Malachai woke up early on Saturday, even though the sun was barely peeking through the gray clouds. The house was silent, Cory was still asleep. He went downstairs to the kitchen, made himself a strong coffee, and headed to the garage. The ship was still there, covered up. It could no longer help him get any stronger, but it would serve as a weapon against the alien invasion developing underground.
He locked the garage door. He turned on the old speaker in the corner at low volume, playing an instrumental rock playlist to help him focus, and began.
First, the basics. He lifted the 30 kilo weight. This time it didn't shake; it floated steadily at waist height for ten full seconds. Then he raised it all the way to the garage ceiling, spun it slowly through the air, and lowered it gently.
"The control is getting better." He murmured.
He moved on to heavier objects. The old freezer in the corner (around 120 kilos empty) rose off the floor with a creak. He held it suspended for thirty seconds before setting it down softly.
Then he practiced flying.
He stood in the center of the garage. He focused on his own body, visualizing the air as an extension of his will. His feet left the ground. Twenty centimeters… fifty… one meter. This time he didn't wobble as much; he held his balance, floating perfectly still as if in zero gravity. He felt the hum in his head, but it was no longer painful it was power.
He descended slowly and landed without a sound.
"Soon I'll fly for real. Without effort."
He sat on a crate and pulled out his phone. He opened his notes and started researching. The universe he was in seemed to follow rules similar to the series and movies he knew, but with changes. Riverdale wasn't exactly the same.
First, Sweetwater River. In the original series, Jason Blossom was found dead there, murdered by his father Clifford to cover up Polly's pregnancy. But here… Malachai searched local forums, old news articles, and maps.
There was no news about Jason Blossom. No disappearance, no murder, no body in the lake. Sweetwater River existed, but there were no reports of suspicious deaths recently. Only old rumors about "shadows in the water" and "people who vanish near the abandoned dock."
"Maybe the Blossoms never reached this point. Or maybe the killer hasn't acted yet."
He kept searching.
Crystal Lake. In the real movie world, it was Jason Voorhees's territory. Here in Maine there was no lake with that exact name, but he found "Mirror Lake" forty minutes away by car, with a history of drownings and disappearances since the 80s. Old police reports mentioned an "abandoned camp" nearby that had been shut down after "accidents."
"Possible Jason. Or something like him."
Then he looked for others.
Elm Street (didn't exist in Maine), but he found a road called "Elmwood Lane" on the outskirts, lined with abandoned Victorian houses and rumors of "collective nightmares" among the neighbors.
The Ring: no cursed videotape reported, but an old well in the woods near the Kenduskeag River had legends of "girls coming out of the water."
And The Conjuring: an old house on Route 17, abandoned since the 70s, with reports of "presences" and failed exorcisms in the local church's digital archives.
Malachai marked everything on a digital map: red pins for possible investigation. Mirror Lake, Elmwood Lane, the Kenduskeag well, the house on Route 17. And the center of Derry/Riverdale, where Pennywise had already appeared twice.
"Too many. This world isn't just IT. It's everything mixed together. And if I don't act, they're going to start killing."
He closed his phone and went up to his room to change.
Cory intercepted him in the hallway. She was wearing a casual Sunday dress, hair loose, with an expression that mixed curiosity and something warmer.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." She said, leaning against his bedroom doorframe. "You got home late last night. Walking in the rain again?"
Malachai shrugged. "I was helping some friends. There was… something weird."
Cory entered without asking, sat on the edge of the bed, and stared at him.
"Friends? Betty and Polly Cooper?"
He nodded.
Cory sighed.
"You're protective. I like that. But… it also worries me." She moved a little closer. "You're changing so fast, Malachai. Your body, the way you talk, your eyes… you look like you're carrying a weight you shouldn't have to carry at your age."
Malachai sat beside her not too close, but close enough for their knees to brush.
"It's not a weight. It's… responsibility."
Cory looked at him for a long moment. She reached out and touched his cheek, gently, lingering longer than usual.
"I wish I could help you carry it." Her voice dropped. "I wish I could… do more for you."
Malachai held her hand against his face.
"You do it every day, Mom."
She smiled sadly, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. "Someday… we'll talk for real. No masks."
She stood up and left, leaving the door open.
Malachai stayed silent for a moment.
His phone vibrated. Message from Beth.
Beth: Hey Mal… you free today? The guys are with Dean at the park and I… need some company. Can I come over? I brought coffee and something to eat. Just talk… or whatever happens.
Malachai smiled faintly.
Malachai: Come in an hour.
He stood up, put on a light jacket, and went to the kitchen to eat something light while he waited for Beth. Ever since the improvements to his body, his appetite had skyrocketed.
Later, Beth Boland showed up at his door with a box of homemade cookies and coffee.
"Hi, Mal…" She said with a shy smile. "I brought this as… well, like always. To thank you again."
Malachai let her in. They sat in the kitchen.
Beth sat close closer than usual. "I've been thinking a lot." She said softly. "About what you told me the other night. About… what we're doing."
Malachai looked at her. "And what do you think?"
She lowered her gaze.
"That you make me feel safe. And… wanted." She lifted her eyes. "But it also scares me. Because you're young… and I… have kids, an absent husband, a complicated life."
Malachai leaned toward her.
"I don't care about your age. Or your kids. Or your husband." His voice dropped. "I care about you."
Beth swallowed hard. She reached out and touched his hand.
"You're dangerous for my heart, Malachai Walker."
He laced his fingers with hers. "Only if you let me in."
The moment stretched. Beth moved a little closer. Their knees brushed. Their lips were inches apart… but she stopped.
"Not yet." she whispered. "But… soon."
Malachai nodded, not pushing. "When you're ready."
Beth stood, gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, and left, leaving the box of cookies, the coffee, and a faint trace of her perfume behind.
Malachai closed the door.
Upstairs, Cory waited in the second floor hallway. She had seen everything from the window.
She didn't say a word. She just smiled faintly, with that growing mix of pride and jealousy.
Malachai climbed the stairs and walked past her.
"Good night, Mom."
"Good night, sweetie." She answered in a gentle voice, with a small smile. "Sweet dreams."
He stepped into his room.
Closed the door.
And smiled.
Beth would fall soon and…
The Horrorverse… was peeling back... layer by layer.
And he was going to map every inch of it.
Before the monsters mapped him.