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“What do I do with this now,” he quips.

A feeling of ambivalence flows through his entire being. On one hand, he is happy and excited to have all the powers of the mysterious figure. On the other hand, anxiety kicks in. What is he supposed to do with all this new ability?

Milo stumbles out of the bed. He keeps his mind occupied from the situation that currently takes all of his willpower. After taking a brisk walk around his local block, he heads to his favorite chair and pulls out the morning paper.

The usual drudge and dread that one usually finds in the local paper fills in the large pages, no less than a normal day. The only real difference is that some of the transgressions found in the crime section are now solved by a mysterious figure. After flipping through countless pages of the metropolitan-sized paper, Milo finds something that catches his eye. It is something that changes the whole feeling of Milo’s day.

“They did what,” Milo yells.

Milo finds a picture of his old boss, Barry Horton, from the Red Mountain Oil & Gas Company. Standing along side of Horton is Milo’s old coworker, Trice Caranego, a man that Milo holds an old grudge and that grudge is the reason why he is exceedingly angry.

On the front cover of the local business section, the two men share the newest creation of Red Mountain. The same creation created Shadow Master. The two appear in an article, making the announcement of their new product. Their new product stares Milo straight in the face, Bi-Plasma Petroleum. A product he now tends to forget.

He continues to scroll through the article. With every passing word, he becomes more enraged with the article. The most infuriating news comes at the end. After reading the entire story, Milo realizes that there is not a single word of the accident that lead to all the events of the past two weeks.

He throws the newspaper to the ground with all his might. He then feverishly paces through his living room, fuming about the travesty.

Like a roach in its trap, the thoughts of rage and anger cannot escape the mind of Milo. Everything about Barry, Trice, and the petroleum continues to burn the flame of hate in his brain.

Milo picks up the paper, checking its title, the Rocky City Tribune. All of a sudden, a plan clicks into his head. The rough cog gears of his mind churn along as the plan increases in depth. The cracking smirk on the face tells most of the story. The plan he has gives him the feeling of rapture. What could he possibly be thinking about doing?

*****

Night falls as it normally does in Rocky City, the sunset nothing more than its usual eventful splendor. It holds its most significance with those involved. For someone like Milo Olmstead, it means the beginning of work, as it has the past five years. Only recently did his work change from his normal activity, even if it was against his will.

The main street of Rocky City, 32nd Street, holds the usual selection of boutiques and offices. Among those is the headquarters for the city’s predominant newspaper, the Rock City Tribune. A paper that holds its own death-grip on the city, as it has for the past one-hundred fifty years.

Their building ranks taller among its neighborly peers on the west side of town, near the river. One of the older neo-gothic style buildings built in the early 1920s, with many places to hide for someone who likes the shadows.

Most places in the city have shut down. Only the clubs and sex-driven party scenes continue to thrive at this time of day. One of the exceptions to the rule is the newspaper, which must toil in the night to survive in the day.

Shadow Master rolls his motorcycle into the deep alley right behind the offices of the daily’s institution. Obviously, the bus would not be suitable for someone in the superhero’s position.

Normally, the man of the shadows would search for a discreet way into a building. However, this is not a normal situation. Usually, a fire escape or an open window would suffice for a quiet entrance. Something in his head keeps control of this situation, rage. Instead of taking the more practical and safer way into the building of choice, he takes the easiest way into the building. He bashes in a window on the bottom floor and makes his way into the building.

He listens attentively. He hears no alarm. If there is one, it is silent. It is something that rarely comes into the mind of a superhero, someone not known for breaking-and-entering. The crunching and chattering of glass emanates from under the feet of Shadow Master as he makes his way into the vast machinery found in the basement rooms. The machines put the ink into letters and onto the paper that many still read. Most put their things on the web now, which requires nothing more than a computer and the mind to put those words into the tangled web. The vast machines still work their magic to give those people the paper they still wish to hold. The machines make their loud, humming noises as they churn out the dailies for reading.

For the most part, the back rooms remain void of people. Most machines and processes make the use of human power redundant. Other security devices also seem to be non-existent. The harshest areas of security are required at the front. Winding his way through the endless hallways, Shadow Master works closer to what he wants to achieve.

Entering into the main production room, the shadowy figure finally runs into some competition. A few people staff the room in the young hours of the morning. All of the people are preoccupied with their respective posts to notice the mysterious figure, which their lovable paper mentions frequently. Shadow Master works tenderly toward the operating source for the thousands of papers on the printing press.

After minutes of careful and discreet maneuvering toward the control center, the vague body wandering through the room arrives at the massive control panel and the operator of the venture. The unsuspecting soul continues working, oblivious to the man poised behind him. Shadow Master absorbs the shadow created by the man’s body.

Taking on the man’s thin silhouette, he gives his first try of completely controlling the shadow. The shadowy figure moves the shadow up against the man with almost no effort. Violently grabbing the unwary man’s mouth, he stealthily throws the man into the wall. He keeps him in a silent unconsciousness, asleep long enough for what Shadow Master needs to do.

Releasing from the man, he walks up to the vast control panel and begins to search for the ultimate goals of coming to the Tribune. It does not take long at all for him to find the massive, red emergency stop button. The Shadow Master takes a pause reaching for it.

Looking back at the man he just laid out cold, the combination of Shadow Master and Milo Olmstead starts thinking about the actions he just took. A small morsel of guilt creeps into the mind. However, that minuscule amount of conscience is swiftly extinguished by the burning desire of rage and vengeance. The anger from the article he read during the morning thrusts into focus. He returns to the task.

The sleek black finger pushes the button. Almost instantaneously, the machines printing the morning’s newspapers slow to a complete stop. Whatever men left in the room search about in a panic, trying to figure out what just happened all around them. They look up at the main control area finding no one, not even a shadow. By the time they find their unconscious colleague, Shadow Master is long gone. The four-hour wait to restart the whole process begins.

Shadow Master screams out of the alleyway on his motorcycle. The rage still burns with inside him back on the open road. He initially thinks about heading back to the home and sulking the rest of the night. However, his anger still controls his motives. He comes to the junction for the interstate highway and makes a sharp left turn to the south, toward the oil fields.

*****

Throughout his ride south, Shadow Master cannot stop from thinking about the endless rage crowding his head. The rage feels like a nag, the kind of thing that needs to go away. The constant nagging continues in his mind. Nothing forces it to go away.

He passes beyond the towering skyscrapers of Rocky City, finding the tall smokestacks and pumpjacks of the various oil companies that dominate the region. Not more than ten minutes later, he finds his next intended target, the Red Mountain Oil & Gas companies.

Shadow Master does his normal standard of stealth, parking outside the normal earshot of any security officials. The fortunate thing for the shadowy figure is the aesthetics placed around the parking lot give a more “caring” feeling. They give the workers more morale than what they came in. The bushes behind the fences combined with the exhaust towers and storage tanks give an ample amount of shadow to hide his jet-black body. Only his luminescent green eyes show as he sneaks his along the fence.

The unsuspecting guard continues watching the front gate. He takes and swipes cards from employees entering the factory. He still has that cheery attitude that Milo always envied as he entered the refinery every night. Shadow Master cannot bring himself to knock out or hurt the man who loves and cares for his job so much. Auspiciously, he does not have to do commit such a horrible sham to such a cheery old man. More options exist.

The entering side remains the primary focus for the aged security guard. The exiting side does not require such watchful eyes. Only a swipe of the same clearance card gains freedom to the non-working world. Shifting into his transparent presence, the Shadow Master checks the entrance one more time for any possible discoverers of his presence.

Taking a quick peer, he quickly slips past the exit gate. His presence is nothing more than a stray shadow on any cameras, something easily dismissed by any of the guards in the security room.

In the parking lot, Shadow Master relaxes. With all the security measures taken around the perimeter, there is not much need for precautious measures. Walking at a reflective pace, he looks at the cars of his former colleagues. He notes each one and to whom it belongs. Soon, the more luxurious models, signifying the separating wall between the blue-collar and white-collar rivals in the company, replace the cheaper and economically fuel-saving cars. Shadow Master can only afford a few minutes of relishing before focusing on his next objective.

The large glass front doors of the refinery’s offices show their grand presence. They hide the ugly and grotesque laborious areas where all the real money is made. Back in his normal, tangible form, Shadow Master searches for a way inside. The same key card grants access to the building. He does not have his card. He cannot use his shadow form to enter. He is unable to push his whole body through an object of such mass. More importantly, he does not wish to enter in a peaceful manner.

Looking around, the aesthetics come into play again. In front of the entire building sits an assortment of thorny bushes with fist-sized rocks to compliment the otherwise boring and depressing dirt of the Earth. Even without features on his face, it is obvious the Shadow Master has a smirk.

Picking up a one of the rocks, Shadow Master walks confidently over to the front doors of the massive building. Remembering whatever he can from those embarrassing years in Little League baseball, he gives his best effort at a four-seam fastball. The rock flies through the air like a laser beam at the local tag area. The hard stone meets the plate glass with a large shattering effect.

Still filled with the same rage before the pitch, the mysterious figure walks up to the other door and throws his best punch at the glass. It shatters with the jab. The only evidence left of the front doors are the metal bars used to push in and out from the building.

Accompanied with the shattered glass is the ear-piercing screech of an alarm indicating an intruder’s forced entry into the building. Shadow Master is well aware that the guards from inside will swarm the area in a matter of seconds. A disgruntled employee pulled a similar stunt while Milo worked their. They detained him rather quickly.

The dark figure does not wish the same to happen to him. Shadow Master Limbos his way through the first level of doors. The second level does not require as much effort, only the effort of pushing. Working his way into the reception area, the mysterious man shifts back into his transparent self. One of guards busts his own way through a door on the far side of the enormous lobby area.

With little to no time to react, the Master finds a suitable place to hide. One of the support columns keeping the second and ascending floors from crashing to the ground does nicely. It is just wide enough to hide his body.

No more than a couple seconds after settling into his hiding spot, nearly a half-dozen guards swarm the area of the broken glass. Shadow Master only hopes that the guards do not seek him. The platoon of guards definitely is not a trained military patrol. Their reflexes for the situation are slow to react. Instead of pouncing on the enraging aggressor, five of the six guards search for their culprit on the outside. The lone remainder scours through the shards of glass for any clues.

Taking this as an opportunity to move further through the building, the shadowy figure leaves his hiding place. The man of black moves toward the lone guard, moving out of transparency long enough to snatch his security card. The figure decides not to temporarily yank consciousness from another person. He decides to use the land of the awake to his advantage. Breaking the glass did not just serve as an act of vandalism and entry into the building, it also served as a great distraction for the guards. The shards should keep them away from Shadow Master’s ultimate plans. Using the unwary guard’s security card, the dark man enters the way the guards came.

Milo knows this building and its counterparts like the back of his hand. Moving about will not take any effort. With the majority of the guards maintaining the front, other obstacles should be rare.

Climbing from the flight of stairs from the first floor to the second, Shadow Master comes up to the row of offices. The men who would normally reside in these offices, run the day-to-day operations of the company. However, most of the bosses and supervisors are fast asleep in their warm beds.

He takes off in a fury. Ascending the stairs, Shadow Master moves his way to the third floor and enters on a dark hallway. This hallway sparks a wild idea for the mysterious figure. It is the highest floor he can get to the factory side of the building. The shaft is long and dark at this time of the day, the perfect setting for someone like this man.

The doors here cause more problems for him. These doors are made of metal. Metal is a challenge that causes a great problem, even for someone of the dark figure’s stature. The man pauses over the situation for a few minutes. His recent tricks will not help in this case. The windows in the doors contain the wire mesh for extra security. Things in this department require more protection than those of the front.

That infamous light bulb suddenly lights up above his mysterious man’s head. Waiting for someone to come through would take too long. Even though combing the whole complex would take time, the most bone-headed guard would start searching this way eventually. Even being one the first things he processes and figures out the consequences of a poor result. The best he can do is take a sensible run at the door.

Stepping back about twenty-five yards, Shadow Master prepares to run as hard as he can in the hopes of breaking down the doors. Taking one last big breath, the he begins his sprint. The wind through his ears breezes by as he reaches his top dashing speed.

Just as he prepares to brace himself for the doors, two scientists open the doors. They talk amongst themselves. The mysterious figure catches sight of them just in time, switching over to his transparent side. He passes through them as he brushes by. He reaches for the door once clearing them. He returns to his solid state as he reaches the door, slipping through just in time, as it shuts right behind him. The two scientists look at each other, and then back to the door, only seeing it shut behind them.

Past the hardest part in the whole excursion, Shadow Master works on the next objective. The mysterious figure now stands in the factory area of the company, the area where Milo used to work. Stepping his way through the hallway, he finds the first workstation. It belongs to one of his coworkers, Nate Andrews. Nate was always a decent friend to Milo. The seemingly endless rage in the man’s mind continues to control his desires.

He peers into the workstation, Nate sitting at the controls. His old friend works diligently as he always did every moment Milo spent at the office. Sneaking in, the dark man slams the door behind him. Nate turns around, startled by the loud noise.

“You, you’re that superhero. They’ve been talking about you. What are you doing here,” He asks.

Shadow Master takes no notice of his minimal praise. He walks up to Nate and grabs him by the mouth. He keeps his grip strong as Nate tries his best to pry his masculine arms from his face. Slowly and surely, his ex-coworker slowly loses consciousness. Not long after grabbing him by the face, he slowly loses his fight. He slumps over into his chair, out cold. It is about the most humane the mysterious figure has been the whole trip. He just knocked out his former colleague. Even with all the rage and anger in his head, he still had enough sense to give the person he liked a nice way to sleep. He does not want him to see the rest of what he is doing.

Walking deeper down the hallway, he finds the next workstation. This belongs to his rival Trice Caranego, the one who stole the Bi-Plasma Petroleum project from under his grasp. Trice also works at his desk, almost as diligent as Nate was. Again, the dark man slams the door to the workstation. Again, the spooked worker turns around in a flash.

“What the…” he splurges.

Less sympathetic toward the man whole stole from him, Shadow Master walks right up to Trice. The shadowy figure grabs him by the head. He sticks with a less compassionate theme for this man. Trice tries to wrestle away from his captor, but the plan is not working so well. The grip from the hero is too strong for the simple man. Taking him over to the rock-solid wall, the dark figure throws Trice into it with as much force that is required to knock him out.

With Trice taken care of, Shadow Master walks out of the workstation in search of one last target. That target being his former boss, Barry Horton. When the grumpy supervisor is not hammering his way with the employees, he sits in his office and bundles through mounds of paperwork and laptop projects.

When the dark, shadowy man reaches the door of his past whip-cracker, he finds him the way Milo always found him. His back stays turned away and pushing away on the keyboard of his laptop. Another person that needs the attention only created by the sound of loud noise, the perfect sound of a door slamming shut. Just like all his previous victims, at least those he wanted to know his presence, he nearly jumps out of his chair. The startled look on his face lasts just a little longer than the other two. Something else shows his startled eyes, a slight glint of fear. Barry breaks the awkward silence.

“Who are you, what do you want?” He screams.

The silent, dark figure continues his approach toward the man. His walk is more aggressive than with his last two victims.

“Stay away from me!”

Shadow Master hops up on the desk, giving an even more imposing view on his prey. Barry cowers down in his chair. He is fearful of disturbing the black beast that stands just in above him. His shivers are so violent; the desk shakes in its own right. It is enough that the mysterious man can feel it through the thick pine.

“Please, I- I’ll do what you want. Take my money, whatever, just leave me alone!”

Instead of grasping his large hand on Barry’s face, the dark figure takes his left arm and throws it around his old boss’ neck. Vigorously lifting with out of his chair, he takes him out of his office.

Carrying him through the various hallways, Shadow Master brings his old superior to the site where the whole thing began, the control room. Barging through yet another door, the area comes to a dead silence. The mysterious figure drags his captor into the room.

“Why are we in here, what do you want from me?” he pleads

The dark man locks the massive blast doors behind him. He then steadily walks over to the control panel, not taking his eyes off Barry. As if he was his old self, the man of shadows starts fiddling around with the controls, getting his plan set up.

“Hey, don’t touch those controls. Those are really delicate, they can’t be thrown about.”

Shadow Master sets up the controls right where he wants them. He finally places his dark hand on one large knob, the knob that controls the outflow to the holding tanks. Slowly, he begins to adjust the knob to the right, increasing the amount of flow. The rate slowly approaches the alert levels that Milo saw and heard before the accident.

“No, stop what your doing! We just lost a man when doing that. Sure he was stupid, but we still lost a man. Please, you kill us all!”

Not pleased with his answer, the mysterious figure turns the knob up higher, approaching the capacity levels. It moves closer and closer to the breaking point. The room begins to rumble as the pipes continue to handle the flow of the petroleum running to the holding tanks.

Suddenly, something dawns on Shadow Master. The whole cycle of events during the night is just crimes against the people he had been saving over the past two weeks. The whole amount of boundless rage in the mind of the man suddenly dies off.

The room continues to rumble as the petroleum continues rushing toward the holding tanks. A small piercing squeak comes through the room. The pipes start to buckle under the pressure of the oil. With all the commotion, the black covered man reaches over and turns off the panel and the flow before it becomes too late again.

Giving one last look over at his former boss, Shadow Master leaves the room swiftly. Barry only pursues him to the door, watching his captor flee the scene. He continues staring off down the hallway, wondering what to do next.

The mysterious figure hops on his motorcycle and riding out of the area with a blaze. He continues to think about the actions he committed over the last few hours.

It does not take more than a half-hour for him to reach his home on the west side of town. On arrival, Shadow Master shifts back into mild-mannered Milo Olmstead. Completely exhausted by the whole ordeal, he walks straight to his bed and falls straight asleep, conceding the rest of the night.

*****

Morning reaches Milo in an unusual way. His phone rings. Milo grunts as he ponders who could possibly be on the other end of the line. Straggling his way out of the bedroom, he reaches the phone just in time.

“Hello?”

“Milo? It’s me, Katie.”

“Katie hi, how did you get my number? I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“Please, I looked in the phone book.”

“Guess that’s an easy way to figure it out. What did you call about?”

“I don’t know. I just had a feeling that you would listen to what I had to say. Don’t ask me how, but something just drew me to talk to you.”

“Oh really, what is it?”

“You know that man everyone’s been talking about? That superhero, if you want to call him that?”

“Yeah, what about him,” Milo blushes.

“He saved me the other night, that night when the police rescued all those people from that movie director. I know it was him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I was one of those he kidnapped. All I know is that I was trapped by that guy and when I woke up I was with the police. I know they couldn’t handle all those people.”

“No kidding.”

“Plus, I think I felt him carry me out. Don’t ask me how, but I just know that it was him.”

“Wow, that’s cool, he’s sounds like a real hero.”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you. I got to go.”

“Sure, call me sometime.”

“Sure, bye.”

“Bye.”

Milo sits back and reflects on the night, falling onto his couch. He realizes what he did was wrong, and he does not feel much better about the situation. However, hearing his long loving crush say that he is a hero gives him the change of mind. Still tired from the long night beforehand, Milo falls asleep on the couch.

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