The Machine With a Human Heart, 2014
The laboratory lights buzzed faintly in the dead of night. Rows of monitors lined the walls, their green text spilling endless code across the glass. At the center of the room stood an alien box—ancient, inscrutable, humming with a quiet energy that no Earth technology had ever been able to fully decipher.
The Mother Box.
It had been stolen from Atlantis over a century ago by treasure hunters who had no idea what they carried.
Passed through shadowy hands, seized by governments, buried in classified files—it had ended up in the possession of the United States by the 1960s.
For decades, it had sat beneath the hands of scientists, probed and tested, but never understood.
And now, in 2009, it had become the obsession of one man—Doctor Silas Stone.
He even sacrificed his personal life and time with family to find out its truth. That increased the growing distance with his young son, Victor Stone.
His wife acted as the bridge between them, but soon, even that bridge would crumble.
***
Five years later, Victor Stone was twenty.
Star athlete. Football prodigy. Charismatic, strong, adored by teammates and fans alike. Yet beneath the cheers and the glory, his relationship with his father was fractured—two men who shared blood but little else.
2 years ago, Victor's mother passed away from a car accident. She was on her way to pick up Silas after he had forgotten it was the championship night for Victor. She never made it. That accident broke both father and son. And their distance increased.
But tonight, Silas had invited Victor to his work as he was nearing a breakthrough on decrypting the mother box. He wanted to share that moment with his son. Maybe try to mend things.
Victor had grown used to disappointment. His father was always late, always distracted, always chasing something that mattered more than him. Tonight would be no different.
But fate intervened.
That night, a catastrophic accident rocked S.T.A.R. Labs. A containment breach. Fire, shrapnel, chaos. And Victor Stone, caught in the heart of it. His body was torn apart, flesh broken beyond saving.
Silas found him barely clinging to life, his blood staining the sterile tiles. His son. His boy.
"No… no, no, no!" Silas wept, cradling Victor's body. "Please! Stay with me, Victor! Please—God, not like this! Not you too! I can save you. I will save you!"
In desperation, Silas turned to the Mother Box. His greatest failure became his last hope.
The night was heavy with frustration.
Doctor Stone leaned against the reinforced glass of the chamber, his hands pressed together as if in prayer.
He was a man hollowed by failure. failure as a scientist, failure as a father. The Mother Box mocked him with its silence, its alien metal surface refusing to yield.
He whispered into the void, voice breaking. "Please. If there is anyone listening: God, devil, fate, whatever you are—help me. I've given up everything. My career. My family. My son doesn't even look at me anymore. I just… I need something. Anything. Show me there's still a reason I keep fighting."
Unseen by Silas, a figure arrived in the corner of the chamber, invisible to the human eye. A tall man wreathed in a faint golden glow. His presence was calm, steady; the living embodiment of hope.
It was Edward.
He had been listening for some time. To the broken words of Silas Stone. To the countless prayers whispered by mankind into the dark.
This one, however, carried weight. Desperation. Love buried under guilt.
Edward sighed softly. "Always the same story. A father who has given too much, and too little." His voice carried warmth, though no one could hear it.
He lifted a hand, and light shimmered between his fingers. "Very well. Hope should not go unanswered tonight."
He extended his hand, and from within him surged the radiant power of Hope. It washed over the Mother Box like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
The ancient device stirred, its hum deepening, its glyphs flickering awake for the first time in centuries.
But Edward was cautious. He reached into its circuits, weaving his will through its alien heart. Carefully, he erased the tendrils of malicious code embedded within—the shadow of Darkseid, the spyglass of Apokolips that had plagued countless worlds.
The Mother Box was made clean.
Edward looked at Silas Stone, who had fallen to his knees, overwhelmed as the impossible unfolded before him. "This is all I can give," Edward whispered. "The rest… must be his choice."
And then, like a spectre, he was gone.
***
Victor opened his eyes to a world of static.
He gasped, staring at the reflection in the glass. Half his body was gone, replaced by gleaming alien metal. His chest pulsed with a faint blue glow. His left arm reshaped itself into a cannon before his very eyes. His face—half human, half machine.
He stumbled back, clutching his head. "No… no, what did you do to me?!"
Silas reached for him, voice trembling. "Victor, listen to me. You were dying. I had no choice. The Mother Box—"
"You turned me into a freak!" Victor roared, slamming his fist into the wall. The metal bent like paper. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this!"
Silas's eyes welled. "I couldn't lose you. Not again. I...I couldn't watch my son die. You're all I have left."
Victor's breathing slowed, his rage cracking into something deeper. He looked at his trembling hands, at the alien circuits running through his veins.
Yet… there was something else. A whisper in his mind. A warmth. A quiet presence, telling him he wasn't broken. That he wasn't alone.
Hope.
Victor blinked, tears burning his eyes. His volatile emotions stabilizing. The storm in his heart dulled—not gone, but soothed. Somewhere deep inside, Edward's gift lingered, steadying him.
He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a mistake.
He was alive.
***
In the weeks that followed, Victor didn't leave the lab. Not out of despair, but discovery. His body was no prison. It was a key.
With a single thought, he could connect to any system on Earth. Satellites bent to his will. Secure networks unfolded before him like open books. He could watch the world from a thousand eyes, hear whispers in governments, glimpse secrets meant never to be known.
Knowledge was his ocean now, and he sailed it endlessly.
Silas would watch from afar, torn between guilt and awe. His son, more brilliant than any scientist, more connected than any machine, more human than ever.
Victor didn't resent his new form. Not fully. But he didn't embrace it either. He lived in the liminal space between man and machine, a being caught between worlds.
And yet, in his solitude, he found peace.
He told himself, This is enough. I'll watch the world from here. I don't need the spotlight anymore.
But fate had other plans.
It came without warning.
Anomalies. Disturbances in the network. Whispers of something coming. Something ancient, vast, hungry.
For the first time since his rebirth, Victor felt fear. Not for himself, but for the world.
He remembered his father's desperation. His teammates' laughter. The roar of the crowd when he scored his final touchdown. The life he once had, and the life he now carried.
He looked at his reflection—half man, half machine.
And for the first time, he did not flinch.
"This world… needs me." His voice was steady, resolute.
The machine with a human heart would step into the light.
Victor Stone was no longer just a man. No longer just a machine.
He was Cyborg.
And his story had only just begun.
*****
The Child Who Would Be A Savior, 2014
The rain that night was merciless. Gotham's forgotten streets — cracked, unlit, and littered with the bones of old factories — seemed to echo the loneliness of a fourteen-year-old boy running as fast as his legs could carry him.
Billy Batson's sneakers splashed through puddles, his backpack thudding against his side, the laughter of older kids chasing behind him.
"Run, Batson! You think you're hot stuff, huh?" one of the bullies shouted.
Billy's lungs burned, but he didn't stop. He'd learned the hard way that people didn't show mercy. Not foster parents, not social workers, not street thugs. Nobody.
He ducked into a subway entrance, heart hammering. The flickering light above the platform painted his face in harsh shadows.
His reflection in the grimy glass showed a boy who looked tougher than he was: messy hair, eyes that pretended to be hard but couldn't hide their loneliness.
The train screeched into the station. Without thinking, Billy darted inside.
But this wasn't like any train he had ever taken.
The moment the doors slammed shut, the graffiti, trash, and rust dissolved. The carriage elongated, its dull steel transforming into polished brass and marble. Sigils burned faintly along the walls.
The seats shimmered into velvet. The train hurtled forward, though there was no track — only swirling tunnels of light.
Billy stumbled, gripping a pole. "What the hell? Okay, Billy, calm down. You're just… hallucinating. Yeah. Maybe those bullies hit you harder than you thought."
The train slowed and came to a stop before massive double doors carved from obsidian. They creaked open by themselves.
A chamber stretched beyond — ancient, cathedral-like, with towering statues lining either side. They were figures of gods and heroes, chipped and cracked, their eyes hollowed with time. At the far end, upon a dais, sat a man draped in white and gold robes, beard flowing, staff in hand. His face was weary, lined with centuries.
"Welcome, Billy Batson," the man intoned, voice rumbling like a mountain.
Billy froze. "…You know my name? Okay, creepy. Look, old man, if this is some kind of cult recruitment scam, you picked the wrong kid. I don't do robes or prefer getting molested."
The wizard's eyes narrowed, sparks of lightning dancing faintly in his pupils. He was annoyed but didn't show it.
He rose slowly, leaning on his staff. "I am the last of the Council of Wizards, guardians of magic and balance. For centuries we chose champions to defend mankind against darkness. But time has thinned our numbers. My brothers are gone. Their seats empty. I am all that remains."
Billy gave him a flat stare. "…Cool speech. Really. But you've got the wrong guy. I'm no hero. I can barely keep myself alive, let alone save the world."
The old man slammed his staff against the stone floor. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the chamber. "You misunderstand. The world needs more than strength. It needs one who carries courage even in despair. One who protects though abandoned. One who gives though he has nothing. That… is you, Billy Batson."
Billy's voice faltered. "…I'm just a screw-up. I'm none of those things."
The wizard's gaze softened. "And yet, you still get up when the world knocks you down. That is what makes you worthy."
Billy's chest tightened. For a moment, he saw flashes — his parents smiling in the car before the crash, the sirens, the flames, the loneliness that followed. Every rejection, every slammed door. And yet here he stood. Still alive. Still fighting.
"…So what? You're gonna give me a magic sword or something?"
The wizard shook his head. "More than that. The council's gifts remain. We choose a champion who is worthy to bestow upon divine might.
The wisdom of Solomon. The strength of Horus. The stamina of Atlas. The power of Zeus. The courage of Achiles. The speed of Mercury. And…" He paused, eyes gleaming. "A gift entrusted long ago by one who changed the world. The will of Edward to protect Humanity."
Billy blinked. His sarcasm slipped, replaced by stunned wonder. "…Wait… Edward? As in… the Edward? The guy who stopped the world war? The guy who everyone prays to even now when things go to shit? You're saying he was real?"
The wizard allowed himself the faintest smile. "He was as real as the stars above you. He left his mark upon the council. His courage, pure and unyielding, is yours if you accept."
Billy's mouth fell open. "…That's insane. That's… awesome." His grin cracked wide despite himself. "I get THE Edward's will?! Man, I would've preferred his power, but this is still sick!"
For the first time in centuries, the wizard chuckled. "Then speak my name, Billy Batson. Speak it with conviction, and the power shall be yours."
Billy crossed his arms. "Uh-huh. And what's your name? Gandalf? Merlin? Dumbledore?"
The wizard lifted his staff, lightning coursing through the chamber. His eyes twitching. "Speak: SHAZAME!"
Billy flinched at the boom but muttered, "Fine, fine, whatever. Atleast you added an E to avoid getting sued by them. " He spoke loudly. "SHAZAME!"
The instant the word left his lips, the chamber erupted with light. Bolts of golden lightning engulfed him, crackling through his bones, tearing away his frail body.
He screamed , but not in fear. It was exhilaration. Power poured into him like fire and thunder. He felt taller, stronger, unbreakable. His heart no longer carried just pain, but hope.
When the light faded, Billy stared at his reflection in the polished floor. Gone was the scrawny boy.
In his place stood a man in red and gold armor, a white hooded cloak fluttering behind him, lightning insignia blazing on his chest. His fists glowed faintly, humming with raw power.
He stumbled back, voice deeper, richer. "Holy—holy crap! I'm jacked! Look at me! I have abs! I've never had abs!"
The wizard leaned on his staff, his body flickering like smoke. His time was ending. "You are more than muscle, child. You are hope. You are balance. You are Shazame — born of gods, of heroes, and of Edward's legacy. Guard mankind well."
Billy looked up at him, excitement battling the weight of responsibility. "Wait, Shazame? That's… that's my identity now? That's my hero name?"
The wizard's form began to crumble into dust. "Not a name… a mantle. Wear it proudly." His last words echoed as his body dissolved into nothingness, his staff collapsing to ash.
Billy stood alone in the chamber, his chest heaving. The silence was deafening. Then slowly, he smiled. A real smile.
"Edward's will to protect Humanity… huh?" He clenched his fist, sparks dancing across his knuckles. "Guess that means I don't have to be alone anymore."
He walked through the door. The chamber faded. The train's rattle returned.
Billy blinked — he was back in his seat, but his reflection in the window was no longer a skinny, broken kid. It was Shazame
The train screeched to a halt. The doors opened. Billy stepped out into the night — not as a boy who had lost everything, but as a hero who had been given the world.
And for the first time since that crash, he whispered a prayer.
"Thanks, old man. I'll try not to screw this up. And Edward, I hope to meet you if you're still alive and kicking."
Lightning cracked in the sky above Gotham, heralding the birth of Shazame.
******
Avalon, 2014
Avalon was at peace.
The eternal island fortress shimmered under the golden sun, a place where time itself seemed reluctant to move.
On the sun deck of a villa overlooking the endless sea, Edward reclined lazily in a chair, sunglasses resting on his nose.
Beside him, Hera and Hippolyta stretched out in modern bikinis, enjoying the warmth. For two women who had seen countless centuries, they looked no different than goddesses sculpted fresh from marble—yet more real, more alive, more grounded than any statue could capture.
Hera sipped from a glass of chilled ice wine, her aura still regal even when dressed so casually.
Hippolyta, queen of Amazons, let her hair tumble freely, basking like a lioness at rest.
Edward smirked, the corner of his mouth tugging upward, as he thought, not for the first time, how absurdly lucky he was.
Death was not present. She was the most dutiful of his wives, but also the one most prone to bending her duties by sending avatars in her stead when she wanted to be here. She always made time for him and their son.
Edward didn't complain. Her sense of responsibility had saved more worlds than anyone could count.
Not far away, Alphonse and Cassie were busy, or rather, Alphonse was. The young man, his first son, crouched by a massive frame of metal, tightening screws and muttering to himself like a man possessed.
He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, grease smudged across his cheek, his eyes bright with manic glee. The thing he was building looked halfway between a giant knight and a futuristic robot.
Cassie, his sister, stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching with little enthusiasm.
Unlike Alphonse, she wasn't the tinkering type. She was her mother's daughter through and through: muscles, confidence, and impatience all wrapped in one fiery package.
She could build if she wanted to, but more often than not, she preferred smashing her way through problems.
"This is so boring, I wanna fight someone." she muttered, leaning against the wall.
Alphonse didn't even glance up. "You said that two hours ago. And one hour ago. And fifteen minutes ago. And I'm still ignoring you."
Cassie rolled her eyes. "Because you're a nerd who'd rather play with screws than do literally anything fun."
He grinned without looking. "Nerds build the world. Muscle-heads just break it."
She smacked him upside the head with the flat of her palm. "You say that like you don't beg me to test your toys every time you finish one."
"Correction," he said, tightening another bolt, "I trust you to test them because your definition of safety is nonexistent. If this thing survives you, it'll survive anything."
Sophrosyne, the youngest of the siblings, sat quietly nearby with a thick book in hand.
Unlike the other two, his energy was calm, his presence serene, but his eyes were sharp and far too knowing for his age. He was reading quietly, only occasionally flicking his gaze toward the bickering pair. Though outwardly composed, he secretly enjoyed these exchanges, it made Avalon feel alive.
Edward leaned forward from his chair and called over. "Soph, you're unusually quiet today. You okay, kiddo?"
Soph looked up, his face blank but his tone gentle. "I'm fine, Father. Just reading."
Edward tilted his head, studying him. "You always read too much like Destiny. You know your mother worries about you, right? You're her only son. She dotes too much because… well, you're the impossible made real. She never thought she could have you."
Soph's lips pressed together. "I know. I've accepted it. I love her for it. But sometimes…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Sometimes it feels like I'm suffocating under how much everyone wants to protect me."
Edward reached over, ruffling his son's hair despite the inevitable scowl. "That's what family does. We protect, we annoy, we smother, and we love. You'll get used to it."
From across the deck, Cassie yelled. "Get over here, Soph! Stop acting like an old man. Al and I actually finished the mecha. It's time to test it!"
Soph sighed, closing his book with resigned calm. "She's going to drag me either way," he murmured.
Sure enough, Cassie stomped over, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him up.
Alphonse stood proudly in front of the towering machine. "Behold! My masterpiece! A perfect blend of courage, ingenuity, and brilliance! Say hello to—"
Cassie cut him off, shouting, "Optimus Prime!"
Alphonse whipped around, affronted. "Not Optimus Prime! This is completely original! Totally different!"
Soph tilted his head. "It looks… exactly like Optimus Prime."
Alphonse clutched his chest in mock agony. "Et tu, Soph? Betrayed by my own little brother!"
From the sun deck, Hippolyta cracked one eye open, voice sharp. "Alphonse, we love you and all, but that looks worse than when your father tried to make a cleaning robot. Don't mess with it. You'll get hurt."
Edward grinned. "That cleaning robot was a masterpiece. It just… had a few issues."
"Darling," Hera said, glancing at him with concern, "that thing tried to wash the ceiling with acid. No child of mine is repeating that disaster."
Edward reached over, stroking her thigh. "Come on, honey. Kids will be kids. Let them have their fun. It's not like they can really hurt themselves."
Hera gasped, batting his hand away as it wandered higher. "Edward! The children are right here!"
Hippolyta smirked. "Funny to hear you complain. I still remember how you spent half your time trying to seduce him whenever he came within arm's reach."
"And you didn't?" Hera shot back. "Ambushing him under tables and showers every time you were in heat?"
Cassie clamped her hands over Soph's ears. "Guys! Can you not say this in front of me? Or him? He's still too young!"
Soph calmly pulled her hands away. "I can hear everything regardless, sis."
Cassie groaned. "I'm moving out."
Edward, dragged away moments later by his wives with suspiciously heated glares, shouted back over his shoulder. "Don't even think about that before you're a hundred, young lady!"
Alphonse's eyes lit up. "Wait! Dad and Mom's distracted! Perfect time to test the mecha!"
Cassie cracked her knuckles. "Finally."
Soph sighed but followed. "This will not end well."
A Few Hours Later
Edward wiped the sweat from his forhead as he sat up on the bed. Hera and Hippolyta clung to him on each side.
Despite being married for thousands of years, their passion never burned away. It got even stronger after the birth of their children. He smiled and carressed them gently.
Hera sighed in bliss." Nothing beats some afternoon lovemaking."
Hippolyta chuckled." Can't argue with that." She kissed Edward's neck. " Now we need to shower again. It's almost time for dinner."
Hera stretched and stood up in all her glory, unashamed as she stood in front of the mirror. "Honey, check on the kids as we freshen up. They have been rather quiet."
Edward got up with a sigh and fondled Hera's delightful ass and gave it a spank before walking away, making her shout from behind. "I'll take my revenge tonight for this! You can't just light a a fire and walk away my love."
Edward chuckled and walked towards the testing are for all experiments
Smoke rose like a beacon above the testing grounds.
Edward jogged over, his instincts flaring, but when he arrived, he had to bite back laughter.
The once-proud mecha now lay in ruins, only its legs and a few scraps of torso left intact. Alphonse and Cassie stood side by side, completely blackened with soot, their hair sticking out wildly. Soph was unscathed, leaning against a rock, book once again open, his face unreadable.
Edward raised an eyebrow. "So kids… what happened here?"
Soph, without looking up, replied coolly, "It started sparking when Al and Cassie tried to take off. Cassie thought throwing water at the flames would help. It didn't. It went Ka-boom."
"Hey!" Alphonse shouted. "Don't make it sound that bad!"
Cassie crossed her arms. "Yeah, don't snitch on us!"
Edward folded his arms, his "dad mode" expression kicking in. "Well, I see you were trying to recreate Terminator."
Alphonse spun, scandalized. "Terminator? Are you kidding me? It was a Transformer! A Transformer, Dad! That was intentional slander!"
Edward smirked. "Well, it terminated your lab privileges for a month, son."
Alphonse fell to his knees. "Nooooo! You're a monster!"
Edward grinned wickedly. "Hello, Monster Jr. I'm Monster Sr."
Cassie tried a different approach, blinking innocently and getting closer. "Come on, Dad. You wouldn't punish your adorable baby girl, would you?" She even squinted to squeeze out some tears.
Edward ruffled her hair. "Sorry, sweetheart. Diana already pulled that trick on me for centuries. I'm immune. Now go wash up before your mom finds out. She's in a good mood, don't ruin it."
Both kids groaned.
Edward scooped up Soph, placing him casually on his shoulder. Despite being over 50 years old, he still looked like a 7-8 year old kid. "Come on, buddy. Let's go make clouds into weird shapes till they freshen up."
Soph spoke in his usual monotone. "Are you going to ruin my shapes again with your terrible drawing skills?"
Edward gasped. "That was one time!"
Soph's eyes narrowed. The sky dimmed ever so slightly. "One time? when I was 10, I made clouds shaped like Mother, my uncles and aunts. I left to fetch her so she could see.
But you were jealous that I made better clouds. And when I came back, you'd turned them into those… obscene sexual things! Mother was horrified. She spanked me for the first time ever."
Edward winced. "Okay, maybe twice. But come on, kiddo. That was, what, thirty years ago? Time to let it gooo—"
Soph leapt off his shoulder, glaring like a cat. "I told you I hate that song."
Edward chuckled sheepishly. "Alright, alright. No Frozen jokes."
Soph despite being one of the most powerful beings in the universe, had some weird prejudice against some random things. One of them was Disney and the fairytale stuff. He hated the Frozen movie for some weird reason. Edward even joked he was a Warner Bros executive in disguise.
He reached out, taking his son's hand. "Alright, my bad kiddo. Come on. Dinner's soon. Let's go find some clouds anyway."
Soph snorted but followed without protest, his eyes slightly squinted in happiness. Edward chuckled at his tsundere son , who seems to have inherited it from his mother.
For all his immense power, for all the weight of divinity and legacy resting on his shoulders, Edward never felt more alive, more complete, than in these small, ordinary moments.
Walking hand in hand with his son, listening to the laughter (and groans) of his children, and knowing despite everything, they were together, safe, and happy.
It was a peace he would never take for granted.
*****
Aight, foundation has been set . Most of the other heroes would follow same origin as cannon. With that, let's move on to next arc.