DC: My Name Is Not Billy Batson

Dane waited patiently as Clark and Jor-El finished their conversation, sensing the weight of their discussion. Once they were done, he carefully approached his request.

"Do you want to learn about AI tech?" Jor-El inquired, his gaze assessing.

"Yes," Dane replied simply. With earnestness, Dane began to explain, delving into the intricacies of AI technology, particularly in relation to Zod.

He observed a shift in Jor-El's expression as he spoke, a subtle change that hinted at understanding or perhaps concern.

Realizing the significance of Dane's connection to Carl, Jor-El softened slightly.

"You're Carl's friend, and if he trusts you, then I am willing to extend my trust as well," he conceded.

Clark duly spoke: "I believe him."

Jor-El, momentarily taken aback, nodded in acknowledgment. With a gesture of acceptance, he granted Dane permission.

"How do you want to learn?" Jor-El queried, presenting Dane with options for knowledge acquisition. "The ship can instill knowledge directly through neural circuits.

However, given that it's a 20,000-year-old vessel, forming long-term memories might pose a challenge. Additionally, information can only be transmitted little by little."

"That's fine too," Dane replied with faith in "the wisdom of Solomon."

"Well, there's another independent intelligent AI on this ship, and she'll assist you in acquiring that knowledge," Jor-El revealed, referring to the digital AI brought from Carl's ship, an ancient research vessel with its own artificial intelligence.

Dane nodded in acknowledgment. "Welcome," a soothing female voice greeted Dane.

"The recursive procedure is diagnosed, and to proceed further permissions are required," she continued, reassuring Dane of the functionality of the systems. "Request for transfer of knowledge archives; do you accept it?"

Realizing the inquiry pertained to him, Dane affirmed, "Yes."

"The Kryptonian Archives contain knowledge spanning from technology to various worlds," she explained.

"Good," Dane acknowledged, ready to delve into the wealth of information awaiting him within the archives.

As Dane prepared to embark on his journey of learning, a thought occurred to him, prompting him to turn to Clark.

"Clark, are you going to learn with me?" he inquired, seeking companionship in his quest for knowledge.

"I Don't!" Clark's rejection was swift, his genius-level intellect notwithstanding.

Dane feels that Clark's talents were underutilized, reserved primarily for controlling his strength rather than delving into intellectual pursuits.

Dane, known for his serious demeanor and dedication to learning, accepted Clark's refusal. Though disappointed that his friend wouldn't be joining him in his exploration of AI technology, Dane nonetheless respected Clark's decision.

-------------------------------

"And what are you going to do next?" Dane inquired, curious about Clark's plans.

"Didn't you say you wanted to invite people to join our organization?" Clark reminded him.

"It's the Justice League!" Dane exclaimed.

"Isn't that a bit too deliberate?" Clark questioned.

"Your future name will be 'Superman,' and I feel that is more deliberate," Dane countered.

"Do I still have a name? What about you? What's your name?" Clark asked.

"Shazam," Dane replied.

"This name feels unremarkable," Clark remarked with interest. "Is there any other name you have thought of?".

"I have the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the endurance of Atlas, the divine power of Zeus, the courage of Achilles, and the speed of Mercury. The initials of these six gods spell out 'Shazam,'" Dane explained.

"That's kind of cool. You can explain it to the fans in the future," Clark suggested.

Dane rolled his eyes, knowing that the name Shazam had a history, including its former name, "Captain Marvel," which had been involved in copyright issues.

As the conversation shifted, Dane remembered a task he had mentioned earlier.

"If you're really idle and have nothing to do, you can go to Gotham and find a way to get in touch with Batman," he suggested to Clark.

"Didn't you say he was suspicious?" Clark recalled.

"Yes, but you should be fine," Dane reassured him.

"Didn't you say he was difficult?" Clark pressed further.

"Yes, but you should be fine," Dane reiterated.

Clark looked puzzled, but Dane knew that, despite their differences, Superman and Batman were often good friends in the DCverse.

Batman had a way of accepting sincere superheroes, even though he seemed cold on the surface.

With Zod's arrival still pending and no collapse of the Wayne Building, Dane felt it was an appropriate time for Clark to reach out to Batman.

However, he couldn't help but wonder if Clark's simple nature would fare well in the complexity of Gotham.

"Okay, then, I'll just go for it. What about the rest?" Clark asked, ready to embark on his next mission.

Dane paused, considering their next steps carefully. "Wonder Woman and General Swanwick can wait for now," he decided. "I'll find an opportunity to invite them when the time comes."

He recalled that Wonder Woman, who is currently engaged in her duties at the Louvre Museum, is within their immediate reach.

The Martian Manhunter has now infiltrated the military hierarchy and cannot get in touch without presumption.

The other potential heroes remained too young or inexperienced to extend invitations to at the moment.

Dane had briefly entertained the idea of reaching out to Justice Society members like Hawkman Carter Hall and Doctor Destiny Kent Nelson.

However, recent events involving them, particularly their involvement in the "Black Adam" conflict, gave him pause.

However, as Dane pondered the potential addition of Hawkman and Doctor Fate to their ranks, he couldn't shake his reservations, particularly stemming from their performances in the "Black Adam" conflict.

It wasn't their strength that gave him pause, but rather their actions and demeanor.

Hawkman may not appear physically formidable, but his durability, combat IQ, and leadership charisma are undeniable, Dane mused.

However, his glaring double standards and rigid adherence to outdated principles are concerning.

In the movie, for the sake of so-called procedural justice, he strictly forbade Black Adam to kill people, but the International Gang committed countless blood debts in Kandak before, and he didn't do anything.

Reflecting on the events depicted in the movie, Dane couldn't help but label Hawkman as "pedantic" and "conformist." The Justice Society's failure to address the International Gang's atrocities in Kandak, despite their strict stance on procedural justice, left a bitter taste in Dane's mouth.

It was no wonder Adriana, who had released Black Adam, found it easier to trust the enigmatic anti-hero than the supposedly noble Justice Society.

And Doctor Fate, he, shifting his focus to the enigmatic sorcerer. Despite the potential power he possesses, the movie portrayal didn't quite capture the essence of his godlike abilities.

Dane found it difficult to reconcile Doctor Fate's transformation with the imposing figure of Naboo, a deity whose fiery rhetoric reminded him all too much of Amanda Waller's manipulative tendencies.

"Both of them feel unworthy of their titles," Dane concluded, his assessment colored by his comic book knowledge. "But perhaps in this universe, their strength aligns with the standards set forth."

After Dane and Clark concluded their talk, they parted ways temporarily. Dane ventured into the archives, eager to learn knowledge.

...

Dressed in the guise of a simple farm boy, Clark strolled through the dimly lit streets of Gotham City. Night had fallen, and hunger gnawed at his belly as he sought out a place to dine.

His path led him to a quaint diner named "Pauli's," its warm lights inviting him inside.

"Hello, what do you want?" greeted a blonde waitress as Clark approached.

"Waffles, bacon, and something for drink, please," Clark replied with a gentle smile, his demeanor immediately putting the waitress at ease. She returned the smile before hurrying off to fulfill his order.

Engrossed in his thoughts, Clark was startled by a voice nearby. "It's terrible weather, isn't it?" said a middle-aged man in a police uniform, catching Clark's attention. "My name is Owens. I'm a local police officer," the man introduced himself. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Clark chuckled softly, glancing down at his attire.

Officer Owens smiled in response, not pressing the matter further. He sensed that the young man before him was sincere and harmless—a stark contrast to the usual denizens of Gotham.

"I'm Clark," he offered, deciding to be forthcoming. "I've just arrived in Gotham City, looking for someone."

Owens nodded understandingly, maintaining his professional demeanor without delving into unnecessary inquiries.

Just then, another figure approached—a young man appearing even younger than Clark, perhaps not yet twenty years old. He wore a worried expression, catching Officer Owens' attention.

"Hey, Jason, how did you get out?" Owens remarked with a hint of amusement. "I remember there was a curfew at your house."

Jason's smile faltered as he responded, "I had something to take care of."

Owens smiled with an understanding expression, recalling his own rebellious youth when he hadn't been home at Jason's age.

Clark notice the young man's physical strength, despite his apparent youth. It was evident that Jason possessed a strong physique, likely surpassing that of average men.

Clark's curiosity piqued as he wondered about Jason's origins. Meanwhile, Jason appeared restless, constantly checking his watch as if waiting anxiously for someone.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and Jason's expression darkened as he glanced at the screen. Clark's curiosity deepened as he observed the young man's reaction.

"I've arrived; where are you?" Jason answered the call in a hushed tone, his voice strained with tension.

Clark Listening intently, tuning in to the conversation across the phone line.

"Ah, my dear Jason, today I broke one of your mother's fingers again," the voice gloated sadistically. "She cried so loudly that I couldn't help but kill her."

"Stop it, you demon!" he cried out, his lips quivering.

"Come over here, Jason," the voice continued, tauntingly.

"Oh yes, I forgot; I just moved to an old warehouse near Arkham."

"You should know where, right? Do you want to use the little bat's computer to check it out?" the voice mocked.

As the voice spoke, another agonizing scream pierced through the phone, confirming Jason's worst fears—that it was indeed his mother's voice.

"Enough, enough! I know," Jason pleaded desperately, his voice trembling with anguish. "I'll be there alone; please don't torture her anymore."

Clark's fists clenched in frustration. Every fiber of his being urged him to fly over and rescue the hostages immediately.

But he forced himself to stay composed, knowing that without the location of the warehouse, his actions would be futile.

With resolve, Clark made up his mind—he would follow Jason, track down the warehouse, and launch a rescue mission to free jason mother from their tormentors.