บท 22: A New Chapter—Starts with Guilt!
The city buzzed with life, as it always did. The honking of taxis, the chatter of pedestrians, the distant roar of subway trains beneath the streets—New York never truly rested. And yet, for James Carter, the city felt quieter, almost distant, like the calm that follows a storm.
It had been a month since his fight with Elias Kain—his first real battle as Shazam. A lot had happened that night. He had saved lives and defeated a powerful enemy... but everything comes at a cost. The aftermath still lingered, like bruises that hadn't fully healed.
Now, he was back at Tech Haven, returning to the grind of everyday life, trying to convince himself that he could slip into the routine as if nothing had changed. The dull hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above him as he stood at the counter, sorting phone cases and charging cables. It was a life that used to feel boring. Now, it was a refuge.
The world outside, though, hadn't moved on as easily.
Rumors about Shazam were spreading like wildfire. Tabloids ran wild with speculation. Some claimed he was an alien from another galaxy, like Superman—from DC. Others believed he was some government project, a weapon disguised as a hero. Social media was a frenzy of theories, fan art, memes, and conspiracy threads.
And then there were the people who weren't so enthusiastic about New York's hero.
James could see it in the headlines that scrolled across TV screens inside the store:
"Hero or Hazard? Shazam's First Fight Sparks Controversy."
"Casualties Mount After Clash—Is This 'Hero' to Blame?"
He might have saved the city from Kain, but that first fight—the one he didn't win—had serious consequences. People had been hurt, and not everyone was ready to let him off the hook for it.
No one was louder about it than J. Jonah Jameson, the editor-in-chief of The Daily Bugle—and, inconveniently, Rebecca's boss. James didn't know what annoyed him more: Jameson's loud, relentless voice on TV, or the fact that, deep down, the man had a point.
For the first time in a long time, James couldn't argue with him.
---
Inside Tech Haven, Marcus leaned on the counter beside him, scrolling through his phone with a grin plastered across his face.
"Yo, you gotta see this," Marcus said, barely containing his laughter. He turned the phone toward James.
On the screen was a meme of Shazam punching a monster with exaggerated force, captioned: "When you finally clear your inbox but a new email pops up."
James huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "People really have nothing better to do?"
"Hey, it could be worse. At least they like you. For now." Marcus waggled his eyebrows. "Better than Jameson roasting you every other day."
James groaned. "Don't remind me. That guy's on my back more than Rebecca is."
Marcus gave him a sly grin. "I thought you liked it when Rebecca's on your back."
"Very funny." James threw a half-hearted punch at Marcus's shoulder, but his friend only chuckled, clearly proud of himself.
Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of a customer—a middle-aged man with a cracked tablet. James forced a polite smile, thankful for the distraction. "What seems to be the problem?"
---
Hours later, James trudged back to his apartment, exhaustion weighing down his steps. He unlocked the door, kicked it shut behind him, and tossed his bag onto the couch. For a moment, he stood still, staring at the small, cluttered space he called home.
The silence felt heavy, almost unnatural after the chaos of the past few weeks.
He made his way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. The water dripped down his chin as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. For a moment, he didn't see himself. He wasn't the same person who had stumbled into that strange cave and touched the glowing orb that changed his life forever.
He wiped his face with a towel and drifted to the couch, collapsing into it with a long exhale. The TV remote was within reach, and he grabbed it, clicking through channels until he landed on the news.
And there he was.
"Let me tell ya something, folks," Jameson growled, leaning into the camera with that trademark scowl. "These so-called 'heroes'—Iron Man, and now this... Shazam—is a menace. Stark's arrogance is unmatched. And Shazam? This guy shows up outta nowhere, throws lightning around like it's confetti, and nearly levels half a city block. You call that heroism? I call that reckless."
James grimaced, gripping the remote a little too tightly. Jameson's words were harsh, but the worst part was that he wasn't entirely wrong. James had seen the aftermath himself—those chaotic moments that blurred in his mind.
---
The flashback hit him without warning, like a punch to the gut, pulling him back to that moment as vividly as if it were happening all over again.
A month ago, he had stumbled into his apartment, exhausted from his brutal battle with Kain. The moment he stepped inside, he froze. The door was unlocked.
As he flicked on the light, his breath caught in his throat.
An imposing figure stood in the middle of his living room, arms crossed, a black trench coat flowing slightly, as if the air itself were afraid of him. His single eye locked onto James with an intensity that brooked no argument.
"You have a habit of disappearing, James Carter," he said, his voice cool and precise. "I'm Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."
James gawked, struggling to process the situation. "Wait, what the hell? How did you get in here?!"
Fury raised an eyebrow, his surprise evident. "She didn't tell you, did she?"
"Who?" James was bewildered, trying to grasp the unfolding absurdity.
"Your girlfriend. Rebecca Martinez. One of my agents has been in touch with her since your first fight with Kain," Fury explained, his tone edged with irritation.
James stared at him, the mention of 'Agent' feeling like a surreal twist in a bad movie. "What? I—" He shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "Rebecca never said anything about this. How do you even know her?"
Fury's expression shifted, curiosity replacing annoyance. He ignored James's question. "Right. You vanished. God knows where you went." He scrutinized James, his eye narrowing. "I'd love to know more about that, but not today."
James stood there, confusion and suspicion churning in his gut. He had just returned home after a chaotic confrontation with Kain, and now a man was in his living room talking about things that felt impossibly far-fetched.
"Okay, let's rewind," James said, struggling to maintain his composure. "You're Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. I get that. But what the hell is SHIELD? A government agency?"
Fury's gaze remained steady. "More like a global task force for unusual threats. And you, my friend, have been one of those threats."
James blinked, his heart racing. "I'm just a—"
"—guy with powers," Fury interrupted, his tone firm. "You think I don't know about you? We've got footage."
James's heart dropped. "Footage? What footage?"
Fury took a step closer, his gaze unyielding. "The footage from your fight with Kain. Before the Carnival event, where he held you off the ground by the throat. Lightning struck you. The rest? Static. But we both know what happened next."
James was in shock, the weight of reality crashing down on him. He sighed heavily, taking a seat as the gravity of the situation sunk in. "What do you want from me?"
Fury took a step back, crossing his arms again. "You can't keep running from this. We're offering you a chance to be part of something bigger—an opportunity to make a difference."
The room felt heavy with Fury's words, but James shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't want to use my powers. Not again. It's over."
Fury's expression hardened. "You think you can just walk away from this? After what happened?"
James raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "What do you mean? Listen, I'm exhausted, and whatever you want from me, let's be clear—I'm not ready."
Fury stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "Yeah, you're not ready. And frankly, if it were up to me, you'd be sitting in a cell right now."
James's heart raced. "What?"
Fury's gaze didn't waver. "Your fight with Kain nearly leveled a neighborhood. Windows shattered, cars flipped, debris rained down. Read the reports. People almost died—not because of Kain, but because of you."
The weight of Fury's words hit James like a physical blow. Memories flashed through his mind—the mother dragging her child from collapsing debris, the couple narrowly avoiding a fallen streetlight. His reckless attacks had put innocent lives at risk. He clenched his fists, guilt twisting in his gut.
"I... I didn't mean for that to happen," James whispered, more to himself than to Fury.
Fury's gaze hardened. "Intentions don't mean a damn thing when lives are on the line." He let the silence settle before continuing. "But you stood up to Kain. Even after he defeated you once. You fought when you could have run. That's why I'm offering you this chance."
James frowned, uncertainty flooding his voice. "What do you mean?"
"We're assembling a team," Fury cut him off. "A team of people like you—individuals with abilities that extend beyond the norm. This is a response to threats we can't handle alone."
James shook his head, disbelief etched on his face. "I don't think I can do this. I barely know what I'm doing—"
Fury raised a hand, cutting him off. "Nobody's expecting perfection, Carter. But we need people who won't back down when the going gets tough. You can choose to stay off the radar, live your life, and hope this doesn't come back to haunt you. Or..." Fury's gaze sharpened, a promise of danger behind his words. "You can step up and be Shazam. Because mark my words—the next Kain won't be so easy to stop."
With that, Fury turned to leave, his presence still dominating the room.
"You've got my number. Think it over."
---
The memory faded, and James found himself back in his small apartment, the sounds of the city filtering through the windows. He sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair.
He wanted to believe he could just walk away from it all. But Fury's words stayed with him, nagging at the edges of his mind. The power he wielded was dangerous—not just to others, but to himself. And if he didn't learn how to control it, the next fight could be even worse.
James leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion pressing down on him. He didn't want to be a hero. He didn't ask for any of this. But deep down, he knew the choice Fury had given him wasn't a choice at all.
Sooner or later, the world was going to need him again. And the next time, he had to be ready.
The television droned on in the background as James drifted off into restless sleep, Jameson's voice still ringing in his ears.
"Shazam—just another menace in a fancy suit."
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