The streets of Thundarr City pulsed with life under a canopy of neon lights. Faro Faros, dressed in his usual leather jacket and dark jeans, leaned against a lamppost on SouthBank Avenue, waiting. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, always alert, always calculating. He was here for Flint, his estranged younger brother, who had finally agreed to meet after years of silence.
Flint arrived late, as expected. His fiery red hair was unkempt, tattoos snaked up his arms, and his piercing blue eyes hid behind dark sunglasses. His t-shirt bore a skull with crossed swords, a design that screamed rebellion. He approached Faro with a casual swagger that barely masked his wariness.
“Faro,” Flint said, his voice low and clipped. “Long time.”
Faro nodded, his face unreadable. “Too long.”
The tension between them was palpable. Flint had always been the wildcard, the one who refused to follow any path but his own. While Faro had joined the DEC and later embraced his destiny as Falcon, Flint had chosen the underbelly of Thundarr City, mingling with street gangs and shadowy figures. Their lives had diverged so sharply that it was a miracle they were meeting at all.
They walked side by side down the avenue, neither willing to broach the reasons for their estrangement just yet. Faro finally broke the silence.
“Why now, Flint? Why agree to meet after all this time?”
Flint smirked but didn’t look at him. “Maybe I got tired of being the black sheep. Maybe I wanted to see if my big brother’s still the golden boy.”
Faro sighed. “You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to fight me or the world. We can figure something out.”
Flint stopped abruptly, turning to face Faro. “You don’t get it, do you? You were always the hero, Faro. Mom and Dad—they believed in you. Aunt Rita believed in you. Hell, the whole city probably does now. Me? I’m just the screw-up.”
Faro’s expression softened. “That’s not true, Flint. You’ve always been more than that. You just… chose a different path.”
Flint laughed bitterly. “Yeah, a path that led nowhere. But hey, at least it’s mine.”
They walked in silence again until they reached a small diner on a quieter street. Inside, they took a booth in the corner. The flickering light above them mirrored the instability of their relationship. As they ordered coffee, Faro decided to shift the conversation.
“Do you ever hear from Aunt Rita?” he asked.
Flint’s jaw tightened. “Rarely. She’s got her own life, doesn’t she? Running around as Shecon, saving the day. Same as you.”
“She’s family, Flint,” Faro said, his tone firm but not unkind. “She’d want to hear from you.”
Flint shrugged. “What’s there to say? I’m not exactly a success story. Besides, she’s more your family than mine. You were always her favorite.”
Faro leaned forward, his voice low. “That’s not true. She cares about both of us. She might not show it the way you want, but she does.”
Flint’s eyes darted to the window. “Maybe. But it’s too late for all that.”
Before Faro could respond, the sound of screeching tires filled the air. A black van skidded to a halt outside the diner. Men in clown costumes and armed with guns poured out, their eyes scanning the street. Faro recognized the danger immediately.
“Get down,” he hissed, pulling Flint to the floor just as bullets shattered the diner’s windows.
Chaos erupted as patrons screamed and ducked for cover. Faro’s mind raced. He hadn’t brought his full Falcon gear, but the Power Ring of Falcon glowed faintly on his finger. Flint, however, seemed oddly calm.
“Friends of yours?” Faro asked, half-joking.
Flint smirked. “Not exactly. But I know who they’re after.”
Faro shot him a sharp look. “Care to explain?”
“Later,” Flint said, grabbing a fallen chair leg and brandishing it like a club. “First, we survive this.”
Faro closed his eyes briefly, activating the Falcon ring. A surge of power coursed through him, sharpening his reflexes and enhancing his strength. His leather jacket shifted slightly, a faint shimmer of protective energy enveloping him. He moved with precision, darting between tables and disarming one attacker with a single swift motion. Flint followed his lead, using his street-hardened instincts to outmaneuver the gunmen.
The two brothers moved in sync, their different worlds converging in the chaos. Faro used the Falcon ring to create a burst of light, momentarily blinding the attackers. Flint took advantage, landing a brutal strike on one and forcing another to retreat.
As the remaining clowns scrambled back into their van, Faro pointed his ring at the vehicle. A beam of energy shot out, disabling the engine. The attackers abandoned the van and fled on foot, disappearing into the shadows of the city.
Breathing heavily, Flint leaned against a table, his makeshift weapon still in hand. “What the hell was that?”
Faro deactivated the ring, the glow fading. “Something that comes with being Falcon. Now, you want to tell me why they were after you?”
Flint ran a hand through his hair, his confidence slipping for the first time that night. “Let’s just say I’ve made some enemies. And now, so have you.”
Faro sighed. “Then we’ll deal with them. Together.”
Flint looked at him, surprised. “You’re serious?”
“You’re my brother, Flint. I’m not giving up on you.”
For the first time in years, Flint smiled—a real, genuine smile. It was a small step, but it was a start. And in the unpredictable streets of Thundarr City, a start was more than either of them could have hoped for.
Flint checked his watch suddenly and straightened up. “I, uh, just remembered I’ve got… a thing to handle. Thanks for the assist, Faro. We’ll talk soon.”
Before Faro could respond, Flint was already heading for the door, leaving behind nothing but a vague excuse and a lingering sense of unfinished business. Faro watched him go, shaking his head. “Some things never change.”
Later that night, Faro stood at a nearby monorail station, waiting for Aunt Rita. Even before she arrived, he caught a whiff of her sweet, floral scent—a scent that was unmistakably hers.
It was comforting and disarming all at once. When she appeared, her green-tinted wavy hair caught the faint glow of the station lights. She was wearing a sleek white blouse tucked into a short yellow skirt, paired with stylish high heels that clicked softly against the platform. Her outfit, though simple, accentuated her confident and radiant presence.
“Rough night?” she asked, giving him a knowing look.
“You could say that,” Faro replied. “Ran into Flint. We… worked together to take down some clowns. Literally.”
Rita raised an eyebrow. “Clowns?”
“Long story,” Faro said with a faint smile. “But he’s still the same—running, hiding, making excuses. I don’t know if he’ll ever change.”
Rita placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He’s your brother, Faro. Keep reaching out. He may not show it, but he needs you more than you think.”
Faro nodded, her words settling in his heart. As the monorail approached, he couldn’t help but wonder if tonight’s events were a step forward or just another loop in the complicated cycle of his relationship with Flint. Either way, he knew one thing for certain—he wouldn’t stop trying.
