Winging It - Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Chapter One
Atlas City is quiet from this high up. Clouds swim lazily overhead in the blue-black sky stretching out above me. Only a few stars are still brave enough to show their faces this close to the heart of the city. Around here the stars are found not above, but below. You can find them in the crisscrossing rows of streetlights and in the head and tail lights of the cars moving in between them. In the glow of half-open apartment windows and light up advertisements. In the blinking light of a phone, notifying someone that his friends are waiting for him. 

A cold wind rips through me and I raise a paper coffee cup to my lips in defense. I ruffle the feathers on my wings to shake off some of the chills. I slowly rise to my feet on top of the construction crane that is currently holding night vigil over an unfinished skyscraper.

Somewhere below in this vast ocean of fake stars is a retro-looking restaurant with a lot of plants and a glowing sign above the entrance informing you that you are welcome to call it “The Dragon Keep”. In the yellow lamplight on the sidewalk next to it, a young man who can turn himself into gold is huddled up with his girlfriend, who happens to be armed with emerald tentacles. 

Don’t judge, those are my friends. 

I take one final sip from my cup and leave it on top of the operating booth as a warm memento to the cold piece of construction equipment. I pull out my phone, swipe away the notifications, and search for a quick route to the restaurant. It’s just over five minutes away, but I figure it’s about two minutes as the crow flies. Or, in this case, as the Alan flies. 

I once read an article that said coffee is the only thing that can get you high on sobriety. Obviously they’ve never thrown themselves off of a crane.

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

Atlas City is burning. Smoke swirls overhead in the ash darkened sky. There are no stars in the sky as all of them have had the sense to flee. The only light this evening comes not from above, but below. In the fiery wrecks of cars and burning tires. From the sparks of fallen streetlights and the barely flickering lights from nearby buildings. In the reflective unblinking eyes of terrified citizens gazing upon the monsters slowly bringing the city to its knees.

A warm gust of air rips through me and I raise a hand to my face in defense. I ruffle the feathers on my wings to shake off some of my nerves. I slowly rise to my feet on top of a skyscraper that used to belong to an esteemed hero agency tasked with holding vigil over this area of the city. 

Somewhere below in this endless chaos, a building is slowly sinking into one of the many fissures that have popped up around the city, a cracked sign at its entrance letting the world know that it used to be called “The Dragon Keep”. In the dark alley across from it, a young lady who uses punches as a method of showing affection is slowly morphing into a massive wolf-like beast who uses punches as a method of showing aggression. 

She’s a friend from work.

Gather every drop of courage that I can muster, I prepare to leave the safety of my perch behind. I pull out a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket and stare at its pencil etched contents one last time. I know what I need to do. I know where I need to go. 

I once read an article that said that the view from atop a skyscraper could make you feel like the king of the world. Obviously they’ve never thrown themselves off of one.

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

I lean over, further and further until finally, the nothingness envelops me. The sound of rushing air comes up to greet me as I rocket straight down to the ground below. I try to pick up as much speed as possible and fold my wings tightly against my body. Right before I get too close to the ground, I spread out my wings, and with one powerful flap, summon a gust of wind that propels me forward and upward. I shoot out of the construction yard and with a few more flaps I’m well above the lowrise buildings in this part of the city. 

I soar across rooftops and swerve around water towers. Along the way, I accidentally startle a few unsuspecting pigeons and when I fly too close to a rooftop garden its overnight sprinklers punish me with a flurry of stinging water drops.

I keep flying until my phone vibrates to let me know that I’ve arrived. I swoop down and lazily loop around the intersection before landing in the lamplight in front of the restaurant. Alexis is already in the process of securing a table for us when Carlos notices me.

“There you are bud!” he exclaims, locking hands with me before pulling me into a hug. His thick leather jacket is icy cold so I extract myself from his embrace as quickly as possible. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t make it, you really should check your phone more often,” he says.

“Yeah, sorry man, air traffic and all,” I reply.

“Hey there stranger,” Alexis says, walking over and giving me a hug, her cable-knit sweater making it a considerably warmer experience. Her comment makes me realize how long it’s been since the last time I actually saw her. Despite both being second-year med students, we haven’t seen each other since midterms started. With my surname being Gray and hers being Walker we were always split into different test venues. And at times when we were not busy writing an exam, we were just holed up in our rooms, cramming for the next one. During med school exams you barely have a chance to go out and see the sun, much less to go see friends.

The waiter at the door kindly leads us to a booth in the back and hands us some menus. Carlos orders a round of hot chocolates for the table and I add a single cider to the order.
“Already going for the alcohol are we?” Carlos jokes. “How did the exam go?”

Alexis and I groan in unison. 

“We shall not speak of such things,” I say.

“Agreed,’ Alexis adds. “At this point, my brain is so fried that I should come with an electrical hazard sign.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad,” Carlos says. “The fact that you guys are even in this course means that you know your way around a question paper. But I get you, the last thing anyone wants to talk about after an exam is an exam, right?”

Alexis and I nod in agreement. “Instead, I’m more interested in what you’re up to,” I say nodding in Carlos’s direction. “The world’s next best hero, Carlos Santiago, The Golden Boy”. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he chuckles. “I still have to pass the entrance exam before I can even get into the hero training course.”

“Stop pretending like there’s still a chance that you won’t get in,” Alexis scoffs. “I just hope that you are not entertaining the idea of picking The Golden Boy as an actual hero name.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll pick it to throw some people off,” he says. “Imagine being a villain and getting bested by some guy called The Golden Boy. You’d have to retire right then and there.”

“See Alexis, he understands my genius,” I say, but she just sends a napkin flying in my direction. “What about you guys” Carlos starts, “which hero names would you have picked for yourselves.”

We sit in thoughtful silence for a few moments. “I’d like something timeless and classy, something that would look good in the Heroic Hall of Fame,” Alexis says.

A part of me likes the idea of Alexis as a hero. She has six tentacle-like appendages that protrude from her back and each one is encased in a green crystalline exoskeleton. Alexis hopes to use them to become an exceptional surgeon one day, but I can definitely see them being used for a little crime-fighting on the side. 

“How about something animal related?” I suggest. “You could market yourself as an octo-lady, or maybe a spider girl of sorts.”

“Yeah, like Arachna,” Carlos offers.

There is a moment of silence as Alexis stares at us as if we’re the ones with extra arms coming out of us. “Those are horrible ideas. People will think I’m some sort of nightmare spider hybrid. I won’t be able to save anyone because they’ll be too busy running away from me,” she says. She sounds unimpressed, but her words are enough to get Carlos and me to burst out in laughter, and soon enough Alexis is laughing along with us.

Our drinks arrive and we try not to choke on our lingering giggles. “I don’t know what I would pick,” I say, leaning back in my cushioned seat. “I’ve never given much thought to the business of professional heroism,” I say. A pair of shadow black wings are protruding from the slits at the back of my sweater and my gaze lingers on them. “Maybe I could market myself as the Raven, or the Crow. Something simple that goes with the look.”

“I like it, it’s clean and recognizable,” Carlos says.

“You still haven’t told us what you would pick,” I say. “You need to tell us why as well, you’ll need a good answer to that for the hoards of reporters that will be storming you on a daily basis.”

“Well, I’ve already thought about this quite a bit, since I needed to provide a hero name when I applied for the entrance exam,” he says. “When I was a kid my dad used to tell me this story about a mythical place. It was supposedly some long lost city made from nothing but gold, overflowing with wealth and treasure. Throughout history, several explorers have tried to locate this city, but no one ever found it. Because here’s the thing, if you go back far enough then you find that the story was never about a city, but a man. A leader who brought his tribe into a new golden age. That’s what I want to be. A hero who brings about so much prosperity that it sounds like something straight out of a fairy tale. Hence why I’ll be naming myself after that man,” he says, pausing for effect.

“El Dorado, the golden one.”

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

“Find the golden man.”

 The four simple words from the crumpled up piece of paper are repeating over and over in my mind. I’m heading straight toward the center of the city, flying as fast as I can and flapping my wings as hard as they can go. The cityscape, or what’s left of it, zooms by below me as I come ever closer to finding the answers I’ve been looking for.

When I finally spot my destination, I rapidly shift into an aerial dive. I rocket straight down between two tall rows of buildings and fly along Main Street. The street ends at a diverging intersection but I keep going. I glide over the once manicured lawns and up the wide flight of steps, before finally landing in front of the monument I’m after. It’s a statue of a man cast completely in gold carrying a globe on his back.

“The Titan Atlas, bearing the weight of the world upon his shoulders,” the plaque at the base of the monument reads.

“You and me both buddy,” I say to the monument’s still face. He doesn’t reply.

Behind the monument is another flight of stairs leading up to a much more impressive structure. Styled after architecture from Ancient Greece, The Heroic Hall of Fame stands tall and proud at the heart of Atlas City. They chose to construct it on this spot because this is where the world’s first superhero was born. It seems fitting then, that this is also the place where an entirely new type of hero will either be made...

...or broken

 

♦ ♦ ♦