Departure

Cowboy gives one last press conference before he leaves the city of Steelport...

Showtime…

“Before I answer any of your questions, I’d like to address a couple of things that I know you all f*****g want to ask me about anyways, so why not get it out of the way first? Also, this is going to be my one and only time answering these damn questions, and if any of you feel like you will somehow be able to, not only, ask a follow-up question, but expect me to answer it, I will break your f*****g equipment.”

As expected most of the reporters eyes were bulging out of their heads, and their mouths were hanging wide open. As expected, some reporters looked amongst their colleagues for those with devilish grins and impish eyes for assistance in running a media-wide smear campaign. As expected, a few reporters were relieved by my words and locked their eyes full of admiration on me. As expected, she was completely indifferent. 

The only response she managed to muster was a simple yawn.

“Am I clear?”

No response. The shellshocked reporters didn’t even register the words.

I found myself adjusting my view to focus on her, right in the front row, dead center with her legs crossed to feign her disinterest.

“Yes,” despite not hearing her words, I watched them roll with tease over her alluring red lips.

Why of all press conferences does she have to be here? Why the f**k of all the seats does she have to be seated right in front of me? 

I wonder if she would be willing to get drinks or dinner after?

“I said, AM I F*****G CLEAR?!”

A unanimous chorus responded with different variants of affirmation of my question.

“One, the rumors and speculation about my transfer to a Brick Bay Union team are true. This is effective as of today. I do not know who will be replacing me in my current position in Steelport, or when my replacement can be expected. I will say that it has been my honor to serve and protect those, who like me, call Steelport their home. I was born here, and I have lived here for a majority of my life. It pains me that I have to leave, but I am fortunate for the opportunities that come with my transition to Brick Bay. Regardless of where I go, what happens to me, or what I am doing; Steelport will always be my home, and I will always protect my home.”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Three simple claps stopped me, and primed an eruption of cheering and clapping from those in attendance. Tears glistened on the checks of those that I moved, shouts of “Don’t go!” “Please stay!” and other shouts of disbelief. The few that remained seated, including her, moved their pens furiously to capture the scene on paper. Regardless of their colorful wording, intricate word play, and overall mastery of the written word, I doubt that their articles will be able to adequately encapsulate the moment. 

Those on the outside of the designated press zone, the people of Steelport, my fellow citizens; reactions were somewhat within what I expected of them.

Roaring crowds of hundreds, no thousands, hell maybe even a million, all showed up today to witness my send off for themselves. The endless ocean of supporters was packed to the brim of available space with some sitting on top their buddy’s shoulders, standing on the hood of parked cars, and others hanging from the top of street signs, all in hopes of getting the best view possible. Everyone in attendance wore a cowboy hat of some kind, ranging from the quality of a s****y halloween costume to those actually worn by real cowboys. The crowd was saturated with those wearing my t-shirts and replicas of my iconic mask. Even though I can’t make out what the message on those with signs have scribbled on them, one stood out to me. 

A young child with a red shirt and yellow smiley face mask, at the back of the press seating, was giving their best effort to make their sign readable for me...

Cowboy don’t go! 

...

Damn. Is this from my impact? Was this from my actions being that impactful that I, not only touched this kid’s, and others, life but was able to influence it to some degree? 

At face value, everyone is most likely assuming that, like my mask, I am smiling underneath, but the dampness around my eyes and the frog in my throat say otherwise.

I allowed the crowd to calm down before proceeding, I need this time to gather myself before I continue.

“Two, in regards to the recent news surrounding my being charged with a DUI, I fucked up. I know I fucked up, and there hasn’t been a day since that moment that I haven’t thought about it in some light. I think about how it could have gone worse. About how I could have been the cause of death or life altering of those that were passengers in my car that fateful night. I think about how lucky and fortunate me, and the passengers, were. We each managed to walk away, after flipping a car twice, completely unscathed, and I am thankful that no other bystanders were hurt due to my poor judgement. I am most sorry to those that were in the vehicle with me, and to their families, for putting your life in jeopardy. To the Union, I am sorry for embarrassing the organization and undermining what it means to be a member of this prestigious public service provider. Last, but certainly not least, I am sorry to the people of Steelport. I know you look up to me to be an icon in the community, and I let you down. I should have never gotten behind the wheel after consuming alcohol. I have paid for my sin, and my hope is that with your help I can move past this together. Even though I am a parahuman, I am still human like you. Underneath my mask is a normal man. A normal man who has ambition, has a family, and wants to be a productive member to society like all of you before me. However, because I am a human, I am prone to making mistakes. I’m not asking that my mistake be swept under the rug to be forgotten about. Instead I ask of you that we use my mistake as a conversation starter for this problem we face in society, so that we may find a solution to eradicating it.”

Just like before, those in attendance surpassed my expectation. Much like before, they erupted into shouts and cheers.

I couldn’t help myself from waiving to them, thanking them for accepting my humble apologies. It is moments like this that I wish I could remove my mask to show them the man beneath. To show them how the impact my life. To show them that they have moved me to tears.

Amongst the chaotic acceptance of my apology, she raised her hand.

Oh f**k! Does she have a comment or question? I really don’t want to break her equipment, that could make things a little difficult!

Her hand was raised straight up conveying a nonintrusive interruption, as if she was fine with me and the crowd settling down before she spoke.

I met her eyes as we both waited for things to calm down. Her eyes were soothing like a cup of hot chocolate, an aid in fighting the cold of winter. Providing a moment of relief from the all consuming snowstorm.

I think I’m falling in love.

The crowd was now settled, I motioned to her with an open hand, “Yes?”

Her hand pushed aside her waves of beautiful brown hair before falling to her side as she stood up, “I don’t wish to speak on behalf of my colleagues, but I think I can speak for everyone in the crowd when I say, we accept your apology. I applaud you for your professionalism and the courage you have for addressing the elephant in the room. I agree with you about opening discourse so that we can find the best means of handling and addressing DUIs. That is all.” In one elegant motion, she smoothed out her skirt and sat down.

I think I’m in love. 

I don’t know what to say. She has accomplished a feat that so many before her have tried but failed; she left me speechless.

“Thank you,” were the only words that came to mind as a worthy response to her.

“Third and final, I wish to address the accusations that I am too ‘brutal’ with my administration of justice. There are a lot of reporters here today that say I am a sadist with a badge. They say that I am past redemption, and that anything short of being sent to the Hole is too lax a punishment. My response to you is,” I paused. Carefully contemplating the next words out of my mouth, “Go f**k yourself.” 

Just as expected, the crowd erupted in glee. Now it’s time for me to surf the wave.

“I began my career as a rogue cape five years ago. Back then the streets of Steelport were a god damn warzone. Daily tasks such as commuting to school and work became matters of life or death. No one was safe, and no one was doing a damn thing about it until Bump and I decided enough was enough. We had enough of worrying about whether or not we would be able to make the monthly demands of local warlords. We had enough of being subjected to corrupt politicians abusing us with their power for their sole benefit. We had enough of being scared all the time. We decided enough was enough, and we f*****g did something about it. Back then there was no Union presence. Now, if you look around, you can see that has changed. You can see the Union HQ where the old science center used to be, you can see the officers patrolling and maintaining the peace. By far the greatest thing you see now when you look around is everyone’s hope and prosperity. To me there is no form of payment that can amount to the feeling that comes with knowing that you played a role in that. Bump and I were rogue for two years before the Union approached us about establishing a more permanent presence in Steelport. Two years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice before our efforts began to payoff. Now a short three years later, our efforts have paid off in full. So, reporters, if you want to crucify me go ahead, but keep in mind who you are crucifying . You're not crucifying the masked hero, you are crucifying the people of Steelport. You may thing you are conveying a just and transceded message, however, all you are doing is telling the people of Steelport to go f**k themselves. I answered Steelport’s cry for justice with the vigilance and force that was demanded of me, nothing more and nothing less.”

Just as expected...the crowd erupted, thanking me for answering their prayers.

Completely unexpected...she smiled.

I’m in love.

XXX

Thankfully, the reporters heeded my words, sparing them from broken equipment and me from having to break it. The rest of the press conference went on just as expected, and just as mundane. I was asked typical questions regarding working with a different team, and becoming acclimated to a new environment. I answered each and every question, with less color than my opening remarks. 

My earpiece began vibrating, “Cowboy, wrap this up. We got reports of criminal activity heading your way. We need to clear everyone out, preferably sooner rather than later.”

“Got it, Bump. How do you think I did?”

“Too soon to say. How do I say this properly, you very much so did things your way, if that makes any sense.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and smile to his remark, “Perfect. That’s what I was hoping for.” 

I returned my attention to the crowd, “Alright folks, I’m afraid that is all we have time for today. I’d like to thank everyone who came today for my send off. It was an honor to serve you, Steelport, and I promise to always serve you.” 

I gave a few more waves before turning from the podium. The Union members on site took my cue and began to funnel people out appropriately.

Backstage there was nothing except the back end of the equipment on stage, and a pitiful excuse for a “snack bar,” which offered nothing besides coffee and half-assed fruit bowls. I guess a banana and coffee will have to hold me over for now. 

Two sugars and one cream…

“Excuse me.” A feminine voice interrupted my preparation of coffee, causing me to spill it. F**k!

“Yes,” it was hard for me to mask my frustration. Did they let someone back here, or is this another damn intern? 

I turned, and immediately froze...

Its her…

The reporter I couldn’t keep my eyes off, Alatea Issa. Her and I had a start in our respected careers at the same time as each other. She was just a night time street reporter for a local network, when I was nothing more than some jackass in a cowboy hat wearing shades and sporting a red bandana to cover my face.

Oh, what a night that was, but that’s a story for another time.

“Howdy Ms. Issa, I’d like to thank you for your words earlier.” Thank god my face is concealed, because I can feel how red my face is.

She tipped the imaginary hat on her head, “Howdy to you Cowboy, and anytime. I was hoping that I could get a quick exposee, so that the people of Steelport can know their beloved Cowboy a little better.” 

Bump’s voice rang in my ear, “Cowboy, the criminal element is five minutes out. This is not the time to flirt. Get her out of there, now!”

Damn it! Bump is right, now is not the time to shoot my shot...or is it?

“Is there something else demanding your attention?” Aleta’s voice chimed in, she must have noticed me pausing longer than was socially acceptable.

“Yes, so I must ask that you leave the area immediately,” I fumbled through my utility belt until I found what I was looking for.

My business card was simple, a matte red background with a watermark of a smiley face wearing a cowboy hat and smoking a joint, or a cigarette as the public saw it. Ever since I was young, I’ve had unique fascination with business cards. In our modern age, business cards say a lot about the person they represent. Yet, despite this, I’ve never asked what anyone thought about my card.

With my card between my index and middle finger, I extended it towards Aleta, “Here’s my card. If you want we can get together for that exposee over drinks, or you can call to set up a time to talk.”

Aleta’s cheeks flared to a rosey red hue.

“Nice card,” she giggled a bit, ”I like the joint, it matches your character.”

Is that a compliment. How do I respond to that?

My hand thought it would do a better alleviating the awkwardness if it started to scratch the back of my head, which was covered by layers of metal plates and padding, “Thank you, I guess.” 

Nailed it.

Aleta put my card away, “I like the idea of getting drinks later. How about I give you a call after you are done dealing with this?” She pulled out her phone to make a call, “Also, I expect you to give me the exclusive on this upcoming ordeal.”

“Only if you are buying the first round.” Smooth. I wish I was able to rewind time so that I could come up with something better.

“I’ll buy the first round, if you manage to save the day,” she flashed me a flattering smile with her luscious red lips on full display before diverting her attention to whoever was on the other end of her phone call, “I need a helicopter sent to my location ASAP. I got a source saying that something big is about to go down.” As she left, she turned around once more to wink. 

I guess that means good luck, or go get them Cowboy. I’m fine with whichever.

KABOOM! BOOOOOMM! 

The explosions went off danger close, returning me to reality. I found myself lying on my back under some equipment from the press conference. I didn’t feel anything piercing my body, and I wasn’t bleeding. I touched my ear piece, “Bump, what the f**k was that?” Despite the surprising weight of the equipment, it was quite easy to move off of me. 

Static came blaring over the comms, “...Cowboy...Lazarus...attacking with Angel-” 

I guess I’m alone on this one.

Before Bump’s transmission cut out, I picked up the names Lazarus and Angel. Great. Two of the most notorious criminals on the eastern seaboard decided to be present for my farewell. One with an army of zombies, and the other able to bring his followers back from the dead.

Well, I hate to keep them waiting.

I withdrew my custom made Ruger S-22, and cocked a round into the chamber. The American flag decal wrapped over the barrel always calmed me before a fight. It reminded me of the type of justice I serve. 

Good old American justice…

...F**k with me, and I’ll f*****g kill you...

Showtime.

Reviews

[Dave]

Well done, I thought it was a very well written story