Malachai parked the pickup in the side garage while the engine was still hot. He closed the automatic door and waited a few seconds, listening.
The house was completely silent. Cory's car wasn't in the driveway probably still at the office or stuck in some last minute meeting. Better that way. No one to ask why he was bringing a tarp-covered shape in the back.
He got out, walked around the vehicle, and carefully pulled off the tarp. The alien craft was still there silver, scratched from atmospheric entry, but intact. The blue symbols pulsed very faintly, as if the thing were… asleep. The hatch remained closed.
Malachai glanced around one more time. No neighbors, no passing cars. Perfect.
"Let's see what you've got for me." He murmured under his breath.
He placed his palm against the metal. It was warm, almost alive. The hatch opened with a soft hydraulic hiss, revealing the interior.
He stepped inside without hesitation.
The space was compact: curved walls that seemed to fuse metal and organic tissue, a capsule-seat in the center perfectly contoured for a human body. No visible controls, no screens.
Suddenly the capsule closed around him like a padded coffin. Blue lights ignited along the walls. The craft lifted slightly and in the blink of an eye, it shot straight up into the sky at full speed.
Inside, Malachai swallowed hard, gripping whatever he could. Though he tried to stay calm, he couldn't help going a little pale as he watched the ground fall away, the atmosphere thin out, and realized they were close enough to the Moon that a slight swerve might smash them into it.
For that one minute looking down at Earth, he wanted to go back. He took a deep breath and gently touched the craft.
"Take me home, buddy." He said softly, not sure if it would work, but in the movies the protagonist always said something like that.
As if the ship understood and could feel Malachai's emotions it began to descend, but much more slowly this time, showing him breathtaking views you could only see if you traveled above the atmosphere.
A few minutes later the craft settled back inside the garage and opened the hatch, letting him out.
Malachai stumbled slightly as he exited. He touched the hull one last time.
"Thanks, buddy." He said gratefully. The ship answered with a faint pulsing sound, acknowledging him.
He covered it again with the tarp, some old rags, and spare tires, locked the garage, and headed to his room to sleep secretly hoping everything would play out like it did in the movie when he woke up.
After undressing, he lay down on his bed. Less than a minute later, it was as if someone had unplugged him he fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
An hour after he'd fallen asleep, Malachai's cells began to break down and rebuild simultaneously: bones lengthening with audible cracks, muscles swelling, organs recalibrating to a far more efficient rhythm. His spine stretched. His heart beat harder, faster, more powerful.
Everything happened without him realizing it. For him, he was sleeping like never before, without pain or awareness of the transformation.
The next morning, strong sunlight poured through the window when he opened his eyes. The clock read 9:03. He stretched… and the headboard cracked under his grip like cardboard.
He sat up fast.
Everything felt wrong in scale. The bed was too small. The ceiling looked lower. He swung his legs down and stood then had to duck slightly to avoid the hanging lamp.
He walked to the closet mirror.
"Fuck…" he couldn't help swearing.
He was easily 1.90 m maybe 1.92 m. Shoulders broader, chest thicker, arms sharply defined even at rest. Abs carved like he'd been training for years. The face was still his intense blue eyes, brown hair with honey highlights but now sharper, more commanding… more handsome.
He tested strength first.
He grabbed the desk monitor, keyboard, books and all, probably 70–80 kg and lifted it one-handed. Held it steady in the air for several seconds without shaking, then set it down gently.
"Superhuman strength… confirmed."
He dashed across the room. Three meters in under half a second. Not even winded.
He flexed. Muscles responded with surgical precision. He jumped palm flat against the ceiling without effort. Landed silently.
He pinched his forearm hard. The skin reddened for a second, then returned to normal instantly.
Nothing in his mind. No whispers of foreign thoughts. Telepathy hadn't arrived yet.
He went downstairs to the kitchen. Cory was already gone. She'd left coffee brewing and a note on the fridge:
'Malachai, please don't skip class today. If you need anything, call me. Love you. Mom.'
He poured a mug and stepped out to the backyard to test more.
He picked up one of the decorative garden stones15–20 kg and tossed it straight up. It soared high, very high. He caught it one-handed on the way down without even looking.
"This is gonna come in handy against anything that crawls out of the sewers." He said with a grin.
Back inside. His phone buzzed on the table. Message from Betty.
Betty: "Hey Malachai… are you coming to class today? Professor Keller asked about you again. If you need notes, I can send them later."
Malachai replied quickly.
Malachai: "Heading there soon. Thanks, Betty."
Another message popped up almost immediately from Beth Boland.
Beth: "Mal, are you home? The accounts are still a mess and… I need to talk to someone. You're the only person who came to mind. Can I swing by later?"
Malachai: "Of course. Come whenever."
He pocketed the phone and looked out the window at the gray Maine sky. Somewhere underground, something had already caught his scent. The new scent of prey that was no longer afraid.
Malachai changed into looser clothes an oversized hoodie and old jeans to hide the changes as best he could. Before leaving, he returned to the garage and touched the tarp covering the ship.
"Thanks for the upgrade." He whispered. "But I'm gonna need more. A lot more. There are things out there way out of my league right now. I need more power if I want to survive. And I'm hoping you can help me, buddy."
No reply. Just that same faint energy pulse from the night before.
He stepped out of the house with a cold smile on his lips.
This world was amazing, and it hadn't even been two days, but he already had superpowers. Sure, there was a killer clown out there... but he wasn't bored anymore. He felt excited. He felt... free, alive. And now he would do whatever he wanted in this world, even rule it, if he could.