I found an abandoned warehouse in the industrial district to experiment. Couldn't exactly test reality-warping powers in public without Vought noticing.
The transformation was instinctive. I whispered "Mazahs," and black lightning crashed down from nowhere, enveloping my body. My street clothes shifted into a dark costume—midnight black with crimson accents, like an inverse of Shazam's classic look.
The power was intoxicating.
I punched a concrete support beam and it exploded into powder. I lifted a rusted car with one finger. I flew—actually flew—doing circles around the warehouse ceiling like gravity was a suggestion.
But the real test was the hypnosis.
I found a rat and locked eyes with it. I pushed with my will, feeling an invisible force lance out from my mind into the creature's primitive consciousness.
Its eyes glazed instantly.
"Come here," I commanded.
It scurried directly into my hand, completely docile.
"Climb on my shoulder."
It obeyed without hesitation.
I released it, and the rat blinked, confused, before running away.
"Holy shit," I breathed. "This is going to change everything."
In a world where Supes were monsters and corporations controlled everything, mind control wasn't just powerful—it was essential. I could make people tell me secrets, forget they'd seen me, even rewrite their loyalties.
And if I killed a Supe? Their powers would become mine.
The possibilities were endless. Terrifying. And absolutely necessary for survival.