Billy Batson [One-Shots]

Mr. John Constantine, Sir.

John Constantine was having a really great day, and by great, he meant he spent it alone, drinking and smoking while regretting his life choices. 

So here he was, lying on the couch, fag loosely hanging from his lips, when a sudden shockwave of magical power washed over him. Only one being was this powerful. 

The old fart Shazam. But this power... it was not his... it was more potent, more youthful, full of life and energy. So the old fart finally picked himself a successor, huh? Mused John, as he kept smoking his death stick. 

Flashback

"Promise me, John. Once I pick my successor, that you will guide them, help them."

"... I promise."

"Buggering fuck!"

Timeskip

John finally finished drawing a summoning circle, which was an accomplishment, considering his current state of sobriety. This time though, it wasn't a demon he was summoning, it was the new Champion of Magic, Guardian of the Rock of Eternity. 

"Sdrigh hvdreigh sngrih uck ird shmey hrdvin ol vahla!"

John chanted in a guttural tongue, harsh syllables slipping past his lips with practiced ease. He watched as the light of six candles flickered, turning electric yellow for a moment before in a puff of smoke, a champion materialized. He was tall, dark-haired, his eyes an icy blue. He was dressed in a red onesie, with a white cape and yellow decorations. Huge lightning across his chest. It was obvious that the man wasn't the one to be trifled with. He could taste the ozone, the power of Zeus radiating from the boy. And when he looked at him, just for one second, he could swear that he saw six tall figures, looming behind the boy, looking as intimidating as they come, while their eyes, he could've sworn, held fondness as they gazed at the champion. They disappeared as fast as they came, so John wasn't sure if they were actually there, to begin with.

"Uhm... Hello?"

Spoke the champion, obviously confused with the predicament he found himself in.

"Hullo, mate. Sorry for summoning you like this, but you see, I promised the old fart I'll help you, so... Here I am."

John didn't look very enthusiastic if his bland facial expression was anything to go by. Nor did his enthusiastically-waving hands imply his happiness. 

Billy was bemused. He was minding his own business, flying around the city, when he suddenly felt a pull behind his navel. As if someone hooked him and was pulling him towards somewhere. He, in all his wisdom, decided not to fight it. The next thing he knows, he's standing in front of the man, dressed in a trench-coat, with blonde hair and a cigar hanging loosely from his mouth.