Billy had long since lost track of how much time had passed.
In a place like this, time didn't move normally for first timers. One moment you were stepping into a hallway, the next you were three corridors deep with no idea how you got there. Not that Billy had anything to measure it with anyway. No watch. No phone. Nothing but his own sense of direction… which had given up about twenty minutes ago.
Not that he cared.
Every turn offered something new.
A lab humming with equipment that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie. A training room where someone phased halfway through a wall mid-conversation like it was the most normal thing in the world. Students tossing around fire, ice, telekinesis—casually bending the rules of reality like it was just another Tuesday afternoon.
It was insane.
And honestly?
Billy loved it.
There was something freeing about it. No hiding. No pretending to be normal. No weird looks because something about you didn't fit.
For once, he might've been the normal one.
…Well. Relatively.
As he strolled, he could suddenly hear voices.
Raised ones.
Billy slowed mid-step, his head tilting slightly as his attention caught on the sound. It wasn't loud enough to be a full-blown fight, but it wasn't quiet either.
"What's that about…?" he muttered under his breath, his curiosity nudged him forward.
He turned the corner and stepped into a more open stretch of the courtyard—wider, less crowded than the hallways, but not exactly empty either. Students lingered in loose clusters, forming a semi circle as every attention was to one direction.
The gathering was the kind people pretend they're not part of, one where no one steps in—but no one leaves either.
Billy's eyes narrowed slightly as he took it in.
At the center stood a kid—young, maybe around Billy's age. His back was pressed tight against a stone pillar, shoulders drawn in like he was trying to make himself smaller. His fingers twitched at his sides, betraying nerves he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried.
And then there was the other one.
The reason no one was stepping in.
He stood a few feet away, taller… broader. His built didn't seem like it just come from powers alone, his dominating the presence made him seem like he knew exactly what he could do and didn't hesitate to use it.
His raven-black hair caught the sunlight with a faint, unnatural sheen. His arms were tense at his sides, muscles subtly flexed—and beneath his skin, faint glowing veins pulsed like molten lines, dim but noticeable. Not at all flashy.
"Go on," he said with a low voice, edged with irritation that hadn't quite tipped into anger but was getting there. "Do that little trick again. Thought you said you could control it."
The kid swallowed hard as hisshoulders tightened.
"I—I said I'm still learning," he stammered, his voice cracking as he said so. His hands trembled as he raised them slightly, like he didn't know whether to defend himself or keep them down.
A flicker of something—maybe fear, embarrassment—crossed his face.
"Then maybe don't show it off like you're special." The bully said as Billy's expression shifted.
His brows pulled together slightly as his gaze flickered between the two.
'Yeah… figures. Even here, a school full of people who were supposed to understand what it meant to be different… and you still had guys like this Guys who needed someone weaker just to feel bigger.' Billy exhaled softly through his nose.
"Yeah," he muttered to himself, almost amused—but not really. His feet moved before he fully thought it through.
"Hey," Billy called out, voice easy, casual—like he was just stepping into a normal conversation. His hands stayed tucked in his pockets as he walked closer, posture loose and seeming unbothered.
"Pretty sure picking on someone who just said they're still learning isn't exactly a good look." A few heads turned as the bigger guy stopped.
Slowly, he turned.
His gaze locked onto Billy instantly, assessing. It dragged over him from head to toe, without rush. As if sizing up the thing unfamiliar boy.
Billy didn't flinch. Nor did he take his hands out of his pockets either.
"You don't look like a student," the guy said finally, his voice sounding flatter now—but still with an heavy tone. He took his focus off the kid being bullied and stepped forward.
"…You new?"
Billy gave a small shrug, like it didn't matter either way. "Visitor." The word hung there as the bully sized him up one more time before glancing around his surrounding as if looking out for teachers.
"Yeah," the guy slowly nodded as if in deliberation. "Thought so." The kid being bullied quickly made way out of there now that the bully had his attention on a potential target.
"Which means," he continued, stepping closer, "you're not one of us."
A sudden tension lingered in their midst as conversations around them died off completely now, and replaced with that quiet, electric anticipation that came right before something was about to go down.
Even as he stepped close enough for the faint glow under his skin to seem a little brighter, Billy didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't even straighten up.
He just stood there with his hands still in his pockets, maintaining a steady gaze… like none of it phased him in the slightest.
And somehow—
That made it worse.
"And that means," the guy added as he emphasized, "you don't get to interfere."
Billy tilted his head slightly, like he was genuinely considering that for a second.
"Pretty sure 'don't be a jerk' is universal," he replied easily. "Doesn't matter where I'm from." A faint murmur rippled through the onlookers.
The bigger boy's eyes narrowed, his head cocking to the side as he gave Billy a slow, deliberate once-over.
"You've got some nerve," he said with a low voice, edged with something colder now. "Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong." He didn't even bother looking back at the kid he'd been cornering anymore, Billy had officially replaced him as the focus.
Billy just shrugged, casual as ever, like the tension pressing in around them didn't exist.
"What can I say?" he said lightly. "It happens."
A few people shifted where they stood, exchanging glances.
If anything, it felt like Billy had just stepped into something he didn't fully understand—and wasn't backing out of anyway.
The bigger mutant exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if loosening himself up. The faint glow beneath his skin pulsed once, a little brighter now.
"Last chance," he said, his tone dropping into something more like a final warning. "Back off."
"Or what?" A smile tugged to the side of Billy's lips.
That did it.
There was a pause—a brief, quiet moment where it almost felt like the entire courtyard held its breath in anticipation as if they themselves were excited for a fight. Wouldn't be a surprise if someone amongst the crowd was taking bets on who would come out on top between the bully, and Billy the mystery kid.
The bully bent at the waist, lowering himself into a crouch without fully dropping to one knee. His fingers stretched toward the stone pavement—
—and the moment they made contact, there was a subtle shift.
The ground beneath his fingertips seemed to crawl. Not physically lifting, not breaking apart—but moving. Flowing. Like the stone itself had turned liquid under his command. It crept up along his fingers, swallowing them whole before climbing higher, wrapping around his hands, his wrists…
Then his arms.
The texture spread fast, consuming fabric and flesh alike, his sleeves tightening as the rocky mass overtook them. His shoes followed next, the same creeping transformation swallowing them whole as the stone crawled up past his ankles, locking around his calves, his thighs—
Until he looked like something pulled straight out of a nightmare.
Half-man.
Half-living statue.
But unlike stone, he moved.
Freely.
Easily.
The faint glow that once traced beneath his skin vanished completely, replaced by this denser nature.
Then he stomped his rocky shoe on the ground.
BOOM.
The impact cracked through the courtyard like a small explosion. The ground beneath his foot cratered inward, fractures spiderwebbing out in jagged lines. Dust kicked up into the air, the sound echoing off the surrounding structures.
A few students flinched.
Others leaned in.
He did so to see if Billy would be scared off by his power display so far, not wanting to waste his time on a kid who couldn't put up a good fight.
"Come on, Mason, knock it off already," someone from the crowd called out, voice strained with familiarity—knowing it was getting a bit too far now.
Mason didn't even acknowledge it, his attention stayed locked on Billy.
"Why don't you listen to your fellow student, Mason," Billy said, deliberately emphasizing the name, his tone still frustratingly calm.
If anything, that made it worse.
"Alright then, tough guy," Mason said, his voice now deeper.
The surface of his body shifted again. The rocky texture compressed, tightened, hardening further—less like loose stone and more like solid, dense armor. His entire form took on a uniform, jagged sheen, like he'd been carved out of granite and brought to life.
"Let's see what you can actually do." The ground beneath him cracked again as he shifted his stance. "Hope that mouth of yours isn't all talk."
Billy blinked once. "…Okay," he muttered under his breath. "So we're doing this."
Mason made his move.
Fast.
Way too fast.
For something that heavy, his lunge was explosive—his body launching forward with terrifying speed, his fist already clenched and aimed straight for Billy's side.
The air whistled with the force of it, but Billy was able to react to it—though barely.
The past few days—sparring, drills, getting knocked on his ass more times than he could count by Steve and Natasha—they'd done more than just leave him sore.
His body had learned a thing or two to avoid getting hit by attacks that were sure to cause pain, as he leaned back just enough to avoid the blow which tore past his torso, close enough for him to feel the wind of it brush against his shirt—
—and then it hit something else.
CRASH.
Mason's fist slammed into the stone pillar besides Billy, punching clean through it like it was nothing. The impact sent cracks ripping through the structure, splitting it from the center outward.
For a split second, everything held—
Then the top half broke, and fell.
Stone crashed against the ground in a cloud of dust and debris, fragments scattering across the courtyard floor as a few gasps broke from the crowd.
Mason turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Billy from the corner of his eye.
A smug smile tugged at his lips as he expected a look of fright on Billy's face from his power display, now that he should have realized that he had fucked up by sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
But Billy didn't give it to him.
Mason pivoted sharply, his rocky foot grinding against the cracked pavement as he twisted his body and drove another punch forward—this time aimed straight for Billy's solar plexus.
But Billy shifted with a quick sidestep as the fist missed him by inches.
But the force didn't.
A sharp burst of air pressure exploded outward from the swing, ruffling Billy's clothes and pushing dust and loose debris across the ground in a sudden wave.
A cheers came through as the crowd began to cheer Billy on from the sidelines.
Billy's eyes flicked over Mason's attacks,as he noticed he wasn't aiming high.
No strikes to the head.
Nothing that would cave in a skull or snap a neck.
Everything was centered.
Torso.
Midsection.
Controlled aggression.
Like he was trying to hurt—
But not kill.
"Whew—"
Billy let out a breath, his eyes widening just a fraction as he straightened slightly.
"Okay," he said, almost impressed despite himself. "Yeah… you hit hard."
His gaze flicked briefly toward the cracked pillar behind him, then back to Mason.
"I guess that body isn't just for show." Billy exclaimed as his eyes widened, knowing that blow was sure to send him flying off into the walls of the building behind. Or maybe crashing into the dolphin statue fountain not far from them.
Billy did not feel the faintest regret towards the outcome of his intervention, after all he could not stand bullies. And he believed every bully needed to be put in their place.
The second strike came immediately, with no warning.
Billy shifted again, slipping just out of the path of the incoming blow. Even without contact, the sheer force behind it carried through the air like a physical thing, the pressure alone slamming into him and forcing him back a step, his shoes scraping lightly against the stone.
"You should have walked away," the mutant growled, his voice rougher now, threaded with growing irritation as he advanced. Each step he took left shallow dents in the ground, the stone dipping under his weight like it was struggling to hold him.
Billy let out a small breath, shoulders rising and falling as he steadied himself. "…Yeah," he admitted, almost absentmindedly. "Probably."
"Oouu.!" The crowded instigated.
The lack of fear and the complete absence of urgency or regret in his words was prickly to Mason. Billy wasn't mocking him outright, but he wasn't taking him seriously either, and that… that got under Mason's skin more than any insult could have.
Something in his expression shifted.
His jaw tightened, the faint smugness from earlier giving way to a look of more intent. He wanted to know now. Wanted to see what exactly this scrawny, out-of-place visitor thought he could do. What gave him the confidence to stand there, unfazed, while staring down someone who could crush stone like with his fist.
Fine.
He'd find out.
And when he does, he'd make sure Billy learned exactly why that confidence was misplaced—right here, in front of everyone.
Even through the irritation building in his chest, Mason didn't completely lose control. There was restraint in the way he moved, subtle but deliberate. He wasn't aiming to kill—wasn't trying to cave in Billy's skull or punch through his torso like he easily could. No, he regulated it just enough. Enough force to hurt. Enough to send him flying. Enough to leave a lesson carved into muscle and bone.
Pain, after all, was the best teacher.
The next hit came fast—faster than before.
Billy dropped low, ducking under the swing, his body folding into the motion before pushing off the ground and springing to the side. It was clean, practiced—evidence of the training he'd been putting himself through—but Mason was already adjusting.
Closing the distance.
Too fast.
Billy hadn't even fully recovered from the dodge when Mason was back on him again, his shadow swallowing the space between them.
"Too slow, punk."
The words came with a smug edge, his lips curling as he stepped in, drawing his arm back. His fist clenched tight, stone grinding faintly as the hardened surface compressed further, the blow lining up squarely with Billy's ribs. There was no hesitation in it—just the clear, calculated intent to launch him across the courtyard and into the wooden bench sitting a few yards away.
A broken rib or two would be collateral damage, a lesson he'd walk away remembering.
The punch came and Billy moved, doing all he could to avoid the blow but his movement wasn't clean this time. He wasn't fast enough.
He threw himself out of the way, diving downward just as the strike tore through the space he'd occupied a split second earlier. His body hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs as he landed on his side and rolled slightly, grit and dust scraping against his clothes.
A sharp tsk clicked from Mason's tongue.
This was getting annoying.
Without wasting a second, he stomped his foot into the ground again. The impact sent a ripple through the stone beneath them, cracks branching outward before something shifted. Loose fragments of rock peeled up from the surface, slithering forward like living things, skimming low across the ground in a jagged wave aimed straight for Billy.
Billy pushed himself up, trying to move—but he was a fraction too slow.
The stone snapped around his ankle, locking tight.
"—!"
His foot jerked to a stop mid-motion, balance thrown off as the rocky grip held firm.
That was all Mason needed.
He surged forward, closing the gap in an instant, his hand shooting out and clamping around Billy's throat. The grip was solid as he lifted him clean off the ground, the stone loosening from Billy's foot the moment it no longer needed to hold him.
Billy's body rose with the motion, feet leaving the ground as Mason held him suspended with one arm, fingers tightening just enough to keep him in place.
"Any last words?" Mason taunted, his tone dipping into something darker—more theatrical than truly lethal. There was no real intent to kill behind it, just the need to dominate the moment. To break that calm expression Billy had been wearing since the start.
To make him crack.
Billy's hand came up, lightly gripping at Mason's wrist—not struggling, and without panicking.
And then—he smiled.
It was subtle but completely out of place.
"Yes," Billy said, his voice strained just slightly from the hold, but steady all the same. "Just one…"
That caught Mason off guard.
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face as he tried to read him, to figure out what kind of bluff this was supposed to be.
Billy's smile widened just a fraction.
"Shazam."
The word hadn't even fully settled in the air before the sky answered.
A deafening crack split the courtyard as a bolt of lightning tore downward from above, blinding in its intensity. It struck dead center—right where the two of them stood—like the heavens themselves had locked onto a target and fired.
Light swallowed everything as the sound hit a split second later, a thunderclap so violent it rattled the ground beneath everyone's feet. The shockwave rippled outward, kicking up dust and loose debris in a sudden burst.
Around them, students recoiled instinctively, with their eyes snaping shut.
Arms came up in reflex as no one dared look directly at it. Because for that brief moment—
It felt like something far bigger than a simple fight had just entered the scene.
"Agh—!"
The force of it blasted Mason clean off his feet, sending his stone-covered body hurtling across the courtyard like he weighed nothing. He hit the ground hard, skidding and bouncing once before finally rolling to a stop. For a brief moment, he just lay there, the world around him ringing from the thunderclap that still echoed in the air. Then, slowly—unsteadily—he pushed himself up, one hand clutching his head as if trying to steady the storm raging inside it. Thin trails of smoke curled off his body, rising in faint wisps as the rocky armor coating him began to crack… and crumble… and fall away in brittle chunks.
He shook his head, vision clearing in fragments.
And then he looked up.
Where the annoying, out-of-place kid had been just seconds ago… now stood something else entirely.
"Wow!" All sorts of remarks resounded from the spectators around.
A man standing tall, broad, and powerful. Looking nothing like the teenager from before. Gone was the scrawny figure in casual clothes which seem to have been replaced by a muscular form clad in a striking suit that seemed to hum with energy.
A cape draped from his shoulders, billowing and curling behind him in an invisible current, while faint arcs of lightning danced lazily across his body, snapping and crackling like they were alive.
"Oh," Shazam said, rolling his shoulders as a small smile spread across his face, equal parts excitement and anticipation. "How the tables have turned."
There was a glint in his eyes—one that suggested he was enjoying this shift in momentum… maybe a little too much.
High above the courtyard, partially obscured behind the tall glass panes of a window, two figures watched the scene unfold below. Storm stood with her arms loosely folded, her usually calm expression now tinged with visible interest, while Jean Grey stood just beside her, gaze locked onto the transformed figure below.
Storm had intended to step in earlier.
She'd been ready to end skirmish before it escalated, even before fists started flying and things got out of hand. But both she and Jean had received clear instructions from the Professor, not to interfere and only to observe.
He was curious.
He could sense the X gene was absent from the boy's brain, clearly he wasn't a mutant. But he could sense that the boy was…special.
And now?
That curiosity had just been justified. Because whatever they had expected…
It hadn't been this.
Storm's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the lightning still dancing along Shazam's frame, the sheer power radiating off him was impossible to ignore. Even she, who commanded storms themselves, could feel it.
This wasn't normal.
Not even by mutant standards.
"So that's what you had up your sleeve," Mason roughly muttered as he straightened fully. His daze was gone now, replaced with a more focused look. He bent down again, pressing his hand against the fractured pavement beneath him.
It crawled up his arm once more, faster this time, more aggressive in its movement as it consumed him piece by piece as his body hardened. Layers of rock locking into place until he stood fully encased again—denser, heavier, more solid than before.
Without hesitation this time, the ground cracked beneath his feet as he launched himself forward, closing the distance in an instant. His fists came fast—one after another in a relentless barrage, each strike carrying enough force to shatter bone and concrete alike.
But Shazam didn't move like before.
He didn't scramble, neither did he struggle.
He moved with an effortless ease as each punch slipped past him by inches, his body weaving and shifting with an almost fluid grace. A tilt of the head. A slight turn of the shoulders. A step to the side. His movements were controlled and calm.
"Stay still, you punk!" Mason growled, frustration bleeding into his voice as he drew his arm back and threw everything he had into the next strike. His fist rocketed forward, aimed straight for Shazam's face—faster, heavier, and fueled by raw irritation.
This time—
Shazam didn't dodge as the punch connected, a solid impact resounding through the yard.
Crack.
Mason's arm—his armor—fractured.
The stone coating his fist splintered on impact, cracks racing up along his arm as if the force had rebounded straight back into him. The expression on his face twisted instantly, a flicker of pain breaking through his confidence as the feedback hit.
Yet, Shazam didn't even flinch.
"My turn," he said simply, the smile still resting on his lips.
Then he struck a casual slap with the back of his hand. Seeming lazy as though with no effort.
But the moment his hand connected—
BOOM.
The force sent Mason spinning through the air, his body flipping end over end before crashing across the courtyard in a rough tumble.
A collective gasp tore through the crowd.
Shock rippled outward just as fast as the earlier lightning had.
Mason hit the ground hard, skidding before finally stopping on one knee. He coughed, a harsh sound tearing from his throat as he spat blood onto the stone beneath him. The rocky layer across his face had partially shattered, fragments falling away to reveal the raw anger underneath.
His chest rose and fell sharply as he glared up at Shazam, fury burning in his eyes.
To his side, the marble dolphin fountain stood silent and still—elegant, polished, untouched by the chaos around it.
Mason's gaze flicked to it.
Then back to Shazam.
"Let's see how you do against this," he growled, his tone laced with frustration and determination. He reached out, pressing his hand against the smooth marble surface.
The transformation came again—but different this time.
The stone that spread across his body took on a refined, polished texture, his form reshaping as the marble's elemental properties overtook him. Even his hair shifted, hardening into sculpted strands that mirrored the statue's pristine finish.
He was gambling.
Betting on density. On structure. On the possibility that this stronger element might hold up better against whatever power Shazam carried.
But beneath that gamble…
There was uncertainty.
Because standing across from him now wasn't just some confident kid anymore.