"Not So Super"

“Help! Help, please! Help!” the man cried out.

Onlookers gasped, phones poised to record. The construction workers tried to throw lines out to their man, now dangling forty-seven stories above the pavement.

Cynthia looked high above her head at the broken crane. “Of all the days for me to visit the city,” she thought. She debated what to do. She didn’t want to let this man die, but she knew that once she was outed she couldn’t go back. She had tried so hard to keep her gift secret for so many years.

The crane creaked and popped. The man screamed as his bucket dipped and swayed.

“I feel like I’m in flippin’ Metropolis,” she muttered. She stashed her bags of fancy city purchases in the most out-of-the-way nook she could find. “If this guy is the reason for all my hard earned vacation money to go down the drain, so help me.”

Cynthia glanced around. Maybe if no one saw her, she could get far enough out of view that she could keep her identity hidden. She pushed off hard from the sidewalk, wind whipping through her hair. 

The crowd was shocked. They screamed and pointed and streamed video.

Cynthia approached the man from below. His shock was overshadowed by his relief. He stretched out his hand. 

She grabbed him, but he was heavy. She had never tried to carry much more than her own body weight. He cried out as she left him. 

Cynthia zoomed over to the other workers and grabbed the rope they had dangled. She looped it around the man, just as the crane creaked again. The workers heaved and Cynthia pulled as hard as she could. There was a loud bang and the crane broke free from the building. The crowd below screamed and scattered. The ground shuddered as the debris hit.

It didn’t take long for the workers to haul the man back up to the safety of the rooftop. As the man lay catching his breath, the workers gaped at Cynthia, still hovering mid-air. 

“Thank you!” The man panted, tear stains on his cheeks.

“Nitwit!” Cynthia zoomed away, landing in a back alley. She studied her hand. “Dangit, broke a nail.”

She wound her way back to the scene on foot. Crowds had mostly dispersed, but emergency crews were on the scene. Cynthia checked the nook where she had stashed her shopping bags…it was empty.

###

“So, Cynth’, how was your trip?”

“Frickin’ Metropolis. Some lowlife stole my stuff.” Cynthia grumbled.

“Did you get to see the super hero? There’s videos all over the internet.”

“Some movie promotion stunt, I’m sure,” she replied.

Inspired by a photo writing prompt in my writing group. See the original picture prompt here: https://500px.com/photo/52132974/-don-t-let-me-down-don-t-let-me-down-by-v-k-sfakianopoulos
(Originally Posted September 3, 2016)