PEACE JOURNAL ENTRY #1
Border City, Florida is two worlds. One world is the high-rise condominiums and mansions which stretch for miles up and down the Atlantic coastline. This is the world of the rich and the well to do. The people who seem to have everything and still feel like they have nothing.
(Listen to the Opening Prologue by Clicking on the Video Below)
Every year the tourists come in droves to share in this world, to play on our beaches, to eat in our restaurants, and to pretend to be the people they always wanted to be.
But, there is another world here too. No amount of money, tan colored sand or fine dining can wash this world away. It is a world found in the shadows of poverty, homelessness, hopelessness and unemployment. I will bring these two worlds together.
I am the Blue Dove!
The streetlights flickered on and off providing little illumination against the dark sky. The street was deserted. The car slowly came down the road, splashing through puddles left over from a rainstorm that had happened a few days ago. Rainstorms off the Florida coast were common for Border City. The car came to a halt underneath one of the streetlights. Its headlights crackled off. The engine died. The young man nervously exited the vehicle and slammed the door shut. He was dressed in a leather jacket, a Hawaiian t-shirt, and tight khaki shorts. The young man gazed up at the rundown buildings which lined the street.
“Can’t believe he has me come down to this part of town,” he whispered. “Nobody wants this turf.”
The young man checked his wristwatch. 12:32am. He adjusted the collar of his leather jacket even though the night air was humid. He looked both ways down the street. Nothing.
A slight breeze blew a rusted old metal gate back and forth. The young man pulled a cell phone from his pocket. Scrolling through his contact list, he stopped on “Aaron Black”. He went to push the Enter button.
“Aaron Black won’t be able to answer that call,” the deep voice said.
“Who said that?” The teenager frantically asked twirling around in circles. “Where are you?”
“I’m up here.”
The young man, sweat forming on his fore-head, stared up. Perched on top of the streetlight, a dark figure sat. The figure slowly rose and spread out what appeared to be giant, feathered wings.
“No, no, no,” the teenager said. “You’re not real!”
The young man started to run back towards the car. The figure glided off the streetlight in an easy motion. The figure landed on the hood of the car. His dark boots dented the metal with a crash. The young man frantically fumbled for his keys. With one swift kick, the figure knocked the keys away.
“You have some information for me,” the figure said. His face was partially covered by a blue helmet revealing only his mouth. What appeared to be a yellow bird beak protruded out from the mask.
“I don’t know nothing,” the teenager plead-ed. “I don’t know anything!”
The young man darted down the street, stumbling through puddles as he went. He ran about fifty yards before stopping. His chest ached. He was breathing heavily. The young man looked back toward his car. There was nothing.
“You’re out of shape,” the voice said. “The pills will do that to you.”
The young man turned. The dark figure grabbed him by the chest and hoisted the teenag-er into the air.
“Let’s not try the running away again,” the figure said. With one leap, the figure carried them both back to the car. He slammed the young man against the hood.
“Let’s talk,” the figure smiled.
“Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me,” the teen pleaded. “What are you? What are you?”
“I’m the Blue Dove,” the figure said. “And I have something for you.”
“W….w…what?,” the young man gasped. “What could you have for me?”
“Peace,” the Blue Dove answered. “Peace, once you tell me what I want to know.”
“I don’t know anything. They don’t tell me. I’m just a low level…”
“I know what you are,” the Blue Dove said. “You’re just a small-time thug peddling your filth to misguided teenagers all over Border City.”
“Don’t hurt me,” the teen pleaded as tears rolled down his face.
“This beak can crack solid concrete,” the Blue Dove remarked. “Imagine what it could do to your head. You were recruited to help unload a shipment of high-tech laser weapons. Where? Is it coming in through land, sea, or air?”
“Water,” the young man sobbed. “They’re bringing it in by boat.”
“Where!”
“It’s an old warehouse by Dock 66.”
“Who hired you!”
“I don’t know, I’m telling you I don’t know! It was all done online through dummy profiles and accounts. We were just told to put the crates in the warehouse. That’s it. Take it off the boat and put it in the warehouse.”
“See that,” the Blue Dove remarked, loosening his grip. “You’re probably starting to feel better already knowing you’ve gotten all that evil off your chest.”
The Blue Dove tossed the young man against the streetlight. He raised his gloved fist. A rope shot out and pinned the teen to the pole. The Blue Dove removed the cell phone from the teen’s pocket and crushed it in his hand.
“The rope will gradually loosen in about sixty minutes,” the Blue Dove said. “You’re getting a second chance. Take it. When you get home, change your life. Because if you sell one more pill, to one more person, I’m coming back to get you.”
The Blue Dove stepped back and spread his giant wings. Rockets in his boots propelled him skyward. In a matter of seconds, the Blue Dove was gone.
“I think I wet myself,” the teenager whis-pered. “I hope that dries up before somebody finds me.”
The Border City Docks were unusually quiet at night. They were once a major hub for shipping and international trade. Five miles of concrete docks and warehouses that bustled with jobs and activity. Times had changed. The docks were cracked and worn now. The metal warehouses were faded and rusted. Many of the windows were cracked or mostly shattered glass. The only activity or sound on this night was the bobbing and ringing of several buoys a little more than fifty yards out from the shoreline. A tug boat silently glided up to the moorings of Dock 66. One of the crew members tossed a rope onto the dock. He climbed out and secured the rope. Four other crew members departed the vessel. Two were dressed in dark robes. A group of teen-agers, dressed in dark leather, emerged from the nearby warehouse and approached the ship.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” one of the teens re-marked.
“Be quiet. Get the cargo unloaded so we can get out of here,” the rugged, old captain re-plied. “I don’t like dealing with any of you people.”
“Who are those guys?” the lead teen re-marked, gesturing over to the two hooded figures that were entering the warehouse.
“You don’t need to know. You don’t want to know,” the captain replied. “Do your job and get paid.”
“You heard the man, boys,” the teen re-marked. “Let’s get these boxes unloaded.”
The teens climbed aboard the ship and started unloading the wooden crates. The Blue Dove landed on the roof of the warehouse. He carefully made his way toward a dirty skylight. He wiped the glass clean. From his vantage point, he could clearly see the activity inside the warehouse as well as the teen-agers unloading the tug boat
“Destructors,” he whispered.
“What was that?” a male voice crackled over an intercom in the Blue Dove’s cowl.
“It’s the Destructors,” the Blue Dove re-peated. “They started off as a heavy metal band in south Florida about ten years ago. When the genre died, they evolved into a street gang. Border City has a small chapter. Small time hoods at best.”
“What are they doing?”
“It looks like they just finished unloading some crates into this warehouse. It doesn’t look like too many of the bad guys down there,” the Blue Dove answered. “I count maybe twelve or thirteen.”
“Twelve or thirteen?” the older male voice remarked. “That doesn’t sound like too many to you?”
“What can I say,” the Blue Dove replied, ris-ing to his feet. “It’s the new math. I’m going in.”
A short figure dressed in a nun’s habits darted out of the shadows on the warehouse floor. Making her way towards one of the wooden crates, the figure carefully pried it open with a metal bar. The figure removed a small, square object and tucked it underneath her clothing.
“Wait a second,” the Blue Dove whispered, crouching back down. “What is that?”
“What’s going on?” the voice said over the cowl radio. “What do you see?”
“I don’t know,” the Blue Dove replied. “It looks like there is someone already down there. They took something out of one of the crates. It looked like a book or something. I don’t think they are with the others.”
“It wasn’t one of the weapons?”
“Definitely not one of the weapons,” the Blue Dove remarked.
The figure quietly headed in the direction of a rear exit door. She carefully moved between the crates and storage containers. Suddenly, the two, dark, hooded figures, who had exited the tug boat earlier, started walking in the direction of the nun. She looked frantically for a place to hide. The hooded figures rounded the corner. They were less than ten feet away from her.
“Uh-oh,” the Blue Dove said. “It looks like it is time.”
“Time? What time is that?” the voice on the radio said.
“Show time.”
The Blue Dove rose to his feet and spread his wings. With a simple leap, the winged hero smashed through the skylight, sending a rain of glass to the warehouse floor. His wingspan was so large, it blocked any moonlight, making him a dark silhouette as he descended.
“What in the world!?!?” one of the gang members gasped in horror as he shielded his face from the falling glass. He fumbled for his weapon. “What is that thing?”
The Blue Dove landed on the concrete floor and immediately drew his wings around his body. He knelt down on one knee.
“Don’t just stand there looking at it!” the gang leader shouted. “Get that thing!”
The Blue Dove reached into a pouch on his belt and removed four, little, metal balls. He rolled them across the floor. Within seconds, the balls exploded with a flash and smoke began to fill the warehouse.
The Blue Dove somersaulted through the air and landed beside two gang members who were gasping for air. Grabbing them both by the back of their jackets, the Blue Dove easily slammed them together. They fell to the floor.
“I can’t see anything! Where is he?” one of the gang members cried out, frantically waving his pistol. The Blue Dove emerged from the smoke and delivered two, quick punches. The gang member sank to the ground. Shots sounded. The Blue Dove faded back into the grey smoke.
“I see him! He’s over here!”
The Blue Dove rocketed through the air, grabbing one of the teens by his jacket. The gang member screamed as the winged hero slapped away his gun and head butted him with his beak. As they soared fifteen feet above the ground, the Blue Dove tossed the gang member into a large stack of empty, wooden crates. He crashed to the ground and the crates toppled around him. The avalanche of debris knocked out three other gang
members. The other teens were starting to run to the door to escape.
“No amount of money is worth all this,” one of them remarked as he stumbled out door.
The Blue Dove landed and surveyed the carnage.
“I have you now, you crazy winged freak,” the gang leader said, taking careful aim with his pistol.
The Blue Dove turned and raised his gloves. A blue beam of energy shot out from both hands. One beam struck the gang leader’s pistol, knocking it out of his hand. The second blast hit the teen in the chest sending him crashing into one of the storage containers.
“Don’t you know guns are dangerous in the hands of children?” the Blue Dove sternly remarked.
The gang member pulled a small knife from his pocket.
“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” the Blue Dove said. With one swift motion, the Blue Dove reached behind his cape and threw three, metallic martial art throwing stars shaped like a bird. Two stars struck the gang leader in the hand. Electricity shot out, shocking him. He immediately dropped the knife. The third star hit his shoulder. He fell to his knees in pain.
“They’re called Peace Stars,” the Blue Dove remarked to the teen as the winged super hero approached him. The gang member clutched his arm in pain. The Blue Dove pulled them out of the teenager’s arm and shoulder. “I know it sounds a little cheesy. I’m still working on the name for those things.”
The Blue Dove walked over to one of the wooden crates and tore the top off with one, easy stroke. Inside the box, there were piles of rifles neatly stacked.
“It’s just what we thought, AR-35’s. Boxes and boxes of them,” the Blue Dove said into his com link. He fumbled with one of the trigger mechanisms. It snapped off. “Wait a second, that shouldn’t happen.”
“Police are on their way. It’s time for you to make your exit.”
“Don’t tell me. You made another anonymous call about a winged, super hero sighting?” the Blue Dove smiled.
“Exactly.”
“There’s just one more thing I need to check out.”
The Blue Dove walked over to the crate that the shadowy nun figure had opened. It was in the corner of the warehouse. He knelt down and read the inscription on the side.
“Sisters of Veronica Missionary Services, Tel Aviv, Israel,” the Blue Dove whispered to himself. “That is strange.”
He stood up and peered inside the crate. Inside, there were stacks of Bibles. One was missing.
“Rifles and Bibles. That is an interesting mix. But why would someone risk getting shot for a Bible?” he pondered aloud. “And who were the two guys in the black cloaks. What happened to them?”
Suddenly, the wail of police sirens was heard. Blue and red lights danced across the room. The Blue Dove raced over to the center of the warehouse, grabbing one of the AR-35 rifles, as police officers flooded in. He spread his massive wings and rose into the air powered by his rocket boots.
“Freeze!” one of the police officers commanded.
The Blue Dove gave a quick salute with his free hand and rocketed through the broken sky-light. In a matter of seconds, he had disappeared into the night sky. The police officer scratched his head in amazement and turned to help his colleagues arrest the defeated gang members who were scattered about the warehouse floor.
THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES.....