They called him Air King East; King Kamikaze as he was known on the western coast.
His wheels were greased with lightning, as the legend goes. They spun like gears in an engine, crunching the dirt underfoot into diamond dust with his speed. They spun like fan blades, whipping the wind beneath into afterburn. They spun like like drills, shearing metal into sparks as they ground on the rails.
His gloves were dusted with thunder as the legend goes. They gripped like talons, scaling up pipes and poles in seconds flat. They gripped like claws, tearing across walls and pipeways like a monkey prince. They gripped like nails, conforming to the roofs and shingles with double jointed prowess.
Speed is an art. A form of expression and freedom.
His eyes were polished by the wind he ate. He was the Air King.
His wheels were greased with lightning, as the legend goes. They spun like gears in an engine, crunching the dirt underfoot into diamond dust with his speed. They spun like fan blades, whipping the wind beneath into afterburn. They spun like like drills, shearing metal into sparks as they ground on the rails.
His gloves were dusted with thunder as the legend goes. They gripped like talons, scaling up pipes and poles in seconds flat. They gripped like claws, tearing across walls and pipeways like a monkey prince. They gripped like nails, conforming to the roofs and shingles with double jointed prowess.
Speed is an art. A form of expression and freedom.
His eyes were polished by the wind he ate. He was the Air King.
