Sparrowhawk: Silent Night
Late evening was settling in over the Hudson City's vast landscape as snow softly danced from the sky and onto the ground, turning everything it touched into what appeared a perfect holiday picture. Hudson City, not typically known as the image of Norman Rockwell-esque art, was taking in another Christmas. A movie had just let out from one of its downtown, renovated art deco style theater and people were scattering about to return to their homes. Upon the establishment's marquee in bold black letters noting the classic 'THE MARK OF ZORRO' was its selected film. One of the first individuals exiting the building, a young dark haired boy, raced excitedly.
"That's quite enough," his father said as the child ran, the boy's arm making sweeping movements pretend fighting an unseen villain before him.
"Let the boy have fun," his wife, smartly dressed with her hand clasped around her husband's, chided with a smile.
The couple proceeded to walk down the street, stepping away away from the strong lights of the theater's entrance and into the illumination of the moonlight. While the boy continued to exclaim how wonderful the day had been, his parents merely took in that it was a rather long day, holiday aside, and they were ready to get their son to bed. What they did not notice, however, was a man approaching from behind them as they passed an alleyway.
"Hey," the raggedy man, wearing a worn leather jacket said roughly as he approached, lowering his driver's cap with one hand and presenting a gun with the other. "Your money and your jewelry. NOW."
The woman paused, her hand going to her mouth in horror as the man before her attempted to rob them. Her husband went to instinctively shield his son, who was now arm's length.
"I want that," their mugger said, noticing and reaching out for the woman's pearl necklace.
"Not tonight," a voice stated coldly, nearby and yet faraway all at the same time. In a flurry of movement, a blur of yellow, black and blue was upon the man, a series of harsh snapping sounds emanating within the blink of an eye... in just a few seconds, the now would-be mugger on the ground, coughing and wheezing past a series of broken bones.
"Who...?" the husband said, startled as the figure before them checked upon their assailant.
"Sparrowhawk," the figure replied, her slick black outfit contrasting sharply against the snow white backdrop on the ground but shifting and joining the darkness in the sky. "He's down. Call the police."
"Wow!" the young boy said, stepping past his father and towards the blonde heroine.
"You need to be more careful and watchful, especially this time of year and at this time of night," Sparrowhawk told them, her voice stern. "You never know who or what is around. I can't stick around, unfortunately. I have... other business... to attend to. He's not getting up, I assure you."
"Thank you," the boy's mother said, her body's adrenaline causing her to shake. She took her son by the shoulder so that he wouldn't step any closer. "Bruce, stay here by us."
"Merry Christmas, and God bless," the father said.
"Hm," Sparrowhawk mustered as a reply before retreating away, disappearing as fast as she entered.
The knock on the wooden apartment door was methodical and casual, and the older man living there at the moment wasn't expecting guests tonight. The living space wasn't adorned with the merriment most would see from others during this season, and this night of all nights. The apartment was closing in on what someone might consider squalor, with peeling wallpaper yellowed at its corners and the stains of past wall hangings showing clearly. One dim light centered above the room, showcasing furniture that was most likely a relic of five decades past. An fit but older man, its current tenant, cautiously made his way to the door. Opening it, he was greeted by an attractive blonde woman dressed in a black elegant jumpsuit with matching jacket and holding a small gift.
"Alex...?" the man said, his voice giving as the words parted through his lips.
"Dad," she replied with a nod. "You've been a hard man to find. Can I come in?"
He mutely responded with a head tilt, opening the door and allowing her to step in. She glanced around the living room, taking note of everything within. Her father, Alan, was clearly showing some worry and distress but accepting nevertheless that his daughter had arrived to his home.
"You've clearly downgraded since when we lived in New York," Alex said to her father. "You didn't tell me you were back in the States, and especially in Hudson City. Do you mind if we sit?"
Alan paused before motioning to the couch. He looked towards Alex before glancing at the hallway leading to the bedroom, the kitchen, and finally the window at the end of the living room. With a light sigh, he sat at one end of the couch as Alex took to the other. Alex took off her coat and placed the small wrapped package on top of it before sitting.
"It's been what... three years almost to the day?" Alan asked his daughter, swallowing hard.
"Christmas day, 2014. Three years to the day," Alex responded. "Christmas was the one single day of the year that we always spent together, no matter where else I was during the year."
"I've, ah... missed you," Alan said, sitting uncomfortably upright.
"Have you?" Alex responded curtly. "I mean... three years ago, you were fine seeing me kidnapped. Tortured. The people I work alongside almost killed... by _my_ hands, no less... _forced_ by you."
"Alex, I...," Alan replied with a deep sigh before continuing. "We had plans. Plans for something bigger than you. Or me. We had a chance to make a difference in this world..."
"Dad. You _made_ me a weapon. A weapon! Your own flesh and blood, and that's all I was to you: an end to a means," Alex said, cutting him off. "In the end, that's all that I have been. Always."
"You were born with a very special purpose, Alex. How many people can say that? And I _did_ love you... in my own way... as much as I could. I gave you an upbringing that had you seeing the entire world... offered you a gift that probably no one else can say they've had," Alan offered, stretching out his hands.
Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not love, dad. Love is something _more_ than just giving something. Anyone can _give_ something. It's the intent _behind_ the gift that's what is important," she said in return.
"But I made you perfect," Alan said, calmly.
"You made me a mess. I've mastered thirty three different martial arts. I know fifteen different languages. I can pull apart a nuclear bomb. That makes me talented... it doesn't make me perfect. I pull away from others because I don't know what its like to understand people. To connect. I've lost people in my life due to it... and I'm not blaming you for those. I'm just saying... there are things that I am. 'Perfect' is not one of them."
"So, where are we now? You and I?" Alan asked.
"I think we both need to review, reassess and potentially revise where we are in life," Alex replied. "I'm not sure what brought you back. But I do know you've lost things yourself. Your career, your friends, your not-so-secret project... and Mom."
Alex gave a long pause. "Anyways. Merry Christmas."
Taking the small box resting upon her coat, she brought it towards Alan. He smiled, weakly and knowingly, before cautiously unwrapping the red ribbon upon the top and opening the lid. Inside was a set of handcuffs.
"It's over, dad," Alex said as his eyes fixated on the gift. "The Apotheosis Project ends here, today."
Alan's shoulders heaved as he began to cry. Whether it was out of fear, or anxiety, or relief... Alex did not ask. All that she knew was that, now, life had to change. For both of them.
PRIMUS agents had arrived to escort Alex's father away. The silence in that wait was deafening and spoke volumes to the uncertainty of any future that the two would hold. Alex, leaving her father's apartment, withdrew her phone and assembled a list of names: Razira. Sebastian. Sunny. Erin. Carter. Doll. Faye. Thandi. William. Audrey. Her fingers wrote out a small text: *To the members of my family, warmest regards and a very Merry Christmas. Here's to a fantastic 2018. -Alex* Then, dialing a number, she put her phone to her ear.
"Craig? Hi. It's Alex. Hm... Are you in Vancouver at that soup kitchen you were talking about last week? If so, would you want an extra pair of hands to pitch in? I think I can be there within the hour and to be honest... I'd really love to help," she said, nodding a silent and unseen affirmative to the voice on the other end with a smile. "Great. See you soon."
Soft echoes of holiday music could be heard in the distance as Alex Harper, Sparrowhawk, put away her phone and walked off, on her way to actually enjoy the rest of her holiday.
