James Knight: Teenage Superhuman - Book Three

Fourteen

NOAH

In the darkness, a voice cut through. "Slate your name for the camera."

I cleared my throat and coughed. Then the lights flicked on.

The camera focused on me. A bright light shone directly on my face, making me squint. I wore my hoodie and superhero mask, perched on a director's seat in front of a green screen in the expansive filming room, throwing a hand up to block the blinding light.

"Okay, bloody hell. Don't be a fucking prick. I'm going to go blind," I snapped, swatting the air before the lights finally dimmed.

"Cut," the cameraman called out. I groaned, glaring at the crew behind the camera.

The camera cut again. Then, "Rolling...action!"

"Hi, My name is Geronimo—"

The boom mic dropped into the frame, and I sent it flying across the room with a flick of my super strength. I gave the camera an "Oh shit" look under my mask. The cameraman sighed, and the camera cut.

"Hey, this is Geronimo," I tried again—the camera cut.

"Hey, the name's GERONIMO," I said, finger-gunning the camera. The camera cut again.

"My name is Noah Knight, and you're watching..." I started, but the cameraman groaned, and the camera cut again.

"Noah, please do a normal take," the cameraman pleaded. The camera cut again.

Finally...

"My name is Geronimo. I guess this is the moment I tell you I have superpowers."

"What are your superpowers?" the cameraman asked, his legs crossed in one of those polite positions.

"Well, I'm invincible; I can fly like Superman, run super-fast like the Flash, and have super strength like the Hulk. Except, unlike the Hulk, I'm not exactly ripped," I explained, pausing to flex my tiny bit of muscle. "I mean, maybe a little?"

"What does it feel like to have superpowers?" the cameraman continued.

I shifted in my seat. "Hmmm. Having superpowers is like riding a bike, and considering I don't know how to ride a bike, it can be tricky sometimes."

"What about the rest of your family?" the cameraman inquired.

I licked my lips and chuckled. "My, uh, family? That's a bit complicated to explain unless I tell you everything."

"What do you remember about your childhood?" the cameraman asked again.

"It was far from ordinary," I began. "I was practically a prisoner of war. Being a super had its advantages, I suppose, like cleaning your room faster than your dad could walk up a flight of steps or being able to fly home rather than walking home, hoping you wouldn't bump into school bullies. But no, it had been far more unusual than that. Picture something brutal and almost deadly. It's the deadliest thing you can imagine. Now, picture you're stuck in the middle of an abusive war, forced to do things against your will, thinking to yourself, 'How the fuck did I get here?' And all that had flashed through your mind was to protect your father at all costs, and that's when adrenaline kicked in."

The cameraman's eyes widened. "Go on."

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes. "Because nothing screams 'good storytelling' like a traumatic childhood and unresolved family issues."

The cameraman leaned in, clearly intrigued. "So, what happened next?"

I sighed, settling back into my chair. "Well, since you're so invested... My father was the real deal, a proper superhero or as close as you can get to one. Imagine Batman but with actual superpowers. He tried to keep me safe, but we were dragged into the mess when the war got really bad. Picture a life where the enemy isn't just human but enhanced like me, or worse. It was survival of the fittest."

The cameraman nodded, urging me to continue. "What was the worst part?"

"Oh, besides the daily attempts on our lives and the constant fear of losing everyone you love? Probably the fact that my so-called powers made me a prime target. It's hard to stay under the radar when you can accidentally benchpress a car."

He chuckled nervously. "And how did you cope?"

"Coping? Ha! If you can call it that. Mostly, I kept my head down and tried not to get noticed. It's easier said than done when you're a teenage boy who can fly. But, you know, typical teenage stuff. While other kids were worrying about acne and prom, I was worrying about whether I'd get onto the next day alive."

The cameraman's eyes were wide, hanging on my every word. "What about your friends? Did they know?"

"Friends? You mean those people you're supposed to trust and confide in? Yeah, I never had any up until I met my family. Imagine trying to explain why you can't hang out after school because you've got to stalk your dad—your real dad and find out how the hell you're going to tell him that your crazy uncle is trying to execute him. Not exactly a conversation starter. I mostly kept to myself, which was lonely, but it was safer for everyone involved."

He jotted down some notes. "And now? How do you use your powers?"

"Now? Well, I've got this nifty alter ego, Geronimo, so I can at least pretend to be normal when I'm not saving the world. It's a balancing act, trying to live a double life. I get to wear a cool mask and talk about my 'super strength' like it's some party trick. Keeps things interesting."

The cameraman smiled. "I can imagine. So, what's next for Geronimo?"

"Who knows?" I shrugged. "Save a few more lives, maybe break a few more mics. Find my uncle. Stop my uncle from fucking up the planet. It's the usual superhero gig. But seriously, I try to make a difference where I can. Someone's gotta do it, right?"

He nodded, clearly satisfied. "Well, Geronimo, thank you for sharing your story. It's been enlightening."

"Yeah, sure. Anytime," I said, giving him a mock salute. "Just keep the lights down next time, okay? I'd rather not go blind before my next mission."

∆∆∆

JAMES

The camera shuts off just as Noah nods at the camera. I stared at my phone, wondering how well I did on my interview.

It's not easy regaining powers in the middle of pure chaos, which is ten times stronger than before. Was it enough to stop Alexander and Max? I couldn't tell you that much.

The world knew that Alpha was back, and I thought I would feel invincible again. And despite being invincible, I still felt quite vulnerable.

The high school halls buzzed with rumors that morning, mainly about Henry's whereabouts and my powers returning at one of the worst times they could ever return since I last lost them.

Claire contorted me, rubbing my back as I soothed her and her growing achy stomach, urgently searching the halls for Maximus and Mia, but there were still no signs of either of them since Alexander shot me and I dropped off the side of the building.

"Told you Noah should have done the interview—" Mark said, peeking out from the classroom.

"Yet we still all had to do one," Bryce muttered.

"Yeah, Sam and my dad are a bit pushy when it comes to getting out of our comfort zones," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.

"You don't say." Noah retorted with an eye roll.

Noah's phone buzzed in his pocket, and as he slid it out to read the text, another "no name" text popped up.

"What does it say?" Mark asked.

"It's Max. He needs to talk to me alone." I rolled my eyes, my fingertips digging into to my palm to calm my frayed nerves. It was a matter of time before the bastard texted someone.

"When and where?" Noah texted back, as I watched him.

"Outside the seventh dimension, down the alleyway," He texted. Great—this better not have been an ambush. "TONIGHT—" He added. And with that, Noah's phone went silent.