DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson

San Francisco.

Dane trudged home from the subway station, his feet dragging against the worn sidewalk. He made a conscious effort to avoid the grimy corners and suspicious stains, muttering silent complaints about the city's lack of hygiene.

When he finally found a relatively clean spot, he slumped down, exhausted, not eager to move anytime soon.

Adjusting to high school hadn't been easy, but Dane had a plan. Shortly after transferring to his new school, he decided to join the football team.

Football was a big deal, and winning a championship could secure him a coveted scholarship. For Dane—an orphan with no family or financial safety net—this was important opportunity.

Fortunately, while his pockets were empty and his upbringing lacked warmth, Dane's determination was unmatched. His impressive stature didn't go unnoticed, and the coach quickly added him to the roster.

With enough grit and effort, Dane believed he could make it as quarterback. That thought lingered as his eyelids grew heavy from late-night practices.

But he snapped out of it almost immediately, reminding himself that he couldn't afford to let his guard down. This part of the city wasn't exactly safe, and vigilance was key to avoiding trouble.

Something felt... off. Dane sat up straighter and glanced around. The streets were eerily quiet—too quiet.

"Hmm, why is there no one around?"

Dane scanned the empty subway car, a chill creeping up his spine. It wasn't even 8 o'clock yet—where was everyone?

He glanced out the window, only to notice something strange. Bright flashes of light zipped past, cutting through the air and seeming to pierce right through the glass. One of the beams grazed his face, the sharp glow stinging his nose.

"What is this?"

He recoiled instinctively, but the next beam was faster. It struck him square in the chest and exited through his back.

"What is going on?!"

Before he could make sense of it, the subway jolted forward, accelerating at an unnatural speed. The streaks of light outside blurred into a single blinding beam, making it impossible to see.

Dane squinted through the chaos and noticed a line of strange symbols glowing on the door frame. Snowflake-like patterns filled the window panes. Something about them tugged at his memory, but the answer eluded him.

Then, with a screech, the subway came to a violent halt. The inertia sent Dane sprawling to the floor, rolling across the carriage.

Groaning, he scrambled to his feet. His body ached, but thankfully, it was sturdy enough to endure the impact. As he steadied himself, the subway doors hissed open.

Warily, Dane stepped outside. But instead of a familiar subway station, he found himself on a rocky path surrounded by dense, untouched wilderness.

The eerie sense of déjà vu grew stronger. The path before him stretched forward with no sign of another route. With no other option, Dane followed it. At the end of the path stood a figure—an old man in a red robe with unkempt hair and weathered, dark skin.

"Dane Davis!" the old wizard called out, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

Dane hesitated but instinctively answered, "I'm here."

The wizard stepped closer, his eyes piercing and full of urgency. "You will inherit my power and become the new protector of the Rock of Eternity. Take this staff and say my name... SHAZAM!"

Wait a minute, something's wrong with this situation, isn't it?

Dane furrowed his brow, an unease growing in his chest. Shouldn't there be a test? Some trial to ensure the chosen one was pure of heart? It felt too easy—too sudden.

He glanced behind the wizard and spotted the towering statue of the Seven Deadly Sins, their stony visages locked in menacing scowls. Clearly, the infamous Dr. Sivana hadn't shown up yet. But didn't this imply the old wizard still had time to assess potential candidates?

Dane always believed in the old adage: "There's no such thing as a free lunch." Especially when it came to something as monumental as the power of Shazam. A force rooted in magical contracts was far too easy to misuse without safeguards.

The wizard seemed to sense his hesitation. He fixed Dane with a piercing gaze, his ancient eyes glinting with both wisdom and impatience. "Dane Davis, why do you hesitate?"

Dane scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh, Mr. Wizard? Don't you need to test me or something before handing over, you'r powers?"

The wizard paused, his expression shifting to one of exasperation. He muttered under his breath, "Why are you all so stubborn, no matter which world you come from? Come on, say it with me, SHAZAM!"

Dane blinked. This felt... off. But the old man's urgency left little room for argument. Reluctantly, he gripped the staff, its surface crackling faintly with raw energy.

Together, they shouted: "SHAZAM!"

A bolt of lightning tore through the cavern, slamming into Dane with a force that should have obliterated him. Instead, his body absorbed the energy like a sponge, a tingling sensation spreading from his fingertips to the tips of his toes.

He felt himself grow—taller, stronger—until he towered at an imposing 6'5" (about 196 cm). His old jacket melted away, replaced by a gleaming red suit that hugged his frame like armor. Golden bracers encased his wrists, a matching belt cinched his waist, and polished gold boots completed the ensemble.

The most striking feature, however, was the lightning emblem emblazoned on his chest. It wasn't a mere decoration or glowing prop.

It was alive, crackling with the same raw energy that had transformed him. He stared down at it in awe, noticing how eerily similar it was to the emblem worn by Black Adam.

Dane flexed his hands, marveling at the newfound strength coursing through him.