Episode 12 – The White Falcon

“He’s heading west on Thompson Street, toward Ivy Boulevard.” The words crackled through the earpiece in Michelle’s thick Australian accent. The White Falcon crouched behind the lip of the roof, the only thing separating him from a hundred foot drop to the street below. The stolen car was heading straight for his location. 

“The car’s coming straight at you,” Michelle said.

I have ears, you know, he thought, but aloud he said, “Roger. I’ll intercept at the intersection.”

A few seconds later, the roar of an engine came into earshot. There, to the right, a black Lamborghini shot into view, weaving through the traffic, no cops in sight.

This city is overrun by criminals. The police can’t possibly deal with all of it at once. It made his heart ache knowing this beautiful city he’d grown up in was now just a den for thieves, murderers, and drunks.

The White Falcon took a deep breath, double checking the carbon fiber wing clips harnessed to his legs. Secured and ready for flight. The Lamborghini was almost directly below him now. Adjusting his mask so the beak was over his nose, he launched himself off the building.

The wind instantly caught his wings, the air resistance pushing him up. He soured over the cars and pedestrians below, eyes fixed on the Lamborghini as he approached, propelled by nothing but wind and gravity. The driver apparently spotted him, as the car swerved, then turned a corner onto a one way street, trailing skid marks and burnt rubber. Calmly, expertly, The White Falcon banked, tucking his arms as he soared over the car then spreading them instantly to stop, the wings yanking him back like a parachute.

Turning around, he flipped on his lights as the Lamborghini sped toward him. Blood rushed to his head as the car sped on, not seeming fazed by the light. Steady, soldier. Hold your position. At the last moment, the car swerved around him, continuing down the street.

“The driver didn’t stop. Moving on to plan B,” the White Falcon said, unstrapping the small net gun and firing at the car. The net hit its mark, tangling in the wheel. The Lamborghini started sliding, then screeched to a halt.The driver door flew open, and a woman in a jean jacket sprinted out.

“We got a runner,” The White Falcon said, turning and heading toward an office building. “I’m going to get some height. You keep her in your sight. Hey, that rhymes.”

“She’s fast, Richard,” Michelle replied. “Hurry. And please don’t do that rhyming thing again.”

He grinned, bursting into the lobby of the building. Locating the stairs, he made a beeline for them. “Don’t worry. I’ll hurry.”

“Richard, please…” Michelle groaned.

“Is he doing that rhyming thing again?” a new voice, Ben, asked from the background.

“Just ignore him,” came the reply. “It’ll only encourage him.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he cut in between breaths. “Where is she now, Ben Le’cou?”

“Are you seriously Dr. Seussing us right now? She’s on the run, Richard Hun.”

“That’s not even my name,” White Falcon countered. “Be serious.” He passed the door labeled “Floor 4.” “I’m almost on the roof.”

“Oh, you want us to be serious now? Fine, She’s heading west toward a large crowd. If she gets there, we could lose her.”

“I could use that tracker about now, Ben.”

“Like I said before, you can yell, prod, or zap me, but I’m not going to go faster. It’ll be ready when it’s ready,” came Ben’s reply.

“Shocking,” White Falcon muttered, pushing the door labeled “Roof Access: Employees Only” open. He jogged onto the roof, stopping at the edge. The ground was only a few stories down, 90 feet at best, which would give him a glide of about 360 feet, enough to get him about one block. Hopefully, that would be far enough. “Where is she, Overwatch?” He asked, using Rachel’s codename.

“She headed down an alley to your left. There should be a blue dumpster in front of it.”

The White Falcon scanned the street, locating the dumpster on the other side of the street.

“Alright, I’m going in.” Taking a running start, he leapt off the building, propelling off the brick wall and spreading his wings and switching on his booster, soaring over the street. Flying. There was no better feeling, suspended in the air with nothing but a pair of wings stopping him from plummeting to his death. Free to go wherever he wanted. Free to be himself, if only for a few seconds. Reaching the alley, he tucked his wings, zooming through the narrow space before emerging again into a crowded plaza filled with vendors, shops, and thousands of people.

“Where is she?” he shouted through the wind whipping past.

“I—I’m not sure,” came the hesitant reply.

“What do you mean you’re not sure?!” He was approaching the crowd, fast. Still no sign of the thief.

“I lost her in the crowd. The satellite is trying to find her, but honestly, she looks like any of the other thousand down there.”

Pulling up at the last second, he landed on top of the statue of a rose in the center of the plaza. By now, hundreds of people had noticed him and were heading over, pulling out their phones. Would the thief try to blend in with them? No. If there was one thing he’d learned from the Air Force, it was that the enemy’s instinct was to run away. Sure enough, as the crowd gathered around the statue, one figure in a jean jacket was heading in the opposite direction, toward a storefront. There you are.

Propelling off the statue, he glided over the crowd, heading straight for the woman. Just as he was about to reach her, she turned around, her eyes growing wide in fear. The White Falcon had just enough time to bank to the right before he crashed into a trash can, spilling himself and trash over the sidewalk. Rolling to his feet, he scanned the street around him. The only person in a jean jacket was the 90-year-old in front of him, face still frozen in shock. “She’s gone!”

“What do you mean she’s gone?! She’s right in front of you!” Michelle countered.

“Not unless our thief has the power to age herself 40 years.”

Through his earspiece, he could hear furious typing and clicking. Tuning it out, he turned to the lady, who had come out of her shock and was now staring at him like he was a piece of trash on the street, and, to be fair, he probably looked like it.

“Young man! That was reckless! You think that you can put on a fancy suit and go around assaulting people and that makes you a hero?! You’re all the same! Selfish entitled brats who think they can just do anything they want, not caring who gets in the way. I’m calling the police!” Fumbling, the lady pulled her phone out.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I was chasing a car thief…” he frantically scanned the crowd around them, mostly caused by the commotion. There was no sign of the thief anywhere.

“Police, move aside!” A shout came from behind the crowd, and the White Falcon’s heart sank. Great. How was he going to explain this one?

Chief Caineson sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You can’t keep doing this, Richard. We can’t back you if you go through the streets playing vigilante. That’s not what we agreed on.”

“Oh yeah, because the ‘Guardian Angel’ thing is really working. Giving speeches is great, and I’m honored to speak at your events, but they’re just words! I need to be out there actually doing something. Plus, you should be happy I got the car.” He folded his hands over his neatly trimmed suit jacket, glaring.

“You mean the car with the broken axel? That was property damage.”

“Yeah, well at least the driver has a car at all!”

The creaking of the office door stopped the argument in its tracks, and Ricahrd and the chief turned to see a young officer standing in the doorway, sheepish.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we have a little situation.”

“What type of situation?” The chief asked curtly.

The officer glanced at Richard.

“It’s fine. He’s an honorary officer.” He gave Richard a look that silently said And you should remember that.

“It’s a missing person’s case, though the person who filed it won’t give us the details. She says she wants to speak to you privately.”

“Very well. Send her in.” He turned to Richard. “You are dismissed, but please take into consideration what I said.”

Richard nodded, though inside, his senses had perked up. A missing person? As he was led outside, another taller woman with short brown hair passed him, her eyes seeming to glaze right over him. He’d seen that look before, the look of a soldier whose buddies had been taken prisoner. This is more than a missing person’s case. He waited until the heavy click of the door told him the lady had disappeared into the office, and Richard followed the officer toward the lobby. Then, in one stealthy move, he slipped into a hallway, making sure his boots didn’t make a sound as he headed for the bathroom adjacent to the office. He’d learned a while ago that if you listened to the right duct, you could hear everything that went on in there. Reaching the door with “Men’s Restroom” embellished on it, he opened the door next to it, a cleaning closet, and took out a sign that read “Restrooms Closed For Cleaning” placing it outside the bathroom door before slipping in. Luckily, it was empty. Walking over to the vent, he placed his ear on it and could just make out the chief’s voice.

“Slow down. What do you mean they have them? Start from the beginning.”

A woman’s voice filtered through. “Okay, last night one of our students, Lucy, went missing. We thought she had just run away, but then Quin and Nicolua went missing, and one of our students reported that he’d seen them fighting with Quin, then dragging them off through the woods.”

“We’re not talking about…” 

The voices got too quiet to hear, but Richard had heard enough. The Rose. It had to be them, the same them who had turned this city into the den it was now. The same them who were in the walls of every police station in the city, making sure they got away with it. Moving swiftly, he left the bathroom, replacing the sign in the closet, then hurried down the hall and out of the precinct and onto the busy street. Touching his ear, he turned the earpiece on.

“We have a new situation. Three kids have been kidnapped. I need you to pull up everything we have on the Rose.”

“And what are you going to do?” Michell’s voice came back a second later.

The White Falcon clenched his jaw. “I’m going to get them back.”