Nirvana's Noteworthy: Rodion Volkov

'We all have split personalities; we all wear masks at some point in our careers'

~Rey Mysterio~

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The chill of the winter air streams past my legs as they slide across the rooftops. My senses are sharp as I leap from building to building, imaginary cape fluttering in the bitter breeze. I love the simplicity of it. It reminds me of the old days, back in our Russian home. Jumping over the furniture, smacking my face on the floor, feeling nothing, continuing to run. I never caused my parents much concern back then. If they were watching right now I’d likely be scolded beyond belief. They don’t seem to like me running around by myself. I’m more likely to get hurt or hurt myself.

But kid Rody wants to run and play.

Yay, this fun!

Slide, skip, never stop.

You can’t catch me, you can’t-

My foot is slipping, papa help!

I’m hurling down the side of a skyscraper at an insane rate. What the hell is happening?

What am I supposed to do!?

I’m flailing my limbs, trying to grab anything. All I can feel are smooth, frosted windows with ledges too thin grasp. Someone, please help!

Did someone call for help?

Well then, worry not, for The Guardian is here to protect you!

Simply grab that little grapple gizmo on your leg and shoot it at the lamppost down there!

Huh? Oh, thank you smart side.

I’m over halfway down the building but with enough time to spare I grab the grappling gun and lock it onto the lamppost. A strong metal wire whips out and wraps around the pole, pulling me swiftly towards it. I suppose I’d best try and make a show of it. The second my fingers slip around the post I use the force of my weight to spin around it, curled into myself and tipping down the brim of my hat to cover my eyes. I drop the floor, flicking off the hat in a flourishing bow. The few pedestrians that were witness to my antics erupt in a small applause. I raise to meet the eyes of my adoring public through the mask upon my face. The usual, families, senior citizens, a few cute girls and guys. Oh and lucky one of the cute girls strolls up to me, her hands clutching a green phone, the shade of which is almost identical to my hero ensemble. The closer I look, much of her attire is quite similar to mine, mostly in colour. She smiles shyly, brushing back her long blonde locks before speaking.

“Hey, so, um, that was like really cool…”

She shuffles her feet, clutching harder at the phone. It seems like she has more to say but is struggling to find the right words. I know how she feels. I give her a goofy grin, though when I realise that’s not what The Guardian would do I quickly stop myself. Saved it. One of the cute boys from the crowd shuffles over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on Phoebe you can do it. You might not get another chance” He reassures her. She looks up at him, breathes a sigh and nods. She shakily holds out the phone in front of her.

“I’m…a really big fan of yours, I watch the videos of you, like, all the time. I was hoping…could I get a picture together?” She manages to sputter out, her voice increasingly quiet with each pause.

A big fan you say?

This is my territory!

Let the charm speak for itself!

Damn it, you always steal the cute ones from me.

To be fair my alter ego, they’re looking for me, not you. The rather gorgeous young woman in my presence appears to be awaiting an answer. I flash her the trademark guardian grin. I can practically feel her swooning.

“Of course, madam. Anything for my fans” I reply, placing my signature hat upon her dainty head. She gently strokes the brim, almost squealing in delight. Immediately after she begins flicking through the apps on her phone, opening a large holographic camera screen. She sidles up beside me. I wrap a strong arm around her shoulders, making a little peace sign whilst she takes photos at all the right angles. As the last photo clicks, my ears twig a different sound close by. Some sort of snap. Did something break?

Someone starts yelling for help. The other pedestrians surrounding me also appear to notice, the young woman beside me looking increasingly concerned. She looks to me with wide eyes, eagerly awaiting my response to the situation. I change my previous to a warmer smile for her comfort. Delicately swiping my hat back, I simply place it back on my head, tip it to her and rush for the crime scene.

I skate over the icy pavements, the way I know Rodion likes to. Following the cries for help, I find myself at the Mikail Square Stage. I waste no time surveying the scene. Several construction workers and drones are bustling about in a flurry of panic. Some people appear trapped under broken structures, whilst others desperately hold back pieces which are not yet broken, though will inevitably crumble under their own weight. The drones buzz around in confusion, their AI seemingly not equipped to deal with this unexpected situation. Best guess is they were making additions to the stage and someone messed up the safety check.

No matter. I breathe deeply and summon forth a deep, loud voice, trying to mask my accent.

“Worry not, for The Guardian has come to save you!”

A hero does not hesitate. I move immediately, firstly towards the trapped workers. The metal structure trapping the two, three, four of them must have been some sort of decorative piece as it’s shaped awkwardly. The strange curves of it have them all crushed in different places.

As luck would have it though, those places are all it traps for each one. Too easy. With a little flair, I slip eight throwing knives into my hands from the straps on my legs, two in my hand between the fingers. Clicking a small button on each knife handle causes the edges glow with super-heated energy.

Now, carefully, aim…

“Don’t move” I warn the workers.

In rapid succession I fling each knife at a differently shaped part of the metal. The blades barely skim the skim of the people though slice cleanly through the metal. Pieces break off, allowing enough space for those who were trapped to move. I leave them to it. Without a second of hesitation I switch my attention to the people trying and failing to hold up the other structure falling towards the stage. Rapidly I gather up the knives I had used up. Spreading them out like a fan in my hand, I run my finger over the edges to check if they’re still hot. The sting as it heats the blood in my fingertip is more reassuring than painful. I split them evenly between my hands.

“Move! Now!” I warn the other workers in an opposite manner to a moment ago.

Timed perfectly with their unified retreat, I bound forward before flinging the knives once again at the second structure. The knives slice it into smaller pieces, mitigating the damage the stage. They crash and clang onto the colour changing tiles, scattering like a shattered disco ball. However, I’d ruled myself out of the equation, completely letting down my guard as one sharper piece of the debris hurls itself at my legs, tearing straight downwards through the fabric, right through the skin underneath. A normal person would find the resulting pain of such a thing excruciating. A hero however cannot afford to break character.

Thank god for having a ridiculously high pain tolerance.

“Hey Guardian, are you alright? That looks pretty bad!” Someone calls after me.

One of the workers I saved is looking at my injury with understandable concern. I’m not one the worry my fans though. I shake my head and flash the guardian grin.

“Do not worry, for I am fine”

The worker looks partially relieved at my chirpiness.

“Well, if you’re sure. Still, I’ve gotta call President Volkov about this. They’ll be able to bring help” The worker mumbles in urgency, pulling out a phone, beginning to dial.

Damn it, the higher ups cannot yet know my secret identity!

Hey, don’t just leave me here to deal with the mess!

The clean-up is the job of the alter ego!

Yeah, I get it.

Whilst the scared looking people are distracted, I leap down the stage to the icy floors below and begin to slide away. Luckily, I’m not too far from the park. A little skirting around the couples out for a stroll and I’m able to access my super-secret hero lair with ease. For the purposes of the public it looks like a little grassy den accessed by a small crawlspace. It’s little more than a claustrophobic overgrown hidey hole. Still, it’s the best place in the city to hide after The Guardian gets up to his capers. Plus, little Rody seems to like it. I guess I don’t mind it either.

I take a few minutes to breathe in the fresh scent of the plants surrounding me. Mind cleared, I look down to inspect the wound I appear to have acquired. The gash appears to go pretty deep, streaking all the way down from the knee to base of the foot. It’s bad, but nothing I can’t deal with. Using one hand to tear off the fraying fabric of my trouser leg, I shuffle the other around my first aid pocket, retrieving a spray, needle and skin-coloured thread. I begin the usual routine. First, wiping off the excess blood, then spraying the open wound. My flesh shrieks as the nerves are set ablaze in a wash of pain. It’s a sensation many people can usually bear, knowing that it’s necessary for healing. It’s the next step I don’t think those people would be able to endure quite so well. Allowing the spray a minute or so to settle, I proceed to pick up the needle and thread, moving on to sewing up the wound.

Though I don’t feel the pricking of it so much, the visual of the needle slipping in and out of the skin is almost vomit inducing. I’m forced to hold back the nausea to complete the task. The first couple of times I had to do this, I sadly ruined some of the plant life when the shock belted it out of my stomach. There’s still a small patch of dead grass to commemorate that first mission. I try to focus on it whilst I finish the job. Remind myself over and over, if I’ve gotten through it once, I can get through it a thousand times more.

The last gap of the wound closes up. Pulling the thread tight, I snap of the excess using a thorny branch close to my ankle. A wooziness suddenly hits now that the adrenaline is no longer needed.

Uh oh, is it sleepy time already?

Okay.

Night night mama. I’ll come home later.