The Fire Bringer

Nostalgia. That was the word for it- that was what he was feeling. It wasn't sorrow, that was a weakness. It wasn't fear, that was a luxury. It was nostalgia, recognition, and nothing more. It was once the capital of the world, dark, yet shining, and more importantly, it was once familiar- one of the few things that he had ever truly "known".

And it was gone.

The sensation of nostalgia turning to loss was an uneasy one, one that he so rarely felt. It was physical, palpable, some organ in him twisting and churning in a sea of bile, quite far from pleasant.

The city- his city- deserved better. It was great, once, but even then it could have been so much better. "Great" he said, through unmoving lips, punctuating it with a slight laugh as his eyes remained fixed on the bombed out husk of a building. "Greatness can only be achieved through will, a man becomes great through his will, and a city becomes great through the will of great men. And if a man must be great, so then must his city reflect his imperative". Was this a statement of fact, or a eulogy? Truly, no greater a city on Earth was deserving of a respectful eulogy than New York.

He crested a hill made of rubble, toes flexing and digging into the gravel, the glow of his eyes intensifying as he recognized what he surveyed: his goal. "Prometheus, teacher in every art" he recited, with a tone of reverence that suggested liturgy. "Brought the fire that hath proved to mortals a means to mighty ends" he said, walking across the plaza, covered in cracked and filthy ice. "Such an unfitting end for such a monument. Tsk. You, like this city, deserved so much better. If nothing else, you deserve to attend its wake" he said, his attention directed at a pile of rubble that was once known as "30 Rockefeller Center".

The figure stretched, bringing each arm directly upwards and rotating them in circles, bending backwards and then forwards, before pointing his arms at the pile of rubble. Rotating his palms up and drawing them close to his body, he made a lifting motion with both arms, as the pile of concrete and steel rose high into the air, each chunk of building separating from each other in a swirling storm that could be seen across the isle of Manhattan.

Small bits of gold, some resembling body parts or flowing cloths, could be seen amidst the rubble. One by one, they were picked out and levitated towards the empty alcove in the plaza, pieced together until they resembled the statue that they once comprised, the seams between the pieces sealing up as if an invisible welder were binding them. Eventually, the form became clear: a young, golden man, shirtless, recumbent, holding aloft a flame. "Stand vigil" said the figure, lowering the storm of rubble away from the statue with a loud "thud". "Stand vigil, great Prometheus. Hold aloft your beacon, but see now what your fire has endowed upon mankind. And... know-" it said, approaching the titan of lore and running a hand across the statue's base. "That your sacrifice, your eternal torment, shall not be in vain. And that I shall... that I must, in kind, make a new race, and endow it with fire as you did. And that their birth, extraordinarily great in its magnitude, demands only the greatest of cities to nurture them, and its creation shall be the mightiest of ends."

A little speck of dirt dug itself into the fiber of the light blue, polyester jacket making Bliss a more vibrant target for the slew of alien technology impacting against the pillars of ice. Little blasts of energy hissed and sizzled against the tunnel Bliss extended towards the front door, barraged with garbage cans and torched desks. Each shot blasted through the chilly corridor, but misplaced rounds going through the ice instead of the boy trailing Bliss echoed a referendum on her decision. "Stay close, stay down, get clear." Without gifting any kind of reprieve for argument, Bliss pushed the kid out to get him moving in the right direction.

Energy blasts rang out with a good grouping, but a misguided placement. Firing from cover gave the thugs more protection, but it costs them a little in placing a shot in the perfect place. Body suit clad with a red bandanna tied just underneath the back of her ponytail, Bliss darted from the apex of her icy hall, stretching from an interior door of the ballroom to the exit. A few of the rounds fell a little too close for comfort and left a searing pain in her side, forcing her to drop to her knees with her feet almost touching the small of her back.

The barrage continued against a small concentrated barricade of ice extending two and a half feet and putting about that much between her and the incoming shots. A tinge of ice ran from her finger tips into the floor as the hissing grew more intense. Moving at the current rate, Bliss surmised she would be in trouble in about ten seconds. Time to move a little quicker.

"We've got her pinned!" Behind the blast shield of a biker helmet a young woman in her early twenties shouted out the demise of Bliss to her trigger happy cohorts. A trail line of smoke rose from the small barricade gracing Bliss with protection.

Hiding behind the pillars of the desecrated splendor of the ballroom gave them protection in the same way charity events made the rich of this city virtuous-- feigned.

Barbs of ice shot through the inner linings each pillar, entangling the five gun toting thugs against the pillars moments ago keeping them safe. Her ears never acted with super hearing, but the sound of five heavy clangs of metal against the ground let Bliss know she could make her way to get the situation under control. While their torsos remained encased in ice, Bliss jogged over to collect the energy rifles each had brandished with such disregard.

"You...You'll reg...regret this." Shivering from the intense cold holding him to the pillar, a man in his thirties with a slight balding said one of the nicer things the group had to tell Bliss.

Pulling her bandanna down around her neck to show the smug, toothless smile shooting from cheek to cheek, Bliss handed out her neighborhood watch advice. "Next time, mark where you're staying with a sign letting kids know this is inhabited by halfwits with IQs smaller than their trigger fingers." Bliss cleared the quickly melting ice fixtures she used for protection and turned back at the door to take one last glimpse of her handywork, before leaving.

The streets of Dead York still hung cold and quiet. Monuments replaced with solitude and the regression of a city growing like a cancer. Two rifles on each shoulder and one across her back. Sadly, Bliss only looked somewhat out of place in the city. The rise of violence and lack of anyone to stand against it made it difficult to really get rid of this advanced technology. You could barely do any damage to it, and every criminal in the city wanted to get more so they could finally win the city for themselves. Her only course of action would be to get these guns to what remained of some of the police force.

Out of all the acts of self preservation Bliss allowed herself, saving her home in lower Manhattan gave her a little sigh of relief. At least she could stay somewhere mildly safe when she needed to act as the Ice Angel of Dead York, a name she coined herself, but had too much pride to tell anyone. While the rubble always stayed as a constant site, the restoration of a longstanding monument brought her feet to rest in front of the wasted, debris riddled remains of what used to be the ice rink.

While she looked truly a sight, Bliss needed to at least examine what matter of activity shot up in one of the more desolate corners of her world. "I look like a Rob Liefeld strip." She muttered looking at armaments and confines of her suit. "Well I have feet and wasn't blessed with what he gives women, but still." She rolled her tongue off the roof of her mouth and edged forward. "Are you burning the midnight oil on some restoration? It's a little less than--oh who am I kidding, it's pretty much a free-for-all out here tonight."

Junctions of the statue stayed suspended in air, awaiting a final touch. Ice momentarily filled the gaps, keeping the statue in place for a moment of peace. "Looks better back up there." Only in contrast of the rest of this place would anything with such broken and shattered metal pass for 'better', but this was better.

The figure tensed, his suit tightening around him, like muscles without skin. A reasonably sized chunk of rubble lifted off the ground- levitated just so it could be tossed if a fight was needed. Carefully, the figure turned, siding his feet on the floor rather than taking a step, maintaining the tense and rather hostile position.

Guns AND pajamas? Either she was late to a costume party, or she could be trouble. "Symbols..." he said, with a ponderous tone that indicated he was choosing his words carefully. "Has its purpose. A statement rings truest in harsh times. It's a shame, but it's truth, and maybe a bit poetic. When man returns to the state of nature, we must turn to primitive idol worship. And if we must, well, I cannot think of a better idol than Prometheus" he said, turning to the statue for a second before facing Bliss again. "I don't have any food or money and I seriously doubt you could eat me even if you could kill me. Are they cannibalizing people here yet? When I left the city it was just starting to catch on as a fad in Williamsburg, but that was before the city became a crater. Still, it wouldn't be the first time New Yorkers hopped on a silly trend" he mused, shrugging.

"Anyway" he said, his shrug turning into him quickly raising his arm at Bliss, a shape forming in his hand that coalesced into a strangely organic-looking pistol. "Do me a favor and drop the weapons? I don't want, or need, them, mind you, but I don't really feel safe when strangers in a ruined city approach me packing heat. You understand, no?"

Cracks broke against the ice, demanding Bliss's immediate attention. In the morning it will fall to rubble again, but for now she wanted something to take her mind off of where she stood. "Hipsters are probably just ahead of the times by eating each other, but I wouldn't put it past city hall to eat each other alive." While the statue looked more in order, the creaks of each joint left her a little at odds with her work. "It's one more touch." Cascading forth from the ground, sheets of ice covered the statue in a soft caress. What lights stayed on in the grid beamed a soft glow over the monument. The broken glory transpired in a different fashion. Little fractures in the ice captured the light and possibly the moment. But that moment passed.

Bliss turned her head to face the newly adorned fixture in her face. "Well, I wasn't offering them to you, and given the spectacle I made from your symbol, I believe I've done you a favor." Tucking her arms underneath her arms, Bliss moved her head back to study the light of her creation. "If I were to drop the guns slung over my shoulder, they might discharge and fire by accident. I can't just leave them in the street where any ne'er-do-well can just pick the things up and take turns 'gang banging' each other, but I'll spot you one more favor if you can successfully answer one thing for me." Bliss looked back at the gun pointed at her. One gun bearing its teeth to thwart five shouldered. "When exactly was the last time you felt safe in this city even before the assault?"

Even a guy holding up a statue with his mind looked to be at odds with these surroundings. People in a good state of mind normally don't point guns at people's heads when they step in to assist them, but given her track record, Bliss may need to take a step back to examine another person to see a life founded in peace. "So besides pulling guns on people you just met..." Bliss slowly lowered her left shoulder to let the rifles drop to her elbow. "And building statues only you can look upon..." With a graceful clang against the rough ground, Bliss brought her shoulder back up. A rotation felt a little easier with the freedom of the burden against her back. "Do you have a particular reason for being this far in town so late?" With her previous success, Bliss saw no reason to mess with success. Her wrist flicked to put the rifles safely enough on the ground and she looked over to her back. After her arms felt so good without the weight, Bliss would need to stretch her arm one more time for the god of friendship.

Doubling the effort with a two armed lift got the rifle off of her back and slowly lowered to the ground quickly. "I might have ice in my veins, but my cartilage is less than what it used to be." A full rotation of her neck brought some relief. "Picking those things is going to suck, so you better make what you're going to say interesting." The air always smelled a little cleaner around ice. Even in this dirty city, she breathed a little easier.

The figure nodded and let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, as if to signify approval. "I feel perfectly safe right now. Perfectly. I just think it's rude to walk around with guns like you're an African child soldier. Especially before Labor Day" he said, his own weapon dissolving into the same black mass that made up his suit and running down the length of his arm. "Anyway, I'm here because it's my home. Well, not really- I live a few stops uptown on the 1, though my apartment's probably rubble by now. I got out when the going was good. But I still consider this place home- the city so nice..." he said, sliding his toes underneath a rock and kicking it up in front of him, catching it in his hand. "They named it twice!"

"Come on, have a seat" he said, lifting a broken rectangular pillar from another pile of rubble and laying it lengthwise along the broken skating rink, passing Bliss to sit on it and face the statue. "How well do you know your classics? You've gotta know the general story- this guy over here was a titan, who sided with the rebellious gods against his kin because he knew it was right. He made mankind from clay and, knowing what was right, he stole fire from the same gods he helped put in power, to give warmth, light, and most importantly, power, to humans themselves. And look where it got us" he said, motioning to the ruins around him. "Good news is: look at all this real estate! I don't know if you've been in Manhattan long, but space doesn't stay unused here any more. I'm thinkin' bam-" he said, forming a square with his index fingers and thumbs and pointing them towards a collapsed building. "Luxury condos!"

"Anyway, you've been grilling me about what I'm doing here even though it's painfully obvious, what takes you out here? Forgot something? Or is this your new brand of adventure tourism... hey, mind if I put my feet up?" he said, swiveling around on the pillar and laying down, hogging some space.

Taking a load off on a floating bench failed to draw Bliss in for the invitation. While the people loitering the streets of New York after sunset before the fall of the city left something to be desired, the new clientele floating around never came with an instruction manual. "I'm in town for a weapons expo." The littered weapons scattered along the ground rested in quiet agreement with the half truth. "Not a normal kind mind you, more of an impromptu kind where you hear raised voices, interject, and confiscate weapons like a mother taking toys from rowdy children."

Whatever features his suit held kept him sure of himself, but it really didn't matter. The rising aroma pushed everything else from her mind. All the blasted landscapes and scorched buildings faded from her senses. The same sensation she used to cover a borough in ice and bring a freshly brewed cup of tea to a more manageable temperature stayed with her. "Brand of tourism?" Whatever winds still traversed the reaches of mid Manhattan laid a few derelict leaves for Bliss to crunch under her weight as she leaned down to press her hand to the rough edges of the downtrodden concrete. "I guess it could be like hood safari..." Again the tingling sensation shot down her arm, the glowing exoskeleton on her back focusing the pathways for a more enjoyable experience. "But even with the city in shambles, drudging the Hudson would still turn up more surprises than finding a box full of technology from the Olympus."

History rooted in myth and tales from a sophomore college class made amends to relaying a message to the masses, but they hardly scratched the surface of the deplorable situation bestowed upon this once great city. "It's a very free city." Putting his feet up on a bench would hardly constitute a faux paux, especially to someone levitating his own means of relaxation. "The bravado of these criminals proves it." Shots out in the dark. A scattered variety of the assortment echoing. "Given something of subtlety and these criminals would do some good. Can't argue with boldness."

Some stray, flickering lights seeped into the cracks of her handiwork, but maybe the spectacle was only for her. "Freedom and beauty belong to those bold enough. This city is living proof of how control works." A little rip in her suit reminded her of the impending danger of the city. Her knees begged her to find another means of getting those guns back, and she decided to oblige.

A tight block of ice held the five guns together. Good enough for now; she could easily drag the damn things home now, but it would still be several blocks down the road. "What makes you interesting?" Bliss kept her tone detached. She knew the guy could handle himself, could feel bold in a dark city. But, so could a guy with a gun in a dark alley. Why did this guy deserve the stature he thrust upon himself in this city? The people you meet make up a little part of you.

Maybe Bliss wanted to figure something out about herself. Maybe she wanted to know what made her different from the people she coined scum earlier in the night. Maybe she knew all along.