Son in Shadow is a short story written for one of my various writing classes and workshops. It is a story based on common superhero tropes and the idea of morality. It follows Chase Brook Jr, a young man in a superhero universe with a family secret.
“Chase Brook junior?”
“Here.”
As his teacher marks him present, Chase lowers his hand with a soft sigh. Out of all his classes, he pays the least attention in physics. Fortunately, it seems his attention isn’t required today. Halfway into a lecture on circuits and the equations that determine electrical resistance, the lights flicker. Chase lifts his head, confused. The class landline rings.
“Hello? -yes, I see.” Their teacher clears her throat. “School will be letting out early. Falcon is fighting Shade at the power plant. Please make your way home safely.”
Chase grabs his bag and leaves with the rest of them.
Unlike his classmates, Chase lingers in the halls, leaning on the lockers and checking his phone for the news. A pretty blonde reporter explains the situation via live-stream.
“Just after noon today, the supervillain known as Shade attempted to deface the monument in Oakvale Park erected in honor of local superhero, Falcon. Over the years, Shade has become less active as a supervillain, often disappearing for up to five years on end. Today, he reappeared with this incident. As is typical for battles between Falcon and Shade, the two are in a deadlock inside the power plant. Further updates as they develop.”
The reporter keeps talking over shaky phone footage of the start of the fight. Shade, an impressively tall man shrouded in shadows, tearing the statue of winged superhuman Falcon limb from limb, no distinctive markers on Shade’s face visible but a bitter scowl. Falcon, wings spread, interrupting the carnage, and the two tangling further.
“-ase? Chase!”
Chase shoves his phone into his pocket, ignoring how the screen glitches, and looks up at the classmate who is talking to him. Grey eyes meet brown, and next to the put-together-ness of the girl he’s standing across from, Chase feels like he’s way too messy in a dirty hoodie with his brown hair mussed.
“I was asking if you needed a ride home or somethin’? Your dad works days, right?” The girl asks, eyes curious, holding her textbooks to her chest.
“No, um- I’ll be fine. Sorry.”
The girl nods understanding, her afro bobbing with the motion. “Kay. Get home safe, Chase.”
“You too, Ari…Aria?”
She laughs. “Aria le Bellerose.” She turns on her heel and starts walking away, with a polite wave to Chase. “See ya!”
Chase pops in his headphones and walks home to the sounds of The Smiths’ Meat is Murder. A typical occurrence for him.
Home, for the Brooks, is a run-down house in between the city center and the suburbs. When Chase approaches, the motorcycle has remained outside, indicating his father took public transit and is stuck out there. That doesn’t surprise Chase. At least there’s a note left for him.
Going out to work. There’re leftovers in the fridge, and don’t forget your homework.
Love dad.
After power is restored, Chase heats up his dinner in the microwave and watches Untold Stories of the ER in silence until sunset, ignoring the outside world in favor of the cage the house forms around him, empty and silent.
After dark, Chase hears the French doors that lead to the backside of the house open. Darkness fills the rooms, and the lights flicker of their own accord, deepening the shadows. Chase turns around to see Shade standing in the doorway.
“…hi dad.”
Shade’s aura of darkness draws back into his body, leaving Chase Brook senior- a spitting image of his son, but older, and tired. Chase stands and walks over to his father.
“Hi, Chase.”
And Chase Brook senior falls to his knees and hugs his teenage son tightly.
—
There are, as always, scrapes on Shade’s arms and legs from a day of escapades. Chase dutifully starts to bandage them up as the TV babbles on in the background, forgotten.
“I thought you quit, dad,” Chase finally says, disappointed. “We talked about this, you hadn’t relapsed in so long, I thought- I thought we were going to be good guys now. I thought we were going to live normal. You let me go to public school instead of homeschooling, we weren’t hiding anymore. We agreed. No more fighting.”
His father lets the silence stretch on for a moment before he can even respond. “Falcon is a ‘good guy.’ Following the law doesn’t make you good, Chase. It’s been twenty years today since Falcon arrested the King Street killer. I saw that damn statue and I couldn’t handle it.” Shade’s fist tightens on the couch. “He ruined me.”
Chase stays quiet. He knows the story.
—
When the King Street Killer stalked the night, Falcon was a novelty and Shade, as he is to his son, didn’t exist yet. Chase Brook senior- at the time just Chase Brook- was a whip-smart young reporter, up and coming, meticulous and determined.
And he was, right then, determined to find the King Street Killer, a serial killer that was talk of the town. A gruesome, sadistic man who killed the businesspeople of downtown- of King Street- and took their fingers as trophies.
Brook thought he had received the biggest boon of his life when he started receiving calls from a source confessing- bringing up details the press hadn’t even known, but the police had to confirm after Brook published them in his reports. This was it. He had found the King Street Killer. Every sign pointed towards it.
Enter Falcon.
The superhero had appeared, days after Brook’s articles were published, demanding attention. Drawing focus away from Brook’s articles. Claiming that Brook hadn’t found the killer, Falcon did. Falcon shouted from the rooftops that reporter Chase Brook was a queer and tried to pull attention to himself. Falcon was just so perfect. Pay attention to Falcon. And, well, everyone paid attention. What should have been Chase Brook senior’s ticket to the good life fell flat. Falcon even began snubbing him, taunting him in public, in front of whoever was most important, for being an upstart fag, for daring, daring, to get in between a superhero and his attention. People took notice. And surprise, surprise, people didn’t side with the up-and-coming now openly gay reporter- they sided with Falcon. Chase Brook was a social pariah.
His disappointment and humiliation fermented into bitterness with no outlet.
On a moonless night, outside the city limits, at the end of his limits and praying for death to take him, Brook witnessed a meteor falling from the sky. At a curious touch, it altered his DNA permanently, giving him powers no regular man could even dream of. Were he even a few months younger, he would have used power like that to help people. But not now. Blinded by his own rage, he went to exact his revenge on Falcon, prepared to be arrested, prepared, even, to die. He had no name at this point, no second identity. The title of Shade was conferred to him by his former fellows- reporters, who heard his first declaration to Falcon as the superhero’s mortal enemy. Brook senior roared these words from under his ratty hoodie when the superhero turned to brush him off.
“Go home,” Falcon had said. “I don’t care what tragedy happened to you, I do my job. I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault.” The liar. The insolence. The self-entitlement. The prejudice. Chase Brook senior boiled with rage at this, dark matter powers flying out and manifesting into absolute devastation of the landscape.
“Until I get my peace, I’m but a Shade!”
—
Chase’s face flickers, brow still furrowed. “Dad…” He wants to remind Shade of their promises to each other. To be there more. To start to be good. To recover from years of bitterness and bad blood.
“I’m fine, Chase. Really. I was getting better. I can do it again.”
Chase isn’t sure how much he believes that, but he wants to. His father has been on a strange path in and out of this recovery. “How did you get away again?”
“There was a new ally of Falcon’s,” his father says. “She called herself Arachne. But she seems far too good for the likes of him. She released me.”
“What? That doesn’t sound good.”
“We’ll be fine, Chase. I promise.”
The TV news the next morning begs to differ. Falcon makes an announcement, accompanied by a government suit, the superhero grinning triumphantly as though what he’s planned is perfect.
“Shade has escaped justice far too long. We at the alien artefact task force are going to be sweeping areas we believe he could be hiding in order to expose his identity, bring him to light, and put him away, and neutralize anything contaminated by extraterrestrial technology.”
Chase drops a bowl of cereal on the floor, making a mess that fades to the background.
“Anything?”
The woman- Claire Vanderberg, the subtitles say- says ‘anything’ in a tone that makes it clear she also means anyone. The lights flicker. The TV audio jumps. Power around the block wavers, even, Chase can see it confuse the neighbors across the street.
“Junior,” Shade says. “Deep breaths.”
Chase stiffens, adjusting himself. His father’s enhanced physiology applies to him- that, and his father’s control of elements of the physical universe. Shade reaches into the world around and makes dark matter an extension of himself. Chase’s strong bioelectric field allows him to control electricity.
He takes a deep breath.
“They’re going to take you away, dad.”
“No. I won’t let them. I’m not perfect, Chase, but I’m not going to leave you. Not for anything.”
—
Shade took Chase out for Dairy Queen on his tenth birthday. Chase had enjoyed it immensely, spending time with the only person he had known well his entire life. Shade had kept Chase close to him, homeschooling, constant family time. It would start to irritate any child soon- Shade knows this. The only way to protect their relationship is to let Chase socialize as he grows older.
“I have good news, Chase.”
“Yeah?” Chase asks, excited, and Shade has to smile at his expression- innocent in the way only a child can be and still excited to be swimming in his just-too-big vintage Pink Floyd shirt.
“Yeah. You’ve been doing so well at controlling your bioelectricity, I’m enrolling you in middle school in the fall. I’m going back to freelance contract photojournalism. We’ve even got a place closer to the suburbs. I know things have been tough, Chase, but I promise I’m going to make them better for you. You deserve a better life.”
Chase practically bounces with excitement. “I get to go to school? Really? I get to do whatever I want?”
“Well, you can’t go out alone until you’re older, young man, but no more house arrest. You’ve got to make your own choices as you grow up, Chase, and I can’t make them for you. It’s time for you to learn who you are. And you’ll do that with a real father, not a part time supervillain with anger issues.”
—
It’s not long before a government agent knocks on their door. It’s not Claire Vanderberg, but Chase sees her waiting at the curb in their car. Shade answers their questions in a short tone, trying not to come off as suspicious. Eventually, Claire Vanderberg steps out of her car and walks up, her heels clicking on the concrete of their driveway. She looks Chase in the eyes, and he thinks she can smell his fear.
“What’s taking so long?”
Her eyes don’t move to her subordinate, though she’s clearly talking to him. Chase’s stomach turns from anxiety. Shade’s hand tightens its grip on the door so hard the wood creaks softly.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“This is the last house of the day. Finish the work so we can get dinner already.”
“I’m trying, ma’am, but I-”
Claire cuts him off. “Don’t. You two. Live here alone?”
“Yes,” Shade says, in a practiced tone. “My son was born via surrogate. No mother in the picture.”
“Hm.” Claire looks confused by that, as most people do. “Why-”
“I’m gay,” Shade interrupts, clearly not leaving any room for argument. “And, unfortunately, single.”
“Have you seen anything strange?”
“No.”
“Hm. We remind you that harboring of alien artifacts is punishable as a federal offense of the highest order, on par with treason, and punishable by the highest superhuman laws in the land,” Claire rattles off, intimidating, but as if she’s said it before. “We’ll be coming back by the end of the month to radiation sweep this block for alien technology and DNA alterations, deviations from the general human norm. As a reminder, violations are punishable by category five imprisonment or execution. We’ll send you the date. Come on, Perkins.”
Claire Vanderberg spins precisely on her heel and walks away, unaware of the fact that she had just come face to face with her prey.
—
That day at school, Aria sits with him over lunch. Chase is surprised.
“Do you mind?” Aria asks. “People keep talking to me and I don’t want them to.”
“And you think I won’t talk to you?”
“Not about the thing I don’t wanna talk about, anyway.”
Chase pushes his food around, not looking Aria in her eyes. “I’m not that interesting, Aria.”
“Yeah? That what you think?”
“I’m just different. The- typical kind of different. The school weirdo whose dad is a city laughingstock going back fifteen, twenty years.”
Aria looks like she wants to say something, but she shrugs. “Different’s good.”
Chase lets her stay for lunch. She fills the dead air with talk. Chase wonders if she likes it that way.
—
For once, his father is home when he gets home from school. Shade is sitting at their dining room table, deep in thought. The room is darkened slightly by his aura, and his hands are wrapped around coffee in a world’s best dad mug.
“Dad?”
“Chase! I, didn’t know you were home. Sorry.”
“You’re still here?”
“Chase, did I ever tell you about the night you were born?”
“In passing.”
“I had been Shade for…five, six years, then. I found the meteorite out in the woods- I was surprised they hadn’t hauled it away. I was already thinking of retirement, no one was listening to my anger about Falcon, and I was losing more and more every month- money was tight. I thought I was going to…I don’t know. I wondered if it would give me another sign, like it did that first night, validating my hunger for vengeance. Instead, it gave me you. Opened up and revealed a child.”
“Well, I know that part,” Chase says. “We— well, you—did research on this. That tech creates DNA exchanges. It rewrote your DNA. And cloned me from you.”
“I suppose I had never thought of it. But I did swear to retire that night- retire to take care of you.”
“You’ve been kind of waffling on whether or not you’re actually retired, dad,” Chase says, accidentally cutting to the heart of their biggest dispute. “You said you’d take your head away from Falcon. You said we needed to focus on us. We’re family. Fuck Falcon, I- I should matter more.”
“I know. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Chase. But I need you to know that you really were the best thing to happen to me. What I needed was someone to keep at it- at life, I mean- for. I love you more than anything, junior.” Shade stands up. “I have to go out. I’ll…be back later, alright?”
“Okay, dad.” He knows that Shade must be going to do something to protect them- try something, anything. Usually, Shade asks if Chase wants to come with him, to practice his powers mostly, and Chase declines.
Most of the time, when his father goes off alone, Chase sits at home like he did during the fight yesterday, watches TV, and prays that Shade will walk in through the backdoor rather than having the police at his door to take him into protective custody.
His father made him a promise, when he turned ten, that they were going to be good now, forever, no more relapses, no more of this. He broke that promise repeatedly- but Chase knows as sure as the dawn that Shade is doing absolutely everything he can to make it true. He’s not going to let his dad sacrifice himself for it. His family is all he has- Shade still owes him that. He saved his father once, through no fault of his own, as an infant. Now he’s going to choose to do so again as a teenager.
So, he puts on a black hoodie to cover his face and follows Shade.
His father’s physical abilities have carried over to him- enhanced athleticism, agility, maneuverability. For someone like him, it’s easy to follow Shade downtown, for blocks upon blocks. Shade comes to a stop behind an abandoned convenience store. Chase hides in an ally nearby, behind his father’s back, watching. It’s not long before Shade draws Falcon’s presence, luring the superhero in like a black hole.
Falcon descends from the sky, wings beating the dirt around, scattering it into dust. Chase watches.
“So you’re turning yourself in, Shade?” Falcon’s voice sounds raw from adjusting it to a loud, booming roar for the daily fight. Chase almost feels sorry for him having to play big hero every day, but Falcon’s always been a fucking jerk with the power he has.
“No.”
“And no…elaborate trap? No ‘ha-ha, I got you?’”
“You win this. I’m going to be leaving this city soon enough. But now I just want to talk, Falcon. Try and say what I’ve wanted to get across all these years for one last time. Do you even know what I started fighting you for?” Shade asks, tired. Falcon narrows his eyes.
“Why does it matter? That alien DNA in you is dangerous. You heard Vanderberg- she’s why you’re leaving, right? You know the law. Enhanced humans register confidentially with the government. You didn’t. When she finds you, you’re going to pay the ultimate price.”
“You have no idea,” Shade says, almost laughing. “You’re the most famous person in this city. You could snap your fingers and ruin someone of your choice. You did. And that set back the rest of my life, defined it, but to you it was nothing. You’re the epitome of everything I ever raged against. Privilege. Prejudice. Abuse of power. You are all of those things. At first, I was fighting you because I hated you, but now I just do it because I don’t want anyone thinking it’s worth it, to be like you.”
“So you’d rather people look up to you? A vandal, a thief, a tyrant? If I had given you the chance, you’d have this city under lock and key, following your orders.”
“I think you’re projecting, Falcon. I never wanted to rule this city. I just wanted you.”
“Who are you?”
“If only you remembered. Maybe if you did, you’d give me the respect I’m owed.”
“Alright, if you’re not gonna turn yourself in, enough screwing around,” Falcon growls, raising one hand to punch Shade-
But before he realizes, Chase is already in the way, intercepting and punching back, hitting with all of his might, sending Falcon flying into the wall of the next building over, impact so hard the brownstone cracks. He looks at his hand, shaky, realizing what he just did. His fist crackles with bioelectricity.
“Holy shit, I just tazed Falcon.”
“Chase?” Shade says, softly.
Falcon staggers to his feet, glaring, wings spread. Shade steps in front of Chase, putting one arm in front of him.
“Who’s your little friend?” Falcon asks, spitting out blood. “Don’t tell me I have to worry about more of you. Claire’s going to have a field day putting both of you in a prison for supers and figuring out how to put you down like rabid dogs.”
Chase, though he’s sixteen, hides behind Shade at the mention of a superhuman prison. Those places aren’t like regular prisons- regular prisons are for the people who made bad choices, mistakes. Supervillain prisons are for people who are truly dangerous to those around them and won’t think twice about taking it out on their fellow inmates. That is, if they have more than a few weeks in one before capital punishment.
“I won’t let you. Not now, and not ever!”
Shade slams Falcon back into the wall with a wave of shadow, and grabs Chase as he runs.
—
“You’re not supposed to follow me, Chase.”
“I didn’t want you getting caught,” Chase says. “I know you wanted to quit because I’m around, and to be honest, I kind of wanted you to. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand what you were going through, what- how much showing him what’s what meant to you. And- dad, the stakes are so high, I just wanted you to stop. I wanted to be a family. And I wanted to- dad, what if she catches us?”
“I didn’t want you to know about my problems, Chase, you’re only a child. Don’t apologize for that. And I’m- so sorry, Chase. I owe you a better life than this. I will never let her catch us.”
Chase shoves his hands in his pockets. “What now? We have that government chick, Claire Vanderberg after us, Falcon knows I exist now…what can we do, dad? I don’t want to go to supervillain prison- and I don’t know what I’d do if you had to.”
Shade pauses. He knows Chase is looking to him for guidance. They need a way to stay. They need a way to get away from both Falcon and Claire Vanderberg, but Shade doesn’t have one. Not this time.
There is no way to stay here that ends with them together as a family, and that terrifies Chase, but stiffens Shade’s resolve.
“We’re going to get out of here.”
—
It’s the end of the week, Spring starting to infuse the land, when they get the notice that Claire is going to sweep their block. But they’ll be long gone by then. It’s freeing, almost.
Chase feels a little bad that over his last week of school before he disappears into the unknown he’s been making friends with Aria le Bellerose, whose mother is sick and who hates the sympathy and is so glad he has none to give. But tomorrow, they’re going to be leaving, and Aria knows that, and he knows that too. It’s for the better.
There’s a soft, shy knock on the window of Chase’s second story room. He opens the door.
And there’s Arachne, gentle in the moonlight. Chase has heard of her from his father, but to look at her face to face, he knows.
“Hi, Chase.”
“Hi, Aria.”
Arachne peels off her mask. Aria looks surprised.
“You knew?”
“The minute I saw you sitting there. Supers really do think you can’t recognize someone you know just with a bit of makeup and covering…pretty much just around your eyes, Aria. Most people just don’t talk about it cause they’re way too nice and get it’s a big thing.” Chase frowns to himself. “But if that’s who you are, and you really work with Falcon-”
Aria makes an irritated noise. “Falcon doesn’t know his head from his ass. I don’t work with him. Not really.”
Chase pauses. “You don’t know who my father is, Aria. You don’t know who I am.”
Aria offers him her hand. “Yeah, I do. It’s funny, when you told me you were different, I was just about to say the same thing. I know you’re leaving town tomorrow to escape the witch hunt. If I wanted, I could stop you. But I’m not going to. You’re not a bad person. Neither of you are. You need help, you need- you need love, not handcuffs.”
Chase takes her hand. “I hope I get to see you again someday.”
“You will. But come with me, Chase, let me show you what it’s like to let your powers run free. You’ll see things like never before. Feel more yourself than you ever can. It’s beautiful.”
“What if Falcon finds us?”
“I’ll protect you,” Aria says with a grin. She pulls her mask back on. “It’s a leap of faith, Chase. That’s all. It’s up to you. And, if you can ever come back…I could use a partner who understands second chances.”
Chase casts one look back at the house, the lights inside, and crawls to the edge of their roof.
“Show me what you’ve got, Arachne.”
—
The heat of mid-June sees the Brook family speeding down a desert highway. Shade drives a motorcycle, and Chase grips with his legs on the back. Behind their bike is a tiny trailer, holding the bare minimum they need. Chase, used to the bike, doesn’t need his hands holding on to his father to feel safe anymore.
The vast expanse of southwestern desert around, Chase admires the view and spreads his arms, enjoying the Led Zeppelin blasting from the speakers of the motorcycle.
If you go down in the streets,
Today, baby you’d better
You better open your eyes!
Folk down there, they really don’t care
Really don’t care, don’t care, really don’t
Which way the pressure lies!
“Whoo!” Power crackles through him, amplifying the radio’s volume beyond its typical capacity.
Shade can’t help but laugh, gunning the engine. The metal trailer rattles behind them, and the sky is endless above. Chase feels absolutely nothing of the life before this, and misses nothing of it except Aria le Bellerose and the hope they can go home again.
So, I’m packing my bags for the misty mountains,
Where the spirits go now
Over the hills, where the spirits fly.
Shade pulls into the parking lot of a truck stop. Chase removes his motorcycle helmet from when he was twelve, covered in battered stickers.
“So, where are we moving? You…do have a plan, right?”
Shade smiles to himself as he fills up the motorcycle, extending one tendril of dark matter to hand Chase a twenty-dollar bill.
“Buy snacks, Chase.”
“Oh, come on! Do you even have a plan?” Chase complains. His father chuckles.
“Well, there’s a lot to do to now we’re alone together. I think we can be whoever we want.”
A Dreaming Writer 