Razorwing

By A.D. Brown

Unveil the riveting narrative of "Razorwing," a captivating novel by A.D. Brown that delves into the extraordinary evolution of an eighteen-year-old named Taylor Davis. Enlisting in the U.S. Army marks Taylor's first step into a world beyond his imagination. A Bio Tech Enhancement experiment grants him astonishing superhuman capabilities, setting the stage for an exhilarating adventure.

Upon returning home to the vibrant backdrop of New York City, Taylor's life takes an unforeseen turn when tragedy strikes. In the face of loss, he emerges as the formidable hero known as Razorwing. Clad in advanced high-tech armor, he becomes a beacon of hope and protection for the city he loves.

As Taylor navigates the gritty streets of a gang-infested New York City, he grapples with challenges both external and internal. The arrival of an ominous monstrosity threatens the safety of NYC, putting not only its citizens but also Razorwing himself in peril. The story unfurls against the backdrop of perseverance, purpose, and the unwavering commitment to doing what is right.

Follow Taylor's journey as he traverses the diverse landscapes of his life: from the halls of High School to the intense training grounds of the Army, and from the bustling city streets to the soaring heights of New York City's rooftops as the enigmatic Razorwing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350920475

Book preview

Chapter One

A loud noise pulsated around the room, his eyes flickered at the ceiling, vision still blurry and the morning tiredness dancing in his eyes. He blindly rolled over to his right and flicked the button upward on the box that was causing the noise. Lying there, he rubbed his eyes trying to speed up the process of eliminating the tiredness in his eyes. He closed his eyes again, and slowly drifted off back to sleep, but before he was completely immersed again in the dream world, a faint knock on his door brought him back to reality.

Taylor, are you up? His grandma, Rose, asked from the other side of the door.

Taylor turned over and responded weakly but just strong enough for her to hear, Yes, ma’am.

Just making sure; you have an hour before the bus arrives. Taylor nodded in response to her statement, like she could see him through the semi-thick, white wooden door. He heard her walk away from the door and back down the hall. Taylor flopped back down in his bed; he shook his head and rose up from the comfort of his bed. He turned, placing his feet on the warm carpet and sliding his feet into his flip-flops. He took a deep breath and grabbed his glasses off his nightstand and slowly placed them on his face.

Taylor got up, opened his door, and slowly tumbled his way down to the bathroom, which was at the end of the hallway opposite his room. He quickly started his morning hygiene, moving at a moderate pace. After completing his hygiene, he made his way back to his room and started to get ready for school. He rummaged through his closet, trying to find the right outfit for the day, not that there was much to choose from, but being an eighteen-year-old senior, he had to at least appear somewhat presentable. This time next year, he would be a freshman at Harvard. He had to finish out the second half of his senior year on a strong note. After rummaging through his closet for about three minutes, he finally found the perfect match. Taylor quickly undressed and changed, grabbing a pair of Hanes boxer briefs out of the drawer. After squeezing into the tight briefs, he stopped and looked at himself in the long mirror that was placed in the back corner of his room right by his closet. I really need to invest in a gym membership asap, he whispered to himself, staring at his scrawny frame.

Taylor stood at about five feet nine inches and was one hundred and forty pounds. He was an average-height male, but he was underweight for his height and blind as a bat without his glasses—throw in the peek-a-boo acne, he was a real Chad. The shattering of glass downstairs broke Taylor from his trance; he finished getting dressed, grabbed his backpack and cellphone, and made his way downstairs. While he was making his way through the living room and into the kitchen, the smell of bacon had dominated the room. On one side of the table his grandfather had the morning paper propped up in his face along with a cup of coffee. His grandmother had the broom out, sweeping the broken glass into the dustpan.

Good morning, Grandpop, Taylor said as he slightly squeezed the traps of his grandfather.

Good morning, kiddo, I see you’re early this morning for once, his grandpop said with a slight smirk on his face.

Taylor laughed and replied, Not in the mood for chasing school buses this morning. He made his way over to his grandmother and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Have a seat, Taylor, have some bacon and toast, his grandmother said as she dumped the last of the shattered glass into the trash can. Taylor placed his backpack on the back of his chair and sat down.

Mr. Henderson has a new vehicle he wants us to work on this weekend; it’ll be some easy extra money if you do not have anything to do this weekend, his grandfather said as he placed the newspaper down in front of him.

Taylor looked up. I am free every weekend, Taylor said in a low voice. Which vehicle is it this time? Taylor asked.

His 2008 Lexus; he needs new brake pads.

Taylor nodded, staring into the dark blue eyes of his grandfather, William. Despite being a retired U.S. Air Force pilot and having years of life experience and workforce experience after the military and the stresses of both, you could tell his grandfather was a looker in his youth. Even now, the old guy would put older men to shame and even some middle-aged men to shame as well. Taylor broke eye contact before it became awkward when he realized he was staring a little too long; he could see his grandfather smirk in his peripheral vision. A plate of toast and four strips of crispy bacon was placed in front of him. Bon appétit, his grandmother said as she walked back towards the sink. Taylor began to devour his breakfast, the sound of crunching from his bacon and the movement of dirty dishes in the sink filled up the morning atmosphere.

As quickly as the food had appeared, it quickly disappeared. Taylor checked his watch; time was running low. He rose from his seat and made his way over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water, quickly devouring the contents and discarding the bottle into the trash can. Picking up his dirty plate, Taylor walked over to the sink, attempting to wash it. His grandmother lightly tapped his wrist and said, I got it; get to the bus. She smiled as those words left her mouth.

Taylor gave his grandmother a hug, grabbed his backpack from behind the chair while simultaneously saying, I’m gone. I will be home tonight around seven; I’m helping at the USO today after school.

His grandfather nodded, and his grandmother shouted, Be safe. Call me when you get to the USO after school please!

Will do, Taylor shouted back as he opened the door and felt the New York City morning air hit his face. Spring was two weeks away, but it felt like it was still mid-December. Taylor lightly closed the door behind him and made his way down the porch steps. The cold morning wind attacked his body, which made him notice that he did not have a jacket. Dang it! he whispered to himself. As he was about to turn around and make his way back up the steps and inside the house to retrieve his jacket, a loud Lamborghini pulled up and parallel parked in front of his home; the bright red car stood out like a brown stain on an all-white shirt on the modest lower-middle class street that Taylor lived on. The passenger-side window slowly lowered down, and a bright wide smile greeted him from the driver’s side. Caught you, Taylor smiled. It was his best friend, Peter Warwick.

Get in; we’re riding in style today. Taylor looked back towards his home and shrugged, who needs a jacket. Taylor hopped in the beautiful car and fell low into the seat and closed the door. As soon as the passenger door closed, Peter hit the gas and took speed down the street.

What brings you to this side of the wind today? Taylor asked Peter.

Dad was in a good mood this morning, so he allowed me to drive the Lambo, Peter said with a smirk.

Peter Warwick was the son of the multi-billionaire Samuel Warwick. Warwick Enterprises was the number one weapons supplier for the United States Military. Peter Warwick, despite his wealth, was a caring and humble soul; his father was a busy man. Despite Taylor and Peter being best friends since the beginning of middle school, Taylor only met Peter’s father a few times, and the times he ran across Mr. Warwick, he seemed deeply reserved and more engaged in his work phone than he was in spending time with Peter. Samuel had great expectations for his son, always pushing him to be the best, but despite having an Ivy League graduate for a father, Peter had to work extra hard to be good at academia. Peter’s lack of natural ability to be proficient at schoolwork is the reason he attended a public middle school. Peter had apparently flunked out of a private school, which required a certain GPA to maintain enrollment at the school. Taylor was the same outcast back then in middle school as he was now, he was socially awkward and shy, but peter still showed him respect. Despite being the son of a multi-billionaire, Peter took a liking to the much poorer Taylor Davis. Peter could run in any crowd at their school but chose to be close friends with the most intellectually gifted student at their school. Peter had pearly white teeth, dirty blonde hair, deep brown eyes, athletic build and stood at six foot even; Peter had everything. Peter had the money, looks, and personality. Despite all this, he was the opposite of what many people would consider a trust-fund baby.

Taylor nodded at Peter’s statement and jokingly stated, When my grandparents are in a good mood the morning before school, I get an extra slab of scrambled eggs.

Peter chuckled. Come to think of it, I have never tasted my dad’s eggs, Peter stated.

Well, I guess we both have dire issues, Taylor replied.

Peter and Taylor continued the fifteen-minute drive to Daniel D. Woods High School. Daniel D. Woods High School is a private school for the gifted children of NYC, mainly the rich or well off. One or two things guaranteed enrollment at this school: either wealth and smarts or your parents were well off enough to pay the pricey tuition banking on the fact that you had the GPA and test scores, or you were the son of a billionaire who paid extra under the table for you to attend. Taylor and Peter both knew that was the case for Peter. Peter’s middle school GPA and test scores would not even get him a consideration at the school let alone an admission. Samuel pulled a few strings to get Peter enrolled. Despite never being the best at academics, Peter had maintained the minimum GPA of 3.5 to continue enrollment at the school, with the occasional assistance of his best friend Taylor, of course. Taylor’s enrollment at the school was a rarity; most kids from Taylor’s economic background could not afford the tuition, so every year Daniel D. Woods gave out twenty-five full paid scholarships to the kids who were academically gifted but could not afford the pricey tuition. Taylor was a recipient of one of those twenty-five scholarships, entering his freshman year at Daniel D. Woods. Taylor did not disappoint. Taylor, since his freshman year at Daniel D. Woods, has maintained an above 4.0 GPA and had scored perfect on the end of the year exams since he had been at the school.

After about fifteen minutes of driving, Taylor and Peter pulled into the student parking lot of their school. Peter backed into a lone parking spot at the end of the parking lot. Alright, you ready? Peter asked. Taylor nodded and both young men exited the bright red Lamborghini and walked towards the high steps of the lavish high school and entered the building. Even after four years of entering and exiting the school, Taylor was always taken aback by its beauty. Luxtouch marble tiling only added to the exclusive feeling of the school.

Are you good, buddy? Peter asked as he wrapped his right arm around Taylor’s shoulder. You seem zoned out and in deep thought.

I’m always in deep thought.

Yeah, that is true, responded Peter as they walked up to their lockers.

Taylor rummaged through his locker in search of his gym clothes. When he found them, he stuffed the clothes into his book bag, closed and locked his locker, and waited with his back against his locker for Peter to be done with getting the necessary books he needed for that day. As Taylor surveyed the hallway, his head quickly glanced to his right, and he saw her. Ashley Reed, one of the most, if not the only, beautiful girls at Daniel D. Woods. Ashley was five-foot-seven, skinny and petite, a natural tan with sandy brown hair and green eyes. The only thing Taylor knew he and Ashley had in common was they both had green eyes; outside of that she was the total opposite of what he was. She was popular, attractive, socially competent, had a plethora of friends, and was athletic. She ran track for Daniel D. Woods, and she was accepted at the University of Virginia. She had the whole world at her feet, and Taylor was in love with her. From the moment he saw her during freshman-year orientation, he knew she was the one, even though deep down, he knew that a romantic union between them would never happen. Taylor continued to gaze at Ashley down the hall, when the six-foot-four jock came into view and pulled her into his body. Her long-time boyfriend Scott Simon, Scott, was the star wide receiver on the football team and a basketball player for the school. He was a physical specimen. With broad shoulders, tree trunk arms, massive legs, brown hair, brown eyes, perfect white teeth, he seemed fresh out of a fashion magazine. He was everything Taylor wanted to be physically and socially. Scott was going to attend the University of Southern California, on a football scholarship in the fall. Taylor wondered how Ashely and Scott were going to work things out, considering she was going to be on the East Coast and he on the West. A nudge from Peter broke Taylor’s trance.

Don’t stare so hard; you don’t want the jackass to see you staring, Peter said.

Taylor turned and looked at peter, Right.

I’ll walk you to gym, Peter stepped off into the direction of the gym; Taylor immediately followed. Peter and Taylor swam through the morning hallway traffic.

You know, outside of the looks and the social status, what does she see in him? said Taylor, referring to Ashley’s relationship with Scott.

Young women like assholes, Peter replied with a smirk on his face.

She can do better, Pete; there is no way she should trust him all the way in California. If there are cheating rumors here right under her nose, imagine the rumors two thousand plus miles away.

Peter made a face that said he agreed with Taylor’s statement and nodded. That is for her to deal with when the time comes; do not worry so much about the social gods of Daniel D. Woods.

Taylor did not respond; he focused on the walk to the gymnasium. A few seconds later, the pair arrived at the gym. Peter opened the door to allow Taylor to enter first. Well, I am going to head to calculus 3. Mr. Harris will lock me out the class even if it is one second past the designated time to be in class.

Taylor chuckled. I’ll see you at lunch, Taylor said as he gave Peter a pound. Taylor walked towards the locker rooms to change out of his clothes into his gym clothes. While getting dressed, he heard a commotion coming from the main entrance of the locker room. It was Scott and his posse. Taylor crouched downward so Scott and his posse could not see him, but to no avail. Scott’s right-hand man Josh, aka his yes man and the team’s star Tight End, spotted him.

Hey, asswipe, why are you ducking? Josh shouted out. The commotion stopped and all eyes were now on him.

Uh-uh-uh . . ., Taylor struggled to formulate a sentence.

Uh-uh-uh-uh, spit it out, Josh exclaimed.

He probably is trying to sniff the body odor that lingers near the floor, said Scott with a laugh; the rest of the posse laughed at Scott’s joke. Scott stepped around the group and approached a now fully risen Taylor. Scott towered over the much shorter Taylor. Scott slightly bent over and whispered in Taylor’s ear. Taylor could smell the double mint on his breath. Stop being so weird; I have a good liking to just put my foot up your ass. You make me and my boys uncomfortable.

Taylor remained frozen, scared to even blink or make the wrong move or say the wrong thing. This was the kind of attention that he wanted to avoid, hence the crouching. Taylor thought and said the first thing that came to his mind, Sorry, Scott.

Scott laughed and turned around and looked at his crew, who in turned laughed. Scott refocused his attention on Taylor. Better be, Scott replied and made a sudden movement that made Taylor jump backward and fall into the locker. Scott and his crew laughed uncontrollably.

What a coward! someone yelled from the group. The crew walked off laughing, while Taylor rubbed the back of his head.

Everyone began the workout, and the entire gym period was spent doing exercises that Taylor struggled to do. Running, pushups, sprints, and pull-ups. He was always either last to finish or next to last to finish. If gym was graded based upon athleticism, he would be an F student. At the conclusion of gym period, Taylor, along with the other students, showered and got ready for the next study block.

Chapter Two

The final bell rang endlessly throughout the school, indicating the closure of the school day. Taylor quickly gathered his bag and books and made his way through the busy hallways. Swarms of teens filled the halls, rushing to get out to the bus or their personal vehicles. As Taylor closed in at the school entrance, he felt a vibration in his left pocket. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his phone, it was a text from Mrs. Perez, of the United Service Organization, also called the USO checking in to confirm if he was still going to help at the USO later that afternoon. Taylor texted back, confirming to her that he would be appearing there in about an hour. After replying, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and made his way out of the building.

Taylor walked at a fast pace to the nearest bus station. He saw there was only one person waiting at the bus stop. Taylor sat down on the bench, down at the far end, not wanting to intrude into the man’s personal space. Taylor leaned over to his right slightly and said, Excuse me, how long will it be until the next bus comes?

The man’s neck shot up, Taylor’s words breaking whatever trance the man was in. The man looked over at Taylor and replied, Another ten to fifteen minutes give or take.

Thank you, Taylor said while he nodded. Taylor leaned back and immersed himself with his thoughts.

After about eleven minutes, a bus crept its way up the street. When the bus stopped in front of the stop, Taylor and his bench companion boarded the bus. Taylor took a middle seat. The bus was abnormally clean for public transport and lacked the usual twenty-day old jock strap smell along with the excess graffiti on the walls of the bus. Even the windows were clear and not foggy. Taylor sat down and leaned his head against the window, prepping himself to get a quick nap. As the bus pulled off from the stop, Taylor slowly drifted off to sleep. Even though the ride was fifteen minutes at the most, it felt like five minutes. The bus came to a stop, and Taylor gathered his bag and shuffled off the bus. Taylor made his way to the USO entrance; he loved the sight of the USO. The structure of the building and just seeing the words that said USO made him have a sense of joy. The six stars that sat outside of the wording, and the white lettering with the blue backdrop lingered on the sign outside of the building. As Taylor approached the double doors, a soldier exited the building. The soldier held the door open for him. He gave Taylor a quick nod, and Taylor nodded back. Thank you, sir, Taylor said with a grin. Taylor made his way to the back of the building. He opened the employee door and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room. Taylor whipped out his cellphone and made a quick call to his grandmother, letting her know that he had arrived at his destination. Taylor pocketed his phone and sat back. His mind started to float. Peter always used to joke about how protective his grandparents were over him. Taylor knew even though peter threw lighthearted jokes; he knew Peter understood the reasoning.

Taylor had been living with his grandparents since he was eleven years of age. The reason this living arrangement had even occurred was that his mother was murdered in front of him when he was just eleven years of age. Taylor’s father had disappeared before he was even born, so he had nowhere else to go. It was either grandparents or foster care, not that he had any reservations about living with his grandparents. They had always shown him love; he was their only grandchild. Taylor shifted around in the chair, his thoughts hopping around again, his mind running back to the night his mother was murdered.

*Taylor pumped his fist into the air with excitement, again. He had solved the Rubik’s Cube for the sixth time in the past hour. He waited patiently for his mother to finish whatever she was working on in her office. He did not know much, but only that his mother was an investigative reporter for a local paper. This was a common trend—late nights at the office, either he was reading or working on homework to pass the time by until his mom finished whatever she was working on inside her office. Taylor grew restless, he hopped out of his seat and knocked on the slightly cracked door that bore her name Emily.

Mom, Taylor called out. When he did not receive an answer, he called her name again, again no answer. Taylor pushed opened the door and said, Mom.

Taylor’s mom, Emily Davis, was ultra-focused on the computer screen, her blonde hair pushed behind her ears. Taylor’s last quiet shout for his mom got her attention. Oh my, I am so sorry. . . . I lost track of time. Let me save my work and we can go home. Emily saved the remaining documents on her computer and organized her desk, making sure everything was in order. Taylor looked on as his mom swiftly organized her desk. With everything seemingly in order, she came from behind the desk. She looked down at her son. Emily was not a tall woman by any means; standing at five-foot-four with 135 pounds, she was a relatively small woman. She bent down and gave Taylor a kiss. Let’s go, she said with a bright smile. She led the way out of her office. She stopped at the door, taking another look, and closed the door. Taylor and his mother hustled towards the elevator. As they waited for the elevator to come up to the floor they were on, Emily caressed her son’s black hair. I am sorry, work got the best of me tonight; I know I said thirty minutes.

Taylor looked up at his mother and replied, It’s okay, ma, hard work is hard work.

Taylor leaned into his mom, When I get your age, I want to work as hard as you do.

At your age, I wasn’t making straight A’s and winning science fairs; you’ve already surpassed me academically and you are only eleven years old, she said with a chuckle.

A loud bing echoed, indicating the elevator cart had arrived; the door slowly opened. Emily gestured to her son to go in first, which he did. She followed behind him and hit the lobby button. The elevator door closed and engulfed them inside.

May we go get some fries from McDonald’s? Taylor asked his mom.

Yes, we can, Emily said as she pulled his cheek.

The elevator came to a stop and opened, Emily stepped out and Taylor followed behind. They made their way to the double doors of the building. Before Taylor fully caught up with his mother, he heard her say, Oh no, it’s pouring down like crazy out here. Dang it. She snapped her fingers in frustration.

I don’t have an umbrella.

Follow me.

Taylor followed his mother outside into the pouring rain. The only thing that was protecting them from the rain was the overhang in front of the door to the building. Taylor’s mom stepped forward and observed the heavy rain in the dimly lit parking lot. She turned around and said, Stay here; I am going to pull the car up. Taylor nodded and watched his mom speed walk