Some think I am an outlaw, a vigilante, or even a common thug. But the truth is, I am a hero and I’m here to protect the people of Chicago and their freedom. I am a friend to the police, and at the same time, an enemy. I am the Lightning Bolt, and this is my story…

First off, I am not in this for the money or the glory; I am simply here to protect the city of Chicago. No one trusts me, I know and understand why, who wants a masked man running around the rooftops of Chicago? I cant complain that much though, I have the ability to go where others cant and see what others cant see, I just wish the cops would stop shooting at me. Second, I am not a publicity stunt, I chose this path myself, and I did this alone.

All my life I have looked up to super heroes, but mainly the super heroes that possess no super powers, such as Batman, Robin, Green Arrow, etc. so when I really started looking in to their history I noticed that they aren’t just characters in a book or movie, they are symbols; symbols of hope and strength. They’ve shown that any ordinary human being can be a hero just like them. You just need to try and, although it sounds a little corny, you need to believe in yourself.
Growing up, I have seen the faults in major things such as the government and the police force, people don’t get to speak their own mind; they are ruled by society and that, as has been proven before, is very dangerous. As a result I felt that it was time to take action. I started working out more, started practicing various forms of martial arts, swordplay, and other self defense arts created and practiced all over the world. By the time I started high school I realized that, whether you like it or not, neither the government nor the police force have any real power over the people because they too, are shaped by society.
I will do the best I can do in all that I do; I have tried to follow this vow for a long time but have never felt like I’ve fulfilled it. I know my actions won’t stop all the crime and wrong doing in this corrupt city, but that hasn’t and won’t stop me. It is hard though; there is always someone there to discourage you, with everything you do they will be criticizing you and your actions. The key to being successful is to not listen and ignore them. If you listen there is no chance it will happen at all. You need to believe until your goal is achieved.
This is a little glimpse of my day: I get ready for school in the morning; take a shower, get dressed, etc. Then when I get back from school I do homework, get my suit on and hit the streets. By the time I get to Chicago it is usually dusk but sometimes I get there before. I watch over the city until night, when I actually hit the streets to kick butt. There are always thugs, crooks, and gangs to stop and turn in to the police. I come home tired and whooped. But then I have to go to school again. But one night it was a different story…
It was a cool summer night, about sixty-two degrees and I hear a siren, usually I wouldn’t pay attention to it, but this wasn’t an ordinary siren, it was a S.W.A.T truck siren. That got my attention, so I follow this truck and as it turns out there were very many more trucks, armored vehicles, and cop cars than I thought. A lot more than I thought needed at first, after all it appeared that it was one single man. I was right about the single man, but soon I realized what all the law enforcements were about; that man morphed, like a legit morph into a creature his body was a blinding white and his hands and eyes were crimson. Then he shot balls of fire at the officers I got down there after monitoring the situation. And tried to catch him with my titanium coil net but he melted through it and got away.
So I went home and did some research on this reckless, fiery man I found that his name was Timothy Jones and he was a professor at Northern Illinois University. He was in his office with a few mutant samples of fire and lava mixed with toxins for a class experiment when the vials were accidentally exposed to an unknown heat source and exploded. When the wreckage had been cleared he was missing, but then he was found days later in his backyard and was put in the Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago. But apparently the website said he was off the meds. And maybe, I thought, off the cliff.
The next morning was a Saturday so I went back into the Windy City that morning and scoped around the hospital for anything suspicious and I found a slightly burned file on the ground. I flipped through the file and inside the name read Timothy D. Jones; it looked like my hunch was right after all.
Later that night I had found him again, shooting cops with fireballs. But this time, when he fled, I followed. When he lost the other cops behind him he stopped in an alley. I jumped down from the building and landed quietly behind him. I leaned on the wall and said “Hey, hot head,” he turned around and said calmly, “My name is not hot head.” “Ok” I said, “ Dr. Timothy then,” “Timothy Jones is dead!” he screamed as he charged at me. I jumped over him and through a group of tranquilizer darts at him. They burned to ashes immediately at the touch of his skin. “My name is Wild-Fire,” he retaliated, “and I will destroy you!”
“Is that so,” I teased, “If you really wanted to destroy me I would have been dead by now. Am I right?” “I will burn you to your knees for that!” he screamed again and again as he threw fire at me. “Great balls of fire!” I exclaimed jokingly. I pulled out my indestructible staves and started my defense routine blocking every fireball he chucked at me. “C’mon, I just wanted to be friends.” “Wild-Fire don’t make none friends” he yelled. “I can see why, you’re very hot tempered and you can’t say anything with proper grammar, that can get really annoying.” At that he was outraged; he threw fireballs, fire rays, anything with a fire asset, he threw.
I climbed the walls that surrounded us in the tight ally to gain a better advantage. As I was climbing I was trying to remember what I was taught about the environmental elements. “Water beats fire, of course!” I mumbled to myself, “And the best place to find water is the lake!” So I led Wild-Fire to Lake Michigan and by the time we got to Solider Field he had caught up to me. He threw a perfect circle of fire around me, which melted thru the metal dome covering the iconic field. The floor beneath my feet fell and took me with it, I fell into the complete darkness that is the unlit field.
After my eyes adjusted I found a cooler full of water on the ground next to the field. I figured it would cut me some slack if I dumped the cooler of water over his head, but strangely it had no effect on him. He grabbed me and threw me out of the stadium. When I landed I had realized that I was not in Chicago anymore, in fact I was on the property of a gasoline storage facility. Then I had an idea that had a small chance of working, but if it didn’t, at least explosions are fun.
In the distance, I saw a shimmering light that looked like a shooting star, but it was too close to be one. That, I knew, was Wild-Fire. He had come after me as I had planned. He landed right in front of me and scorched the grass around him. Again he tried to throw fireballs at me but again I successfully blocked them. I got closer to the gate and jumped over it. He followed me screaming “Coward!” before taking a few swings at me with his blazing fists. Then I heard a faint *ping* and knew what had happened, he missed me and hit a gas line instead, I started running, at the last moment I turned around and saw that his arm was stuck in the gas line and his enflamed hand was exposed to the gasoline. Seconds later I hear a scream and the whole gas storage exploded, with him in it. The explosion sent me flying into the ground, every part of my body stung and ached, and then everything went black.
When I woke up, it was dawn and the firefighters, police, and ambulances had arrived and I was on a stretcher. Thankfully my mask was still on along with the rest of my suit. The police told me that Timothy D. Jones was dead and that I should be thankful that I am alive. “I am every day.” I told him as I ran off.
It must have been noon when I finally returned home. It was a very long walk back, and when I got inside I immediately passed out on the couch. When my alarm went off the next morning I got up and switched on the news, I was there on the stretcher and there was the clip from a security camera of my fight with Wild-Fire. “Another day of saving the city,” I said mournfully “but sadly this time it cost a life.”
Despite what happened that day, some think I am an outlaw, a vigilante, or even a common thug. But the truth is, I am a hero and I’m here to protect the people of Chicago and their freedom. I am a friend to the police, and at the same time, an enemy. I am the Lightning Bolt, and that was my story.