Light of the World

Redbird Gatchamaniac posted 26 Jan 2016 17:37 (edited 27 Jan 2016 14:59)

Dunno where this one came from. All mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy! ******************************** Light of the World The hot sun beat down upon them, made hotter by the exposed roof they were currently trapped upon. He could hear the screams of the populace at the edge of his hearing, as if he were in a dream. The terrifying shrieks, gradually being drowned out by the explosions that rocked the city. Dust and debris clogged the air, momentarily blocking out the sun. Thick, dark smoke rising in long plumes, reminiscent of skeletal fingers. The city leaders had ordered an evacuation, but the order came too late. There hadn't been enough time. No, he thought grimly. There never was enough time. It was Saturday. The city was teeming with people enjoying the bright sunshine and outdoor shopping. There was a free afternoon concert in the park, people wading in the fountain in the middle of it to cool off. Kids on bicycles and ice cream vendors. Sidewalk cafes with wrought iron tables, colorful umbrellas, and frou-frou named drinks. A typical, idyllic weekend-- before everything went to hell. The five of them had been scattered about, enjoying some well earned time off. But the two of them were together, close to where the attack had started, and currently fighting to get to specified coordinates. Jinpei and Ryu were already aboard the God Phoenix; Jun was on the way. That left only the two of them. When the warning sirens had blared, the citizens panicked, there came shouts from the crowd, calling for them. Calling for Gatchaman. Begging for help as the city crumbled and burned. Gatchaman would come. As he always did. At times he wondered just how many propaganda pieces had been written about them. How many times had their doubles been paraded before the media? He had lost count years ago. But the masses ate it up. The accolades, the "in-depth" reports full of false information. Stories about their private lives, which were so ludicriously wrong, it made them all cringe. They never saw the struggles, the blood and anguish. The sacrifice. The pain. They saw a shining image, a paragon. Like the perfect image of the man before him, striking an unconsciously majestic pose. Perched high above the city, wings pulled back by the breeze, bird rang clenched in his fist. A symbol of justice and freedom, for everyone, everywhere. It was so easy for them to believe ; because they needed something to believe in. He understood, because sometimes....he believed too. Another blast echoed in the distance. He glanced up and glimpsed eyes as blue as the sky itself, before gossamer strands of sunlight broke through the clouds, reflecting off the tinted crystal visor, briefly obscuring his vision. And he watched as the figure silently flashed a hand signal at him, then gracefully launched off the rooftop and into the air, wings billowing out, carrying him upward. Like a prayer whispered fervently to the Gods. Hope buoyed on white wings. With a growl low in his throat, and two shuriken clenched between his teeth, he took off after the Eagle, spiraling down through the smoke, before being lifted skyward. While Ken lived they still had hope. And live he would. He would make damned sure of it.