James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book One

Prologue

As a child, I was incredibly curious and always bustling around my Uncle Samual's laboratory. I entertained the idea that I was moving so quickly that he couldn't keep up with me, but that was far from the truth.

With my parents serving in the LAPD, he became my part-time babysitter and scientist. Little did I know, the government organization he worked for held secrets darker than the shadows clinging to his lab corners.

One day, Uncle Sam, a government scientist with classified projects, became my accidental superhero mentor. It wasn't planned, like most things in my six-year-old life.

My brother Derek was off on a father-son day at the police station, leaving Samual to doodle notes for his research while I played in a makeshift kiddie corner. But my attention, like a butterfly, danced towards the vibrant vials scattered around.

Sam, hunched over his computer, battled sleep deprivation with bags under his eyes and messy bangs. He often seemed too engrossed to notice my mischief, which, naturally, fueled my desire to get his attention. I zipped around the lab, my sneakers whispering against the polished tiles, a pint-sized tornado waiting to happen.

"James Everett Knight, watch it!" he warned, his voice strained. My hip bumped the wide marble table where the vials stood, a silent dare to my ever-present curiosity.

"Uncle Sam, I'm a superhero!" I declared, oblivious to the approaching storm. His gaze flitted to the table, a flicker of worry replacing his weary smile.

The cool air from the vent swirled around me as I zoomed past Sam, his tired eyes pleading for me to slow down. But my fascination with the glowing vials was like a moth drawn to a flame. With a racing heart, I snatched a vial, its liquid warmth spreading in my palm.

Suddenly, a shadow shifted from the corner. A boy my age, with dark eyes and wild curls, gestured toward me. Fear pricked my skin, but before I could decipher his message, Sam reacted with alarm, ushering my mysterious friend away.

I couldn't help but feel intrigued. We'd played before, but this time, his urgency left me confused. He pointed at the vial in my hand, urging me to drink. Driven by a child's impulsive nature, I tilted the flask, the fluorescent liquid trickling down my throat.

The boy vanished. A heavy weight settled on my head, blurring my vision and paralyzing my limbs. Sam rushed to my side, his voice filled with panic and tears. My name echoed in his frantic pleas, but it all faded into a muffled haze. The vial slipped from my fingers, and the last thing I saw before darkness consumed me were Sam's frantic eyes.

Beep, beep, beep.

The rhythmic pulse of the monitor brought me back to a hospital room. Below me, the bed lay in fractured pieces, reflecting my shattered sense of reality. "How are you doing this?" Sam's voice trembled as he paced, anxiety etched on his face.

"I-I don't know," I stammered, still trying to grasp the situation. Like any hero discovering their origin story, I was surprised, a laugh escaping my lips. I, a six-year-old, defying gravity?

Sam cursed under his breath, eyes darting towards the door. He peeked outside, shut the curtain divider, and returned, his demeanor grim. "James, can you get down from there?" he asked, a flicker of hope battling fear in his eyes.

"I can try," I replied, taking a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I focused on the air beneath me, willing myself to stay afloat. My vision flickered, but then, slowly, I descended, landing with a soft thump. Relief washed over Sam, but it was laced with worry.

The hospital my newfound powers - both were secrets we now had to keep. Excitement and fear warred within me. Superpowers! Like Golden Goliath and the Mad Thumper! But this wasn't a comic book. This was real, and the consequences were unknown.

Sam looked at me, his brown eyes filled with concern. "James, I don't know what's happening to you, but we'll figure this out together." He paused, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry," he said, tears glistening. "I should have protected you more."

My heart ached for the guilt he carried. "I'm just glad you're here with me," I reassured him, placing a small hand on his shoulder.

He smiled, a weak, sad attempt at reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere, James."

As I lay there, my mind buzzed with questions. How? Why? What had the strange liquid done to me? But Sam's warning echoed in my head:" secrecy was paramount.

The hospital buzzed with the nervous energy of the unknown. My world had just shattered, pieces scattered around me like the wreckage of the bed I'd woken up in. Sam's hand on my shoulder, warm and reassuring, grounded me amidst the chaos. "We'll figure it out together," he promised, his gaze sweeping the room with practiced efficiency. Escape, our immediate goal, pulsed in his voice.

"Geez," he muttered, taking in the damage with a grimace. I mirrored his movement, climbing off the broken mattress with care. We navigated the unfamiliar terrain, avoiding prying eyes and hospital staff, the silence thick with unspoken questions.

Then, a man's voice cut through the tension, drawing us closer to the exit. Sam's grip tightened on my hand, pulling me into the sanctuary of a nearby bathroom. We stood in the darkness, hearts hammering a frantic rhythm against our ribs, waiting for the footsteps to fade.

The door creaked open, revealing my father and a man I vaguely recognized from the lab, tall, athletic, with piercing blue eyes like my father's. Relief washed over me, followed by joy as I flung myself into my father's arms. His initial glare at Sam dissolved into concern as Derek materialized, slushies in hand, his infectious grin a welcome sight.

Sam, usually calm, wore a mask of worry. He'd been my rock since Dad was distant, a constant presence since infancy. Trust in him ran deep in my veins.

A scolding nurse interrupted our reunion, the broken bed and scattered objects her target. Sam, ever resourceful, whipped up a believable cover story, diffusing the tension. As she left, a silent exchange passed between Sam and me, a knowing glance that acknowledged the shared secret simmering beneath the surface.

Leaving the hospital, Sam insisted on driving, his face etched with the lingering fear of the ordeal. Back home, the familiar sounds of Mom's laughter and Uncle Henry's booming voice greeted us. Mom's worried embrace tightened around me as she demanded answers. "Just a little accident," I mumbled, my gaze flicking to Sam, his finger pressed against his lips in a silent pact.

The following days were a blur of experimentation. I secretly pushed and prodded at my newfound abilities, trying to grasp their limits to harness the power thrumming within me. Uncle Sam, ever watchful, became my silent guardian, ensuring my secret remained buried. He became my mentor, guiding me through this strange new world and helping me hone the raw power surging through me.

With time, control came, and confidence bloomed. Though the secret life weighed heavy, the knowledge of Sam's unwavering support bolstered me. I could manipulate gravity, defying the pull of the earth, soaring through the air with exhilarating freedom. Sam, patient and understanding, helped me navigate the complexities of this gift, reminding me of its immense responsibility.

My abilities remained hidden, as per Sam's instructions. The yearning to help, to be a force for good, gnawed at me. But Sam insisted on caution, urging me to master control before entering the light.

Derek's eleventh birthday became the turning point. Sharing my secret with him forged an unbreakable bond. Sam and Derek became my confidantes, my partners-in-crime. And on my twelfth birthday, I embraced my destiny, taking on the mantle of Alpha, the city's protector, a tribute to the fallen hero, Golden Goliath, who once tried to save my mother.

Forgiveness, in time, bridged the gap between Sam and me. Together, we moved forward, determined to leave a positive mark on the world. I, following in his footsteps, a superhero fueled by knowledge and compassion. And Sam, ever the researcher, advocating for normalcy, searching for a cure, a glimmer of hope in his unwavering eyes.