Chereads / In DC Dark Shadow / Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Reflection in the Dark

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Reflection in the Dark

His feet touched the ground, the faintest whisper of air the only sign he had landed. The cave was silent again, but something caught his eye — a small puddle, glistening under a distant shaft of light. He stepped toward it, his heart pounding in anticipation. Maybe the reflection would give him some hint, something to tether himself to in this unfamiliar reality.

He knelt beside the puddle, peering into the still water. The face that stared back at him was… unexpected.

Damn. His brow furrowed as he took in his own reflection. His skin was smooth, unmarred by any imperfection. His features were sharp, almost sculpted — a strong jawline, nice shaped nose, and piercing eyes that seemed to burn with a quiet intensity. The face looking back at him wasn't just human; it was better than human. damn Handsome, he mused, surprised by the thought.

But his appearance wasn't the only thing that stood out.

He pushed himself up, stepping back slightly, now noticing what he was wearing for the first time. A sleek, synthetic suit clung to his body, hugging his muscles like a second skin. It was black — not just black, but void black, absorbing the light around it. The material looked alien, almost like it wasn't woven, but grown or forged from something far beyond Earth. 

His muscles flexed beneath the suit, powerful, yet controlled. He glanced down, taking in the intricate design. Why is it so tight? It fit him perfectly, yet it didn't feel restrictive. It moved with him, responding like it was part of him. He ran a hand over his chest and arms. The suit wasn't just tight for the sake of it — it was functional, like the uniform of a Spartan warrior. The suit was built for combat, for efficiency, for war.

And yet, that wasn't all.

He tilted his head, his sharp eyes catching the faintest outline of something more. Hidden seams. His fingers brushed against the gauntlets on his wrists, and with a thought, two blades flicked out silently, gleaming in the faint cave light. Wrist blades? He turned them over in fascination, admiring the sleek, deadly design before retracting them just as smoothly. This isn't just any armor.

The suit wasn't just a protective layer; it was a weapon, a tool. He could feel the weight of it, the latent potential within its synthetic fibers. A full body of armor, complete with tech and weapons beyond anything he'd ever seen — or at least anything he could remember seeing.

He felt something swish behind him, like a faint breeze. He turned his head, expecting a cape, but… no, it wasn't a cape. It was a cloak. Long, fluid, and just as dark as his suit. It billowed softly as he moved, giving him a sense of shadow and mystery. It wasn't for show; it had purpose. It felt like it could shift, change, or even disappear in the right conditions, blending into the shadows of war. A tactical cloak, then.

He rolled his shoulders, letting the weight of it settle. Every piece of this armor was designed for one purpose — to dominate. To survive. To thrive in whatever battlefield he had been born for.

But why black? Why the void-like color of night? It was almost Spartan in its simplicity, like those ancient warriors who stripped away all excess, relying only on what was necessary to fight. This armor didn't scream for attention; it didn't need to. It spoke of brutal efficiency. A tool for a soldier, a killer.

Why do I feel so at home in it?

He flexed his fingers again, the armor responding like a second skin. He wasn't just wearing this suit; he was this suit. It was a part of him, like his own flesh.

He couldn't shake the thought. The cave, the armor, the body — all of it was designed for something. A warrior's reflection stared back at him from the puddle, but there was no hint as to why or how. Only the burning question remained:

What am I?

He took one last look at the reflection before standing tall. This wasn't a costume or a facade. This was who he was now — a Valorian, a warrior, a weapon. He wasn't sure where he was going or why, but with every passing second, his purpose grew clearer.

The world outside had no idea what was coming.