Road King

There was something pleasant about the night air. Cyrus smiled as he felt the sting of cold against his face, his motorcycle rumbling beneath him as he hauled ass down the highway. A peculiar redundancy came to mind: why would a man who could fly choose to ride a motorcycle? Well, because it's cool. Also because Surface-to-Air missiles don't target objects on the road.

Cyrus pulled over at a small gas station, though busy enough for this stretch of Route 95. He reached over and retrieved the gas pump and placed it in his gas can. After two failed attempts at using his prepaid Visa, the pump interface displayed the universally despised message of "Please see cashier."

"Fuck..." Cyrus muttered to himself. He threw down the kickstand and made his way into the store.

May as well grab a couple of things while I'm here... he thought to himself. After assembling a few road snacks, he made his way to the cashier.

"Next customer please." Said the overweight attendant, his voice dripping with existential loathing.

Cyrus placed his items on the counter, "Can I get a carton of Camel Turkish Royals, and $20 on pump number... uh... 4?" He asked after looking outside. Why doesn't anyone just remember the pump number beforehand?

"That'll be $106.31" The attendant replied. Cyrus attempted to use his prepaid debit again and it didn't work. After two more attempts, he pulled a $100 bill and a $20 bill from his pocket and handed it over instead. The cashier blankly stared at the money before saying, "I'm sorry sir. We don't accept bills over $20 after 9pm."

Cyrus let out a sigh, his agitation was becoming less manageable by the moment. "Are you fucking serious my guy? Listen... buddy, what's your name?"

"My name is Jason sir."

"Jason. Listen Jason..." Cyrus leaned over the counter and spoke to the cashier with a lowered voice, "I've been on the road for a while. I'm tired, I'm hungry. I don't want to stand here and yell at you over a retarded, and arguably illegal, store policy that you don't have any control over. So I'm just gonna take this shit, and leave the money on the counter. If you think you can stop me without getting seriously injured, go for it."

There was an awkward moment of silence before the cashier eventually hit a button and opened the register. "Your change is $13.69" Jason said while forking over the cash.

"Just put it on her bill... as a thank you." Cyrus chimed while nodding toward the woman in line behind him. He left the store and began pumping his gas. After securing his other items in his saddle bags, he opened a pack of cigarettes and lit one. It didn't take long for him to power drag it down, then he was back on the road. He was looking for... a society? Neighborhood, even? Cyrus had been told this area had a metahuman underground. A network of gifted people like himself who worked together and took care of each other. It was... the perfect target. Now to find it.