#falling tw

He tried to push himself upright, but whatever it was that was holding him down was merciless, and he closed his eyes and panted into the wet concrete. He’d been caught.

“Heya.”

There were footsteps, slow, lazy, somewhere behind him, and the… thing immobilizing him prevented him from looking back over his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to lie there pathetically, waiting to see who had defeated him. When the person entered his field of vision - or at least their sports shoes did - he looked up as much as the weight around his neck allowed, glaring.

“Well, that was a walk in the park”, the person laughed, and Oscar gritted his teeth and pulled his arms underneath himself, trying once again to push himself up with his elbows, but he was stuck, trapped, defeated, caught, caught, caught. “What, can’t free yourself? No powers, huh? Just these little flappers.”

“Who the hell are you?” Oscar snapped. The person didn’t answer - instead the pressure on his neck disappeared, and the object was sent flying to the side. It hit the ground with a horrible clangor, and Oscar finally saw what it was - a piece of metal shaped like a capital H, probably a piece of scaffolding, no doubt identical with the one pinning his legs down. He could finally prop himself up on his elbows and look up at the face of the person who defeated him - the face he’d seen on billboards and the news, the face of Bradley McKenna.

“You know me, don’t you?” Bradley flashed his teeth in a brilliant smile seeing the hint of recognition in Oscar’s eyes. “Would be weird if you didn’t.”

Of all the heroes he could’ve been way too close to for this robbery it had to be him. That explained why he got caught so easily in a neighborhood that was supposed to be pretty low-risk, but, as he realized, it also meant that escaping was way less likely than he’d hoped.

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood, don’t think you’re so important that they sent me to deal with you.”

“What an honor”, Oscar snarled and tried once again to drag himself forward - useless, but he had to, he couldn’t just lie there, he had to do something - to escape the scaffolding, but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other piece being lifted off the ground by an invisible force once again before shooting in his direction, as if it was going to hit him with full force. He collapsed to the ground and shielded his head with his arms; there was no pain, no impact, and for a split second everything was silent. He dared to open his eyes, but at the exact same moment pain exploded in his back and once again he was out of breath when the scaffolding was dropped on him, straddling his waist this time.

“Shit!” he wheezed, and Bradley laughed, crouching down next to him.

“What, you think you’re going to escape? Sorry, buddy, but you’re done for. I’ve already called reinforcements, they’re on the way, and all you have to do now is relax and wait.” He patted Oscar on the back, right between the wings, ignoring the growled demand that he keep his hands to himself. “And aren’t you comfortable?”

He was freezing, trembling in the cold night air, only amplified by the concrete he was pinned to, still damp and unpleasant after a recent rainfall, and his terror wasn’t helping matters. 

“You could’ve at least brought a mattress”, he spat out a snark, which was met with laughter again.

“A sense of humor? Nothing quite like it in a criminal.”

They both flinched and Bradley’s head jerked up when the silence of the night was interrupted by the roar of a car engine getting closer, then powering down.

“Looks like your ride’s here!”

It hit all over again, the realization that it was the end of the line for him, that he was going to be taken away, that there was nothing he could do, that this was never supposed to happen. He lowered his head when footsteps echoed in the alley, but then he looked up again to give the approaching officers a hard stare, save the last bit of his dignity.

“An avian?”, one commented, addressing Bradley before turning to Oscar, tilting his head to the side with a condescending smile. “You’ve been causing some trouble around here, haven’t you? Glad that’s dealt with.”

Oscar didn’t reply, opting to simply glare instead, and the officer gestured to the other one, who approached too, taking something out of his pocket - a syringe, the sight of which made Oscar’s heart skip a beat.

“Is that really necessary?” Bradley asked, though his tone was nothing but lighthearted. “I doubt he’s dangerous.”

Oscar would be offended if he wasn’t scared out of his wits, and despite knowing too well that there was no escaping he started thrashing under the scaffolding again, which, as a surprise to no-one, achieved nothing. 

“It’s more convenient this way. Less hassle.”

The officer crouched down by his side and swiftly stuck the needle in his arm, and the perfected formula immediately weakened Oscar’s struggles and hazed his mind; he collapsed to the ground, feeling his awareness fade and his heartbeat slow down.

“There we go, you can remove that junk now.”

Bradley scoffed, but complied, and the scaffolding flew aside, not needed to keep Oscar immobilized anymore as he grew weaker and weaker, barely aware of his surroundings. The officers heaved him from the ground and began carrying him towards the car, with Bradley following them with a light step.

“Thanks for catching him”, one of the officers said with a nod towards Bradley. “He’s small fry, but he was annoyingly good at getting away.”

“No problem.” Bradley hummed to himself, slowing down until he stopped, frowning. “And, hm… Officer?”

“Yes?”

“I might keep him, actually.”

For a moment everything was still as Bradley’s words rang in the air, and he smiled to himself, his idea burning like an exciting spark in his mind. The officer chuckled quietly and nodded.

“Of course”, he said. “We’ll stay in touch, then.”

“Sure.”

Bradley watched as Oscar’s wings were restrained with plastic tape and his hands cuffed, and he was pushed into the back of the car, which then took off, leaving the neighborhood quiet again, with no one around to have witnessed what just happened. He turned around on his heel and walked away, heading towards his original destination - a club offering slightly more anonymity than those he usually frequented.

And now he had something to celebrate with a cocktail or two.