Flying over the majestic, vast protected parkland of the province of Alberta, Canada, a slim-line black helicopter quickly glides over a mountainous region that few have ever ventured into. The pilots inside scanned the area as they search for their point of destination. Obscured by their dark helmet visors, they are barely indistinguishable if only for the five o’clock shadow on one, and the smooth skinned complexion of the other wearing red lipstick.
The woman copilot tapped the shoulder of the other and pointed wordlessly to him as she’d spotted the heading. The primary pilot acknowledged her observation and swung the chopper towards the mountain, growing larger in their view. Rising high above it and circling a small area leading into a lush canyon, he eased the controls down and brought the helicopter closer to it.
The canyon was deep and grass laden with a few trees lining the inner pocket of it. A small lake of crystal blue sat in the centre like an oasis. The rugged terrain made it hard to find a place to land, but as the pilots drew in further, they spotted a minor road leading to a cabin nestled on the edge of the cliff that overlooked the lake.
“Target acquired…” the male pilot spoke into his helmet mike. “Preparing to set down close by.”
The helicopter swooped in and hovered over the road. It travelled up the strip slowly and finally activated the landing gear once they were only a few feet away.
* * *
Looking through the window from within the log-type cabin, a ruggedly handsome, late aged Indigenous man with grey/white hair drew a sigh of frustration as they steadily approached. Taking a slow sip from his hot cup of coffee in hand, he kept a careful eye at the intrusive vehicle, and grimaced slightly as it maneuvered itself down. Once it finally landed on his property, he headed for the main door and prepared to meet his ‘guests’ with his cup in hand.
Stepping out onto the well built wooden veranda of his home, he continued to sip his coffee; the helicopter blades powered down, and a group of suited individuals exited the vehicle. Five in all stepped out; black suited with matching ties, white shirts, holding weapons, everything that seemed to scream ‘government’ to him.
One younger looking Caucasian man stood out from the rest. He was fair-haired, had no weapon in hand or on his person, just a large beige file folder tucked under his arm. The young man smiled and waved at him like a salesperson greeting a customer.
“Good morning!” He spoke robustly. “Lovely place you got here. Lots of space…” When there was no answer back, he went on. “Sorry about the intrusion, I’m Agent Simon Carlson of CANSOFCOM… The Canadian Special Operations Forces Command. Are you Tom Hawkesby? Tommy Hawkesby, former member of The Northern Crew? I just want to make sure just in case… uh… you know… there’s any kind of confusion, or such.”
The man said nothing to him and continued to sip his coffee while looking at him. The young man removed the dark sunglasses covering his hazel eyes as he sized up the man glaring back at him. Tom Hawkesby, a handsome older NDN man, looked very much outdoorsy as one could be living in the mountains. He had sand coloured work boots, a well-polished silver belt buckle, a red and black plaid jacket, and a white sweater top underneath with indigenous symbols and markings that the young man couldn’t discern.
He also wore a hat, like one would see on a prospector in the old movies. It was dusty, well-worn and had a hawk feather tucked in wide darker brown band of it. “A timeless look,” the junior government official thought as he drew closer to him, “rugged and ageless, it has to be him no doubt about it.” He stuck his hand out to further the greeting. Tom stood motionless.
“I understand not wanting anyone to bother you out here. But, this place is really off the map, isn’t it?” He disputed with a curious glare. “The satellites all totally turn off when going by this section, no doubt from the agreement you signed with them. I mean, wow, we couldn’t even find it on a map! That is hard core, man.” He still had his hand out, waiting for him to shake it. “Um, okay… look, I just want to talk, that’s all.”
Hawkesby cautiously peered at him and remained silent. He simply gave a snort of dismissal and turned about, unimpressed. The young man looked disappointed as Hawkesby headed into his home again. He recoiled his hand sheepishly. Looking back at the four brutish minions, the junior agent shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, ‘ok, now what?’.
They had no answer to give him, just cold stares hidden behind their sunglasses. “Big help you are…” He thought. Turning back, he saw the door was still wide open. He took that as a sign to step in and chat. At least, he hoped that was the case. Adjusting his tie and holding a thick file of papers in hand, he slicked his brown short crop of hair and ventured in.
* * *
Tom was gazing out another window on the other side of the log home. It looked out to the beautiful scenery of the lake nestled below. The various birds fluttered in the sky and dove to dip their wings in the water. The young man entered the humble dwelling, passively clearing his throat, and attempted to gain the distracted coffee sipper’s attention once again.
“The helicopter ride was really long. We nearly bottomed out the fuel reserves. Wasn’t really sure which mountain range to look at. Banff would have been too obvious and too touristy; we thought maybe you’d gravitate to the Wabasca area, but no luck there; Mount Tuzo, wrong as it was looking there, was just quite the stab in the dark…”
“What do you want?” Tom sharply interupted without looking at him.
“Well, like I said before, I’m Agent Simon Carlson, and I come from special operations, well, the former part of that certain division of special operations, anyway. They want me to talk to you about clarifying a few things about your time with them. Maybe even fixing some personal issues, perhaps? You think you’d be up for that?”
“That depends,” Hawkesby said in a passive sigh. He then turned about, placing the coffee cup down on a small table. “Who’s really asking this of me?”
“Well, we are, for starters, I mean… the government is… yours and mine.” He grinned nervously.
“My government?” The man snickered back. “They were never my government, young fella. The history is a bit tainted in that regard. Especially when dealing with my people.”
“Ok, yeah…” the young man noted, slightly flushed in stupidity for even mentioning it. Ignorance wasn’t a good way to begin that conversation. He tried to correct the meaning. “Well, I mean, the division or branch of special ops you signed up with a long time ago. I wasn’t saying you weren’t Canadian… I mean, First Nation… um… ah…”
“Yeah-yeah, stop talking, that foot is only getting deeper in that mouth of yours and it keeps making it worse.”
Tom let out a frustrated sigh and walked over to a round wooden kitchen table. The cabin wasn’t huge; the space was modest enough for one man to be living in. The kitchen, if you could really call it that, was tiny, with only a sink, wood fire stove, and an ancient-looking refrigerator that was out of place for the current time.
He sat down in the chair, only two at the table anyway, and folded his arms in reservation while glaring at the young buck still grinning at him. He motioned to the other chair and the young man instantly took to his suggestion. Immediately the young lad began talking as he opened up the heavily looking file he plopped onto the table.
“I got to say this, sir. It is such a pleasure to meet you. I was a big fan of yours… truly, I mean, I am in awe.” He raved nervously. “I didn’t realize one of Canada’s greatest superheroes was even still alive, let alone, living here in Alberta…”
“Superhero…” Tom mocked lightly, followed by a dispassionate sneer. “Nobody even knows about me. Nobody knew about any of us during those days.”
“I know, right?” He motioned in agreement. “How they managed to keep you guys a secret is mind blowing stuff. It wasn’t until I was working in the highest level when I was told of the amazing superhero team we actively had back then, The Northern Crew. I was so astounded by all the classified footage, news articles and endless files on all of you. I mean, there was: The Silver Baton, Stretcher Rex, Red Phantom, Petite Pierre, The Dark Horned Owl, and Major Leaf! Oh, and you of course, the real hero of them all…”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“I was never a hero.” Tom grumbled.
“Really? Oh, come on, you were the ultimate hero out of all of them.” The young man gawked. “You were the best of them! The mighty Atomic Hawk! I mean, you haven’t aged that much, because of your abilities I’m guessing, probably, right? I really couldn’t even guess how old you truly are. But, wow, to meet you in person is a tremendous honour for me. The only hero to use a form of self-kinetic atomic energy as a superpower!”
“That’s not really the right technical term for it,” Tom tried to interject, looking fairly unhappy in the way the conversation turned. “But, I suppose it’s close enough… in a way.”
“You’re darn right, it’s outstanding!” The junior agent geeked out. “If you throw a punch or jump of that cliff there… you can generate atomic fission with your fists! That’s one powerful punch dude!”
“Okay-okay…” Hawkesby tried to calm him down. “Like I said, there’s more to it than that. Enough with the comic book convention here… what is it you want of me? Hm? Why are you even here? I told them all to leave me in peace.”
“Oh, right-right…” He acknowledged, and sat back down after pantomiming the actions. “Sorry, it’s just so cool. You’re so cool. But, I guess I should explain further about my untimely arrival and what the new division of ops is.” Tom waited as the man collected himself properly. “The new head of that division is in a rush to put a few things to bed, as it were, and clean house a bit. He wants a detailed account of how you were recruited to The Northern Crew, the missions you went on and… oh, hang on a sec…”
Flipping through the huge file, the young agent tapped on a few pages while reading the information. He rolled a finger down to the bottom of it and read it to him aloud.
“Let’s see here… uh, oh… here it is. The Government of Canada issued an investigation into the unknown events that led to the demise of the superhero team known as The Northern Crew; Specifically, the detailed accounts of what happened during Operation: Maplestorm; Huh… really crappy name for that one.”
“They told me that matter was over.” He peered at Agent Carlson. “Maplestorm was a colossal fuck fest… something I’ve tried very hard to forget about.”
“Hmm… I must have not seen that one. It wasn’t in the files, I don’t think…”
“They buried it.” Tom stated. “Erased it from everything they could. No one wanted to be connected to that scandal. It’s no wonder you couldn’t find anything on it.”
The agent smirked at his answer and read through more, flipping through the papers. “That’s pretty much true, details got lost over time, you know how it is; burying reports, shredding documented proof, trying to shed the whole darker nature of Canada’s secret black ops division…”
“So why bring it up now?” Tom grumbled in frustration. “Let it stay buried. That’s why I’ve got this place. They owed me, this land is the one good thing that came out of that deal, if they want to take it back… you can tell them they can kiss my…”
“Woah-woah!” Carlson stopped him before finishing his thought. “No, we’re not asking for it back. It’s yours, okay? No, they really, really just want to know what happened in that whole scenario. Everyone that’s connected to it is either dead now, too old to remember it, or like you… in a self-imposed exile.”
“Exile? No one exiled me here, understand?” Tom declared, his fist glowing hot. The anger was building as the conversation soured for Hawkesby. The superpower manifested itself slowly, continuing to build more and more than the young man tried to gesture for him to calm down. Tom was too riled up at the moment. “This is my home. The only thing left of my people, my family, my birthright!”
“Yes…” Carlson reacted with a passive gesture. “Absolutely, my bad… stay calm, please, just… relax, okay? I meant nothing by it.”
“Don’t you tell me to relax! Do you hear? I’m not at fault in the matter. I… I… wasn’t to blame for it. I didn’t know what would happen…”
Tom noticed his burning fist; the flame enveloping it completely. Luckily, it wasn’t touching any part of his clothes, but he kept it far from his person enough to make sure it didn’t. The shock of seeing it suddenly caused him to let go of the anger. Relaxing his mind, and taking deep breaths to help self-sooth, the glowing fist of death subsided back to normal. He saw the frightened look on Agent Carlson’s face and nodded to him he was all right.
“Forgive me, young fella. The nightmares of those days still run deep inside of me. That’s why I want to live in peace. Not just for them, or even for the safety for myself… but to protect everyone…”
“I understand…” Carlson nodded politely. “But, maybe it’s time you gave someone of this generation your story on what happened… that way, it never happens again.”
“Nothing ever really changes, my young friend.” Tom snickered lightly. “Not even those governing a country based on lies, false histories and keeping secrets for the sake of having secrets to keep.”
“Secrets can’t stay secret forever.” Carlson shrugged. “Especially in this day and age. Help us improve and become better, become the hero again, and let go of that burden you’ve held on for so long.”
Tom walked away from the table and shook his head in disbelief. After all this time, now they want to know the truth? It wasn’t enough they made a mess of it. Now they’re back and want to make amends. But the young man was correct. Times have certainly changed, but have they? Truly? Something told him he couldn’t ignore the opportunity. Despite the decades that have gone by, the endless attempts to clear his name from that fiasco, it finally came about to explain the matter once and for all.
Reluctantly, he gambled with the idea and agreed non-verbally. It would at least be good to talk to someone about it all. He never got that chance, at least, not to someone willing to hear his side of the story. He didn’t return to the table to talk. Looking out the window he was at, slurped on his now cooled coffee, and resolved to tell his tale.
“Is this going to be made public?” He asked. “Can you guarantee me a pardon once I give my story? Hm? Do you promise me the government will finally leave me alone? To never come to me again after this?”
The agent leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, if that’s what you want? My boss would still like for you to join up, but I’m sure he’d be reasonable and give you that. He just wants to know what happened, especially to your old team, and to you as well.”
He brought out his smart phone from his suit pocket and tried to turn it on. He looked puzzled that it wasn’t working; the power was completely gone. He pushed the button over and over, and nothing happened. He was going to record the conversation, but that was out of the question now; he instead took out a pen from his inner suit pocket. Giving a slight sigh, it seemed he’d have to do this the ‘old school way’. Carlson poised himself over the file and prepared to hand write the details on the back of a file paper.
“Start anywhere you’d like… from the beginning….” He clarified. “When did you become a member of Canada’s fighting force of The Northern Crew?”
“I didn’t really become one, not at first,” Tom smirked with a slight chuckle. He took another long sip of his coffee and finished off the drink. “I volunteered… but not for what I thought it was going to be. They didn’t really say for what we’d be volunteering for. The world was at war, and like any young man looking to help in the fight against evil, I served and did my duty to keep our country safe.”
“Was this before you had the powers?”
“Yep,” Tom nodded and glared back at him. “I was fresh out of training and ready to join the frontline. Little did I know that they were going to offer me another way to get to that frontline a bit faster.”
“The Second World War, right? Oh, this is good stuff…” Carlson snickered, he started jotting down some facts, his grin was like that of a kid listening to a favourite story. “So, how did it all go down? When did you become Atomic Hawk?”
“Atomic Hawk,” The Indigenous superhero thought to himself. The name alone was enough to make him shake his head with disapproval. A play on his name that made it sound more ‘interesting’ and ’catchy’. He wasn’t too fond of it, not a lot, but he accepted the title despite the misgivings.
He wasn’t too sure what to make of this lackey they sent him. Agent Simon Carlson, a mere kid, seemed so enamoured with him it was rather embarrassing. Hero-worshipping had never really sat well with Tom. Once, a long time ago, he might have enjoyed it. But those idealistic days were in the past. Still, the junior agent had that glint in the eye; the passion of the job driving him to be the best, Hawk had forgotten what that was like. So he imparted some wisdom on the young man.
“I was like you once, you know.” Tom lightly mocked. “Young, eager and ready to be at the forefront of whatever adventure presented itself. But, that’s a dangerous thing, young ones like you… like me, back then… so vulnerable to a world that robs the innocence so easily. In the end, we all lose it, it’s just a question of when, where and how.”
Still scribbling on the sheet, Agent Carlson failed to hear him. He was too busy writing to understand that was meant for him, and nodded innocently and continued to transcribe. Atomic Hawk gave a deep inhale and realized he’d better just give the kid what he came for.
“I was an orphan by birth. My mother could not take care of me and gave me to the local Catholic Church to be put up for adoption. Many children were, especially those who lived on reservations, had similar experiences, and not all by choice either. But, I was fortunate, at least. My adoptive parents were kind and of mixed race; My father was Black Canadian, my mother was of a partial Prairie Cree, but came from more of a white Ukrainian heritage. We moved from Alberta to Quebec when I was ten, and grew up in Montreal for the rest of my teen years.”
Tom gave a sigh while looking out the window, the view still captivating to him as always, but then turned to sit back down with the agent as he proceeded to transcribe Hawk’s words. The former superhero took off his floppy hat, leaned in his chair and folded his arms together.
“I was sixteen when news came of the Nazis. That Germany was in combat with other countries and costing the lives of the innocent trapped in between them. The world became locked in another terrible war that could spell doom for freedom and the lively hood of all. I made a choice and signed up for service. I was a proud Indigenous man who loved being part of this nation of Canada. I wanted to stop that evil from reaching our shores as well. When I was almost finished my military training, a fellow soldier told me that the government had started a new division. They were looking for volunteers to help the war effort further; Experiments that might enhance or give the soldiers a leg up on the war overseas. Naturally, and without hesitation, I signed up for it.” He leaned in to look at Carlson, and tilted his head slightly as he peered at him. “If only I knew what it was really for… I would have never done it at all.”