known as Tom DieDRICH. Not DieTRICH. I sometimes think I should pronounce it Died Rich, but that sure don’t describe any member of my family since the White Invasion of 1550, so I’ll stick to the German pronunciation. I think the original Diedrich was a rancher my great-grandfather worked for back in the ’30s. It’s a reservation name. My Apache name is the one you’ve seen on the show, but you probably couldn’t pronounce the Apache way of saying it.
You like the wings? Pretty cool, huh. Actually, as you can see, I can turn ’em on and off. White guys in lab coats say they are a “manifestation of his TK manipulation of photons in a psychological display of justification for his flying ability.” I got that off a lab sheet back in the day. I say they are the manifestation (I love that word) of the high regard the spirits of the air have for their favorite warrior. Take your pick.
People say Brave Hawk is my ace name. Wrong. It’s my spirit name. Like the Apache warriors of the old days, I went on a spirit quest. I fasted for a week or so out in the desert. Finally, I saw a young hawk defending its nest against a puma. You know, a mountain lion they call ’em. It flew at the cat a dozen times, pecking away, and dodging every shot the lion took at ’im. Finally the cat backed off. I went over to the spot where I thought I saw this, and there were no tracks from the cat, and no nest, so I know it was a vision.
Wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it until a few weeks later when I found out the spirits had touched me. Yeah, for all the white folks out there, that means my wild card hit me. You think of it your way, I’ll stick to mine.
Happened when a joker type held up the reservation bank. Wasn’t even an Indian joker, just some guy with a cat face and claws who thought he could use his looks to bust the “injun bank.” Too bad for him, I was making a deposit at the time. I jumped to get out of the bank because I was carrying cash and needed it to pay the loan on my Piper Cub and suddenly I was flying—without an airplane. Before he could do anything, I turned around, landed next to him, and smashed the creep through the plate-glass window. Still makes me shiver when I think about it. The touch of the spirits is a powerful force.
So that’s the “secret origin” of Brave Hawk, though the only reason it’s a secret is the AP doesn’t send stringers to the reservation.
But I eventually got some press, and got an invitation to show up to the Houston tryouts for American Hero. And I made the cut. My plan has been to use the million dollars to fix some things up on the reservation. Maybe even invest in starting a casino.
But now I’m in the Discards. Sorry, Mom, I can’t fill the rancho up with gingham after all. So how do I feel? How do you think the most productive member of the team feels when his teammates boot him out?
I coulda gotten all those guys in the burning building out, but I let the others use their powers, and they did okay. But everyone talks about Stuntman getting burned up and coming back. Just how much time did he waste getting creamed before he got his people out? And I’m sure the rest of the boyos in that building were glad they didn’t get Toad-Boy’s tongue. Jade Blossom looked good with the fire hose, though.
Then I led the team to the pond. I probably could have brought up the safe, but Diver and Toady really were the best for that part. But I coulda lifted that damn safe into the air. I just needed to split up my power between the wings and the muscles. I coulda still had enough strength to lift that steel sucker and enough lift to take it high. But everyone else wanted their shot—and then we were outta time.
I got my statue, while Stuntman got the headlines and his statue turned into rust specks. I outflew the Little Princess’s dragon and Jetman’s toy rockets, and I beat Gardener’s vines when she tried to stop me. All Stuntman could do was whine. And Diver spent all her time