Journey Into Mystery (Collected)

#1 - Ordinary World

He reached down to throw another log onto the fire. Crackling pops echoed through the thick canopy of trees above him. So thick that the crescent moon barely peeked through. The conservative fire provided the only source off light.

The night air was chill but not cold, making sitting too close to the fire uncomfortable. He pushed himself back another foot or two and loosened the cloak around his shoulders. The fire was not for warmth, rather, it was to make his presence known.

The others were late. It was to be expected. It was by choice. A choice he would have gleefully made himself ages past. Things were different now. So different. The world wasn’t one he recognized anymore. It’s why he was here this night. On time. Waiting.

He lost track of the time as he gazed into the fire. There was always something so pure, so primal, about fire. Even for one such as him.

After an unknown length of time, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Lifting his gaze from the fire revealed the green eyes reflecting the firelight in the shadows beyond the clearing.

“Did you truly find it necessary to sneak up on our meeting?” he asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Necessary?” a voice asked from the shadows. The voice was high in pitch, yet still strangely deep. It rumbled softly. “Of course not. But I must keep in practice. I get so little nowadays.”

“Don’t we all,” he replied, idly tossing a twig into the fire.

The other finally moved into the light, every footfall silent, and sat down opposite the fire. His colleague was much thinner than he remembered.

“Have you been waiting long?”

He scoffed at the question, choosing to otherwise ignore the obvious bait. Trading barbs was what they always did. It was expected. He wasn’t interested. He was here for a reason.

“So grumpy tonight,” the voice practically purred. “Well forget it. Let’s just sit in awkward silence while we wait. After all, we are here on business. Business of the highest order! We must take this seriously, for certain. We shan’t have any funny business, no sir. None.”

He struggled to keep the smile from his face at his colleague’s outburst. He simply went back to gazing into the fire. It didn’t take long for the silence to break.

“Why is he always so late?” his colleague asked. “He’s the fastest of us. He has no excuse!”

As if waiting for his cue, a gust of wind blew through the area, causing the fire to flicker and dance. Brush from the ground flew by before settling at the feet of the last of them.

“I’m so sorry, my friends,” the last of them said, lowering himself to the ground after wiping the space as clean as possible. “Where does the time go?”

He didn’t look quite right either. His customary glow was dimmer. His skin sickly pale, instead of the ivory beauty it once was.

“A fair question,” he replied looking to each of his colleagues. “Where has it all gone? Everything we once were has been taken from us. We are all shadows of our former selves.” They nodded their agreement.

“And so you propose a solution?” the last of them asked. “Does your father know of your plan?”

“Does your father know you are here?” he asked in response. A slight shake of the head confirmed the truth. “Of course not. We are told to accept our fates. We are told to let the world move on as it will. I cannot. I will not. Will you?”

“None of us are happy. At least I know I’m not. I’m pretty sure you’re not, either. Not to put words in your mouth, but clearly you’re not. Why else would we be here? So what do you propose?”

He rose to his feet, brushed the back of his cloak, and began slowly walking around the fire. “They need to remember. To realize what they have lost. What only we can offer.”

“How? We are forbidden…”

“And since when has that ever stopped us?” He was happy to see his point register in their eyes. “We have always shaped our destinies. We force them down the unexpected paths. We tell them to move.

“The others are either too weak or too settled in what little they have. It’s up to us to make things right.”

He watched the concerned faces of his colleagues. He had hit the nerve. They were now as uncharacteristically thoughtful as he had become. They saw the gravity of their situation, as well as the opportunity to change it.

“How?”

“What’s your plan?”

A grin spread across his face. The firelight danced across his white teeth. He had them.



Boston, Massachusetts

“Blake!”

Donald jumped slightly at the use of his name. He raised his head from his hands, realizing that his eyes had been closed. Had he been sleeping? He wasn’t sure. However, he often found Mythology and Folklore to be a bit of a bore.

“I-I’m sorry, Dr. Selvig,” Donald stammered, sitting up straight in his chair. “I was just so engrossed by your lesson that I closed my eyes to focus on absorbing it aurally.”

There was a smattering of laughter from the rest of the class. Out of the corner of his eye, Donald noticed Jane smile. Dr. Selvig only grunted in disappointment.

“Class is dismissed,” Dr. Selvig announced. He barely finished speaking before the other students were up and collecting their things. “Ah ah, not you, Mr. Blake.”

Rolling his eyes as he halfheartedly shoved his laptop into his backpack, Donald slowly strolled down the steps of the classroom. He again caught a slight smile from Jane as she left on the other side of the room.

Sleep still in his eyes, Donald rubbed his hand from his eyelids and up through his short, messy blond hair. When he went next to rub his cheek, he found more stubble than he expected. He’d forgotten to take care of that this morning.

“Mr. Blake.” Dr. Selvig pulled his glasses from his face and began to wipe them off. The older man was what Donald always thought a history professor would look like. Old, gray, and as musty as an old broom closet. “Would you do me a favor and explain why I shouldn’t boot you from my class?"

“Look, I’m sorry Doc,” Donald said, holding his arms out defensively. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I had a paper due and…”

“I know that to you, Mr. Blake, this is just an elective. Perhaps what you expected to be an easy one. But this is my life. My passion. And if you applied yourself here just half as much as you did toward your medical courses, you might actually get something out of it.”

Donald sighed, his shoulders slumping so much he had to catch his backpack strap from falling off. “Look, I appreciate your expertise, Doc, but I want to be a surgeon. I want to help people. How are ancient Gods and fairy tales going to help me do that?”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Mr. Blake, than are written in your medical textbooks,” Dr. Selvig proclaimed in a dramatic tone. “Perhaps if you took some time to learn about the past, and the things humanity once believed, you could learn a thing or two about them. And yourself.”

“Yeah I don’t really see how backwards folk thinking Gods lying with women disguised as swans is going to help me heal patients.” When Donald’s eyes turned back to Dr. Selvig, he could see the anger behind the man’s eyes. Donald instantly regretted his tone, if not his opinion.

“Perhaps,” Dr. Selvig said, narrowing his eyes. “But failing this class won’t help your GPA. Not many patients then.”

Donald raised a hand up. “Whoa, Dr. Selvig I…”

“This Friday I am helping with a new exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. A collection of ancient Norse art and artifacts. You have steady hands, yes? Well you can put them to use there as my assistant.”

Friday night? That was the night of the party! Eric and he had been planning it for weeks. “Doc I’d love to help you but I…”

Slamming his briefcase shut, Dr. Selvig walked over to look Donald right in the eye. “Mr. Blake, I am feeling somewhat magnanimous at the moment. The moment shall quickly pass. Don’t let this opportunity slip by. You won’t get another.”

Not waiting for Donald’s response, Dr. Selvig headed up the stairs towards the classroom door. “Meet me here at five sharp on Friday. Wear a suit jacket. Tie if you have one. Good day, Mr. Blake.”

Pulling his heavy backpack up higher on his back, Donald let out a deep sigh. Eric was going to hate him.



Fawcett City, Wisconsin

“We’re here,” Daryl said, offering a weak smile. He turned in his seat as much as he could and motioned with his eyes outside of the car. “Let’s go take a look.”

Billy Batson made sure his exasperated sigh was quite audible. This wasn’t the first orphanage he had been brought to. It likely wouldn’t be the last. No matter where he went, orphanage or foster home, he was always unwelcome. “Troublemaker” they called him. The truth was much different, yet Billy had long since stopped trying to explain to the adults. No one wanted to listen.

Exiting the car, Billy pulled his ratty Captain America backpack over his shoulders and raised the hood of his red sweatshirt over his head. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the overcast sky and sharp wind put a chill through his bones.

“C’mon, stop dragging your feet,” Daryl called as he headed up to the front door.

The sign to the right of the door, hanging on the red brick building, read Shinra Home For Foundlings. It was an impersonal name. Not as forcibly cheerful as some of the other places Billy had been. The building itself was classic in its style and cold in its demeanor.

“Look, Billy,” Daryl said as he knocked on the door. The heavy set man looked down the edge of his nose at Billy. “This is your last chance. If this doesn’t work out I’m going to recommend you be put in a medium security facility. I’m talking barred windows, strict schedules. You’ll have to ask permission to use the bathroom. So don’t screw this up.”

Billy didn’t even look up at his case worker. He’d learned long ago Daryl didn’t care what Billy had to say. To Daryl, Billy was just a job. A file to be checked off and put away. Perhaps in his youth, when Daryl was twenty years younger, he’d been idealistic and caring. Now the older man, his hair thin and gray, his suit wrinkled and faded, was just going through the motions.

Daryl reached up to knock again but the door swung open before his knuckles impacted the wood. A woman in a crisp lab coat stood towering over the pair. To Billy’s estimate she was somewhere north of six feet tall. Her fiery red hair was held up behind her head by numerous pencils and pens. She peered down through large, round glasses at them.

“May I help you,” she asked, her voice deep and silky.

“Um, yes,” Daryl stumbled through his words. “This is, uh, Billy Batson. We had, uh, arranged-“

“Yes,” the woman bluntly interrupted, stepping to one side of the door. “I am aware. Come in.”

Billy followed after Daryl. The entry way into the orphanage was large and wide open. Two sets of stairs curved from the hall up to a second floor that overlooked them. The building appeared to be meticulously maintained.

“I am Dr. Doris Zeul,” the woman introduced herself to Billy. Her demeanor was hard. She was clearly all business. “I oversee the day to day operations here for Professor Hojo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Billy mumbled as he took in the building.

Dr. Zeul grunted, slamming the front door shut so hard it made Billy jump. “Come with me.”

Daryl and Billy did as they were told, following close behind as Dr. Zeul led them to an office. Billy assumed it was her office. It was bare, plain, and entirely utilitarian. Just like it’s owner.

Billy sat in the chair in front of her desk. It was hard and uncomfortable. Dr. Zeul sat down and took a file off the top of a perfectly stacked pile on the corner of her desk. She looked it over briefly, making disappointed sounds to herself as she read.

“It would appear you are a troubled case, Mr. Batson,” she said. “Fourteen years old. In the system for a little over two years. Never stayed at the same place more than six months. You appear to have a discipline problem, Mr. Batson.”

It wasn’t a question. Billy could tell she had already made her mind up about him. Like all adults, she cared little for the truth. Or looking for it. She only cared about checking the boxes.

“Nothing to say?” She looked up over the top of her glasses. “Well I can assure you, we are very strict here in regards to discipline. You will behave yourself while you are under this roof. At all times. Anything less is entirely unacceptable. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes Ms. Zeul,” Billy mumbled.

“Doctor Zeul, Mr. Batson.”

Billy sank down into the uncomfortable chair while Daryl and Dr. Zeul finalized the paperwork. And just like that, Billy was out of Daryl’s hair and out of mind. Saying a few meaningless platitudes, Daryl shuffled off and quickly drove away.

“We shall now go to your room, which you shall share with another boy,” Dr. Zeul declared as she rose to her feet. “You will remain there until assembly before dinner, where we shall review the rules of conduct. Later tonight, Professor Hojo shall request a meeting. You will be on your best behavior, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Dr. Zeul.”



“I love you, man!” Eric said for the fourth time that night.

It was an astonishing turnaround from the anger and disappointment Donald’s best friend had expressed when he told him about having to miss their party. The three beers and two shots of tequila had helped quite a bit.

Sitting in their favorite booth at Ralphie’s Tavern, Donald was nursing his second beer. He was barely halfway through it. He told himself it was so he could be the responsible one tonight. Not that they had a car, but even when dealing with Ubers it was safest for at least one person to have their wits about them.

No, tonight Donald just wasn’t in a drinking mood. His talk with Dr. Selvig really got to him. Donald was always the “smart one.” Even back in elementary school, he was the one who talked himself out of trouble. Either with charm, logic, or just by leaning on his intelligence as an excuse for “acting out.” It was rare for him to get called on his shit.

“I’m real sorry you’re not…not gonna be at the thing,” Eric said, slamming his hand down on Donald’s so hard Donald flinched. “The thing. You know. The thing.”

“The party?”

“Yep!” Eric snapped and pointed his finger at his friend. “The party! It. Is. Going. To. Be. Epiiiic!”

Laughter broke through Donald’s brooding facade. Eric Masterson was the second other student he had met when he first came to Harvard last year. He had already made it through his freshman year and was well on his way studying architecture. The large man, who at the time had a little more muscle and a little less flab, had helped Donald through the transition to freshman at one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

Donald was perfectly capable. His grades had gotten him a full scholarship, much to the relief of his parents. Everyone always said he would have a blast at college. He was going places. Eric was the only one who seemed to understand the pressure Donald was under. Both from others and himself.

Polishing off the last of his fourth beer, much of it now dribbling down his thick, dirty blond beard, Eric slammed the stein down on the table and burped. Right in time to get the attention of the first student Donald had ever met as she walked into the tavern, Jane Foster.

Donald hid his eyes behind his hand, wanting desperately to shrink from her view. Eric, not yet drunk enough to be completely unobservant, curiously turned toward the bar.

“What is it?” Eric asked much louder than Donald would like. “Oh is it that Foster chick? Hi Jaaaane!” Eric waved, before turning back to Donald. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“Always,” Donald whispered, putting his hand down and offering a weak smile at the lovely brunette and her friend, Kathy.

“Maybe if you had a few more drinks in you you’d have the balls to go over there and talk to her already.”

“Not likely,” Donald mumbled to himself. Truth be told, women were the one area Donald had little luck with. Oh he’d gone on dates. At least a half dozen between high school and now. Women found him mildly attractive, and especially out of high school his intelligence was an asset in the dating pool as well, but he always found a way to fumble most interactions. He often wondered how he would actually handle being a surgeon if just talking to a beautiful woman would make his hands shake so much.

“I’m going to get a drink!” Eric shouted, rising to his feet with a bit of effort. His Giants jersey was starting to show signs of sweat. Donald wasn’t looking forward to trying to carry his friend to his dorm tonight.

Nerves getting to him, Donald gulped down most of what was left of his beer. He hated this part of himself. Hated second guessing everything he said and did around Jane. She was always pleasant in their brief interactions. She smiled at him. That meant something, didn’t it?

When Donald looked up from his stein, he saw Eric looming over him, a grin on his face. He turned and motioned toward the other side of the booth, letting Jane and Kathy slide in together. It took Donald a moment to register Eric tapping his shoulder before he slid over and let Eric sit. He hoped his mouth hadn’t been wide open.

“Uh…hi Kathy,” Donald smiled and nodded to the young woman with short, spiky black hair. “H-Hi Jane.”

Jane had her long brown hair tied up in a pony tail, a few loose strands hanging down over her face. She wore a simple blue t-shirt with a Willowdale, VA hoodie over it. While Kathy had some fruity mixed drink, Jane had a beer in front of her.

“Hi Donald,” Jane smiled.

She always smiled. It was what Donald liked best about her. That and her eyes. She had the prettiest eyes. Oh my God! He’s staring at her eyes. Look somewhere else! No, not at her chest!

“I invited the ladies to sit…because...they needed a place to sit,” Eric mumbled.

“That…makes a lot of sense, Eric,” Donald chuckled. Kathy and Jane joined in.

There was an awkward silence until Jane broke it by asking, “So how bad was it?”

Donald looked up, confused. “Huh? Bad was what?”

“Being kept after by Dr. Selvig?”

“Oh it wasn-“

“How bad was it?!” Eric shouted as he swallowed his gulp of beer. “It was terrible! Just terrible! Donald has to go to some stupid museum thing now! Not our party! OUR party!”

“It’s okay,” Donald whispered, patting his friends arm like a mother calming a child. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll make it through.”

“Some museum thing?” Kathy inquired before sipping her straw.

Donald sighed. “I may have…accidentally…insulted Dr. Selvig’s life’s work.”

“Oh only that?” Jane laughed. It was a warm laughter. It made Donald’s face warm.

“He said I had to go with him on Friday to the Museum of Fine Arts to help with some Norse exhibit he’s doing. It was heavily implied my grade counted on it.”

“Shit,” Kathy said, her tone blunt. “Can he do that?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not going to risk it. And to be honest, if all I have to do is go to some stupid museum event I’m not about to put up a fight over it. I’ll just go and get it over with.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jane said. “Norse art is pretty cool. Maybe I’ll go.”

Donald’s heart skipped a beat. He held his breath, his thoughts racing. What was that? What did it mean? Was she into him? Was she just trying to be a friend? Should he ask her to go? Is that what she wants? Or should he play it cool? What if she’s just trying to be friendly? He shouldn’t assume more than it is. But if it is what he hopes it is, and if he doesn’t say anything, what if she thinks he’s not into her?

“Cool.”

Donald shouted at himself in his mind. Cool? What the fuck was that?

“Nerd alert,” Kathy whispered under her breath.

“Heh heh heh,” Eric chuckled. He was clearly in the sleepy phase of his drunkenness. They would have to be going soon. “Tell me…Katie? Kathy? Kathy. Do you like parties?”

The four chatted a little longer but it was clear Eric needed to be taken home. Donald ordered an Uber on his phone and they headed outside to wait. Jane and Kathy went out to wait with them.

“So are you really gonna come to the museum on Friday?” Donald asked Jane after helping Eric sit on the bench outside the tavern.

“Yeah. I really like Dr. Selvig’s class. And Norse mythology is really interesting. It can get really dark sometimes.”

“Heh, but is there any swan sex?” Jane raised her eyebrow, causing Donald to laugh even more. “That was one of the things I brought up to Selvig.”

Jane smiled. “Oh let me get your cell in case,” she said, digging into her purse for her phone.

As Donald reached into his pocket for his phone, Jane suddenly stumbled forward and into him. He quickly lifted his arms up to help steady her, but her purse fell to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” a man said as he hurried on his way. Donald turned his head and only caught a glimpse of the man. He wore a long black coat and a black fedora with a dark green band over what looked like long black hair. The tall, thin man rushed away in a hurry, so Donald forgot about him and knelt down to help Jane with her purse.

“You okay?” he asked, grabbing some chapstick and her keys off the sidewalk.

“Yeah, fine,” Jane sighed. “Dick.”

Donald handed her the items and then went to pick up a tiny plastic bag. She tried to reach for it first, but was too late. Taking a closer look at it, Donald saw it was full of white powder.

“Thanks,” Jane said as she snatched it away and shoved it in her purse. She practically jumped back to her feet and threw her purse over her shoulder. “That’s all.”

He could practically taste the tension in the air. Rather than push the point, Donald simply took his phone out and asked, “So what’s your number? I’ll text you.”





Washington D.C.

The limousine was silent. The white noise of the road was all that could be heard, as the three occupants had long since grown weary of their terse conversation.

Staring out the window sat Diana Prince. The teenage girl looked at her reflection in the window and frowned. She was done up like a princess. Her long black hair pulled up above her head, curled ringlets framing her face. Large earrings hung from her ears. The amount of makeup on her face tonight was more than she'd ever worn in her entire life. She didn't recognize the person staring back at her.

She hated it. She hated all of it. The pomp and circumstance. The ceremony. She'd remained as far away as she could, yet as she got older she found she wasn't able to worm her way out as often anymore.

The worst part of it all; she never had a choice. She was only in kindergarten when her father decided to go into politics. Her opinions or desires were never considered. Especially now.

"I need you to be on your best behavior tonight," Senator Kristoffer Prince said, breaking the silence, as if reading his daughter's mind. The Senate Majority Leader's entire political career had led to this night. He would be announcing to the press his intention to put a new bill forth. A very important bill. The kind that could put him in position to one day run for the Presidency itself.

"I will do my best not to embarrass you," Diana mumbled, not looking away from the window. The sun was barely above the horizon. Night was setting in. "I know that's all that's important to you."

She could hear her father's sharp intake of breath. He was about to launch into one of his classic tirades. Her mother interceded.

"Kristoffer, Diana, please," Eleanor said, leaning forward in her seat across from them to place a hand on each of their knees. "This is not the time. Diana, your father has put years of his life into this. It means so much to him, please respect that."

Diana scoffed but did not voice any objections. Kristoffer, a self satisfied smile spreading across wrinkled face, sat back and straightened his large suit jacket. Eleanor raised a drawn on eyebrow at him.

"And you, keep in mind how much Diana hates this. She's here to support you. Stop being so hard on her."

Diana raised a finger to her cheek, trying not to mess up her makeup as she wiped the beginning of a tear away before they could see. Her mother had no idea how much she hated this. Absolutely no idea.

They finished the ride in silence. When the limousine pulled up to the hotel, reporters and photographers were lined up behind barriers. This Party gathering was the hottest news in the entire city. And Diana was smack dab in the middle of it.

The Prince family exited the vehicle. The onslaught of camera flashes and shouts for questions was overwhelming. Kristoffer took his wife's arm in his and started his way toward the building. Diana, towering at least a foot over her parents, followed behind them, sticking out like a sore thumb.

"Senator! Senator! Any comment on the rumors you're going to be announcing a bill to deal with the mutant situation?"

Her father, now knee deep in his element, stopped to give a sound bite. The reporter shoved his microphone, with the CNN logo on it, into Kristoffer's face. "I learned long ago to not put too much trust in the rumor mill in Washington D.C. However, it's not hard to find grains of truth in the piles of muck. The growing Mutant Crisis is one that I agree must be addressed quickly and decisively. The safety of our..."

Diana stopped listening. She'd heard it all before. Every night, in fact, that her father managed to make it home for dinner.

Her eyes wandered through the crowd. It was so hard to see through all the lights. She turned back toward the street in an attempt to shield her eyes without looking overwhelmed. Her gaze quickly settled on a man across the street. There was something different about him.

His light skin was clear and perfect. His facial features sharp and distinct, yet almost boyish in nature. His mop of curly hair looked practically golden and hung down from under a gray fedora. The feather on the side she could see was white as ivory. The man was the epitome of what she would consider a model, yet she thought even that was beneath him.

Suddenly she realized he was looking back at her. Their eyes met and she instantly turned beet red. She wanted to look away but her entire body froze. The moment seemed to stretch on for a lifetime. It finally ended with a wink from him before he rushed out into the street.

The break back to reality was so jarring Diana forgot to breath. After the world had seemed frozen in time, now everything seemed to be happening at once. The man ran across the street and in front of a car. The black sedan swerved to avoid him so suddenly that it spun out. Before anyone even had time to scream, tires hit the curb so fast the car flipped into the air.

Diana, breath still held inside her lungs, moved without thinking. Faster than anyone could see, her legs tearing through the long skirt of her dress, she rushed directly into the path of the falling car. The crowd, like deer in headlights, ducked down and covered their heads, as if that would protect them from a car falling on them.

Standing defiantly amongst them, having never been tested in such a way and yet entirely confident in herself, Diana reached out her arms, wrapped them around the hood of the car, and caught it.

There was stunned silence at first. Then cries of fear and shouts of confusion. Finally, releasing the breath held so long, Diana said, her cheek pushed up against the car hood, "Can you guys please move so I can put this down?"

The crowd scattered like ants, some needing help from others to get over their shock and move. When she felt the area was finally clear, Diana slowly lowered the car onto the sidewalk.

Her smile had never been brighter. The rush of adrenaline, the joy of accomplishment, of letting herself go in a way she had never done before, was like a light radiating through her body. She turned, instinctively, to look for her mother and father.

Reality crashed in. Her smile shattered.

Growing up in the Prince household, Diana was used to her father's temper. She had grown accustomed to his disappointment. The look on his face as he stared into her eyes, was something new.

Disgust.

"Daddy...I..."

Senator Kristoffer Prince turned and, pulling on his wife's arm, walked away from his daughter. People began whispering all around her, giving voice to her father's thoughts.

"Oh my God! She's a mutant!"

-To Be Continued-