16 year old Y/N L/N is stuck in the foster system and placed with a family of six siblings. His life soon gets the shock of a lifetime when he is bestowed magical powers by an old wizard. Now, shouting SHAZAM!, Y/N is gifted with the power of the go...
It was a cold day in Philadelphia. The sun was out, but it was cold enough for the lakes to freeze. The city was bustling with Christmas shoppers and people late for work.
An alarm was blaring outside a local pawn shop. Sixteen-year-old Y/N L/N stood outside waiting for the police. A cruiser pulled up and the kid seemed excited.
Y/N: Holy moly! The boys in blue! Sure glad you're here.
The two cops stepped out of their vehicle and walked towards the shop.
Y/N: I called as soon as I saw. They're in there.
Cop 1: Okay. You stay here.
The police entered the establishment, ready to make an arrest.
Y/N: I saw them hide back in there.
He pointed towards a backroom. The police nodded and walked towards the door. They opened the door, but found it only to be a small, empty closet.
Cop 2: There's nobody here.
Cop 1: What do you mean?
Cop 2: It's a closet.
Y/N stood by the front door, grinning smugly.
Y/N: You really bought that, huh?
The teenager then locked the door and pulled down the metal gate, trapping the cops inside the shop.
Cop 1: Hey! Stop, stop, stop. Open this up right now, kid.
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Y/N waved at them before heading towards the cruiser. He opened the door and hopped inside. Reaching into his bag, Y/N pulled out a notebook. He then grabbed the cops' laptop and typed in a set of codes. He searched for the last name L/N in the system. Upon finding the name and address, he wrote down the information in his notebook.
Cop 1: Uh, Dispatch, we need backup at the Laurelwood shopping center, please.
Y/N grabbed the radio inside the vehicle and spoke in a voice imitating the cop.
Y/N: Dispatch, cancel that request. Some kid stole our walkie-talkies.
Dispatch: Walkie talkies? How old are you?
Y/N groaned and quickly collected his things. He was about to exit the vehicle when he spotted a fast food bag sitting on the dash.
Cop 1: No, no, no. That's my lunch, kid!
Y/N quickly grabbed the bag and made a quick escape.
After walking a couple of miles, Y/N stood outside the address he wrote down. He looked up at the small, quaint house in the suburban neighborhood. This could be it. This could be the person he was searching for. This could be his mom.
