The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution Read Online Free PDF

they’d
sue your ass off and you’d go broke anyway. It was easier just not to try.
    Bastards.
     So the fortune he was going
to make off the wings would just have to wait.
    For now, though...
    He was a bullet in the wind. He zipped
above the distressed urban landscape. Rooftops rolled by beneath. Tar, steel,
concrete. The wind in his face, unfettered and free. The world blurred as the
jets increased their burst. He was riding a rollercoaster as he arched over the
curvature of a domed roof. G-forces pulled at his face, and he lowered his head
so that the helmet took the brunt of the blast. He smiled. He could never get
enough of this.
    Without even thinking, he let out a
whoop that echoed across the concrete canyon below. Pedestrians looked up,
searching for the sound, but by the time their eyes met the sky he had zoomed
over the rooftops—and was gone. The pure exhilaration of flying as fast as the
body could withstand was just about as cool as anything he had ever done, or
could think of doing. It sure beat the hell out of hang gliding, formerly his
favorite hobby.
    It was every little boy's fantasy
come true.
    But tonight was different. Ward
had developed a secret weapon that could help him fight crime without using
violence. He glanced down at the small cuff-turrets around his wrists. The
secret they contained completed his transformation into the hero he desired to
be.
    The time was right...
    But if that was the road he was
going to travel, he knew it meant he'd be exposed to the world. He was not sure
that was a step he was really ready to take. Up to now, he'd barely been
noticed. There'd been very little mention of him in any respectable media,
despite now having taken down several of The Source's targets himself. With The
Source’s help, he was actually making a dent in the local crime scene.
    And he loved every second of it.
    But he had to face it. At some
point, he was going to have to think of a name, or just announce to the world
that he, Paul Ward, once a respectable surgeon, innovative chemist, and Harvard
professor, was the idiot flying around like an overgrown pigeon. Pigeon Man:
shitting on criminals since...
    “Oh shit!” he veered wildly,
narrowly missing a small water tower.
    He had to focus on what he was
doing. These flights were getting to seem nearly routine, but they were still
dangerous as hell. Man was not meant to be hurdled through space at one hundred
plus miles an hour without a titanium shell around him. Or at least some steel.
    Sometimes he imagined himself as a
giant paintball hurtling through space... Okay, better get that image out of
his head. Besides, he'd spent a long time on his flight suit. It was actually
flexible armor. Mostly bulletproof, but certainly not crash proof.
    Sometimes he called it his bug
suit, because that's what it looked like. Not intentionally, but as he put it
together, every time he changed the design to look better or be more
functional, or both—it looked more and more like a bug. He kind of thought he
looked like some kind of moth. Moth Man was already taken, though.
Didn't like it much anyway.  
    Ward arced upward toward the
gold-tinted clouds above. He brought his arms in tight to his sides and rose
like a missile into the sky. He did not like to fly too high in case something
went wrong—and to avoid small aircraft. But on nights that he had trouble
focusing, he found it safer. Less chance of being spotted, too.
    He leveled out, bringing his body
horizontal once more. He thought again of his enemy. An enemy he swore to
himself, in the golden blaze of the setting sun before him, he would take down
or die trying. Beneath him lay his beloved Boston. An adopted home, but one he
had come to call home just the same. Was he ready to show himself to the world?
Ready or not, his adopted home was calling.
    Tonight he hoped to make that home
a little safer. Everything he had done up to now was preparation. And it was
going to be a long