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He moves from the door over to the skylight in his otherwise lowly illuminated living room. He casts a heavier shadow behind him. Taking a hesitated look over his shoulder, he sees the darkened silhouette that is his shadow. Moving his left arm up and down, he hopes to see his shadow do the same. The shadow continues to defy both physics and logic. The arm remains at the shadow’s side, curling its fingers into a fist.

Milo starts to panic. His sweat rolls into beads upon his brow. Fearful in his step, he falls onto the nearby couch. The clouding thought in his mind keeps everything else at bay. Nothing fills his head besides what happened to him the previous night. Nothing until the screeching ring of the telephone fills his ears. Picking up the phone, he finds his annoying boss, Barry Horton, on the other end.

“Where have you been? The company didn’t pay for sick leave.”

“That’s okay, I quit!”

“Hey, don’t—”

Milo slams the phone back on the stand, ending the call. He cannot believe what he just said. In a matter of a few seconds, he went from employed to unemployed. His words slipped out of his mouth with no spine to support them. However, if every night ends up like the previous night, then it is probably a good decision.

The whole weight of the world seems to sit on the shoulders of Milo Olmstead. His mind cannot deal with all this happening at once. He needs to get the current situation off his brain. He gains a smirk on his face as the solution comes to him. He looks over his back at the view out the window. A trip to the city is just what he needs.

Rocky City is the paradise of the western United States. It lies away from the hustle and bustle the coastal cities provide. With the high mountains just to the west, the city becomes a base camp to all the travelers who look for the cool and serene view of nature. The local region takes on an attitude that causes one to slow and enjoy the majesty that sits before them. The city itself comes with enough thrills.

The club scene does not interest Milo, something known well Rocky City. He finds the electronic shops more interesting. CDs, DVDs, and Stereos are his main interests. He also checks out the city’s rich performing arts district. A hilarious spoof show always keeps his mind off his otherwise meaningless life. Yet, his thoughts keep reminding him of his recent unemployment and the vise on his checkbook.

Pangs of hunger fill his stomach. Not even a man with a pressed wallet can go without some sort of nourishment in his gut. The mall on 32nd Street provides a great variety in the world of foods. Milo walks down to the corner of 32nd Street and Esther Avenue.

The shadow behind Milo continues to defy its master. He wants to scream out in horror, but knows he would just end up in mental health clinic. He keeps his thoughts and screams to himself. He heads around the corner without taking his eyes off his pursing shadow. Without his sights on the comings ahead, he haphazardly bumps into a young woman. Both of them end up on the ground.

“Oh, sorry Miss,” says Milo as he picks her purse off the ground and helps her back on her feet.

“That’s Okay.”

“Katie, Katie McGinnis,” shocked as he looks up at the face of the beautiful woman.

“Milo Olmstead, can that really be you?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you since we graduated high school.”

“You look good,” Milo looks at himself, remembering the changes from the night before. His chubbiness in high school is now a distance memory.

“A lifestyle change, you could say. You look great yourself.”

“Really, that’s good for you. You’ve come a long way from the AV club.”

“You could say that.”

“Listen, I’m on my break. I wish I could talk more, maybe we’ll run into each other again, see you around,” Katie walks away.

“Good seeing you,” shouts Milo as he holds his stare as she walks out of view.

He relishes in the moment until he hears something coming from the nearby alleyway. A shiver comes down his spine. The noise should not be so loud and clear to him from the loud street corner. These voices sound like they came from a megaphone. Suddenly, an intuition that Milo never had, until last night, creeps into his subconscious. It takes over his entire thought process. The consumption of his well-being left Milo wondering how to control it.

Milo turns around to find his shadow is missing. Looking around, he tries to keep his panic to a minimum. He then notices the shadow leaning up against the nearest building, peering where its ear would be into the nearby alley. He can hear the conversation as if he was in the place of the shadow.

“The Exchange will suffer after we’re done tonight,” says a dark masculine voice. The tone gives a clear sense of authority.

“Everything’s ready to go for the big hit,” speaks another. Milo tries to determine the number involved, aware a major crime is imminent.

“We’ll park in the alley across the street and plant the bomb on the exchange, now clear off. I’ll see you tonight,” the leader finishes.

Gaining some composure back, Milo acts casually as the group begins to exit the alleyway. He watches six men enter into the street and go their separate ways. Milo knows what is before him and heads to the bus station to go home.

*****

Arriving back at his home, Milo shrugs as he walks through the door. The clock strikes noon, a time he would normally be in bed. However, the newfound vigor in his body keeps him going later into the day.

Concern flows through his veins. The presumptively secret conversation in the alley bothers him. A crime is about to be committed and none of the proper authorities know about it. The more he fights the sensation, the more he knows that he is the man to stop them.

Yet, the strange happenings from the previous forty-eight hours stay firmly in his mind. The shadow is stronger from the skylight in the living room. The interest in the shadow overtakes his willpower. He looks back at it.

The shadow continues its own movements away from those that his body makes. The shadow makes a more aggressive move, losing its natural flat position. The black mass grabs his legs. Without any warning, Milo’s body goes through the same transformation as it did the night before. The transition moves much more swiftly. Within a few seconds, Milo becomes the shadowy figure. He becomes the Shadow Master.

Being the Shadow Master does not feel the same as it did last time. Instead of feeling a soothing strength come over him, he strangely feels his energy dissipate quickly from his body. Dropping to his knees, the Shadow Master kneels over onto his side in apparent pain.

Just as quick as he becomes the new hero, he returns to his normal form. The Shadow Master repulsed by the transformation. Milo lies on the floor, his energy drained from his body. Panting for whatever air he can breathe, the voice comes into his head again. “The light is your enemy. The light is against you.” Adding in his mind, he figures that this new power creates weakness in the daytime.

Milo lies on the floor in his depleted state, contemplating on this recent development in his strange changes. He forgets about the conversation in the alleyway. Instead, he focuses on himself. With most of his energy gone, he slowly drifts off to sleep.

*****

Milo fell unconscious during the day, leaving no lights on in the house. When his eyelids allow whatever light in the room to enter, he realizes that lights are not necessary. Even without any luminance in the room, he sees everything brightly and clearly. The powers must also give him night vision abilities. He looks at himself, checking to see what form he currently holds. He sighs in relief to be in his human form.

The meeting comes to his mind again. He realizes zero hour at the stock exchange is rapidly approaching. Milo cannot find his logical thoughts. Only the courageous thoughts come to mind, no matter how hard he tries to avoid them. He tries finding something to block the continuous urge of courage. But, nothings blocks the thoughts.

The battle wanes away in the psyche of Milo Olmstead. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot stop this overcoming sense of heroism. It becomes clear in his mind. Something else must be controlling him. Before he can move any further in his thought process, the strong surge of adrenaline overtakes his entire body.

The black substance that comprises the Shadow Master shifts into play. The transformation is even faster than previous attempts. The luminous green eyes show the clear work of determination, all needed in the moments to come.

The Shadow Master stands up from the curled up ball on the living room floor. He acts calm in his movements. A stone cold disposition, Shadow Master walks into the garage. There, he stares the empty space.

The Shadow Master moves to the middle of the floor. He holds his hands out from each side. The green glow contained in his eyes starts to pour out of his hands. In the direction, two vehicles begin to take shape. On his left hand side, a super-car starts to materialize. The right hand spawns a motorcycle, a fast one. Both cars develop a jet-black chassis similar to his body.

The glow stops and the Shadow Master stares at the new creations. Looking to his right, he hops onto the motorcycle and starts it up.

*****

The corner of Gilcrest Avenue and 37th Street houses the Western Stock Exchange. The stock exchange is the prominent source of trading stocks in the western United States. The exchange is a crucial asset. Stoppage in trading would damage the economies of all the countries on the continent.

The terrorist group meets two blocks over on 39th Street. The weapon of choice are explosives. They sit inside a natural looking suitcase. Its size would fool anyone, but the yield of the explosion will destabilize the economy for some time.

Buildings like the exchange take prominence on street corners. The building takes up five stories of sky, taking on the Neo-Roman architecture that most government and important buildings take.

The six men walk in a casual manner. Two groups of three men walk on the north and south side of the building, keeping suspicions to a minimum. Being this exchange is one of the lesser prominent in the United States, it keeps more minimal security. Even with the number they have, standard security guards cannot stand up to a group of terrorists. And cameras cannot send the appropriate reinforcements to alleviate the situation.

Converging at the foot of the massive steps, the two groups meet. They stare at the massive marble columns. Little does the group know, a seventh member joins them at the back.

The Shadow Master sneaks up behind the lookout member of the group, the one supposedly covering the rear. In an amazing and stunning display, the Shadow Master walks up to the vague shadow cast by the man from the unnatural orange city lights. Moving up the shadow, he slips into its lightless void like slipping into a pair of pants, absorbing its pattern.

The shadow cast by the scrawny man now takes on the form of the Shadow Master. At first, he moves along with the shadow. However, it does not long before the Shadow Master takes control of the silhouette. He sneaks the void closer to the man himself.

Now up to the man’s back, Shadow Master gives no warning to his unsuspecting victim. After all, the absence of light gives little warning. The up-and-coming superhero slips his hand over the mouth of the lookout man. He tries to scream to his contemporaries, but the darkness of the hero’s hand locks in all sound waves. Quietly, Shadow Master silences his opponent into unconsciousness. He allows the man to fall on the ground, making a loud splat as he hits.

The remaining five men find themselves interrupted from their strike on the exchange. All of them turn around to find their sixth man on the ground with no apparent cause. Their lookout man seems to inexplicably fallen unconscious. The hero made himself scarce long before the five men took attention off their mission. He runs off to the side before the sound of the man hitting the ground penetrated the eardrums of those intended to hear it. Now their attention out of focus, he runs up to the top of the stairway, hiding behind a column.

The five men panic at the situation at hand. Looking around the streets, they wonder at what would cause this sudden downfall. No sounds of gunshots enter their hearing, but somehow their man is down. Unsure what to do, the remaining men pull out their automatic weapons. They stand ready to fire at anything that poses a threat to their proceedings.

“Hurry up and place it and let’s get out of here!”

The men take the first steps up to the front doors. As they look up toward their objective, they see the ominous figure of the Shadow Master standing in their way. The glowing green eyes of the hero stare down at his adversaries.

“Rub that guy out,” screams the leader.

One of the security guards that circle the building comes around the corner. He quickly screams for backup just before the first shot rings out among the skyscrapers.

Something in the range of 100 rounds exit the automatic weapons of the terror cell. Any other man would die several times over. However, the superhero and his transparent body allow every single bullet to pass through.

The cell members realize their weapons are useless against this mysterious form. The Shadow Master materializes back into a solid form giving that same glaring stare as before. The cell remains astonished, but begins to quiver in fear as the hero walks down the stairs toward them.

One of the braver cell members tries his luck with more personal combat. Taking the stock end of his assault rifle, he swings it at the hero as he comes within range. Giving his fullest might, he tries to knock the head off the Shadow Master. The dark man only allows the bunt end of the gun to pass through his head effortlessly. The brave terrorist only becomes frustrated when his efforts go unrewarded. The dark hero solidifies his head and goes to work on the brave man. A swift right and left finish him off.

Two more men try the strategy of brute force. One man tries to tackle the shadowy figure, but the hero simply hurdles him as he passes by. He gives him a swift kick to his chest and back as he crosses under, incapacitating him. The other man tries a quick punch, but the Shadow Master dodges. The hero responds with his own counter attack and the other terrorist joins his partner on the ground in a state of slumber.

Only two men remain. The leader and his right-hand man stand before their skillful opponent. The second is hesitant to fight, but the leader pushes him into the action. The Shadow Master rolls his eyes the best he can at situation and makes his involvement into the fight minimal. He gives a the most gentle kick to the stomach and still cause enough damage to keep the man from fighting again. The right-hand man falls to the ground in a wince of pain. He face almost folds in on itself because of pain, clearly showing his lack of interest in the fight.

Now only the leader stands in front of the dark figure, the last man left in the fight. It is clear that he does not want to fight him. The fear in his eyes tells the entire story. He almost quivers in them. The hero’s eyes remain in that same glaring trance that he held at the beginning of the fight.

Almost as fast as Shadow Master can run, the leader of terrorist cell makes his way out of the situation. The leader shows he to be the greatest coward in the group. The hero gives quick chase and catches the leader in a matter of seconds. He tackles the cowardly man to the ground. With all his might, he turns the former terrorist on his face.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he shouts.

The shadowy figure takes no remorse toward the man. Grabbing his hair, he lifts the terrorist’s head up and smacks it on the ground. All six men now lie on the ground in a state of blissful unconsciousness.

The Shadow Master looks around at the carnage left behind by his masterful work. He opens the suitcase lying on the ground. Just as he suspected, rows of explosives are found inside. Suddenly the stinging sirens from police cars alert the superhero of their presence. He leaves the suitcase open as he starts his motorcycle and leaves the scene. The cops arrive in mere seconds.

*****

Back at his home, Milo sits back in his regular form. He stands by the window as he stares at the open and bustling Rocky City. He puts his hand up to the window, thinking to himself. A moment passes before he looks at a newspaper with the title, “Thwarted Terror Plot.” He looks back out at the window with one small tear running down his face.

“I can’t even control this.”

Invasion and all characters contained within ™ and © 2009 Mark Oldfield.
Metahuman Press and all related content ™ and © 2003-2009 Nicholas Ahlhelm unless otherwise noted.
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