3 Chapter 3: Solomon.

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(General P.O.V)

As Spiderman was swinging through the streets of New York, he noticed an elderly man struggling to cross the street.

Without a second thought, he landed on the pavement next to him.

"Hello there sir. Let me help you with those." Spiderman said, extending his hands at the old man's bag of groceries.

"Oh, thank you, Spiderboy," the old man replied, his voice frail and shaky.

Spiderman couldn't help but chuckle at the mistake. "It's Spiderman, sir. Not Spiderboy."

The old man looked confused. "What's the difference? You're still a spider, aren't you?"

A passerby on the street, a middle aged black man, overheard the exchange and burst out laughing.

"Spiderboy? That's hilarious!" he shouted.

Spiderman turned to face the man, a playful smirk on his face underneath the mask.

"Hey, watch it! I'm still a superhero, you know."

The man laughed even harder along with a few more passersby watching. "Yeah, sure thing, Spiderboy. Whatever you say."

Spiderman couldn't help but chuckle along with him. He knew it was all in good humor.

"Okay, okay, you win. Just take it easy on your friendly neighborhood spiderman. I'm getting my butt kicked for this city."

The man nodded, still chuckling. "Fair enough. Thanks for the laugh, Spiderboy."

The man waved as he walked away.

Spiderman shook his head, still smiling. New York.

"It's Spiderman, sir. Spiderman."

He added with a sigh.

The old man just smiled and patted him on the arm. "Bah, don't let them get to ya. Especially that stick up J.J Jameson. Keep doing what you do, saving people. You're a good kid, Spiderboy."

Spiderman rolled his eyes, but couldn't help feeling a warm sense of satisfaction.

Helping people was what he did best, even if they didn't always get his name right.

He couldn't really blame them, people were only just starting to hear of him. And the daily bugle didn't help matters by tarnishing his reputation.

"With great power comes great responsibility."

Spiderman muttered to himself while swinging away.

"I hope I make you proud, Uncle Ben."

He looked at the sky. How long had it been since Ben Parker, his uncle had passed?

It must have been...

Thwwoop!!

Bam!!

A loud sound made its way to Spiderman's ears. The young hero stretched out his wrist, shooting his web and immediately swinging towards the source.

Maybe he could pull of one last save before making it home. He hoped his Aunt wouldn't be mad at his lateness.

He was supposed to get Pizza but a situation with a few goons trying to rob a jewelry shop had occupied him for a bit.

The red and blue themed hero made it to the location quickly, landing from a height of 60 feet onto the ground easily. His superhuman durability could handle even more.

The second Spiderman arrived, he knew something very very bad had happened here. The alley was destroyed.

There was dust everywhere along with cracks on the wall of the buildings. The fire escape had collapsed and on a crater in the middle of the cracked ground, lay someone.

A boy, his age, bleeding heavily from multiple wounds on his body.

Peter jumped in with concern, using knowledge of the first aid classes Uncle Ben had insisted he take, to keep him alive.

After making sure the wound on the belly wasn't bleeding anymore by webbing it up, Peter created a plaster like foam by spraying a thicker variant of his webbing around the boy's hand, then finally run a diagnosis check for any more wounds.

He was off the next second, not having sensed the three passed out women who had been blasted across the alley.

A second after he was gone, a portal appeared behind the groaning vampires, now just waking up after getting mind stunned.

"What w..."

Red hot chains shot out immediately and grabbed them. Before they could do anything else, they disappeared into the rift.

The hospital was a bit far but Spiderman could get there in 2 minutes tops if he hurried up.

"Don't worry, we're almost there."

He told the boy, cradling him with one arm while careful not to jostle him.

Sometimes he landed on the rooftop when he couldn't swing a distance without jerking him around.

That's when he saw it. Or rather them. Yellow glowing portals sparking at the edges and floating in the air above the rooftop he was on.

His spider sense wasn't warning him so he didn't slow down until he realized he was almost surrounded by them.

"What's happening?"

His next swing saw him land on a water tank.

On the same roof as the water tank, another portal manifested. Out stepped a yellow robbed figure. Peter could almost clearly see them under the city lights.

"Hand over the boy."

The figure said, stretching out an arm. Peter crouched.

"Please, he's going to die if I don't get him to the hospital."

The figure backed a little.

"Oh."

Peter prepared to leave when he found himself restrained by golden chains coming out of the portals around him.

He...he hadn't felt it! His spider sense had never failed.

The injured boy fell through a portal under him and Spiderman could do nothing but watch.

"Hey! Hey! Stop!"

He cried out as the woman entered the portal she had come out of earlier, waving a single hand.

"Don't worry, Peter. He will be better off with me."

And then she was gone. Leaving Spiderman alone.

"She...she knows my name."

He muttered with growing horror.

(Billy's P.O.V)

There was no indication of how I got here. One minute I was just chilling (getting my ass kicked, but the details don't matter) then the next I'm standing beside a tall handsome man.

He was draped in silk blue and yellow robes, with countless gold adornments and precious gems covering his body. His sharp red eyes and long white beard were only superceded in intensity by the golden crown on his head.

It was both outstanding yet not. It was so...like him. The Hebrew King, Solomon, son of David.

"Welcome to my bountiful gardens, boy."

The same voice I'd heard at the back of my mind was the same that left his mouth.

"Gaze into the beauty of my wives."

I followed the motion of his palm with my eyes and a gasp escaped me.

The gardens he spoke of was a long stretch of greenery covered by trees and different shades of flowers in full bloom.

Butterflies fluttered in the skies above the orchards and the pools. Pools in which beautiful women of all color, shape and size, swam or simply basked.

They all possessed one undeniable factor, they were unbelievably gorgeous.

"My father built much in his time, but his glory was on the battlefield. I built on the legacy not the expectations."

Solomon stated, a goblet of wine in his hands.

I looked down at my body. My wounds, they were gone.

"This is a mental projection."

I realized.

"Quite astute. But it's more than a mental projection. To the psyche, what's realer than what you can feel? It's you. Your identity, boy."

Solomon responded.

It's me, huh?

"No. Not boy."

I closed my eyes and imagined me, my real self. It was a set back to what I had promised myself. That I would become Billy Batson. But just for now...

I almost shed a few tears at the rough callouses that appeared on my palms.

These were my hands, my real hands. I opened and closed the fingers repeatedly, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

"Wow, now that I'm like this, I notice I used to ache alot in various places."

"Flesh is weak. You eventually get old."

He replied, looking out into the garden with a long gaze.

I couldn't help but read more into it but the next second he spoke up again.

"Listen boy, I brought you here for one reason. A question."

I blinked my eyes. Oh, guess we were switching over to the serious stuff. I adjusted my glasses and turned to face him fully.

His red eyes were intense.

"What question?"

I asked, wondering what the wisest king in history was curious to know. Maybe it was a question that would give him a profound understanding of me based on my answer?

Solomon stroked his beard as the goblet in his hands sprouted metal wings off it's body and flew away to a tray on the frame of the balcony we stood on.

"Can you do this?"

He finally asked, his voice gentler than I was expecting. I immediately knew what he meant.

"Or rather the question I want to ask you is, do you want to do this? Become our Champion?"

He was concerned. I realized.

The switch in attitude almost threw me off.

I thought about it, sinking into my memories, replaying my life and what I had going for me. I was happy, just being in the background.

Not too involved with anyone except my grandma and a few work friends. A true introvert.

But again, I had been happy right? No true expectations heaped on my shoulders. No bothersome responsibilities. Just me in my little bubble of existence, coasting along and content with my situation.

"I have to choose to want this."

I surmised, looking up at him.

My mouth opened and closed as I turned around to face the garden. Indecision warred within me.

"I thought I didn't have a choice."

"Not always. But in this case, you do."

Solomon told me softly, sighing in a nostalgic way.

"I was born into kingly duties. I had no choice in the matter. You have that luxury. I wonder...if I were not to lead, would there have been one less great king or one more bad sculptor in the world? Sometimes having no choice...ain't too bad."

I looked back at him.

"That almost failed to make sense."

He laughed.

"The wisest king in the history of humanity, failing to make sense."

He patted my shoulder.

"So what do you say? I for one, think you would make a suitable champion. You were able to tap into my gifts quite easily. And if you do decide to move on with this path, more gifts and splendor await you."

He followed up, grabbing my attention.

"Oh really? Like what?"

I asked, curious about what other powers he had.

"Clairvoyance, Mastery of all spoken languages and of course, magic."

He added with a flourish, his hands spreading wide and from the air around him, beautifully colored flames took to the skies.

The flames changed into birds that flapped their wings, above and around Solomon's wives. Their joyful laughter was a single wave of continuous melodic harmony.

"Magic..."

I echoed his words.

A single laugh escaped my mouth.

"Maybe, just maybe, I'm due for a change in my life."

My eyesight dipped lower, the glasses disappearing as my height shortened.

Vijay was gone.

In his place was Billy Batson.

I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

"Wise choice."

Said the wisest king.