Shadowman, page 9
part #1 of The Valiant Universe Series
Further examination of his memories revealed that this inexplicable pillar of support was a result of Josiah’s master plan, an inherited blessing that empowered his son to succeed where he had failed.
No longer cringing, Jack recalled the moment in great detail while beaming out the bus window. He could still see the hint of suppressed amusement twinkling in his father’s eyes.
“Can I ask you something, son?” his father had asked.
“Shoot,” the young Jack responded.
“How are you so sure that you’re being objective when judging your stance as superior?”
“C’mon, Dad,” Jack began, rolling his eyes, “you’re saying that a culture focused on pursuing knowledge would be just as backward as one obsessed with superstition?”
Josiah’s expression was unchanged as he shook his head. “No, I’m asking what makes you think that the city’s condition would improve if its population collectively decided to get ‘educated’?”
“Doesn’t reality prove my argument?”
“Does it?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s a statistical fact that the more educated a community, the higher their standard of living.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jack threw his hands in the air. “It’s basically the same thing!” he screeched. “Statistics prove that if the city lets go of all the superstitious voodoo crap and focuses on educating the people, poverty will decrease. When poverty decreases, so does crime. It’s just a fact!”
“I understand all that, son,” Josiah replied, calmly resting his elbows on the kitchen table. “But what if you’re wrong? Think of my question as a hypothetical exercise. Literally, what would you do if you were wrong?”
Jack took a deep breath as he considered the question. “Fine, if I somehow wind up being wrong then . . . I guess I’ll be confused.”
“That’s it?”
“And angry, real angry.”
Josiah was nodding as a subtle smile formed on his face. “I think you’re right about that, Jack,” he said. “I’m proud you can predict how you would feel, but those are emotions. I’m asking what would you do—would you give in to those emotions?”
“No!” Jack replied quickly. “I would have more self-control than that.” He paused while gazing at the table. “Most likely, I’d get over it and work my way to finding out why I was wrong. From there I’d just accept whatever the truth actually is.”
Josiah suddenly clapped his hands together. “That’s more like it, son!” Jack jumped with a start. “That’s the key to your success!”
“This-this is just hypothetical, Dad.”
Josiah nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, son, sure. The point is, that key will serve you no matter the situation, hypothetical or not. Wish I had it when I was your age. Things would be a lot different, no doubt about that.”
Jack turned away from the window and began clenching his fists, still grinning. Thank you for gifting me this, Dad.
This gift of assuredness, once acquired, continued unabated, radiating outward to his extremities before returning in a self-sustaining ebb and flow. The excitement he felt while coming to grips with this new state of being had to be what replaced his need for sleep, like a child on Christmas Eve.
Jack was snatched from his thoughts by the sudden frenzy taking place in the aisle of the bus. From the corner of his eye, he could see passengers stampeding their way past him to reach the front.
He stood up and looked toward the rear of the bus to see the cause of the commotion. Three men were hovering menacingly over another, who remained pinned to his seat as they shouted threats.
Jack noticed one person had not fled despite being only two seats away from the ruckus. Casually running her fingers behind her ear to secure several of her braids, the young woman seemed oblivious to the potential fight. She remained relatively expressionless as she briefly locked eyes with Jack as he walked past.
Everyone else, however, was huddled together on the opposite end. They watched in bewilderment as Jack confidently approached the scuffle that was moments from becoming an assault. The mayhem had forced the driver to detour to the nearest exit in order to bring the bus to a stop.
Considering what to say, Jack examined the demeanor of the three aggressors. One of them knelt on the seat in front of the victim while the other two remained standing in the aisle. Their target’s eyes were fixed on the back of the seat, seemingly unresponsive. He only broke his gaze to glance at Jack as he got closer.
“I said move over!” one of the men said.
Jack placed a hand on the shoulder of the closest malefactor. “Hey, what happened?”
His voice was calm and concerned, not aggressive.
The man peered at him from over his shoulder. His angrily furrowed brow slightly gave way to confusion as he sized Jack up. The other two didn’t even pause their antics, but their victim was quick to speak.
“They’re just mad because I won’t move over to the window seat.”
Curious as to who was being spoken to, the two men looked at Jack. “Is that true?” he asked, scanning their faces.
Incensed, the one Jack had been speaking to turned around, looking down upon him as if to intimidate. “And who are you?” he replied. “The hall monitor or something? Get the hell outta here.”
After saying this, he tried to shove him away, but as Jack didn’t budge, the force of the push rebounded, sending the man’s weight backward into his friend.
Confused by the collision, the malefactors looked among themselves before setting their sights on Jack, who was both smaller and much younger than they were.
“Yeah,” Jack said with a smile, “that’s me. I didn’t know they had hall monitors on buses, but it’s okay, I’m whatever you need me to be.”
As the three men continued to stare, several feminine titters bubbled from the front of the bus. Jack noticed the resolve touch down on their faces as the newly embarrassed men redirected their aggression toward him. He watched the one who had been kneeling on the seat step down and prepare for their coordinated attack.
“So you a hero, huh?”
Jack’s smile remained as the three men tried to converge on him as much as the narrow aisle would allow. “No,” he replied. “I’m not a hero yet, I just need you three to get off when the driver pulls over. I gotta get home and you guys are about to delay everything over a seat.”
The sound of the young women’s laughter emanated from the front again.
Immediately, one of the men threw a punch. Unfortunately for him, this only led to the collapse of his tough-guy persona.
Staring at his assailant with an open mouth, Jack was surprised by how thoroughly painless his attack was.
That hit felt like a cotton ball, he thought. A wet one at most.
The man mirrored his stunned expression. Apparently misinterpreting Jack’s as one of anger, he promptly apologized. “Sorry, little bruh.”
Jack remained in awe for a moment. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, laughing off the slight. “Just chill out, you could really hurt someone with that punch.”
“Move out the way, pussy!”
Undeterred, the second aggressor strong-armed his fellow to the side and quickly sent a jab toward the center of Jack’s face.
“Holy crap!” someone exclaimed.
Jack had slightly nodded his head into the punch, bringing the fist into a collision course with his forehead. Several passengers winced and hissed at the resulting crack while the man immediately clutched his hand, mumbling profanities. The apologetic one watched as his companion, newly injured, moved past Jack in an attempt to walk off the pain.
“Just get off the bus, guys.”
Hearing this, the first attacker took his eyes off his fellow and onto Jack again. Strangely devoid of the former repentance, he made the confounding decision to attack again.
With his head turned from this new blow, Jack was now facing the final malefactor, who remained standing in front of the seat he had been kneeling on. The original ruffian watched in dismay as Jack began to address his friend, totally unaffected by the strike.
“Do you want to be the first to get off?” Orienting himself within the aisle to give the man space to depart, Jack locked eyes with the one who hit him twice. “I don’t want any problems, I need to get home. I just found out my dad died and my mom needs me.”
With this, the rest of the passengers began reprimanding and insulting the goons, commanding that they get off the bus. The static of the intercom crackled as the driver prepared to speak.
“All of this is under surveillance,” she announced. “I’ve recorded you knuckleheads assaulting that boy and already notified the police. Stay on the bus or get out, it don’t matter none.” She began addressing Jack. “You okay, sweetie?”
Jack turned to see the driver looking at him in her mirror. “Yes, miss,” he replied, waving. “All is well.”
The driver glanced at the men. “Don’t go thinking just ’cause you big for nothings didn’t hurt him that it ain’t assault.”
The one in front of the seat quickly raised his arms as if already under arrest. “I didn’t assault nobody!”
“Get off!” the passengers commanded in unison.
Jack moved to the side as the injured malefactor rushed through, still hissing profanities as he shoved past his surrendering comrade.
The other finally broke eye contact with Jack and hastily advanced toward the exit. “I don’t got time for this crap,” he said. “All over a dumbass seat . . .”
Jack trailed behind the three men as they fled, only to sit down as he came to his seat. He shot a thumbs-up to the relieved passengers as they gave him a quick round of applause while returning to their places. The young man put the earbuds back into his ears and remained peering out the window for the remainder of the trip.
It was nighttime in Atlanta, and by then, many of the admiring passengers had noticed Jack never slept. They jokingly exhorted him to get some rest as he stood in the dark parking lot.
Fortunately for Bossu, Jack did not bother him like he did in Virginia.
Instead, he opted to measure his so-called “gains,” testing his powers within the shadow of night.
His newly acquired night vision turned the black sky into an illuminating gray.
Not white but brighter than overcast, the hue rendered everything visible and in its true color. The ability was certainly useful, but it was mainly passive, not really needing to be trained.
His shadow manipulation, however, was an entirely different story.
Jack had been engrossed in his growing dexterity with the sixth sense he referred to as his appendage, resulting in any conversation with the Lwa being kept to a minimum.
Pretending to take no notice, Bossu watched as Jack weaved it unseen. He had been attempting to distinguish the passengers in the various vehicles or aircraft that came within range of his ability.
The slightly amused Lwa observed Jack fail repeatedly, and by a large margin. He personally considered it a baffling exercise, too impractical an application toward an objective that was worthless.
Despite there being no evidence of improvement in the face of his constant failure, Jack’s enthusiasm remained unaffected.
The Lwa simply could not help but feel vexed at this.
“The way you harness my powers is completely different from your predecessors,” he began, seeking a quarrel. “Manipulation of the shadow is purely sensory, but you are unwilling to treat it as such.”
Unresponsive, with his hands in his pockets, Jack appeared lost in thought as he continued his invisible antics across the landscape. The ancient entity remembered the pestering he had been subjected to the day before and, seeing as Jack was currently focused on the unproductive, thought it fitting to do the same to him.
“You seem to be under the misperception that it is some physical extension of you. Why not test that belief before accepting it so blindly? Are you at least envisioning anything when you engage?”
Jack considered the inquiry as he blinked away his night vision and observed the dark as normal. I guess it’s a legitimate question, he said to himself, but I can’t see what it looks like. He performed a quick scan through his mind to ensure Bossu was not intruding. I don’t know if this guy is playing dumb or if he really doesn’t know all that much about the powers he gives, but it’s definitely a physical extension.
Jack thought back to when he physically pulled himself into the void. The Lwa had not been pretending, he was genuinely surprised. Bossu was so stunned by that but still believes I have no proof of it being a physical extension? Maybe he doesn’t know all that much . . . or maybe every host is different in some way? He did claim I was the first to do it.
Jack patrolled his mind once more before pondering the Lwa’s condescending question. But what exactly am I envisioning with this thing? Like a hand in the dark, he could not see the appendage, but he could definitely feel it. Maybe it’s a kind of arm? Its range is crazy, though, I feel like it moves like a frog’s tongue sorta . . . a retractable wire, maybe? But that doesn’t explain how I can grasp with it. Flexing the appendage, he activated his night vision once more in the vain hope that he would see something.
I feel what it’s doing, he thought, moving it about internally and externally, so even though it’s invisible, I should be able to get an idea of its structure based on how I use—
He stopped short upon sensing that Bossu had finally begun to hover around his cognition. Jack’s prolonged silence stoked his curiosity.
Jack silently began manipulating the appendage, attentive to whether its sensory feedback would confirm the feasibility of attempted movements.
Palpating the darkness around him, Jack felt the imprint of two individuals as they secured the perimeter of a building some distance behind him. Unseen, he turned around and watched as they conducted their patrol. Although his powers allowed him to see in the darkness, evidently magnification was not included.
Because of this, his sixth sense provided much more physical detail about the distant men than his eyes. Like a blind man using his hands to learn someone’s face. As they disappeared behind the building, however, so did his perception of them.
Although smiling, a furrow of dissatisfaction appeared on Jack’s brow. “That’s all it takes to lose me?” he said aloud. “I refuse.”
Intending to sense the obscured area behind the building, Jack psionically reached forward and attempted a ninety-degree turn but his mind suddenly registered a distinct expression of denial coming from the appendage.
He thought it was quite similar to the feedback from his arm when he tried to lift weights that were too heavy.
A succinct, yet voiceless, no.
Jack rapidly tried two more times with the same result. Confident that he was doing something wrong, he felt intrigued rather than frustrated. “There is no way I should be eluded by something so . . . simple.”
Still smiling, he tried again.
This time, instead of thinking it into a right angle, he visualized a tight curve. Conceiving a bend that stretched around the building, his teeth began to show upon realizing he did not feel the voiceless rejection as before. He restrained himself from a full-fledged grin seeing as he had yet to receive confirmation it worked as intended.
His hesitancy became unnecessary as he suddenly perceived the two guards, with the same intricate detail as before, continuing their patrol along the back of the building while still out of view.
“Yeaaaahhh!” Despite his excited utterance, he maintained his casual posture.
“What are you on about?” Bossu asked.
Jack did not respond and instead directed his senses upward into the air. “So,” he began, “you don’t do rigidity, but you can bend, huh? Let’s see . . .”
He immediately began projecting it into a variety of contortions across the skyline and, sensing no rejection, began reaching it forward with the intent to create the rippling crests and troughs of a wave pattern.
The appendage felt like it was doing it.
Jack spun around before excitedly casting the sense far behind him, toward the rear of the building. Not only did he effortlessly relocate the original guards, but also noticed three individuals converge upon them. Correctly identifying the new arrivals as two men and one woman, Jack marveled as he discerned them shake hands. His perception was so acute that he would have been able to read their lips had he the experience.
“Unreal . . .”
As he stood in awe, Jack suddenly felt a spark within his intuition. Its fleeting surmise seemed so implausible he almost dismissed it outright.
“You told me no,” he breathed. “Y-you’re sentient?”
“Who are you talking to?” Bossu asked.
“I’m not sure exactly,” Jack said, finally replying to the Lwa. “I think . . . I think this thing—”
“What thing?”
“The thing you were giving me the third degree about.”
“Shadow manipulation! I wanted to know how—”
“How I envisioned it, yeah, always as some kind of an inanimate tool, like an extendable grabber that’s controlled by my mind.”
“How absurd.”
“But my exercise has me thinking it’s more like an arm. It’s pretty surprising actually.”
“I have heard you refer to it as an appendage quite often and yet you are surprised?”
Jack gasped in an exaggerated manner. “So, I was right?” he asked. “Then why were you saying all that condescending stuff before?”
“Do not misunderstand, I still think your interpretation is worth condescension, but that sentiment is now directed at your prior admission.” Jack began snickering at the ground, but Bossu pressed on. “Ignoring your statement about it being a mystical picking tool for a moment, the choice to refer to it as an appendage was of your own doing from the very first. You are here claiming that vain exercise of yours has somehow revealed to you that—”
