Savior

Micheal Peterson:

"Ahh," I moan as I slowly put my suit on. Before fully putting it on, I stop for a quick second to look at my bandaged waist.

"It's not exactly the best," I tell myself, "But it worked. Now, time for work."

I pull my suit down and put my mask on.

Thrill Rider:

Jumping on my motorcycle, I ride out of the parking lot of my secret base and into the busy city's streets.

"I have to be careful," I remind myself. "The Black Archer, whoever he is, is after me."

As I ride through the busy streets, I start thinking about who could have hired the Archer.

"Dad told me the Black Archer is a top-class hitman. It means someone with deep pockets hired him to kill me. But why? As far as I know, Thrill Rider hadn't run into any big crime lords. Maybe one day I will, but not yet. So why hire a hitman?"

This was like trying to put together a puzzle but half the pieces are missing. I shake my head after a few minutes.

"I can't figure this out now. I need more information, but where, and how do I get it? I doubt Dad can tell me more. Or will. Think Micheal. Think. Come on! Think! Ahh."

As I try to think of ways to get more information without having to ask my Dad, a headache comes on and I have to stop.

Coming to a stop in a narrow alleyway, I put my foot on the ground and rest for a bit.

"Ouch," I say, rubbing my burning-hot head. "Okay. Enough about thinking about the Black Archer. Face fact, Micheal. You got nothing. The only way to know more about the Archer is to ask the Archer himself."

My throbbing head calms down a little but now, thinking about having to fight the Archer again, my bandaged waist is burning.

"I need a drink."

Luckily for me, as I ride my motorcycle out of the alleyway, I see a small convenience store nearby. I smile as I drive over to the store. Parking my bike and getting off, I walk right through the glass doors.

A bell rings as I walk through, and the cashier on shift looks up at me.

"Hello," he says before seeing me and freezing up. The second he sees me, the cashier steps back and raises both his hands.

"Sorry," I say, waving at the cashier as I walk past him and to the coolers in the back. Grabbing a medium-size bottle of Dasani, I walk back to the cashier. Placing the bottle on the counter, I have to wait for a while as the cashier slowly scans the bottle.

"Wait," I say, the cashier immediately jumping back. "Uhhh. How much for one of those headache pills behind you?"

"3 dollars and 30 cents," the cashier answers.

"Darn it. Nevermind. Just the water."

I pull my wallet out from beneath my jumpsuit and hold out the cash. The cashier moves fast this time. He takes my money and gives me the water bottle.

"Thanks," I say, nodding at the cashier before leaving. As I leave the store, I swear I can hear the cashier letting out a massive sigh.

"That's a little harsh," I think. "I wasn't rude at all. The guy was treating me like I was some crazy customer."

I stop in front of my motorcycle and lift a mask a little to drink some water. The cold water helps with my burning waist. When I'm done drinking, there's still about half a bottle left over. I look around for somewhere I can put the bottle but I guess most motorcycles don't exactly have cup holders.

"Aw, man. I don't want to throw this away. There's still water inside."

I think it over for a bit before stretching out my pants and putting the bottle against my waist.

"Ahh," I say. "That feels amazing. I'm a genius."

I savor the feeling of the cold water against my burning waist for a few seconds before climbing back onto my motorcycle and riding off. As I reach the end of the street, I hear cars crashing and turn my head. Quickly approaching me from the left is a banged-up, red car. The window is already cracked, both sides are covered in scratches, and the right front headlight is destroyed.

As the car drives toward me, I barely have enough time to push myself back.

"Hey," I shout, pointing at the streetlight. "Red light! Red light! That was a red light!"

I shake my head and chase after the runaway car. I watch from a few feet as it swerves to the left and right, hitting other cars and even a few signs. Waiting until the right moment, I drive up the driver's window.

"Hey," I say, tapping the window with my baton. The driver, apparently a teenager, looking only a few years older than me, turns to me. "This isn't grand theft auto! Pull over!"

The teenager doesn't pull over. Instead, he laughs and drives even faster.

"No way that's his car," I think as I pick up speed myself. "Aw, man. I hope whoever car that is had insurance."

Again, driving up to the driver's window, I use my baton this time to break the window. The teenager screams as I grab him and shake him.

"Pull over," I yell, doing my best to sound scary and intimidating. A lot like Batman. The teenager isn't laughing anymore but he's not pulling over either. Fighting me back, he grabs the wheel and stomps his whole foot onto the gas.

"Oh no."

As the car picks up speed, I feel myself being carried off my bike.

"Buddy," I say, pointing a finger at the annoying teen. "You're lucky I'm more like Spider-Man than I am Punisher!"

Grabbing onto the teenager with one hand, I pull back my other hand and punch him across the face. I stun him for a few seconds, but in those few seconds, I turn the car to the right before opening the door and grabbing him. Jumping out, the two of us fall to the street.

Falling and landing with a painful thud, I knock the teenager out with my baton. As he falls flat onto the street, I hear another car crash and turn around. The red car he stole slammed through a brick wall. Broken bricks are lying all over the smoking hood.

"Yeaaahhh," I say, pushing myself up. "I think that's a tow truck situation right there. Ahh."

Rubbing my arms, mostly the parts that landed on the street, I look around for my lost bike. Spotting it a few feet down the street, I first drag the teenager back to the car he took for a joy ride. At least, I think it was a joy ride.

As I walk to my bike, I can't help but feel like something is off.

"He screamed," I think, "He laughed at first but then screamed. He was scared but he didn't stop. Why didn't he stop? It was like he had to keep driving for some reason. He had to keep driving. He had to keep driving--"

I realize what's going on and quickly jump back. I hear a whooshing sound and then, a black arrow appears in front of me. Looking up, I see the Black Archer hiding on a fire escape.

As I watch him climb down the rusted ladder, I put out my other batons.

"That was a smart move," I say, making an X with my two batons. "What did you do? Hired that kid over there to lure me here? A lot like that four guys from the other night?"

"You're a lot smarter than you looked," the Black Archer says with a laugh. "But no matter how smart you are, a gazelle cannot beat a cheetah."

"I...have no idea what that is even supposed to mean."

Black Archer doesn't explain the whole gazelle and cheetah thing. Instead, he pulls out an arrow and shoots it. Jumping and rolling out of the way, I charge toward Black Archer before he can grab another arrow.

Swinging my baton, the Black Archer blocks it with his bow. As he blocks my swing, the Black Archer turns around and hits me with his elbow. He dazes me and knocks me back a few feet.

Holding my head as I try to regain my senses, I see the Black Archer pulling back his fist. He throws a punch but I counter. I grab his fist before it can hit me and push it to the side. Turning slightly as I push him to the side, I rush behind the Black Archer and put him into a headlock.

"Come on," I say, "Go to sleep! Go to sleep! Go to sleep! Go to--Ahh!"

The Black Archer doesn't even stay in my headlock for five seconds. He raises his bow before slamming it down and hitting me in the stomach. Holding my stomach as I fall, I look up to see the Archer aiming an arrow at me.

"The cheetah eats the gazelle," the Archer says, pulling back the bowstring.

"I still have no idea what that is supposed to mean," I moan. I watch in slow motion as the Archer pulls the bowstring a little further back. Once his fingers are right beside his head, he starts to let go. About to swing my baton, hoping for the best, I stop when I hear someone screaming.

"Argh," a man in a black hood shouts as he appears from thin air and kicks the Archer.

"What in the world," the Archer yells as he stumbles back, the arrow falling from his bow. "Who are you?"

The man doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls out a pair of machetes.