The Shadow

Ten men, in masks, considerably armed, all worked together to carry crates from the warehouse to the big-rig. None of them knew what was in the packages, only that a big pay day awaited them after the job. Two men carried one crate at a time, and they moved in and out of the warehouse like clockwork... until the lights went out. Everyone stopped. Nick started to back up, his partner (Jerry) followed, until Nick backed into something that wasn't there before. Nick dropped the crate onto his feet. Jerry was paralyzed in fear. Behind Nick stood a dark figure, wearing a dark cloak with a hood. The hood masked his face with a shadow. No one had ever seen the face of the Shadow, as he was called. The image was haunting. The Shadow covered Nick's mouth with his hand until he passed out.

Jerry finally came to and pulled out his gun and aimed for the figure. The Shadow opened up his cloak and a thick cloud began to envelop everyone. The doors of the warehouse closed trapping everyone inside momentarily.

Outside the building, the driver and four movers panicked. The engine was not starting up, and no one could see anything in the dark. As the all started to run, the Shadow showed up. He came out of nowhere, hitting the leader of the pack in the jaw. Instant knock out.

The next thug pulled out his semi-automatic and fired, but the bullet bounced off the mysterious cloak and hit another thug instead. The Shadow rushed the thug, enveloping him in the cloak then spitting him out. It all happened at lightning speed. Shadow then attacked the thug to the left as the thug began to draw his gun. Shadow turned to his two remaining opponents. He approached slowly, as they lowered their weapons and laid down on the ground.

Back inside the warehouse, all the thugs had their weapons drawn. All windows had been sealed off and no light came inside. Jerry's eyes were adjusting, as one of his comrades was thrown across the room into him. Jerry went to scream, but a hand covered his mouth, emitting an interesting smell that he wouldn't remember when he woke up.

The remaining four thugs waved their guns around. One saw something move. He fired. Missed. Fired again. Kept firing until he was out of bullets. One of the other thugs screamed. He had been hit by one of the bullets, and fell to the ground. The trigger happy thug didn't see Shadow behind him. Shadow covered the thug's face, until he too passed out. Outside, one could hear the police sirens. The remaining two thugs saw the wraith-like figure standing over their comrade's body. Just a simple, ghastly, dark cloak with a face engulfed in the shadow of the hood. The thugs watched the Shadow float upwards and away. Then floodlights came on in the warehouse, blinding them, and the doors opened up, letting the cops in.

Thirty minutes later, the cloaked figure landed on the roof of an apartment building. An identical figure was already there. They both removed their hoods to reveal... two regular guys. No names would be needed. They could have been anyone. Both were under 45 years of age. Both of them were upper-middle to upper class economically. Both in shape. Both males. Both happened to be Caucasian.

"What brings you to Island City," asked the shadowy figure whom our short story follows.

"Inspection," answered the other man, who was superior in rank to the first. You see, the Shadow was not one man, but a national association of vigilante crime-fighters, each under their own jurisdiction. Each of them was trained and groomed from a young age to be the people they are today. Each of them takes flexible and high-paying jobs. They then combine their wealth to fund their crime-fighting network.

"Well, you'll find I run a tight ship here, even in the absence of my local ally."

"Well, then I'll get right to it. We are concerned with your careless behavior. Two of your opponents were shot tonight."

"Not by me."

"No, but you could have avoided these things. This isn't the way we taught you. We don't kill."

"That was not my hand."

"But it was a product of your carelessness. It could have been avoided."

"I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Listen, if you can't comply to our code, we are going to need to enact disciplinary measures."

The superior stepped out onto the ledge of the building and then plunged over the edge.

Meta-Man

"Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Meta-Man! Symbol of hope and humanitarianism. Protector of all life forms. The Ultimate Champion of Justice and Equality. And he's quite an opponent for anyone who would stand opposed to those virtues. Those who perpetuate injustice and inequality beware. Meta-Man is on the move. With powers of flight and super speed. Skin indestructible to an Atom bomb. He has not only physical strength, but also moral strength to oppose all evil doers. A new day is dawning for justice, and Meta-Man is waking early to see this sun rise."

Click. Once the recording stopped, the announcer took a deep breath, got up and left for his coffee break. Behind him stood Meta-Man, clothed in full body armor and complete with a cape, next to his producer.

"I don't know about this," Meta-Man said, "It's all very cheesy."

"This cartoon is an excellent way for you to reach kids with your message of hope and equality for all. This is a way for you to expand your impact on the world."

"It's all so simplistic, with all that talk of good and evil. The world is far more complex than that. And for all my powers, I'm still a human who makes mistakes."

"I know that, but kids deal in black and white, so we need to simplify things for them. We need someone to represent good, and who better to do that?"

"Thanks for this, Rob."

Rob nodded and Meta-Man super-sped out of the room. Mystery surrounded the Champion of Mankind. His real power was telekinesis, from moving large objects, to manipulating matter. This power allowed him to make his skin indestructible, fly, and manipulate temperatures in the surrounding area.

Many believed that he was like Superman, a super-powered messiah from another planet. Meta-Man neither confirmed nor denied these rumors. The truth, however, was that Meta-Man was simply a human. Born and raised on a small farm in Iowa, he and his friend John developed superpowers in their early teens. John could communicate with others mentally, and Clark (Meta-Man to us) could lift things with his mind. Their powers continued to develop and expand, and when they turned 18, they went separate ways. John joined the military and Clark traveled across the country on a motorcycle. This was before the existence of superheroes was public knowledge. As he traveled the country, he used his powers in secret to help others. When superheroes emerged from the shadows, Meta-Man led the charge, becoming prominent in the hero community.

As Meta-Man flew through the sky, he received a call on his ear-piece about a six-story robot, that was terrorizing downtown Manhattan. Cheesy? Maybe. Generic? Yeah, but this sort of thing only happened about once a month. Mad scientist comes up with an experimental model for a giant robot and uses it to terrorize a major city. Luckily, Meta-Man was in New York City. He flew at top speed, to the scene of the attack and landed with a dramatic entrance, but the robot had already taken it's toll. Civilians were running away screaming, but some of them had not made it.

The robot sprayed bullets from a large machine gun mounted on it's "arms". Meta-Man ran in front of the bullets to protect citizens. He then rushed the robot and dismantled the guns. The robot punched him in mid-flight. The force knocked him to the ground. The robot cupped his hands over Meta-Man and began to crush him with extreme pressure. The weight actually started to become more than he could handle. He used his telekinesis to access the Kinetic Force, and it's vast resource of kinetic energy. He summoned as much energy as he could and redirected in towards the robot.

Next Meta-Man was on his feet, pushing back the hand of the robot. After failing to squish the hero in his mechanical palm, the robot grabbed him and tried to squeeze him with both hands. Once again the pressure became too much on his exoskeleton of "virtually impervious" skin. It was about to crack like the shell of a crab. So he started to warm up. Using his telekinesis, he warmed up the surrounding molecules, melting the robot's hands until he slipped through them.

Meta-Man put his hands out, and from them, blast of searing heat were projected at the robot, melting it's metal exterior. He rushed to the robot and picked it up by the ankle. With full control of the kinetic energy in the area, he kept the robot perfect balanced, lifting it up with only one hand.

Then he took to the sky. He shot straight up, holding the robot in front of him. Then he moved eastward, towards the Atlantic Ocean. He chucked the robot forward a bit, and then flew into it with a punch. With one touch, he disassembled the giant android. It shattered to pieces, and fell into the ocean, deep into Davy Jones Locker.

*****

Meta-Man returned to the scene where the attack had started. The carnage was great, and the scene was tragic. Meta-Man vowed that he would never let this type of attack happen again. Never again.