A few days go by. It starts slow. Anxious kids tried to escape and got caught on the wire. Minerva left them there as a reminder.
Lester buys into this insanity more every day. Kids who steal are beaten in front of everyone. Kids often disappear.
A week of this and Lester has assumed his position of authority in a dark tone. He's showered with gifts and affirmations every time he brutalizes someone. Billy has never witnessed this, but he hears the whispers.
This particular afternoon a young boy named Martin found digging quite difficult with the shovel as large as he is.
"Hey, short stack! Pick it up, and get to it!" He smacks the kid, "What are ya waiting for, Christmas?"
Billy gets in his face only to get shoved back. Lester smacks Martin again and gets a shovel in return.
By the time Lester reaches his feet Martin is sprinting. Billy catches Lester's ankle mid chase and catches his shoe in the skull as a reward. Billy takes the shovel and chucks it at the running lunatic. He takes out the knee. A loud pop and he hits the ground. He doesn't stop his pursuit.
Billy chases. A soldier tries to stop him but Minerva grabs his gun, "I want to see how this plays out."
He runs as hard as he can and slams Lester to the ground.
"What the @#$% is your problem?"
"You -tacking kidsh," he pummels Lester until he catches a sharp elbow to the nose. Lester trades a few shots with him until he gets the upper hand. Billy is beaten for a minute, but he punches Lester's injured leg, soliciting a yelp and enough time to land a crotch shot.
The boys scrap on the ground for a few minutes until, "Enough!"
The guards pry them apart.
"We are going for a walk, and we can have a chat regarding loyalty, responsibility, and family," her men drag Billy and Martin into the snowy woods. Lester is handed a baseball bat and told to wait.
"What did poor old Lester do to deserve this betrayal? What did little Martin do to deserve this favoritism?"
"You know nothing abou- family. Family protecsh."
She slaps him, "I've tried and tried with you, William. You don't understand this family at all, so now there's a choice."
Martin is tied by his hands, and hung from a branch, "Billy, help! Help!! Don't let them-" he's gagged with a ball and a belt.
She presents a revolver, "There's one shot. Hope your aim is as honed as your attitude. You miss his head, you won't survive the week. We won't make it easy either."
He holds it in shock. This is insane. He's just a kid. Martin is too young. Billy is too young. Just shoot her. But… there's a firing squad here, ready to execute him at the slightest provocation.
He tosses the gun to Martin's feet.
"Lester. Go easy on the head. Keep him breathing."
He spends the next ten minutes tenderizing Billy's flesh, cracking his bones, and laughing as he does it. Eventually, he gets bored.
"Billy, was it worth it?"
He tries to spit blood but it hits his locked teeth. Minerva lifts Billy, angling his vision to Martin as Lester picks up the gun. Martin has been sobbing all this time and now Billy is.
"Pleash!!! Don't!" He shoves his works through nonconsensually gritted teeth, "You monshtersh…."
"What makes us monsters, my child? Our strength? Or the willingness to root out and terminate the weak? We are the chosen. We are the future, the past, we are God, and Death. You are a petulant child. That thing you call Martin, is a slimy worm. He couldn't just dig? You couldn't just let him take the punishment he earned? The brazenness of it. The gifts I've given. You spat in my face. I spit in his."
BANG!
His gaze aims below the Earth, focusing on some other place in some other galaxy or some other dimension. He has chosen to remain silent.
"Billy. Billlyyy? Look what you've done, my dear. Poor little Martin needn't perish as he has. He could've been beaten and sent to bed without supper. He could've lived to my age, but you just had to do the stupid thing."
He's dragged through the camp, in front of everyone. They're mortified by this bloody, swollen mess. He's tied to the flag pole and lifted to the top.
He spends the frozen night trying his utmost to say that magic word that can save him. Why does it have to be exact? He's condemned because his Z's sound like S's? This is unfair, ridiculous.
Where are you, Shazam?
As his eyes can no longer remain open, and his mind can no longer focus, his mouth takes over its pointless task, and his vision shifts into Mount Olympus.
"What are you doing?"
He stands at the base of the pole.
"I'm dying."
"So melodramatic. What's happening is awful, but there's a reason you're my champion."
"Yeah, you chose wrong."
"If I'd chosen incorrectly, you'd certainly believe otherwise."
"So what? Rip out the wires and shout your name is a singsong voice? Save the day from creepy wannabe Nazis and declare myself the hero of America? Scream out for the heroes of the world who either don't know about us or don't care about us?"
"The first one will do nicely."
"Oh, screw you! You're not even here…"
"When did I give you the impression I could affect your realm? I'm thousands of years old. I step foot outside the Rock of Eternity, my old age will likely catch up to me. I can see this. It breaks my heart. I've seen worse. You will not disappoint me."
