A dark figure perched, crouched low, on the edge of a slanted roof just opposite the gentleman's club. His sharp eyes were locked onto Jackson and Macy as they emerged from within.

His skin was black with an oil-on-water hue. Blacker than the darkness of the alley below. He had strange, golden colored eyes, the pupils unnaturally large. His clothing was all black. A one-piece leather jumpsuit that formed to the lithe muscles of his lean and agile body. Draped around him was what at first glance appeared to be a cape or overcoat. If there were such a thing made of long, black feathers.

As the Cadillac pulled from the parking lot, the feathery cape unfolded into wings that spanned far past his arms. He stood, stretching them out and behind him. He looked like some sort of dark angel silhouetted against the night sky. His sharp gaze followed the car and when he felt it was a safe distance, he gave the wings one mighty pull and soared into the sky, climbing high enough to stay undetected while still being able to focus easily on the retreating car. His vision was sharp. Far more than that of any normal person's. He let out a cry that sounded eerily human yet remarkably bird-like. It resembled the cry of a falcon.

The strange yet beautiful bird-like man kept pace with the Cadillac below, only beating his wings every few minutes. He glided effortlessly on the air-currents. Strapped to either leg were a pair of daggers that were curved like a scythe. They were sheathed in hard leather. Their blades were razor sharp. The leather that encased his chest was nearly impenetrable. It had been treated with a substance that hardened it and made it bullet proof.

His golden eyes were a surprising contrast to his shiny, black skin. The Falcon was a formidable warrior, as powerful as any of the vigilantes, but he couldn't walk around amongst the general public unless very tediously and constrictively disguised. Even then it was difficult to keep from attracting attention because of the peculiar way in which he carried himself. 

His massive wings, naturally, were an extension of him, so it was very difficult to keep them limp and still in order to make them look like an article of clothing. His eyes were extraordinary, too, but his skin was the biggest problem. He couldn't show even an inch of it. No human had skin the color of coal.

These factors significantly restricted the amount of contact he had with other people, leaving him in a never-ending prison of isolation. Few knew him, but those who did tried to make him feel accepted and loved. His friends tried to give him a sense of connection. He appreciated the warmth with which they welcomed him, but accepted pity from no one. The truth be told, there weren't many people with whom he wished to spend his time anyway.

He was saddened by the hate, greed, lust, and vanity that had poisoned and corrupted the world and its occupants. The empathy he felt for the victims of these poisons ran deep. It caused an ever-forward propelling drive in him to protect and give hope to the innocents who suffered at the hands of evil. He was grateful for his shockingly strange appearance and his massive, powerful wings. These gifts gave him what he needed to actually make a difference. That was what was important. Bringing a proper balance back between good and evil...

He followed the strange couple for a few miles until they had pulled the car into the lot of a condo. He landed softly on the top of a telephone pole, his feet balancing perfectly on the small amount of space. Even the occasional swaying caused by the wind didn't affect his ability to rest there. His massive wings balanced him and his bones were light-weight and hollow.

He watched as the man parked and jumped out to open the door for the woman. He was a gentleman. There was something oddly familiar about the man. The way they dressed and their license plates said they were from Texas, but they were staying here, at a condo rather than at a hotel? These condos were not meant for temporary housing. Maybe it was a vacation home.

He watched, his confusion increasing, as the man tipped his hat to the pretty, dark-haired woman and she entered one of the condos alone. The man got back into the car and drove away. 

It seemed strange. These people had appeared from out of nowhere at the club he had been staking out so carefully and tirelessly. They had gone in and eventually his sharp eyes and ears were able to tell him that they had gained audience with Tyrone. They had waited for him for almost 2 hours. He knew they were up to something more than just the enjoyment of naked young ladies. 

Their destination after leaving the club was completely unexpected. His wings spread, lifting him high above the Cadillac as it cruised at a relaxed yet unwavering speed. The man pulled into an apartment complex and parked toward the back in a covered stall. He watched as the guy covered the car with a tarp and then walked up the path to one of the apartments and went inside.

Something wasn't right. There was a suspicion bouncing around The Falcon's sharp mind. Could the couple be police? Were they undercover? The police had stopped attempting to bring the car theft ring down long ago. Why would they start poking around now?

He needed to know more. The police did their best, but they weren't always smart or careful. The police departments were filled with corruption. They could ruin the entire operation and destroy months of patience and planning. If these two were undercover and not the flashy couple from Texas that they appeared to be, then that would mean the police had resumed their investigations. That meant Harley and his minions would get nervous and get suspicious. They might start killing people just for looking at them funny.

This would put the only people who cared for him in danger. The only connection he had to feeling human. He flew away, high into the darkness of the night sky, heading in the direction of the giant museum where he nested. The faint glow of dawn was just peeking up over the horizon. He needed cover and time to think. He was tired and worried. Sleep would likely not find him any time soon. His heart was far too heavy with dread.

(Author's note: Please vote! I hope you liked The Falcon.)