New Beginnings, Episode 1, Part 3

The Correspondent

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.

Sitting back down with my drink I looked around again. No one seemed to care about me, sitting alone in the corner of the shop. I slid my helmet under the chair and watched people. It was peaceful.

There was a group of girls sitting to one side, their noses stuffed inside math books. Each of them was tall, blond and beutiful. They seemed to be wearing the common outfit of girls in coffee shops; leggings and boots. I looked down at my riding pants, which were baggy and wondered if I should try and fit in.

As I drank my tea and thought thru the last year, I got exhausted. Ever since my dad had been shot my life had been a whirlwind of insanity. I had captured The Rat and been tricked by Fate. I had been injured and gotten better. And I had finally given up on being a hero. Every bad thing that had happened to me in the last year could be tied directly to trying to be a hero.

Thinking about how my dad almost died, I felt familiar tears form in my eyes. Shaking my head I drank the rest of my tea. I needed to head home. My mom was probably wondering where I was, and it would take me almost an hour to get home, if I went the speed limit. Leaning forward to grab my helmet, I collided with someone’s leg.

There was a loud crash as I tumbled to the ground. I rolled up to my feet, training and a year of being attacked preparing me for the worst. Looking down at my feet I saw that I had tripped one of the baristas. He was bringing a drink to a table near the front of the store. The drink was now all over the floor and he looked pissed.

My face got hot as I bent down to help clean up the mess. I couldn’t look at the man I had tripped, using napkins from a nearby table to clean it up.

“Thanks a lot,” the server said, his voice full of venom.

He stood up and walked back to the counter and started remaking the drink. I sopped up all the coffee that I could and put on my helmet. I slunk out the door, thankful that my helmet covered up my red cheeks.

Making it to my motorcycle, I got ready to ride. I was pulling on my gloves when the door to the cafe opened, the girl who opened it looking up and down the street looking for someone. Her hair was died lime green and her skin was dark, she was taller than me, which isn’t saying a lot, and when she finally looked my direction I saw that her eyes were the same color as her hair.

“There you are,” she said, walking towards me.

I looked around, surprised that she was addressing me.

She laughed as she approached, “Don’t worry about him, he is pissy to everyone.” The girl held out her hand, “My name’s Kate.”

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The story of The Correspondent will continue weekly. If you enjoyed this story, please scroll down and recommend it. Follow me on Medium or on Twitter. I also have Patreon.

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.