Black Creek: Messiah

[Log Entry 1: Pay Attention]

You know that feeling when you're simultaneously the biggest and smartest person in the room, but you'd give anything to be neither? Welcome to my world.

I'm Jacob Kane, and at 11 years old, I'm already pushing over six feet tall. Oh, and I have a brain that makes Einstein look like he's struggling with basic arithmetic. Fun times, right?

As I duck my head to avoid decapitation by the school bus door frame (again), I can't help but wonder if the universe is playing some cosmic joke on me. I mean, who decided to put the mind of a genius into the body of a pre-teen Hulk? If you're listening, universe, your sense of humor sucks.

I shuffle into Mrs. Walters' seventh-grade classroom, my knees already plotting their revenge against the undersized desk I'm about to crush. As I wedge myself in, the desk creaks in protest. I swear I can hear it whimpering, "Why me?" Join the club, buddy.

Roll call. I raise my hand, which looks like it belongs to a linebacker rather than a kid who's supposed to be solving for x.

Mrs. Walters gives me that look – you know the one.

It's a mix of awe and pity, like she's watching a giraffe try to use a drinking fountain.

Gym class. Oh joy. As we line up for pull-ups, I hang back, hoping Mrs. Walters will forget about me. Fat chance. I watch as Tyler, all fifty pounds of him soaking wet, struggles to do a single pull-up. Poor kid looks like a spider doing the macarena.

Then it's my turn. I grab the bar, and suddenly, I'm the main attraction at the freakshow. Two, five, ten pull-ups... I can practically hear the thoughts racing through my classmates' minds. "Is he even human?" Sorry to disappoint, folks, but last time I checked, I didn't have any radioactive spider bites or secret government super-soldier serum in my system. Just your average, everyday giant/child-genius combo.

The shuttle run is next. I explode off the line, my legs sprinting in a blur of motion. As I cross the finish line, leaving the others in the dust, I catch Mrs. Walters' eye. She's scribbling furiously on her clipboard, probably trying to figure out if she can get me drug tested or entered into the Olympics. Maybe both.

But here's the kicker – the real punchline to this cosmic joke. While I'm out here crushing physical fitness tests like they're made of papier-mâché, my mind is busy calculating the aerodynamic efficiency of my movements and the chemical reactions happening in my muscles. It's like having a supercomputer trapped in the body of a baby Bigfoot.

Later, at the science fair, I'm showcasing my vacuum chamber experiment.

It's light-years beyond the baking soda volcanoes surrounding it.

As I adjust the gauges, lost in the beautiful simplicity of inert gas reactions, I almost forget about my... unique situation.

But the universe isn't done with me yet.

Enter Brad Thompson, captain of the football team and living proof that evolution can, in fact, go backwards. He swaggers over, all swagger and no substance, ready to remind me of my place in the pecking order.

"Well if it ain't the freak," he sneers.

I straighten up, towering over him. For a moment, I consider the satisfying crunch his bones would make if I decided to use my strength. But that's not who I am. I'm better than that. I'm smarter than that.

Then Brad makes the mistake of touching my experiment. As alarms wail and warnings flash, time slows down. In that moment, I see a thousand possible futures branching out before me. Most of them end with Brad learning a painful lesson about messing with forces beyond his comprehension.

Instead, I choose the path of least resistance.

With lightning speed, I grab his wrist.

Our eyes meet, and for once, I let him see the truth. I'm not just a freak. I'm something he can't understand, something that doesn't fit into his small, simple world.

As I release him and turn back to my experiment, I can't help but wonder: is this my origin story? Am I destined to be a hero, a villain, or something in between? One thing's for sure – middle school is going to be interesting.

And to you, reading,

watching this unfold from the safety of your side of the fourth wall – buckle up. This is just the beginning.

[Log Entry 2: Watch Closely]

The rest of the science fair passed in a blur of forced smiles and awkward conversations. I could feel Brad's eyes on me all night, like a shark circling its prey.

As the gym slowly emptied, I meticulously packed up my experiment, each piece a reminder of how I didn't fit in this world of baking soda volcanoes and potato clocks.

You'd think being built like a linebacker and having a brain that could run circles around Stephen Hawking would make life easier.

Spoiler alert: it doesn't. In this small town of Black Creek, I'm about as welcome as a virus at a birthday party.

Even my parents look at me like I'm some kind of alien that crash-landed in their living room.

Pro tip: when you're lost in thought about your cosmic isolation, always keep one eye on your surroundings. Otherwise, you might end up like me, suddenly realizing you're alone in a dark gym with Brad and his two meat-headed sidekicks.

"Looks like the freak wants another lesson," Brad sneered, cracking his knuckles with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

I could snap Brad like a twig. I could probably use his buddies as makeshift baseball bats to hit him out of the park. But that's not who I am.

That's not who I want to be.

So, I stood there, my mind racing through countless scenarios, each ending with me walking away the victor.

But sometimes, the real victory isn't in fighting back. It's in enduring.

"Come on, Brad," I sighed, sounding far more tired than any eleven-year-old should. "Don't you ever get bored of this?"

Brad's response was as eloquent as ever – a fist to my stomach.

As I doubled over, gasping for air, his cronies joined in, their kicks finding my ribs, my back, my legs.

Pain exploded across my body, but my mind remained clear. With each blow, I calculated the force, the angle, the potential damage. It was almost fascinating, in a detached sort of way.

As I lay there, curled up on the gym floor, I couldn't help but laugh. It was a wheezing, painful sound, but it stopped Brad and his goons in their tracks.

"What's so funny, freak?" Brad demanded, his foot poised for another kick.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I was just thinking," I managed between gasps, "about how much energy you're wasting. Did you know that the average punch only transfers about 15% of its kinetic energy to the target? The rest is lost to heat and sound."

Brad's face contorted in confusion. It was like watching a caveman try to understand calculus. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I slowly pushed myself up, wincing at the pain. "I'm saying, Brad, that all this effort you're putting into hurting me? It's mostly wasted. Just like you're wasting your potential by being a bully."

For a moment, just a moment, I saw something change in Brad's eyes.

Understanding? Shame? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual mask of anger and bravado.

"Whatever, freak," he spat, but the venom was gone from his voice. "Let's go, guys."

As they skulked away, I allowed myself a small smile. I may be bruised and battered, but I hadn't let them break me. I hadn't stooped to their level.

Sometimes, true strength isn't in the muscles or the mind. It's in the heart, in the ability to endure, to rise above.

[Log Entry 3: You've been warned]

As I limped home under the setting sun, my body aching but my spirit unbroken, I couldn't help but wonder: what does the future hold for a boy who's too strong to fight and too smart to fit in?

It started small. A few weeks after the beating, Brad tripped down the stairs at school. Nothing serious, just a sprained ankle. But as I walked past him sprawled on the floor, our eyes met. For a fraction of a second, I let my mask slip. I let him see the cold calculation behind my eyes, the slight upturn of my lips. His face paled. He knew.

You see, I'd finally put my oversized brain to use. A loose floorboard here, a slippery patch there. Nothing traceable, nothing obvious. Just a series of unfortunate accidents that seemed to follow Brad and his cronies wherever they went.

But it wasn't enough. The rage inside me, the hurt, the years of being an outcast – it all bubbled up, demanding more. And that's when things got... interesting.

Remember my vacuum chamber experiment? Turns out, with a few modifications, it can do more than just test inert gas reactions. Much more.

It was a quiet Sunday night when I snuck into the school, my altered vacuum chamber tucked under one arm. The security system? Child's play for a mind like mine. I made my way to Brad's locker, my heart pounding not with fear, but with anticipation.

The device fit perfectly inside.

As I closed the locker door, I couldn't help but smile. Tomorrow morning, when Brad opened his locker, he'd get a nasty surprise. Nothing lethal, of course. I'm not a monster. At least, not yet. But a face full of highly concentrated, mildly hallucinogenic gas? That should make for an interesting Monday morning.

As I turned to leave, a movement caught my eye. Mrs. Walters stood at the end of the hallway, her eyes wide with shock and... was that fear?

"Jacob?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, I considered lying. But what was the point? She'd seen me. And besides, a part of me – a dark, growing part – wanted her to know. Wanted everyone to know.

"Just evening the odds, Mrs. Walters," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Isn't that what you always taught us? To stand up for ourselves?"

She took a step back, her hand fumbling for her phone. "This isn't standing up for yourself, Jacob. This is... this is wrong."

I tilted my head, studying her like an animal observing a prey. "Wrong? Was it wrong when they beat me? When they called me a freak? When you all stood by and did nothing?"

With each question, I took a step forward. Mrs. Walters pressed herself against the wall, her phone clattering to the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, Jacob," she stammered. "We should have done more. We can still help you."

I laughed then, a sound that seemed to chill the very air around us. "Help me? Oh, Mrs. Walters. I don't need help anymore. I've found my purpose."

As I loomed over her, I saw my reflection in her terrified eyes. Gone was the awkward, self-conscious boy. In his place stood something... else. Something powerful.

Something dark.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

I smiled, and it wasn't a kind smile. "I'm going to change the world, Mrs. Walters. Starting with this town."

As I walked away, leaving her trembling in the dark hallway, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. The old Jacob was gone, burned away by years of torment and isolation. In his place stood someone – something – new.

[Log Entry 4: The Boy in the Sky]

The morning after my nocturnal visit to the school, chaos reigned supreme.

As I had anticipated, Brad's locker had become ground zero for a spectacle that would make the evening news look like a kindergarten playground scuffle.

The hallways were a sea of confusion.

Students ran in all directions, their faces contorted in fear or wonderment, depending on how close they'd been to Brad's locker when he'd opened it. The air was filled with the sickly-sweet scent of my specially crafted hallucinogenic compound, its tendrils seeping into every corner of the building.

I sat at my desk, watching the pandemonium unfold with detached amusement.

Brad was in the center of it all, his eyes wide and unfocused, babbling about giant spiders crawling out of his locker. Part of me felt a twinge of... not quite remorse, but something close to it. The rest of me savored every second of his torment.

Mrs. Walters burst into the classroom, her face ashen. Our eyes met.

She knew. She remembered our encounter last night. As she opened her mouth to speak, likely to call me out, the ground beneath us shuddered.

At first, I thought it was just another part of the chaos I'd orchestrated.

But then the tremors intensified.

Books tumbled from shelves, light fixtures swayed ominously, and hairline cracks spiderwebbed across the walls.

That's when I felt it.

A surge of... something. Power? Energy?

My vision blurred, then sharpened to crystal clarity. I could suddenly see the tiniest details - the individual fibers in Mrs. Walters' sweater, the microscopic dust motes swirling in the air.

As another violent tremor rocked the building, I stood up. My desk, which had always felt like a cramped cage, now seemed laughably small. I realized with a start that I was floating several inches above the ground.

"Jacob?" Mrs. Walters' voice was barely a whisper, tinged with equal parts fear and awe.

I turned to face her, and caught my reflection in the classroom window.

My eyes glowed with an unearthly blue light, and faint arcs of electricity danced across my skin. In that moment, I understood. This wasn't just puberty hitting early. This was something far beyond the realm of normal human experience.

"Everyone out," I said, my voice resonating with a new authority. "Now."

The classroom emptied in seconds, leaving me alone with Mrs. Walters. She took a hesitant step towards me, her hand outstretched. "Jacob, please. Whatever's happening, we can help you. Just-"

I cut her off with a laugh that shook the remaining books from their shelves. "Help?, Mrs. Walters. You all think I'm broken don't you."

With that, I shot upward, crashing through the ceiling as if it were made of paper.

I ascended rapidly, the school shrinking beneath me until I hovered high above it, surveying the town that had been my prison for so long.

Students and teachers poured out of the building, pointing up at me in shock. In the distance, I could hear sirens approaching.

Good. Let them all come.

Let them all see what they've created.

I raised my hands, feeling the power surge through me. The sky darkened, clouds swirling ominously overhead. Lightning forming between my fingertips, and with a thought, I sent a bolt streaking downward. It struck the football field, leaving a smoking crater where the end zone used to be.

"Citizens of Black Creek," my voice boomed, somehow carrying to every corner of the town. "For years, you've called me a freak. An outsider. Well, today I'm going to show you just how right you were."

With that, I unleashed my newfound powers. Cars lifted off the ground, swirling in a metallic tornado. The winds howled, uprooting trees and sending debris flying. Each demonstration of power felt like a release, years of pent-up frustration and anger finding an outlet at last.

As I reveled in my godlike abilities, a small part of me - the part that was still Jacob Kane, the lonely boy genius - whispered that this was wrong. That power didn't have to mean destruction. That I could be better than those who had tormented me.

I could be the bigger man, the savior they desperately needed.

For a moment, I hesitated. I looked down at the chaos I'd wrought, at the terrified faces of my classmates and neighbors.

I saw Brad, cowering behind a overturned bus, his earlier bravado replaced by naked fear.

And then, just as I was considering stopping this madness, a memory surfaced. A particularly brutal beating, Brad's sneering face looming over me as his fists connected again and again.

The mocking laughter of onlookers.

The cold indifference of teachers who should have protected me.

Mercy was a luxury for those who had never known true suffering. And I... I had suffered enough.

"This is only the beginning," I declared, my voice echoing across the devastated landscape. "You wanted a monster? Well, congratulations. You've got one."

As emergency vehicles screeched into view and news helicopters circled overhead, I allowed myself a satisfied smile.

The world had changed forever, and I was at the epicenter of that change.

Jacob Kane, the freak, the outsider, was gone.

In his place stood something new.

Something powerful.

Something that would make the world tremble.

Let them try to stop me. Let them send their armies, their superheroes, their best and brightest.

I'll be waiting. After all, I've always been the smartest person in the room.

Now I'm the most powerful, too.

And this... this is just the beginning.