymore.
The League surged forward. Superman was the first at his side, kneeling hard enough to crack the floor. “God—no, no, no—Marvel?!” His voice was frantic, cracking. “Marvel, wake up!”
Flash blurred in, hands already glowing as he tried compressions at super-speed. “He’s bleeding out too fast, I can’t—I can’t move the blood fast enough—”
Diana knelt at his other side, hands pressing firm over the wound, her face pale but calm. “We need Zatanna. Constantine. Someone—anyone—who can use healing magic to a wound this deep!”
Batman’s voice cut like a knife. “There’s no time. He has less than two minutes.”
Billy’s chest convulsed under their hands. His eyes fluttered open for just a heartbeat, glassy and wide with fear. “Don’t… let me—” His voice was small, weak, and horrifyingly childlike. Then it cut off as blood bubbled from his lips.
Superman’s breath hitched. “No—no, stay with us, Marvel!” His hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold pressure on the wound.
Flash’s voice cracked. “He’s slipping, Bats! I can’t—he’s—”
Billy’s head fell back against the floor, his body going slack in their arms. The crimson glow above him flickered once, then went out.
“No—” Diana’s voice broke for the first time in years. She pressed harder, harder, like she could force life back into him. “Not like this, not this boy—”
Clark’s hand trembled where it cradled Billy’s head. “He’s just a kid,” he whispered, his eyes glassy. “God—he’s just a kid.”
But Batman’s jaw locked. He didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop checking vitals, applying compressions, anything to fight the inevitable. “We don’t stop until he breathes. Keep working!”
For a long, agonizing moment, the League tried everything—compressions, energy pulses, Flash vibrating his molecules to restart his heart—but nothing worked. The body stayed limp. The Champion of Magic lay dead at their feet.
And then the impossible happened.
It rumbled from nowhere, building like a storm. But they were in space—there was no sky, no clouds, no storm to make thunder. The air itself buzzed, sharp and metallic, until the entire room was glowing white.
“Move back!” Batman barked, pulling Diana up by the arm.
“You’ll die if you touch him!” His grip was iron, dragging her back as sparks leapt across the floor, burning through boots and gloves alike. The air was electric, suffocating, deadly.
A lightning bolt larger than anything they’d ever seen slammed into Billy’s chest, bright enough to blind, loud enough to rattle the foundations of the Watchtower. His body convulsed under the hit, blood spraying across the marble as the energy coursed through him.
When the light faded for a second, the boy was still. Too still.
Another bolt came. And another. Each one shaking the room, each one so powerful the League had to retreat to the walls, shields raised, or else risk being killed by the backlash.
“Diana!” Bruce’s voice was raw as she struggled against his grip, reaching toward the boy. “You’ll be fried alive!”
The room filled with golden arcs, sparks crawling up the walls, shattering glass. The air was no longer breathable, thick with static. Even Superman staggered, his invulnerability stretched to its limits.
It hit Billy square in the chest with a sound like the sky breaking. The light swallowed him, the League, the entire room until nothing existed but white.
Through it, they saw his small body jerk violently. His back arched, his arms snapped outward, the lightning making his veins glow like molten gold. His mouth opened in a silent scream—
And the doors slammed shut, sealing the League out as another deafening crack split the air.
