Hello hello everyone! I’m back with the second part of a story I started God knows how long ago. College was ridiculously busy as usual and horrible for my productivity and mental health. I’m getting back in the habit of writing now, however, and I’m hoping to put out more stories and scripts this Summer!

Unfortunately, I tried to upload it around 3 or 4 weeks ago but the Reddit app is being quite weird and won’t let me. Thus, I’ll be making two posts for the full chapter!

Anyway, for those of you who would like to catch up on the story so far, here’s part 1!

Thank you again to all my readers for your wonderful feedback and endless patience!

“Something’s in the Air”

Chapter 2

Once again, Ash sat back comfortably on his balcony, a pair of binoculars around his neck and a phone in his hand. Bags hung under his eyes, purple from several nights of limited sleep. The air was brisk tonight, with winds strong enough to send a chill down his spine, though not enough to bite. On the small table next to Ash stood a thermos filled to the brim with steaming hot tea, and beside it lay a pair of sparklers and a lighter. Ash himself was clad in his brightest attire.

His jacket glowed a gaudy bright red, and atop his head sat a yellow beanie. While Ash would agree that his attire looked rather ridiculous, he prayed that they would make his appearance more noticeable to her.

Her.

Ash swiveled his binoculars back and forth across the line of rooftops ahead, monitoring for any sign of the Night Hawk. His gaze had passed over the same concrete ledges, metal vents, and shuttered windows over and over again during the last few nights. With each pass he kept alert for her black silhouette, and from time to time he would look up into the darkened sky. While Ash knew his chances of seeing her in the blackish abyss were slim, he still clung to a tiny bit of hope. Hope that he would see her gliding across the night.

At his feet, a radio chattered irregularly with the steely voices of dispatchers and police officers, discussing emergencies that needed attention in the streets below. While Ash never consciously hoped for a crime to happen nearby, part of him dreamed for a police chase to draw the Night Hawk to his area once more.

Ever since that magical moment three nights ago, when she had delicately cared for him in her firm arms, Ash yearned to see her once more. The memory of her soothing voice made his stomach feel light and bursting with butterflies no matter how many times he replayed it in his mind. He wanted to fall asleep under her caresses again, then wake to find her still wrapped around him.

When Ash had awoken safe and sound in his bed, away from the treacherous rooftop, his thoughts did not immediately go to his savior. His arms were heavily bruised, and an angry red line was dented across his chest where he had slammed into the air conditioner. As he treated the wounds with bandages and ointments, the fall kept flashing in his mind. Against his will, his mind shot images of the horrifying split second into his eyes. For just a moment at a time, he would relive the terrifying ordeal, when all there was between him and the very end was an outdated hunk of metal. Ash teared up at the trauma again, the idea of his possible doom haunting him, guilting him.

It was only the thought of the Night Hawk that brought him peace in such disturbing outbursts. Tonight, with luck, he would see her again.

Ash turned back and looked at the gift spread across his bed. Hopefully, it would convince her to stay.

…

From behind a chimney three blocks away, Brooke peeked at the apartment, shaking and afraid. The small spot of red and yellow was waiting for her, just as he had last night and the night before.

The morning after she had carried Ash back to his room she returned to his apartment building, this time dressed in civilian clothing… dressed as Brooke. She had no clue as to what she was actually doing there, having no intention of ringing Ash’s buzzer. For almost an hour she leaned against a light pole across the street, reading a newspaper. What would happen if he emerged from the building? Would he recognize her under the heavy coat she wore? Brooke thought about approaching Ash if he appeared at the front doors, not knowing what she’d say.

A photo of the car Brooke stomped last night was front and center in the paper, its disfigured rear partially hidden in the shadows between street lights. The police chief had denounced her actions as “unjust vigilantism.” Several eyewitnesses gave various opinions on her ranging from “a terror endangering the city” to “a necessary force of justice.”

After almost an hour of standing (and finally reaching the Sports Section), Brooke came to realize how creepy she was being. She had taken time to enjoy the afternoon air and watch people stroll down the sidewalk, but essentially, she had just blown an hour being weird and waiting for the opportunity to act weirder.

Squatting behind a chimney now, she felt the same. This wasn’t how heroes were supposed to act. She was supposed to be flying over the streets at the moment, dashing evildoers into paste… Not sneaking glances at the first ever civilian she’d spent more than five minutes with. She had a duty to use her powers for good, and she was neglecting it. Brooke peaked around the corner one more time at the colorful little dot waiting for her, ready to leap in the opposite direction.

Almost exactly on cue, a police siren rang out from the street below. Brooke leaned over the ledge and saw the flashes of red and blue whizz by, careening through traffic as the other cars made way.

She smirked, knowing this would surely take her mind elsewhere, into a state of being where dispensing righteousness was her first and foremost goal. She got a running start, then leapt over the streets in pursuit.

Part 2/2