Golden Age, Episode 1, Part 2
People always talk about where they were when they first heard about The Correspondent. She came out of nowhere and tried to make a difference. Some saw her as a beacon of hope, others as a sign of how far down the slope we had come. I never paid attention to all of that. I was too busy. Too busy working to pay my bills, too busy trying to figure out life. I was seventeen when it started. I was The Correspondent. This is my story.
As I fell I had time to think about what a strange six months it had been. Starting with becoming a super hero out of boredom and culminating with my dad getting shot, my summer had been crazy.
After I defeated The Rat, I took some time off. Mom-mandated time off. We had a lot to talk about, the least of which was why her teenaged daughter was running around at night in spandex fighting crime. I explained that it isn’t spandex but she didn’t care.
The toughest conversation were the ones surrounding what happened to my dad. I know that she didn’t really blame me for what happened but we both wondered what would have happened if I wouldn’t have been there. The Rat may not have shot my dad.
Going back to school in August was a little weird. I no longer cared about school, which isn’t that strange for a senior in high school. Instead of school I wanted to improve my skills as a hero.
While I promised not to go out heroing, I did not stop training. I signed up for kung-fu classes and got an internship at the police station (Thanks, Detective Mendez). My mom wasn’t too crazy about the internship but she hoped it would keep me off the street.
Speaking of streets I was headed towards one pretty quickly. My mom was going to be pissed. Looking around I noticed that, like in all death experiences, time had slowed down. As I passed the first of the fire escape levels, I realized I had nine more floors to go.
Being too far away to grab the railing was irritating. Think, Elle, think. I went though everything I had in my bag. Battery, wire and clothes; nothing helpful. Then it hit me. My bag.
I took the bag strap off my shoulder and swung it at the next railing. It caught on the corner and the bag was almost ripped from my hands. My momentum changed and I was flung into the wall, crashing down on the landing of the fire escape.
Lying still and holding in the scream of pain that wanted to escape, I waited. I saw a flash of movement above me as the person with the gun looked out the window. I thought invisible thoughts and after a few minutes I saw them go back inside.
Getting up, I was surprised to see that nothing appeared broken. Oh sure, I was going to be sore in the morning but that was nothing new. Grabbing my bag from where it was swinging on the fire escape I climbed the rest of the way down.
My scooter was parked around the corner from the ten story apartment complex I had just flown out of. Even I was impressed that I wasn’t dead. Go me!
My scooter has a new paint job. Gone is the faded golden rod replaced with a beautiful Correspondent theme. The main body of the scooter was painted bright white with the fenders painted Corespondent blue. I had added an after market body kit to make it look more futuristic, I think it also separated the scooter from plain old Ellie.
The scooter started up on the first try and I puttered my way back home. Home was another change of the last six months. With my dad being confined to a wheelchair for the foreseeable future we had moved.
Our new house was on the west side of town. It was less of a house and more of a condo. We live in one of about five-hundred units in the complex. All of the buildings look the same. Our unit is on the main floor of the fifth building in the complex.
Driving past our unit I continued to a row of garages at the back of the complex. I opened the garage to our storage garage. Since the condos are so small the developer put in storage garages. After much arguing my mom had agreed to let me rent one. I called it The Alcove.
The story of The Correspondent will continue weekly. If you enjoyed this story, please consider scrolling down and recommending it on Medium. Follow me on Medium or on Twitter for more posts like this.
Dylan Reed has always been interested in a good story. Raised without a TV he spent a lot of time with books and loves reading. Dylan has been a professional entertainer, studied commercial diving, and loves random trivia. He brings all of this and more together in his stories. He has released a small collection of short stories on Amazon.