Shadow Boy
Authors: R.J. Ross
Shadow Boy
Amazon Edition
Published by Book Candy Publishing
Copyright © 2016 by R. J. Ross
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by 336Love Books
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
~Other works by R.J. Ross~
Belle and the Dragon's Curse * Sundance's Syn * Missing: Witch * Destiny Thread
The Winstead Files Series
Courting the Beast * Snow White, Snow White * The Sleeper * Stiltskin
Arcadia Gamers Series
Croc Skins * Coyote Falls
Seasons of the Fae Series
Raven's Return * Death of a Dryad * Water Wielder
Cape High Series
Super Villain Dad * America's Grandson * Hello Kitty * Don't Know Jack * Daddy's Girl * Aces Wild * Steampunk Time * Fire Hazard * Ditto Ditto * Sunny Daze * Life Light * Guitar Hero * Super Girls * Shadow Boy
*Previously Published in PCS's The Good Fight*
*A Few Months Ago*
Have you ever done something that seems like a good idea at the time, only to wind up on the most wanted list? Yeah, probably not, huh? Well I have. It all started some... what, four years ago? I was thirteen at the time, normal kid, as far as that goes, one parent household. My ma, she never told me who my old man was. Said he was dead, or gone, the story changed depending on what mood she was in, but it always ended with the fact that I should stop asking. I decided a long time ago that he was just some random guy she met. Nothing too big to worry about, really. Lots of kids grow up without a dad, right?
Thing is, not many of them can travel through shadows. It freaked me out the first time I did it--I had no idea how I did it in the first place, much less where I was going to come out at. Heck, some of the time I still don’t know. Shadows aren’t like doors. All shadows are connected through a giant space I like to call Shadowlands. At least, for me they are.
The only explanation I could come up with is that my dad, that useless guy that I never met? He’s probably a super. Not a very good one, I bet, since I’ve never heard of a Hall member that could travel through shadows, but a super. It’s not that shocking. I mean, sure, there’s only a handful of them compared to normal people, but they exist. They even form a group called the Hall in America, one that has five branches of super hero teams.
So now I should probably say what I did to get on the most wanted list--and whose most wanted list that might be. Or maybe what my name is, huh? I will--give me a minute--
"I told you that you were supposed to be here at two!" The guy saying this is one of those creepy high dollar suits that do charity in the front of their shops and send out pre-teens with drugs in the back. How do I know? I'm watching him with a pre-teen right now, one that I like to consider a friend of mine. I wince as he backhands the poor kid across the room. "We have
customers,
Jamal!"
"I had to go to school," Jamal says, wincing and barely touching his face as he tries to get to his feet. "If I miss any more they'll call my ma--"
"Forget your ma! We had an agreement!" This is my cue. I step out of the shadows, right behind the kid. The man in the suit stares at me, until he sees the wooden bat in my hands. "You--" he says, reaching behind him. For a second I think he's going for a gun, and then he brings out a bag of white powder. "Here, on the house. Don't say I never gave you nothin', kid," he says, tossing it to me. I automatically catch it, looking at it for a moment.
Do I look like a druggie? Tall, skinny bi-racial kid with reddish braids, torn up jeans that need pitched, a Panther T-shirt that's seen better years, and run down sneakers that should be tied--okay,
maybe a little
, but still! That's profiling! I toss the bag of drugs to the side. "Get out of here, Jamal," I say.
The kid looks up at me, a worried look on his face. "But Rocco--" he starts out, only to stop and run as fast as he can to the door. I almost curse as the suit pulls out a small pistol, bringing it up to shoot at Jamal, but I don't have time. I grab the man's wrist, feeling the bones start to crack. The gun drops to the floor, going off. It's only pure luck that it doesn't hit Jamal.
"You're finished, Mister," I say as he futilely tries to punch me in the stomach. It doesn't hurt--he's got no skills and hardly any muscle, like I said, business man. "You either stop peddling drugs through kids or I finish you for good, got it?"
He looks at me with a snarl on his lips and I'm certain I've got him. Then he does something I don't expect. He bellows for help. "HELP! I'M BEING ROBBED! ANYONE!"
I wince, almost letting go of his wrist. "You really think that's going to--"
The door bursts open and I dare to glance behind me, staring in shock at the very familiar looking woman standing there. Oh. Crap. I forgot that this was Central Hall territory. They're the most famous of the Hall branches--and in my position at the moment? The most dangerous.
"Let the geezer go, kid," Firefly says, "and I'll try and make it easy on you."
I let go of the "geezer" and slowly raise my hands in the air. Can I accuse her of political incorrectness for that term? Probably, I've never called anyone a "geezer" in my life. But will I? When it's an S Class super heroine with electric abilities? Oh
hell
no.
***
"Who are you?" The demand comes, as usual for me, from the other side of a table. There are some shadows around, but I can't look at them yet--besides, none of them are big enough to walk through comfortably. Also, I'm not going to lie, I've always wanted to see the inside of the Central Hall. They were right, it is classier looking than the others.
"I have that information for you, Firefly," a woman in a black suit says, stepping out of the corner and handing over a folder. I want to argue right now, tell them I wasn't doing anything that deserves an interrogation, but nobody ever listens to me at this point, or at any point, if I'm honest. I watch Firefly flip through the folder, focusing on her hair. I'm almost positive she bleaches it to get that white color, but with supers you can't always tell. She's white, with a white, blue and yellow uniform, and short, spiky white hair. She's not bad looking, really, in a sharp way. She's got blue fingernail polish that's starting to chip on the edges. I didn't expect that. I mean, you don't usually think of super powerful beings painting their fingernails.
"Someone get a power blocker collar on this kid!" she bellows abruptly, making me jump. She must have found my power type, otherwise I don't think she would have bothered. There's no way a seventeen year old kid--super or not--would be a threat to her.
"This is unjustified detention!" I say. I'm rather proud of that one. What? When you don't go to school you have to watch a lot of news and Judge Judy for your education!
She just looks at me as two men in suits come into the room and try to snap a nasty looking metal collar around my neck. I shove them off, sending one of them across the room. "I didn't do anything," I say, only to find myself slammed down into my seat again--by a single blue nailed hand. She doesn't even strain to pin me to my chair and snap the collar around my neck.
"I'd rather you didn't run off in the middle of our little conversation," she says, "Rocco."
"I wasn't robbing him," I mutter, feeling drained. Not only is the collar making me feel choked, it's making me feel light headed, too. "I hate these things. Whoever invented them should be shot," I mutter, swaying slightly.
"That's my brother you're talking about," she says. "Please, go on, give me more reasons to want to throw the book at you--more than robbing Fort Knox."
Yes. That's what I'd been leading up to. Surprised? Not nearly as surprised as I'd been at the time. It'd been a mistake--I listened to the wrong guys, and wound up in the middle of the nation's gold collection, surrounded by guards with really big guns. Back then I thought people would listen to me if I told the truth. Stupid concept, I know--I mean, I was
in Fort Knox
.
It was actually pretty cool, you know, on a level of one to ten, it's definitely a ten when it comes to conversational pieces--
But
anyway
.
"Why did you rob Fort Knox?" she asks, now sitting on the table right in front of me as she reads the file. "It says here you were barely old enough to have powers at that time. Looking for drug money?" she asks.
"I never robbed it, I just took a look around. And I'm NOT a druggie," I mutter, more focused on not fainting than being a smart-aleck. It's always worse when they first put it on--getting drained of all my powers is like being a living juice pouch, the ones that go flat if you suck long enough.
"Then what were you doing with one of the local drug dealers?"
"You KNEW?" I demand, jerking back to focus with that statement.
"Of course we know," she says. "The cops have been collecting evidence on him for months--you almost ruined their sting. And you might not know this, but supers can't prosecute norms, only norms can." There's a hint of compassion on her face that I didn't expect to see. "We can't 'finish them for good' either." She heard that part, huh? "If you want a norm taken down, you have to help the other norms as much as you can, which means letting him think we have no clue what he's doing."
"Oh." I feel really stupid right now, not going to lie. I look down as much as I can with the collar on, wondering if Cape Cells will be as terrible as the stories I've heard.
"I'm going to be honest, Rocco, I don't want to send you to the Cape Cells but Marigold wants your head on a platter. Breaking into Fort Knox on her watch in her territory--boy, I'm surprised you're not a road pancake already!"
Marigold is the leader of the East Branch of the Hall--remember I told you that there are five different branches of the super hero group? Well, Marigold runs one of them. How do I know this? Marigold's almost caught me a million times. "Marigold's a pain in the neck," I say.
"She's got a reason to want you in the cells," she points out. "Take him away, put him in one of the temporary cells," she says to the men that hadn't been able to collar me. "Let him wonder which Hall leader I'm going to call first," she adds evilly as I'm hauled to my feet and dragged away.
"I didn't do anything BAD!" I say, staggering slightly as I'm pulled away. The sudden movement makes me feel sick and dizzy, like I'm going to puke and fall into it at any second.
I am so screwed.
***
It's a terrifying image. Jamal stares up at the gigantic statue of Lady Justice. She's always scared him, he admits silently, especially when she's the first one he's got to look at before going into the Central Hall and admitting his sins to the most dangerous guys in the world. But--but Rocco had been helping him, so he sort of doesn't have a choice, right? Not after Rocco swore he'd save him, and did, sort of.
He's stood there too long, he realizes as a tall, muscular man stops next to him. Jamal glances over quickly, turning back to the statue as if he hadn't looked. There's a cold chill running down his spine from that one little glance. Sure the guy is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans with his face mask, but he knows he's seen this guy on TV before.
"There a problem, kid?" the man asks casually. "With the statue, that is."
"N--no?" Jamal offers. Man, why did he EVER get involved with the rich guy? A handful of cash for running a tiny errand turned into something that has him standing on the steps next to the most dangerous new guy in the Central Hall, looking at a stupid statue of a woman in a sheet! He really wants to run right now. Sure, Rocco's a nice guy and all, and he's got a bad rep, but this isn't something a twelve year old can deal with!
"Then maybe it's a problem with the Hall?" Technico asks, turning and looking him straight in the eyes. Jamal takes one step back, then another, and then turns and runs as fast as his legs can take him in the opposite direction.
"Sorry Rocco," he pants. "I don't wanna die."
***
"
ALL BYY MYYSEELLFF!
" I belt out at the top of my lungs. "
DON'T WANNA BE ALLL BYY MYYSELLLFF ANYMORE!
" Yes, it's an ancient song, one that I don't remember most of the lyrics to. But I don't have to. What I remember is plenty enough to irritate whoever can hear me. So far, though, nobody's seemed to notice. Man that's boring. At least I've gotten used to the collar.
Yes, I realize I'm in a cell with a laser wall in front of me strong enough to turn me into cinders. At least it's not one of the soundproof cells like they have in the South Branch. Yeah, they caught me for a while, too. But I can get out! These stupid collars just take a well placed shadow and a little focus to get around--
Focus...
Focus...
Isn't doing a freaking thing this time. I let out an angry bellow and kick the wall. All it does is hurt my foot. I drop down in the corner, taking off my shoe to look at my toes and make sure they're not broken or something. Not that I've ever had a broken bone in my life, no matter what stupid things I do, but I'm powerless at the moment. Like a norm. It could happen.
I glance up as someone pulls to a stop in front of my laser door. What am I, some sort of animal at the zoo? "Whaddaya want?" I ask, moving my toes. They don't seem to be broken! "Visiting hours are over."
"Oh, I'm not here to visit," a familiar voice says. I go perfectly still, feeling something like dread forcing my head to rise. "Hello, Rocco. Miss me?" Marigold asks.
I've changed my mind. Being all by myself would be
great
right about now.
***
Jamal falters, tripping over a curb and face-planting on the sidewalk. He's run MILES and he can't go any longer. "Are we done yet?" Technico asks from above him.
"What's wrong with you, man?" Jamal demands through gasps. "You don't just go chasin' down a twelve year old! That ain't right! That's harassment!" he demands.