I have no idea where that title came from but if you don’t read it in a British accent in your mind, you’re probably doing it wrong.
Title: The Falcon- A Most Noble Bird
Setting: A Wealthy City In Moral Decline
Word Count: 200
I am judge, jury, and executioner because all of those things have gone out of style in this city. I’m standing here, like a perched falcon, on the city’s second-tallest building. It’s the best spot to watch the absolute tallest building come crumbling down.
C4 and a dream brought down that tower. Now tanks and bombs and mighty armies would see me ‘brought to justice.’
I call them the scales, my brass-plated nunchucks. Because as I tilt them, justice finds its balance. One man attacks, low and slow. I tilt the scales and he falls with a guilty weight. Another comes, his knife small and impotent, and the scales do not tilt in his favour.
They’re getting sloppy, all of their money buys them arrogance and confidence but no true weapons or armour.
Now the sound of blades comes from below. I run over the corpses.
Red laser sights from encircling helicopters paint the ghost of a grim mural on the roof all around me. They must think they’re safe up there, out of the reach of my weapons. But justice levels all playing fields.
And yet, sometimes justice needs the help of a conveniently-stashed rocket-propelled-grenade to smite the wicked…
Whenever I see “stashed” I just think of a well-hidden mustache. So seeing a rocket-propelled-grenade wearing a fake mustache just makes this ending all the better.
Good luck, you brave writer folk!