Day seven of the 30 day writing challenge. Write a story about a superhero who saves the day.
Richard’s nostrils danced as the smells of food filled the thick city air and it was a welcome change to the normal polluted smell. The sidewalk moved under him with ease as he thought about how tasty the food would be. It wasn’t hunger that he had found hard or in fact the lack of hunger. He was never hungry anymore, not since the surgery. But he didn’t have to eat but it was actually the taste of the food that he missed the most.
Then just up ahead he saw where the smell was originating from, a little cafe with sidewalk tables. Filled with people. Streets bustled with cars and trucks. The city was alive. And Richard was all but dead.
His new body seemed to glide across the ground. He always thought he would have trouble carrying it or moving. He thought to would be clunking around like a big tin robot from a bad fifties sci-fi movie, but in fact it weighed next to nothing and the fact that it made him stronger made it even lighter.
Screeching tires drew his mind away from his bionic limbs and to a big milk truck swerving out of control. A loud boom rang through the city streets as the truck side-swiped a Lexus parallel parked four cars ahead.
Richard focused on the sidewalk cafe. The truck made its way effortlessly through parked cars and trucks. People dove this way and that. He determined by a few quick calculations of geometry, algebra, and physics to determine which table would most likely get hit.
He kicked his legs and before he could think twice he ran right next to the truck less than half a block from the sidewalk cafe.
Suddenly a car door flung open and Richard ran right through it, stumbling and loosing a little ground on the truck. kicking down again he ran and did math in his head. He wasn’t going to make the truck before it hit the cafe and a little boy sat eating an ice cream cone. He would never taste ice cream again if he didn’t get to that truck.
Churning legs dug deeper, begging for a miracle. Just as he got close enough he dove and grabbed the bumper and dug his feet into the asphalt. Skidding and smoking he slowed the truck enough. Looking around the truck as he drug along behind it he saw the kid and his mother jumping to safety. The truck came to a stop just outside the barricade of the tables.
Richard moved gracefully around the truck and opened the drivers side door. The drive tumbled out onto the warm, torn asphalt. Richard peered into the hollow eyes of the man and then he followed a tiny trail of blood up to the man’s forehead. A tiny bullet hole, dead in the center of the head. Only one man could make that shot. Only one man would want to make that shot and Richard knew he was one of the skyscrapers watching him. He had his scope on Richard and there was nothing he could do about. He knew that Eagle Eye was laughing. But Richard also knew that it was he who would have the last laugh