This the first part of a silly story idea that was suggested to me about a superhero who is fused with a fighter jet. I wrote this a while ago (a LONG while ago) and didn’t really do much with it, but I’m thinking of revisiting it in order to force myself to write something long. So hey, here you go, I guess.
At 12:44AM, a gurney burst through the doors of the Carbon City General Hospital emergency room, surrounded by a mobile huddle of doctors, nurses, and residents. A charred, vaguely humanoid shape covered in jagged metal protrusions writhed on top of the table. It let out sharp cry.
“What the hell are you people doing?!” yelled one of the doctors. “Don’t just stand there, this man need some morphine!”
“What happened to him, doctor?” One of the residents asked.
“His name is Craig Overwing, a test pilot for the United States Air Force. One day, on a routine flight, some unforeseen technical error caused the experimental fighter jet that he was piloting to crash. Luckily, the special high tech flight suit he was wearing saved his life, although the high heat of the jet fuel, while not hot enough to melt steel, fused his body with the aircraft. Now he is horribly disfigured and requires a series of radical medical procedures in order survive,” the doctor boomed with the dulcet tones of a radio host.
“Well, okay then,” the nurse said, caught off guard by the doctor’s sudden change in tone.
They wheeled the gurney further down the hall and into the operating room.
Craig awoke in a stupor, his limbs heavy and his head throbbing. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a flood of light from the florescent bulbs that lined the ceiling above him. He tried to crane his neck around to get a better look at his surroundings, but he couldn’t move his head.
“Where… where am I?” Craig asked, hoping that there was someone nearby to answer him.
“Your name is Craig Overwing, and you are in a recovery room at Carbon City General Hospital,” a voice boomed from the corner of the room.
“I mean, I know who I am, thanks. Why am I in this-”
“My name is Doctor Malcolm Kovacs, head surgeon at Carbon City General Hospital,” Kovacs interjected. “You were a test pilot for the United States Air Force, but one day, on a routine flight, some unforeseen technical error caused the experimental fighter jet you were piloting to crash. Luckily, the special high tech flight suit you were wearing saved your life, although the high heat and impact of the crashed caused your body to fuse with the aircraft.”
“Wait, are you saying that-”
“You were horribly disfigured and on the brink of death,” Kovacs interrupted once more. “Luckily, due to our high tech equipment and crack team of surgeons, we were able to save you. But there is one complication: we couldn’t detach you from the aircraft.”
“Hold up, guy. Slow dow-”
“We decided to graft an exoskeleton made out of an incredibly durable and lightweight titanium alloy on to you for increased durability, a system of advanced neural processors and fiber optics to replace the damaged nerves, and twin 100,000 horsepower jet engines because… well, frankly they are pretty cool. Now you are changed. You are half person, half machine, with the mind of a man and a heart of steel… you are… Overwing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Craig asked impatiently. He was about to move his hands, possibly raising both of his arms above his head and flopping them to his side or some other equally flippant gesture, but for some reasons there were plane wings where his arms should be. Craig found this to be a bit strange. “Huh, would you look at that?”
“You… you don’t seem too shocked by this,” Kovacs said, his voice returning to its normal inflection.
“This will require a couple of adjustments to my daily routine, but how can I complain about being a robot man with jet wings?” Craig said with an awkward shrug of his winged shoulders.
“Well, since we have averted the assumed ‘psychological trauma’ phase of the recovery process, let’s move on to phase two,” Kovacs said as he made his way to the bedside.
“Phase two?” Craig asked with a strained look on his face as he tried to see the doctor out of the corner of his eye.
“Physical therapy. You seem to have limited use of your… erm… arms, but your head and lower extremities seem to be inoperable,” Kovacs put his head hands on the side of Craig’s head and tried to turn it. “Our tests revealed that, although the neural pathways are complete, it might take you a little while to get used to parts of your new body. Okay, now focus on turning your head to the right.”
Craig closed his eyes and focused on his head, willing it to turn. He felt the coolness of the pillow on the side of his face and opened his eyes to a grinning Kovacs. He pivoted his head in a circular motion.
“Very good, Craig. You seem to have regained complete motor control of your head and upper extremities. Now, for your legs.”
Craig looked down at his legs and the sick jet engines that he now had for feet.
“Now, take this slowly, Craig. We don’t want you to-”
The engines in Craig’s feet whirred to life and he was crashing through half a dozen vacant hospital rooms. Plaster rained down and stung his eyes before a visor clicked down over his face. Craig burst through the outer brick wall of the hospital and into Carbon City.
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