Braving This New World [Nomad]

The tapping of the horse came to a stop on the busy streets of Los Angeles. The crowd of people parted easily around the figure, none wanting to tempt the ire of a superhero, of which he was undoubtedly. If the cowboy outfit, festooned with plenty of patriotic gear, didn’t give it away, the rifle slung across the saddle of the horse and the pistols at his hip were plenty of indication. This day and age, only the incredibly brave or the legally licensed carried firearms so openly. The advent of Empowered rendered guns somewhat impotent, not to mention the arrogance they portrayed. It was begging for a fight, really.

But no one in the know would pick such an open fight with this stranger. He was Patriot, Victor of Marketplace Gardens! He was among the elite. Though he was based in New York, his interests did occasionally draw him West. He had never been spotted in L.A. before, though, and his presence here was a concern to the criminal underbelly of the city. Better the devil you know and everything. His presence here could throw a wrench into the works of everything they were planning. No one dared attempt to take him out, though. They’d get one shot, because Balthazar never missed.

The horse stopped, framed underneath the stoplight a street. The cacophonous noise of traffic was soothing to the city-born hero. A neat little park sat nestled against the road, a river cutting it in half with an elegant bridge spanning both sides. In the distance, a playground with children could be seen and closer to the road, a couple and their dog celebrating the beautiful day with a picnic by the grass. The sight brought a smile to Patriots face. Good to know with all the evil in the world, there were still people willing to risk everything for a little bit of happiness.

”Woah, girl. Hold there.”

His feet touched the warm concrete, warming his skin through the thick leather of his boots. Stars and Stripes knickered, pulling away from the road, only calming with a touch of Balthazar’s hand. Calmly and confidently he walked her towards the grass, eliciting excited barking from the nearby dog. The grass underneath her feet seemed to calm her as she bent to eat some weeds growing from the base of her nearby tree. A neat bow ws tied with her reins around the tree, upon which Balthazar leaned against. It really was a nice day. Truth be told, he’d never been to this city before- never even set foot on the West Coast before today. He was born in New York and spent most of his time deployed overseas in hostile areas. Weather there is nice, sure, but they lack the kind of trees you can lean on like this.

His attention was drawn across the road to a lone figure there, prone in a wheelchair. From this distance he couldn’t be sure but … it appeared she was crying. His mind raced. There were multitudinous reasons why a girl would be crying at the edge of the road, but one thing was for certain; he couldn’t let it continue. As he waited for the light to change, he pulled the bandana down to cover his neck, revealing his rugged features; he was somewhat unshaven, a dark shadow across the underside of his face, which when matched with his blue eyes and kind smile only helped to sell the cowboy persona. It’s not like his real name was a secret.

”Should be a crime, pretty woman cryin’ out here all alone. Didja need help, ma’am?”

He had approached with all his patriotic splendor, spurs clinking like something out of a Western. The smile was kind and genuine. He didn’t crouch to talk to her like a child, or an invalid; he stood tall, simply smiling down at her. Behind the smile, his great mind was at work. She was well taken care of, well-fed, didn’t seem to be abused. She needed the wheelchair, obviously, even from here he noticed her decrepit muscles. But what he couldn’t deduce was the reason behind her crying.