Invasion
Volume One
The New Metahumans
By Mark Oldfield
Smashwords Edition. Copyright © 2012 by Mark Oldfield. Published by Metahuman Press, Cedar Rapids, IA. Find more great super powered fiction at Metahuman Press.com.
Part One
Shadow Master
Chapter 1
Night Shift
Light could not penetrate the darkness of the room. The clock rings at seven. An angry hand slams the off button, silencing the annoying buzz. Milo Olmstead rises out of bed and lets out a huge sigh of despair.
Lifting his cumbersome legs out of the bed, Milo walks over to the curtains. He flings them open in one move to bestow the majesty known as Rocky City, the large metropolis in which he lives along with two million other people. The city sets the room in a low orange light. Milo cringes as his eyes adjust to the brighter level.
Hands turn the shower on to scalding hot. Milo steps in and stands under the steamy stream of water. Closing his eyes, he drifts between the conscious and unconscious. He is more interested in standing under the water than cleaning up for work.
Climbing into his car, Milo starts the engine and begins his long trek to work. He has yet to say a word all this time. He sets off for the drive while most people are getting comfortable at the bars or arriving at home for sleep. The drive takes him down the main interstate. Traffic is heavy around the flashing neon signs of the local clubs bustling with people trying to find the next “Mr. or Mrs. Right Now.” Painful horns from traffic begin to quiet down as Milo passes the busy downtown area.
Pumpjacks replace the skyline south of the towers and the business sector. Milo arrives at the front gates of his work, the Red Mountain Oil & Gas Company. He hands his security card to the guard, who is always one to stir up conversation.
“Hello Mr. Olmstead. Nice weather we’re having tonight, sure beats that cold,” the old guard chats as the card reader establishes credibility.
“Sure,” grunts Milo as he waits for the gate to rise and the work waiting on the other side.
“I hope it doesn’t rain anytime soon, you know how humid it gets when it rains,” the guard chatters on.
“Whatever.” Milo’s bitter attitude makes its first appearance of the night.
“Here you go Mr. Olmstead, have a nice night,” says the cheery old guard as he opens the gate. Milo drives on without any courteous response.
Milo works as an engineer in the company’s research and development division. The newest project in the field is a fuel element called Bi-Plasma Petroleum. The substance could literally be black gold for Red Mountain. Milo’s day starts with working on the exploratory material.
An hour of work passes down the disgusting drain of reality. Milo keeps busy with his work, flipping the long array of buttons and switches. The large blast door opens behind him with one of his coworkers, Trice Caranego, walking in. Milo lets out a quiet grunt, the disturbance annoying him.
“Hey Milo.”
“Hey,” says Milo as he grunts aloud at the ending of the silence.
“So, you probably noticed that I haven’t been around in the last couple days.”
“Sort of, where have you been?”
“You don’t check your email often, do you?”
“No, very few people contact me. I don’t even get the memos. Hell, the spammers barely bug me anymore. I almost look forward to seeing spam now.”
“I got promoted!”
“You,” says Milo, shocked at the decision. “How did you get a promotion?”
“They liked the report I worked on. The research on Bi-Plasma Petroleum could make the company billions over the next decade.”
“You stole my project! Bi-Plasma Petroleum is my project!”
“I didn’t steal your project. Mr. Horton wanted me to file the research report for the quarter. He doesn’t like your handwriting, so he asked me to do it.”
“I need to do those reports, only I know the errors and kinks in the formula.”
“Your interns know about the errors as well, Brooke can do the reports.”
“I can’t believe you stole the project from me! I won’t get any of the damned credit now!”
“Well you should work on your penmanship.”
“I worked my ass off on projects and those idiots like Horton treat me like dirt. I’m like a shadow on the wall, always there but never getting any recognition.”
“They’ll never look at you if you keep that attitude toward work. Trice Caranego is moving up in the world, while you will remain the shadow in the back.” Trice leaves the room with a firm walk. Milo shakes his head.
“Dickhead,” says Milo as he returns to work.
The clock strikes four. The sun has yet to make its appearance on the horizon. Milo picks off the last hour of the workday. He begins the tedious process of a shift transfer. The boss, Barry Horton, walks in just before he picks up his timecard to clock-out. His look is all too revealing of his true emotion.
“Olmstead!” screams Barry, obviously mad about something.
“Yes Mr. Horton, I’m checking out.” Milo braces for the impact of the boss.
“Why didn’t you tell me that the Bi-Plasma project was done?”
“It’s not done sir. The substance isn’t practical yet. It burns too quickly.”
“That’s not what Trice said in the report. There’s a reason why I promoted him over you.”
“It’s not ready for production!”
“Nonsense, the compound is perfect! I am ordering full production tomorrow. This product will make us billions! We’ll be with the big hitters in no time.” Horton scoffs as he daydreams.
“It’s not going to function well. We need to wait.”
“Tomorrow, full production begins on Bi-Plasma Petroleum. Be ready!”
“Yes sir,” says Milo as the boss leaves the room. Under his breath Milo says, “Dickhead.”
Milo waits at the security gate on his way out. He waits for the freedom on the other side. Looking toward the east, he sees only small trickles of daylight coming against the jet-black sky in front of him. Milo lets out a large sigh. His despair is all the more apparent.
Unknown to Milo, Rocky City, or even the planet, a small meteor approaches the Earth. The rock ignites as its hits the atmosphere. The flaming chunk closes fast to the surface. Suddenly, but not quite spectacularly, the small piece lands in the backyard of a house. The dust from the explosion settles. The impact is no more than a relative feather hitting the ground. Out of the small crater climbs what can only be described as an alien bug. The six-legged purple creature looks around and heads toward the house.
Milo walks through the door and kicks his shoes off in disgust. He quickly undresses to his boxers and plops onto his bed. Another huge sigh follows. He lies on his stomach with his eyes open for nearly fifteen minutes. He eventually turns on his back and drifts off to sleep.
The bug’s search finds its way into Milo’s room sometime during the morning. It crawls up the bed and carefully moves around the man’s legs. Next to his chest, the bedbug squirts out a pink fume from the spikes on its back. Milo unknowingly breathes in the fumes and drops his mouth open while remaining asleep. He is oblivious of the bedbug’s presence. Slowly making its way to the face, the creature pauses for a moment to investigate its prey. A tubular appendage then comes out from the snout of the being and drops into the man’s mouth. A sphere pushes out from the tube and plops into the open chops. It goes down his throat with a large gulp.
The appendage retracts and the thing vanishes without a trace. The only sound heard is Milo’s snoring as he continues to sleep. About an hour passes before a surge of energy spreads through every muscle and tendon of his body. Milo’s eyes spring open and dart about for a moment before he drifts back to sleep.
Milo wakes up at about nine in the morning and begins his normal routine of chatting with strangers on the internet. It is something to keep his loneliness from taking control of his life. Milo goes back to sleep in preparation for another workday at about two in the afternoon.
The annoying buzz of the alarm clock sounds as seven strikes. The nearly perpetual motions begin for Milo. As he takes his shower, his stomach growls as the ball breaks inside him and a liquid spreads into his bloodstream. Milo can only grasp his gut as it gurgles. He is completely unaware of the incident that occurred during his slumber.
Even on the drive to work, the growling never stops. It remains constant throughout the first couple of hours of his shift. Milo works as best as he can with the odd problem. He forgets all about the unusual feeling when Barry Horton barges in.
“Olmstead,” screeches Horton.
“Yes, sir,” says Milo as he braces for the impact.
“We’re ready to move the Bi-Plasma Petroleum into the holding tanks.”
“Sir, I’m telling you it’s not ready for production.”
“Do it or you’re fired!”
“Yes sir.” Milo says as he turns his back and shakes his head.
Milo begins flipping switches and pressing buttons to start the process of transferring the petroleum to the holding tanks. The oil would go from the tanks to the trucks, then into distribution for the hungry motorists. The crude pumps through the large tubes leading to the holding tanks. Milo’s stomach starts to growl again. He hunches over in pain.
“You okay,” says Horton mordantly.
“I’m fine. It’s just an upset stomach.”
“Well you’re missing the show to stardom! Watch this.”
Another pang in the stomach causes Milo to wince hard. The pain is intense as he slumps over the control panel. Milo’s left hand inadvertently hits the flow panel. His palm accidentally increases the rate of flow to much more than the large tube can handle. The rate increases to the point of alert. A buzzing alarm suddenly sounds in the room. Barry and Milo look around, growing more concerned with every passing second.
“What’s going on,” Horton shouts as someone enters the room to report on the situation.
“The flow to the holding tanks is out of control,” the employee responds.
“Why did they overflow Olmstead,” Horton says angrily.
“I must have hit the release button by accident.”
“Shut it off, we’ll burst the pipes!”
“It’s too late,” Milo yells over the alarm. “The generators can’t slow down in time. We’ll have to shut it down manually. The switch is in the room with the holding tanks.”
Milo darts out of his workstation and into the reserve rooms where the holding tanks sit. The tubes holding the oil look like they were going to burst. The sight of a massive pipe bulging under the stress is enough to frighten anyone. The reserve room shakes with all of the anxiety of the moment. Many employees run around in panic. Milo rushes into the room while Horton follows up from behind.
“The place is going to blow. Everybody evacuate,” Horton screams.
The room empties while Milo rushes to the emergency shutdown system. The last of the other employees clear the room and Horton jumps into action of his own.
“Shut the doors. Seal off the room,” he yells.
“Don’t leave me in here,” Milo shouts futilely.
Realizing he is alone, Milo starts the shutdown sequence. The first screen he sees on the computer is the encryption prompt. The prompt is something that he never learned from his predecessor.
“I don’t know the code! What’s the code,” Milo desperately shrieks as he tries to end the terror before him.
One pipe in the background suddenly begins to buckle under the enormous stress. Milo turns around with his eyes wide open. He sees the inevitable before him. A nut holding the pipes shoots off, sheared from the bolt holing it in place. The bolt passes right next to his head and narrowly misses his eye.
Milo rushes back to the panel once more. He tries a password only to have an “access denied” message pop up in front of him. A drop of the oil falls onto his arm. He looks down at it with both shock and interest. The oil slowly absorbs into his skin as if it was never there. He looks on with some amazement until he hears the pipe buckle.
He looks up in time to see the pipe begin to fall and the oil surge into the room. There is no time to react and he falls into the torrent of ooze. The surge flings him to the other side of the room. The entire area fills up more than three feet deep of the black oil.
Computers realize the break and start to pull the flow of oil down to zero. Almost all of Milo’s work was fruitful, but it comes up just short. The rest of Red Mountain’s new pride and joy stops dripping on the floor. Horton stares at the aftermath of the accident.
“Open the drainage,” he says, calmly and defeated.
The drains open and the petroleum that remains slips in. Oil that was waist deep in the room is gone in a matter of few moments. Only a few minor drops of the solution stay on the floor. Horton and some other employees move into the room. The boss seems more interested in the devastation than the employee he just lost. A small moan comes from the far corner of the room. Horton looks over to see Milo moving lightly with the substance he was trying to prevent from escaping covering him.
A few employees move in with a stretcher and carry Milo off to the factory doctor. To their surprise, most of the oil clears from his body by the time they get to the door. They clean off the rest of the remaining residue when the doctor begins her analysis.
Milo regains consciousness lying on a bed. He tries to gain his bearings. A woman, Dr. Prescott, comes into the room. He remains motionless. She sits down in a chair beside him.
“Hey, Doc.”
“Don’t get up. You’ve had a rather nasty experience.”
“I’m sure.”
“How do you feel right now?”
“I don’t know. I’m just a little tired I guess.”
“Well you should be dead right now. That oil is very nasty when contacted with the skin. What concerns me is that you do not seem to be affected at all.”
“Really,” says Milo as he raises his head in amazement.
“Yes, the amount of oil that you took in is enough to kill ten men.”
“I know that. I did help research it after all.”
“Yes, quite,” quips the doctor.
“So can I go now?”
“You seem to be fine. I guess we can send you home. If you have any problems, call me immediately and we’ll check you out.”
“Fine by me, Doc.”
Milo collects his things and leaves the room. He gets back into his car at about one in the morning. He feels his stomach growl worse while driving on the lonely road. The growling is so bad that he parks on the side of the road and endures the pain. His stomach continues to churn all the way home, even as he gets into bed.
An hour passes. Milo tries to fall asleep. The traumatizing day takes its toll on his mind. His stomach does not help either. However, fatigue is winning the battle. Milo’s eyes slowly shut as he drifts off to sleep.
Only five minutes pass in what seems like hours. A huge surge of energy suddenly goes through Milo’s body and wakes him. Trying to move, he finds himself paralyzed. It is even impossible to blink.
The soles of his feet grow a black covering. The covering feels slick as it crawls over his toes and up his ankles. The black is an eerily similar compound to that of the oil he found himself covered in earlier. Milo desperately tries to free himself from his paralysis, but his attempts are futile. Like smooth amber pouring down a tree, the black finishes with his feet and moves up his legs. Milo’s attempts to free himself became vainer. He has no alternative but to allow it to finish.
Passing over his midriff and his chest, the black continues its work. Milo grunts at the changes occurring throughout the process. The grunting stops entirely when the black reaches his neck. He tries the best he can to make a sound. Nothing comes out of his mouth. Only the breaths he draws pass between his vocal chords.
His mouth first, then his nose, ears, and finally the top of his head, the black ooze seals the body at the eyes. The body remains completely covered in black for a few seconds. Eyes open up suddenly to reveal a pair of illuminating green orbs.
The next few hours of the night pass slowly. The jet-black body begins defining its muscles. No longer is the body smooth and slick, but it now has rigidity and extra muscle mass. The body that was Milo Olmstead is now fit. All the body does is lie there. Yet it comes improved from before.
The body lays silent and relatively lifeless like the outdoors. However, it appears that the streets in the suburbs of millions are not lifeless. A solitary man carrying a bag on his shoulder walks down the street just outside of Milo’s house. He heads across the road when reaching the street corner.
This man walks by the mailbox before making a sharp turn up the driveway. The house belongs to a girl named Jolene Fisher. She sleeps peacefully within. She has always lived next door to Milo, but the two never paid much attention to each other over the years. The Man’s intention becomes clearer. His brisk walk clearly indicates he is not a boyfriend of Jolene. He comes up to the door and checks the handle to find it locked. The burly man uses the next best thing to a key, a towel-covered elbow.
The room where the shadowy figure resides remains silent. Not even the cricket’s song penetrates. The glass breaking next-door pierces the air and the silence. The shadowy figure rises up without hesitation and turns its attention to the noise.
A search to steal something valuable comes for the burglar. The TV and DVD player look promising, but they are too much to handle for only one man. He needs items that are more manageable. This burglar is looking for money and jewelry. The intruder finds the door to the bedroom in his search.
Determined eyes guide the dark figure as he exits the house. It takes little time for the figure to find the source of the crashing noise.
The burglar bursts into the bedroom, waking Jolene in a shaking terror. A nightmare is coming true.
“Who are you,” she screams.
“Shut up,” says the burglar as he reaches for a rope in his bag.
The thief ties her arms and legs to the bed. He also gags her mouth. Jolene screams in anguish, but they do not resonate far. The intruder cracks an enormous grin, the emotion giving away his full intentions.
“Looks like I’m getting more than just diamonds tonight,” quips the burglar.
The burglar takes off his gloves and prepares for the crime he never intended to commit. Rubbing his newly exposed hands together, he reaches down for the zipper on his pants. Jolene sheds a tear when there is a bang at the bedroom door. Turning around in a fury, the intruder checks the noise. A shadowy figure stands at the door to both the thief and his captor’s surprise.
“Who are you? Get out of here,” he shouts.
The figure presses forward toward the intruder. The black covered man, with all but his eyes hidden, shows no fear. The intruder pulls out his gun hidden on his side. He aims it straight at the shadowy figure. Nothing deters the man from continuing. Not even a gun is stopping him now.
“Don’t come any closer!” The housebreaker’s eyes nearly bulge out of head. The individual refuses to stop. Taking the last measure, the robber cocks the hammer and pulls the trigger.
A bullet at the distance to the dark figure could make the trip in less than a blink of an eye. Just before the bullet can penetrate the shadowy figure’s body, his entire being reacts. His body doesn’t move around it, but allows the bullet to pass through. The man’s entire body becomes as transparent as a shadow.
The would-be thief finds himself completely baffled at what he sees. How could a man completely avoid a bullet at point-blank range? He throws the gun away when he realizes the uselessness of his weapon.
Clutched fists violently swing as the intruder charges at the figure. Again, the ghost-like man is not intimidated. The robber attempts a connection at the figure’s head with a few roundhouse punches. The punches follow the same pattern as the bullet, passing through his head as if he is not even there.
Not sure what to do, the burglar takes a step back and prepares for another charge. He screams loudly in vainness. Jolene, still tied up on the bed, looks on with some interest and less fear. Another fury of punches comes from the waning criminal. The mysterious figure now begins blocking the punches instead of letting them pass through him. Every punch makes him look five steps ahead of his attacker. The defensive position looks almost as if the jabs, uppercuts, and crosses are in slow motion.
This new rescuer starts looking bored. Even with only his eyes as the visible features on his face. The failing offender tries landing another punch, but this time the figure takes matters into his own hands. He throws a punch of his own. The clutched fist lands on the robber’s nose and stuns him.
The shadowy figure takes two steps back and stalks his prey. He takes an open palm with his fingers tucked in. He swings and hits the criminal. The contact makes a resounding smack. The intruder flies through the air and lands into the wall. His body slides to the floor below. His impact leaves cracks in the striped wallpaper. The man slips into a pleasant dreamland, escaping his nightmarish reality.
With the threat averted, the new hero turns to the former hostage. The mysterious man unties her legs and one of her hands. With her free hand, she reaches up and clasps his wrist in a gesture of thankfulness. They pause for a moment as she stares into his glowing green eyes. He removes the rope from her other hand and unties any remaining rope. Then he removes the tape from her mouth.
“I’ll call the cops,” she says as she reaches for the phone.
The shadowy hero takes the unconscious criminal failure to the front door. He ties the intruder to a post holding up the porch awning with the very rope he used to his victim to the bed. The dark shadowed man then hears the whining of the police sirens. And he disappears into the night.
Milo wakes up and looks around. His heart races in excitement.
“That was a weird dream.”
He hops out of bed and heads to the kitchen. He pulls out a bowl and oatmeal. He starts to fix his breakfast. He notices a police car outside Jolene’s house while the oatmeal sits on the stove. Curious, he turns the stove off and investigates.
“What’s going on, Jolene,” he says as he walks up.
“Somebody tried to rob me,” she says as the cop leaves.
“Did they get anything? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Some guy came in and saved me!”
“Really?”
“He’s a real superhero! The guy tried shooting him, but it passed through him like he was a shadow, like he was some sort of shadow master.”
“That’s impressive,” Milo says as he begins to ponder in the back of his head.
“I can’t even begin to thank him. Well, I have to go call a contractor. He threw the guy into the wall and it left a crack. Minimal damage right? Bye.”
“Bye.”
Milo thinks for a moment and looks back at his shadow. It curls its left hand fingers into a fist. Milo is not doing the action with his own body. He thinks to himself:
“A Shadow Master...”
Chapter 2
Growing Pains
Milo shuts the front door to his home and locks it. The disturbance of his shadow moving against the will of its master bothers him greatly. His breathing remains heavy as he struggles for air. He thinks he is about to have a heart attack.
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. He hopes to see it do the same as he moves his left arm around. 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 on his brow. He falls onto the nearby couch fearful in his step. 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. He cannot believe what he just said. He went from employed to unemployed in a matter of a few seconds. 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 and the skyline. 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 of the coastal cities. With the high mountains just to the west, the city becomes a base camp to all travelers who look for the cool air 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.
Club scenes do 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. 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. The mall on 32nd Street provides a great variety in the world of foods. He 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 clinic. He keeps his thoughts and screams to himself. He heads around the corner without taking his eyes off his pursing shadow and 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 to her feet.
“That’s okay.”
“Katie, Katie McGinnis,” he says shocked as he looks up at the face of the beautiful woman.