Hello Ladies and Gentlemen! After a while of waiting, my newest story is complete! Consider it a late Christmas present haha

Big shoutout to u/gr33n_power for the idea!

Hope y’all enjoy! And if you’re new, feel free to checkout my profile for more just like it! (If this gets popular enough, I’ll probably do a Part 2!)

…

“Something’s in the Air”

Tonight, Ash chose a rather precarious new spot to do some reading. Having grown sick of his cramped apartment, he had walked out onto the balcony and hefted himself up onto the roof. The climb up had required the use of a wobbly foot stool, as well as an exorbitant amount of his upper-body strength. As Ash tumbled over onto a gravel surface, he held his ribs tenderly, sore from where they had pressed into the concrete ledge. Thankfully, nobody had been watching his pitiful attempt to access the roof, and Ash was glad to be alone up above. He slowly rose and peered over the edge.

He was only ten feet higher than his balcony, but combined with the lack of a guard rail, the fall to the street down below seemed deadlier than usual. The sidewalk and cars he had grown used to seeing every day took on a dangerous aura in the orange street lights. One wrong move, and they would be the last thing he ever saw… or felt. Ash carefully retreated from the ledge, to what looked like a brick chimney with two turbine vents sitting atop it.

After managing to get as comfortable as he could while sitting on coarse gravel and leaning against stubborn brick, Ash pulled out his book; it was a paperback novel that had been stored in his rear pocket throughout the entire ordeal. In the streetlights’ soft glow he read the cover, “Clara and the Darkest of Days.” Below the white stylized font, on a pure black background, a figure was drawn emitting sunshine. Looking closer, Ash made it out to be that of a female, undoubtedly the titular Clara.

Ash took a deep breath… and cracked open the cover. The novel smelled new, a fresh scent amongst the city’s worn and tepid odor. He flipped to the front page and let himself be whisked away.

…

Ten blocks west, Brooke Daniels was following a high-speed police chase. With one leg, she pushed off the ground and launched herself several hundred feet into the sky. The city’s warm air disappeared as she rose higher than the apartments and offices, into the fresher winds above. She looked down, and her eyes focused on the line of flashing red and blue lights speeding through the streets. Ahead of them, a red spot sped frantically through the intersections and against oncoming traffic, taking off the mirrors of cars both moving and stationary. After rising for a few more seconds, Brooke’s leap reached its zenith. The hair on her shoulders lifted to the sky, and Gravity was now slowly tugging her back down.

The city below was coming up to meet her, offering up its rooftops like stepping stones. Brooke raised her arms away from her sides, and her terminal velocity slowed to the rate of a hurried glide. Under her dangling legs, the frantic chase continued. The red sedan now seemed to be focused on cutting through the opposing lane. Drivers unlucky enough to cross its path swerved to avoid a collision, only to slam headfirst into the pursuing police cars with a violent “Crunch!”

Seeing a rooftop that was clear of generators and skylights, Brooke raised one of her sneakers. She hit the soft tar running, breaking into a sprint after a few moments of staggering into a proper stride. Her sneakers tapped softly against the bouncy surface, hardly making a sound. Of course, anybody within earshot of her sprint wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sounds of police sirens and tires screeching across the asphalt.

Just before she ran out of roof, Brooke leapt again, this time with slightly less effort. She sailed over the streets and began gliding toward the chase. Like a news helicopter, she seemed to hover over the procession of vehicles swerving across the road, the blaring of sirens getting louder with every foot she descended.

…

Officer Jones and Locke were in hot pursuit of the red sedan, completely focused on the suspect’s rear bumper. If they could just get close enough, they could ram him sideways, ending his tear through the city. All they needed was one empty stretch of road to build speed and catch up.

Suddenly, Officer Locke exclaimed in surprise. Not having the burden of driving, his vision of the street was just wide enough to notice a pair of sneakers coming into view from above. He cursed and yelled for Officer Jones to look up, believing himself to be hallucinating. Jones glanced upwards once, then fixedly gaped after realizing what she saw.

“My God,” She whispered and turned to Locke for just a moment. “It’s the Night Hawk!”

Almost as soon as she finished yelling, the figure of a black-clad woman careened onto the trunk of the sedan with a “BANG!” The vehicle’s rear end crumpled into the road, and its hood jerked upwards into the air. The car screeched to a halt, showering the sidewalk with metallic sparks as it skidded to a stop. Locke slammed her foot onto the brake pedal as hard as she could, and the police cruiser’s tires screamed in protest. Behind them, the other police vehicles followed suit.

…

A cloud of charred smoke surrounded Brooke, filling the night with an ugly and acrid scent. The sedan’s alarm whooped and chimed, adding to the cacophony of sirens and screaming pedestrians running from the scene. Brooke slowly stood. The surface below her feet was uneven, a rippled and wrecked mess of steel and fiberglass. She carefully stepped out of the metal carcass and onto the solid road, as though she were freeing herself from a marsh. Like a balance beam suddenly relieved of weight, the front end of the car fell down to the road with a crunch.

Brooke would need to be quick now. While her outfit consisted of matching black track pants and a sweater, complete with a mask hiding her eyes, it concealed her best when she was a small leaping speck against the sky. She couldn’t afford to let the police get a good look at her, let alone stop her. She hurried to the driver’s door, noticing a slumped over figure in the front seat. Brooke gripped the door handle firmly, then gave an effortful tug on it.

A shrill scraping noise could be heard as the door came free from the chassis, and Brooke tossed it away like litter. With another swift tug, the driver’s seatbelt flew into the street and tumbled down the road. Brooke reached for the suspect’s collar and found them to be totally limp. In the now-fading smoke, she could see that the perpetrator was a middle-aged man. Similar to her, he was masked and garbed almost entirely in black. Clutched in his right hand, however, was a sack filled with what had to be cash. Shining in an uncaring manner in the streetlights, his pistol lay at his feet, pointed towards the gas pedal. Cautiously, Brooke lowered the man to the street below, leaning his unconscious body against the wreckage for the police to find.

With her work finished, she crouched low before leaping up once again and disappearing into the night sky. Below her, with the smoke now dissipating, the officers were moving in on the crime scene. “Good timing,” she thought.

…

It was only Officer Jones who, out of the very corner of her eye, noticed the Night Hawk rising into the black blanket of the sky. For a moment, she thought of aiming up at the pair of sneakers rapidly fading into the shadowy evening… but something stayed her hands.

“Not tonight, Night Hawk,” she whispered, turning her attention back towards the incapacitated bank robber. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

…

Ash traced the figure of the Night Hawk soaring over the smoky clouds of burning fuel. The heroine rose as though she was being lifted by wires, past windows and powerlines. Her hair was a shock of blonde flapping like a cape behind her, and her arms were raised high in stupendous victory over gravity. This was the Night Hawk he had heard so much about in the papers, truly capable of flying over the heads of evildoers before swooping down for a swift and just blow. While the news reports had not told Ash anything about her superstrength, he knew there was no other way she could have ripped an entire car door from its frame and thrown it down the street.

To his surprise, however, the Night Hawk did not fly up into the stars. Her leap appeared to crest a little bit after she passed the powerlines, and the vigilante floated down onto a nearby roof. Ash watched her land gracefully. Like a plane, she kept moving forward as she touched down, breaking into a walk as though she had been on a stroll the entire evening. She moved to the edge of the rooftop and put her foot on a stone ledge, monitoring the street. Ash followed her masked gaze to the car wreck below, and the criminal being loaded into the back of a police cruiser by a pair of officers. Around the scene, six other policemen were looking for injured civilians and searching the half-flattened getaway car.

While not the most morbidly curious man, Ash couldn’t help but feel fascinated by the Night Hawk’s silhouette. Here was a real hero just a few buildings down the street from him, a legend plucked straight out of a comic book. To see her with his own eyes, let alone watch her for this long, was something he had never imagined. Perhaps it was this thought that compelled him to get a closer look.

The office next to Ash’s apartment was easy to get to. Both buildings were smushed together in a redundant effort to limit urban sprawl, meaning Ash could simply stroll over the tiny wall dividing both properties. The building afterwards was about five feet shorter than the rest, requiring Ash to drop down before climbing to the next building on the other side.

After using a window ledge to heave himself up, Ash peered over the concrete to find the Night Hawk closer than ever. There was just one roof between them now. Ash had no clue what he was even going to say to her when he got there. Hopefully she wouldn’t immediately fly away; maybe she’d even be friendly to him. Perhaps he could thank her. Yes, that would be appropriate. A simple and friendly “Hello!” followed by a gracious thanks for everything that she did. He could only imagine what the city would look like without—

Ash let out a gasp as he fell into the three-foot gap between the last two buildings.

“WOAH!” He cried out, flailing his arms desperately.

He fell about five feet before his arms smacked into something solid and gripped it tightly, pausing his fall. Ash opened his eyes and found his arms splayed across a white air conditioning box. He could feel his arms screaming in pain, and fingers wanted so badly to slacken their grip. Ash kicked his legs out in front of him, trying to gain purchase in the wall, but his legs were like paper. They would touch the bricks, only to immediately slide off and dangle uselessly again.

Ash dared to look away from the box and over his shoulder for a second; he was suspended almost thirty feet in the air over a darkened alley.

A small creaking noise snapped Ash’s eyes back to the unit, and with a start he realized that the box had begun to tilt under his weight. In desperation he started looking all around, searching for any way to escape. The nearest windows were too far for him to reach with his arms or legs, and he had no clue what was directly beneath his feet.

With a jolt, the box bowed lower, bending dangerously away from its metal frame. Ash could feel the strain on his fingers increasing with every second.

He could barely inhale with his chest smashed against the box, and he was breathing so fast that he didn’t have enough air to scream.

Ash groaned out a meager, “hheeellppp…” praying with all his might that the Night Hawk, anybody, could hear it.

With one last jolt, the air conditioner made its final tilt towards the ground, and Ash felt his fingers begin to slip. Gravity was in control now, and it was slowly pulling him down towards a treacherous fall.

Ash’s mind went blank as his fingers slid down the last few inches of the white box; there was nothing left but panic and disbelief. In the back of his mind, something dared to whisper, “This can’t be real. I have to wake up.”

With that, Ash felt the metallic surface of the air conditioner disappear from his fingertips, replaced by nothing but the wind. Now there was nothing between him and the unforgiving pavement…

…

Except for the Night Hawk. Seeing the man finally fall from above, she leapt with all her might from a low crouch, rising like a flare over the alley. Brooke prayed that the extra power in her jump was enough to stop the man’s fall. She raised an arm in front of her face, her fingers splayed and ready for the catch of her life (or more aptly, the man’s life). The moment she felt a hint of fabric, she clenched her digits as hard as possible and stiffened her arm.

“Woah!” he gasped as his momentum suddenly changed and his clothes jerked skyward.

Brooke was still rising, but her ascent was beginning to lose steam. Gravity was about to send them sinking again. As much as she wanted to glide down, Brooke didn’t trust herself to fall safely while holding the man so awkwardly. Without hesitation, her free hand slammed onto a windowsill, and the pair stopped moving completely. The heroine looked down and saw that she had grabbed the man by the back of his collar, and he seemed to be hanging limply.

“Sorry about this next part,” she hurriedly said.

…

Ash had barely begun to look up at his savior when he was suddenly flung into the air, feeling his stomach drop like he was on a roller coaster. The ground below shrank and the wind roared in his ears as he sailed away from the Night Hawk.

“HaaAAHHHH!” He screamed again. Once more, his body was out of control, arms akimbo and flailing helplessly into the night air—at the mercy of only the elements and the woman below. He wanted so badly to close his eyes, but his body refused. Ash could hardly comprehend the windows he was passing, and didn’t notice when the brick wall gave way to the open clearing of the roof.

Almost as soon as he realized what he was seeing, the Night Hawk’s hands came from below and wrapped around his torso. Ash couldn’t help but squirm. He didn’t know what was going on, and he was so very afraid.

“I’ve got you,” She whispered. “I’ve got you.”

As they started to fall, Ash saw the Night Hawk extend one of her arms out from him, and their descent slowed down. They sailed quickly over the abyss of the alley, their impact with the roof imminent. The Night Hawk kicked her black-clad legs up, lifting up Ash’s; She intended on taking the brunt of their fall. Within seconds, they both felt their spines suddenly jolted by the bumpy runway. The pair came to a stop almost immediately as the Night Hawk dug her heels into the rocks, sending a small splash of them cascading away.

Ash hadn’t realized it in the moment, but both of his hands were clinging tightly to the arm Night Hawk had wrapped around him, squeezing her for dear life. His senses began to return, and Ash saw that all the action was over, but his body refused to calm itself. His heart was still pounding in his ears, and his arms still hurt. Tears welled in his eyes, and he refused to let go of the Night Hawk’s sleeve.

…

Brooke was mostly focused on herself at this moment. The quite literal pain in her behind was taking up most of her attention, and she almost regretted absorbing the brunt of their landing. “Gonna be hard to sit for the next few days,” she lamented internally.

A loud sob broke through Brooke’s thoughts of her thighs and glutes, bringing her focus to the man she had saved. She could feel him shaking in her arms, and he was still tightly pressing her hand into his chest.

Between sobs, when he could manage to compose himself, the man stuttered to her, “Th-thank you.”

He gasped and spoke in one long breath, “I a-almost died-d.”

Some part of Brooke told her that she needed to leave. This man had tried to approach her while she was distracted. The longer she stayed with him, the more her identity was jeopardized; all he needed to do was turn around and get a good long look at her. One long look, and he could give the police more than enough information for an accurate sketch. Brooke had more than enough strength to rip herself free of him. One sharp jerk of her arm, and she could leap far, far away.

Yet there was something about him, something that kept her in place. She just couldn’t bring herself to leave the man behind. Perhaps it was that instinct that inspired her to go out every night and fight crime in the streets. Perhaps heroism was not only stopping evildoers, but bringing good into the world, and healing pain. As the man in her arms wept at the sudden and painful reminder of his mortality, Brooke brought a hand to his hair, and squeezed him into her black sweater.

She rubbed her palm across his locks of hair, slowly and softly. Brooke was unsure of what to say to calm him, but she was certain anything would be better than nothing. She spoke in as soothing a voice as she could.

“You’re alright,” she murmured. “You’re safe. It’s all over.”

The man continued shuddering, though his initial grip was loosening as Brooke slid her hand across his head.

“Everything is going to be fine,” she said quietly. “What’s your name?”

He gave another large sigh, trying to quell his sobs enough to speak. “A-ash, Miss.”

“You’re going to be alright, Ash,” Brooke smiled to herself. Ash. Such a lovely sound.

“Y-yeah?” he coughed.

Brooke gave a low hum, “Mmmhmmm…”

She kept on caring for Ash for what felt like an hour, lightly petting the back of his head and caressing his shivering arms. After a little while, his shudders began to die down. Where adrenaline had once been, fatigue took its place. His breathing slowed, going from choking sighs to long, drawn-out breaths. The tension in his back and shoulders loosened with time, and after a while, he was nearly slack.

Brooke calmly picked up Ash’s unconscious body. She had seen his darkened figure watching her from atop his building and planned to return him there. Brooke would take him to one of the balconies and see which one had an open door. With luck, she could leave him in the correct bed. As Ash’s face came into view in the light of the moon, she chuckled to herself again. This one was actually a bit… cute. He was young, and his features were perfectly soft. Brooke wished they could meet again soon; perhaps if she found him again while out of her Night Hawk attire, she could…

The Night Hawk put the thought out of her head. Such a thing would be far too risky. Just the sound of her voice would be enough to tip him off about her alter-ego.

Yet as she laid Ash down upon his mattress and walked out towards the balcony, she went against her better judgement and turned back. Maybe she deserved this strange, vulnerable little man. He made a foolish mistake trying to speak to her. Maybe she could afford to make a mistake of her own.

As she leapt up into the moonlight the word slyly replayed in her head.

“Perhaps.”