OriShazam!

OriShazam!

By: SF_THRAWN

(This takes place right after Justice Pleats)

Explanation.

By- Damian Murke


I could tell you about all the times I have made a mistake in the past, or how many times I have cheated on a test and not get caught, but that wasn’t your question. You wanted an explanation. Fine! Here we go… 

Thoom

By- Damian Murke

I was sitting in the back of the family minivan, driving away from the airport. We had just gotten back from going to Washington DC. James was on his phone and Amy was scratching old paint chips off her shorts while Lacy berated her with questions, Mr. and Mrs. Meets were listening to the two talk while they would shoot me glances here and again. I understood why they were doing that, I had run away from all the other foster homes I was in. I had been at this one for a year and it felt like each day was slowly getting worse, it always did around christmas. I looked down at my Frosted Flakes shirt and tried to make the world smaller. It usually helped.

We pulled into the driveway and got our suitcases out. I looked up at the foster home, it looked like a mix of a haunted house and a 50’s picket fence home. The green vines snaked up the walls, leading the water from the leaky gutter to the grass. It had a strange feel to the place but so did everything else in my life. I walked in and went up into James and I’s room, James hopped onto his bed and let out a stressed sigh.

“I feel that.” I told him.

“I saw you in the car,” He told me, “What’s on your mind?”

“The usual.”

He nodded like he understood. He walked out and met Amy in the hall.

“How is he?” She asked James.

“You of all people should know.” He scolded her under his breath, “Anniversary effect.”

I pulled out a book and buried my face in the pages.

Brak-crowsk

By- Damian Murke

It might have been winter but it wasn’t break just yet. The smell of soggy french fries crawled around the school.

“Another great day.” James said.

“No it’s not!” Lacy called out. “It’s sog-fry day!”

“Oh, he knows.” Amy responded.

Donner was starting to recover from a flu season that was on the rise for a while but it had quickly faded away, we pinned it on the sog-fry’s, our backwater savior. We split up into two groups, James escorted Lacy off to her elementary school and I went off with Amy. We chatted for a while until I bumped into a kid in a wheelchair who dropped his binder on the ground, pictures of bugs slid out and the hall erupted in laughter.

“Silence, infidels!” He screamed out.

The hallway hushed against their will. We knew this because most people looked around, shocked.

“It’s working.” He mumbled.

Me and Amy kneeled down and helped pick up the photos, sliding back into the binder. I caught a glimpse at what looked like that rich kid who goes to Kane, what was his name? Aiden? Or was it Andrew? Anyways, I just ignored it and walked off to my next class.

You’re in a Bind now.

By- Otto Beck

[Collected by an anonymous source]

Name: Alan Wade.

Occupation: Vigilantism.

Alias: Batfold.

Status: Broken and alone.

I was contemplating how to get my sog-frys into his home so that he would be under my total control when some runt bumped into me. Photos of my hobby, entomology, slid out and the hallway must have thought that was pretty funny because they had a good laugh at that. He and his female runt friend did help clean up, so I am thankful to them for that. Although, I think he might have seen my plan. I will need to keep an eye on him.

Otto out.

Krishk.

By- Damian Murke.

I was in between classes heading down the hallway. It was going pretty well, all of the classes I went to were doing christmas activities to keep us at bay before finals week, so it was just breezy. I got a little mad at my art teacher when she told us to draw our family. 

“This is just a selfie.” she scolded.

I was about to go to lunch when one of the fights that the football people had started had made its way over to me. I, somehow, was tossed into the janitors closet. The janitor jumped out of his chair, dropping his fork.

“Ehh? Kid, did you get lost?” He said, helping me up.

“No. Just jocks.” I said sticking my thumb out the door frame.

“Mhm. What’s your name, kid?” He asked me.

“Damian Murke.” I told him.

“Murke… You’re Melissa’s kid, aren’t you!”

“You knew my mom?!”

“Why, yes.” He grinned. “She told me to look after you.”

“What do you mean?”

He started to fiddle with a post-it note.

“It’s not time.” He muttered.

I just walked out and headed off to lunch.

Observations.

By- Otto Beck.

[Collected by an anonymous source]

Place: Lunch.

Occurrence: Fight (intervened.)

It started when Damian walked in. The jocks from before must have been mad at him for interrupting their fight because they were doing their patented ‘strong man’ walk. Damian quickly got wind of their idiocracy, perhaps he isn’t as dull as I had thought. He quickly turned around and raised his fists, scaring off most of the dull fools. Although one bold moron stayed behind.

“Ohho! He’s going dow-” a runt next to Damian exclaimed. He was silenced when a fist made heavy contact with his throat. 

“Hmrph.” A jock grunted.

“Wow,” Damian mock-wiped a tear away. “So touching. Have you ever thought about writing poetry?”

He was about to silence Damian when his fake brother, James, stepped in. Getting completely konked in the process.

“Serves him right.” He grunted.

Damian looked down at the unconscious body of his pal. I don’t know what went through his mind but the conclusion wasn’t pretty. He grabbed a carton of milk and slammed it over the jocks head, the spoiled milk slopped down his shoulders. He must have been in shock and Damian must have done this before because the fight was pretty one-sided. It ended with the jocks body lodged 2/3rds of the way into a fridge and Damian being pulled away by the janitor. The connection between the two remains to be seen but it will be found.

Otto out.

S!H!A!Z!A!M!

By- Houston [REDACTED]

“What is it!?” Damian yelled at me. “WHAT!”

“You- I-” I pushed out.

“You- I-” He mocked me.

“Kid. Don’t press me.”

“What are you going to do?!” He yelled, “Make me paint the walls?”

“I may as well.” I said, sharply. “But your mom would want more from you.”

“You don’t even know my mom, do you?!”

That was it. He took one step too far.

“Why did you protect that kid out there? Was it because he meant something to you? Or was it because-” I stopped myself, “I did know your mom. She was the strongest, most stubborn young woman I had ever met. We both served.”

“In a war?” Damian asked.

“Ha, no.” I rubbed the post-it note again. “We were a part of a team. Something happened and everyone split. She would want you to know about this.”

I tossed him the post-it note.

[The wisdom of Star-girl.

The strength of Hawkfold.

The stamina of the flAsh.

The power of Z.
The courage of doctor plAte.

The speed of hourMan.]

“Whats Z?” Damian asked.

“Your mother believed that the user should know.”

“The user of what?”

“What do the names spell out.”

He pieced it together.

“S.H.A.Z.A.M? Wait, I can’t be a hero! I just seriously beat up a dude.” He told me.

“And you just missed class. You’re doing great.” I corrected him.

Sudden.

By- Otto Beck.

[Collected by an anonymous source]

I have come upon a realisation. I think that Mr. Houston and Damian are related somehow. I also can’t wait any longer to attack Alan. I shall take out two birds with one stone.

Otto out.

SCrA-POW.

By- Damian Murke.

It was friday, the last day of school before winter break. I unlocked my locker and a pink slip from the principal fell out. It was not actually from him but there was something on it. In Mr. Houston’s handwriting read “We need to speak.” I was walking over to him when I saw him run to me.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, hushed.

“You ok?” I asked.

“Your dog isn’t lost?”

“I don’t know or own any dogs…”

I was about to walk off when I got a glimpse at his note. The handwriting was an exact copy of mine, everything was the same except for the fact that I don’t cross my t’s. He saw mine and looked a little shocked as well.

“Who?” We said at the same time.

Birds of a feather will die together.

By- Otto Beck

[Collected by an anonymous source]

I have come to a conclusion. This world has too many heroes. The playing field needs to be leveled. What I am planning might result in my downfall but all the pieces are in place. The end is nigh’, Alan. I will finally be at ease.

Otto out.

Shazzzz…

By- Damian Murke

The bell rang out across school, the day was over. We all swarmed out of the building. I was about to run out when I felt a hand latch on to me, it was the kid who I helped, I think his name is Otto?

“Whats up?” I said, nonchalantly.

He pulled me in really close and whispered into my ear. “Don’t try it.”

He then stuffed a crumpled paper ball into my coat and rolled off.

“Have a great break.” He called over his shoulder.

I pulled out the crumpled ball and looked down at a makeshift map of town. There were red X’s over the three high schools and a massive red circle around a house that was in the rich part of town, an hours walk away from my home, that also had a red circle around it.

James and Amy appeared over my shoulder with Lacy at my waist, they looked down at the map.

“You good, man?” James asked.

“No. I need to go see someone.” I said as I ran to the janitors closet.

[SOME RUNNING LATER.]

I opened the door to see Mr. Houston looking over the blueprints of the boiler.

“Hey, man!” He said as he saw me.

I looked at him, trying to put on my best concerned face.

“I understand.” He looked at James, Amy and Lacy. “Do they know about Shaz?”

“I would like to keep them out of it.”

“What?!” they said in unison.

“Why?” Lacy asked.

I looked at her and got on my knees.

“A bad person is trying to hurt us, and he told me that only I can stop him.”

She started to cry. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

I wiped away her tears.

“Hurry it up. We don’t know how much time we have.” Mr. Houston said.

“Lacy, I need you to look after James and Amy.”

She nodded.

I turned to Mr. Houston.

“Let’s do this.”

SHAZAM!

By- Damian Murke

I stood outside of the house. Mr. Houston was somewhere behind me in his car. I looked up at the house, it was massive. Whoever lived here must be super important.

Finally, Otto showed up.

“You made it!” He said cheerfully.

“Why this place?” I asked, sternly.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t let you up the steps.”

He looked at his wheelchair.

“Gotta’ do everything myself.” He pulled out his binder and flipped to the back, where a very sad and malformed pool noodle was stuck inside one of the rings.

“I really don’t want to stoop to your level.” He said, yanking it out and unfolding some paper bits on it. Making it look like a really sick caterpillar. “You know who this is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s Mr. Mind.”

“You’re sharp, but I go by Mr. Bind!” He said in a semi-robotic voice, shaking the pool noodle.

I pulled out OriShazam.

“Let’s get this over with.” OriShazam said.

“Agreed.” Mr. Bind said as Otto gripped the handles of his wheelchair. His arms wobbled as he painfully pushed his foot forward.

“Stop!” I yelled at him, a light flicked on in the house.

He put his second foot on the ground and pushed himself up. His breathing got raggedy and then he collapsed.

“How?” I asked.

“Polio. A nasty thing. It ravaged through my body, I was perfect. After long months of battle I finally saw the end. Only my mind was left and with it I plotted against the runt who gave it to me.” He stuck a finger at the house. “He will fall.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had some soup from one of those fast food joints, and now I’m sick. There’s a correlation there, I just know it.” 

“Correlation doesn’t mean causation…” I said, remembering my stats classes. I took a step forward to be met by Otto doing the same thing. We broke into a sprint and collided, Otto strained against the force of the crash but held his ground.

“Nice try.” He said as he swiped at my face.

I tightened my grip when he spit in my face. I clasped onto his arms and twisted. He hastily sucked in air, his face went slack and he fell. I ran into his wheelchair and got stuck.

“Lucky you. Smelling the farts of a genius.” He said as he got up and walked to the door.

I looked at the house to see a shadowy figure move about, opening up the drapes and closing them.

“I can’t wait to see your home.” Otto chuckled.

I was out of time. I needed to do something, anything. I took a deep breath in.

“SHAZAM!” We yelled out. Mr. Houston pulled me out of the chair, old man Shazam on his finger along with James, Amy and Lacy surrounding us.

The door flung open to Otto’s shock.

“Is that?” James asked in a hushed tone.

“I think so.” Mr. Houston responded.

“What are you doing on my porch?” Alan Wade asked.

“I- Uh- Sog-fry?” Otto asked as he held up a bag full of disgusting potato wedges.

“No,” He said as he batted the bag away, “Now get off.”

Otto stumbled down the steps.

“And you. The one with the origami.” Alan said as he pointed to me. “I want an explanation. Monday.”

Alan’s comment: That’s a little wild. You might want to get the soggy fries away from any form of society.

Houston’s comment: On it.

Damian’s comment: So, what was Z?

Houston’s 2nd comment: Well (It should probably change) it’s Zen. you must have complete and total zen in order to truly be a hero.

Damian’s 2nd comment: Thank you, Mr. Miyagi.

Houston’s 3rd comment: You’re welcome, Daniel-san.

Epilogue. 

By- Houston [Redacted]

After I had gotten rid of the Sog-frys (I’m positive that the dumpster ignited once I left) I walked inside and looked at the picture of my old team. All of us standing there looking especially happy, having no care as to what was going to happen. I pulled out the old wizard Shazam and looked at its cracked face. Damian’s training isn’t completely finished but I do trust him to protect those who need it.

Damian’s comment: Wait. Who collected Otto’s chapters? 

Alan’s comment: The Batfold did. I have nothing better to do.

OriShazam! will return!

  1. What a fun tale! Definitely entertaining, you clearly wrote this a while back and I can already see that you’ve grown since then. Nice work, Thrawn!

  2. way better than mine, which you can find on the folders of tomorrow comment section

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