New SHAZAM in Flashpoint World - Chapter 15
Chapter 15: Sunshine and Linguistics
The ascent from the smoking ruins of the Siberian prison was a jarring contrast to the chaotic battle Jack had just endured. One moment he was a whirlwind of destructive divine power, the next, he was a gentle cradle, his flight now a smooth, carefully controlled glide as he carried the fragile form of Kara Zor-El away from her icy tomb. He held her close, her skeletal frame terrifyingly light in his powerful arms, her pale, matted hair occasionally brushing against his cheek. The Speed of Mercury propelled them westward, back towards Gotham, but his pace was deliberately measured, his movements calculated to avoid any unnecessary jostling that might further harm his precious cargo.
Kara remained largely unresponsive during the initial part of the journey. She was a feather in his grasp, her breathing shallow, her body limp. Occasionally, a low whimper would escape her cracked lips, a sound that tugged at something deep within Jack, something fiercely protective he hadn’t known he possessed. He kept a constant, gentle stream of reassurance flowing in Kryptonian, the words provided effortlessly by the Wisdom of Solomon, hoping that the familiar sounds of her native tongue might offer some comfort, some anchor in the terrifying disorientation she must be experiencing.
He flew relatively low at first, just above the cloud cover, ensuring she was exposed to as much of the weak Siberian sunlight as possible. Even this pale, filtered light, he hoped, would begin to stir the dormant Kryptonian cells within her, to initiate the healing process. As they traveled west, leaving the vast, frozen wasteland behind and crossing into more temperate, sunnier climes, he could feel a subtle shift. The almost deathly chill of her skin began to recede, replaced by a faint, returning warmth. Her breathing deepened almost imperceptibly.
His thoughts raced ahead. What awaited them at Wayne Manor? Had the Flashes made any headway with the intractable Bruce Wayne? How would they react to Kara’s pitiful state? And how would she react to them, to this strange new world, once she was fully conscious? He was a demigod, an interdimensional refugee, tasked with rescuing a Kryptonian princess in a doomed timeline to fight an alien warlord. The sheer, unadulterated absurdity of his life was, at this point, almost a background hum.
After what felt like an eternity of careful, anxious flight, the familiar, gloomy outskirts of Gotham City appeared on the horizon. He bypassed the city itself, heading straight for the isolated estate of Wayne Manor, its gothic spires a welcome, if somewhat foreboding, landmark.
He descended slowly onto the same cracked flagstone driveway where he’d first encountered the Flashes and this timeline’s Batman. The two speedsters were there, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. They must have sensed his approach. Tracksuit Barry rushed forward as Jack landed, his eyes wide with concern as he took in the emaciated girl in Jack’s arms.
“Is that… is that her?” Tracksuit Barry asked, his voice hushed. Alternate Barry was a step behind, looking equally shocked and concerned.
“Kara Zor-El,” Jack confirmed, his voice low. “She’s been through hell. She needs sunlight. Real sunlight, and lots of it. Now.” He scanned the overgrown grounds. “Where’s the best spot?”
Tracksuit Barry, ever the pragmatist, pointed towards a relatively clear, south-facing section of the expansive back lawn, somewhat sheltered by a crumbling stone wall but still open to the sky. “There. It gets the most direct sun this time of day.”
Jack nodded, striding purposefully towards the indicated area. He knelt carefully, gently laying Kara down on a patch of surprisingly soft, sun-warmed grass. She was still mostly unconscious, her face pale and drawn, but her eyelids fluttered slightly as the unfiltered rays of the afternoon sun touched her skin.
For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen. Jack watched, his heart a tight knot of anxiety, the two Flashes hovering nearby, their usual manic energy subdued by the gravity of the situation. Then, it began.
A faint, almost imperceptible rosy flush started to creep into Kara’s deathly pale cheeks. Her breathing, already a little stronger from the flight, deepened further, becoming slow and regular. The cracked, dry skin on her lips seemed to plump, to regain a healthier texture. It was subtle at first, like watching a time-lapse film of a wilting flower slowly unfurling towards the light.
Then, the process accelerated with astonishing, almost unnerving speed. The gauntness of her features began to soften. The sharp, skeletal angles of her frame started to fill out, not with fat, but with lean, defined muscle. Her skin, moments before translucent and marked by deprivation, now gained a healthy, golden undertone, bruises and abrasions fading as if by magic. Her matted, lifeless hair seemed to shimmer, taking on a vibrant, sun-kissed blonde sheen. It was as if the sunlight itself was pouring life, strength, and vitality directly into her cells, rebuilding her from the inside out at a miraculous rate.
The tattered grey rags she wore, already loose on her emaciated frame, now seemed ridiculously inadequate as her body transformed, regaining the healthy, powerful physique of a young Kryptonian woman in her prime. She was no longer the starved, broken child from the dark cell. In the space of mere minutes, under the life-giving rays of Earth’s yellow sun, she had become… Supergirl. Or at least, the physical embodiment of what Supergirl should be: strong, healthy, vibrant, her form radiating a nascent power that was almost palpable. She looked to be around seventeen, her features now clearly defined, beautiful, and imbued with an almost otherworldly grace, even in her unconscious state.
Jack watched, awestruck, the sheer biological miracle of Kryptonian solar absorption playing out before his eyes. This was the power Zod feared, the power this world desperately needed.
Kara’s eyelids fluttered again, then slowly opened. Her eyes, a startling, luminous blue, blinked uncertainly against the brightness, trying to focus. She made a small, confused sound, her brow furrowing.
Jack knelt beside her again, speaking softly in Kryptonian, his voice a gentle balm. “You’re safe. The darkness is gone. You’re in the sun now.”
Her blue eyes, vast and disoriented, found his. There was fear in them, confusion, the lingering trauma of years of darkness and deprivation. But there was also a flicker of something else – recognition of the language, perhaps, or a dawning awareness of the strength now surging through her own limbs.
She tried to push herself up, her movements weak at first, then surprisingly stronger as her muscles responded to the solar charge. Jack gently supported her elbow.
“Where… where am I?” she finally whispered, her Kryptonian hoarse from disuse, but clear.
“You are on Earth,” Jack explained patiently. “A planet called Earth. Far from… from where you were. You were a prisoner. I got you out.” He kept his explanation simple, avoiding the complexities of alternate timelines and alien invasions for now.
She looked around, at the green grass, the crumbling stone walls of Wayne Manor’s gardens, the vast blue sky above, her expression one of utter bewilderment. She touched her own arm, her own face, as if reacquainting herself with a body that felt suddenly, miraculously whole again.
It was then that Jack decided to begin the next phase of her re-acclimatization. The Wisdom of Solomon provided him with an intuitive understanding of linguistics, of teaching. He knew that Kara’s Kryptonian brain, like her body, was capable of incredible feats.
He pointed to the sky. “Rao ftoa,” he said in Kryptonian – “Sunlight.” Then, he switched smoothly to English, his omnilingual ability ensuring his pronunciation was perfect. “Sun. Sky.”
Kara looked from the sky to him, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her super-intellect was already working, processing the new sounds, the new patterns.
Jack continued, pointing to a nearby tree. “Kreesh,” he said. Then, “Tree. Green tree.” He touched the grass. “Jomp,” he offered, then, “Grass. Soft grass.”
He spoke slowly at first, pairing Kryptonian words with their English equivalents, then gradually began to phase out the Kryptonian, speaking in simple English sentences. He described their surroundings, introduced the two Flashes (who watched this linguistic exchange with open-mouthed astonishment), and explained, very simply, that they were among friends.
Kara’s progress was nothing short of astonishing. Within minutes, she was not just understanding individual words, but grasping sentence structure, verb conjugations, idiomatic expressions. Her Kryptonian mind, designed for processing information at levels far beyond human capacity, absorbed the new language like a super-sponge.
She began to mimic him, her first English words hesitant, accented, but grammatically perfect.
“Sun… is warm,” she observed, her voice soft, a musical lilt to it. She looked at Jack. “You… speak… many tongues?”
Jack smiled. “Something like that. It’s a bit of a gift.” He gestured to himself. “I am Jack. Super Jack.” He still felt a bit silly saying it, but it was his name, for now.
Kara tilted her head, considering. “Jack,” she repeated, the name sounding alien yet strangely fitting on her tongue. She looked at the Flashes. “They… run fast?”
Tracksuit Barry grinned. “That’s us. The fast guys.”
Within the hour, Kara was conversing in reasonably fluent English, her accent fading with each sentence, her vocabulary expanding exponentially. The speed of her learning was a testament to her Kryptonian heritage, a marvel to behold. She was physically restored, her intellect sharp and hungry for information.
Yet, as Jack watched her, as he saw the intelligence and dawning awareness in her luminous blue eyes, he also saw the shadows. The trauma of her long imprisonment was still there, lurking beneath the surface of her miraculous recovery. She was strong again, yes. She could speak their language. But the girl from the dark cell was not entirely gone. Her healing, he suspected, had only just begun. And her willingness to help them, to fight for this strange new world that had, until very recently, been her prison, remained a daunting, unanswered question.