Aleks Poniatowsky

 

Aleks Poniatowsky was walking along the new sidewalks of the elegant Śródmieściela neighborhood in Rzeszów, the capital of the Podkarpackie Voivodeship. He was on his way home. He had been investing in real estate in this dynamic city for years. 

At almost sixty years of age, Bialy Orzel, the man who had been called the white eagle, the superhero of Poland, was still an impressive man. His fall from the fifteenth floor many years before had caused many fractures. His body was in constant pain ever since. But, tall and massive, with a square jaw, he gave the impression of walking with the flexibility of a lion. 

When he arrived in Rzeszów, he immediately sought out the city's mobsters. In the sewers as well as in the countryside around Rzeszów, Bialy Orzel looked for monsters. But there wasn't much to hunt, people were doing business and magic seemed to have disappeared from this country. It was perfect.

In Warsaw itself, the Bazaar Barons had retired. Many had gone into business. They frequented the Warsaw stock exchange district like old notables. 

Even the soldiers of the dark army had fled the country. The former bloodthirsty killers had vanished into thin air. They seemed to want to turn the page of violence. Aleks Poniatowsky had followed one of them to Grodno, on the other side of the Belarusian border. The man had waited for him in front of his house, without moving. When Aleks pointed the gun at him, the man sat down. He had not even tried to defend himself. He looked away. Aleks, disconcerted, had not fired. Now, this former killer had become a friend. Aleks visited him regularly to discuss the past over a glass of Wisniowka, a cherry liqueur. "Na Zdrowie! Bialy Orzel, To your health!" To think that he and this man had been mortal enemies and now they were talking about their grandchildren!

Biały Orzeł, the White Eagle, had experienced so many adventures in the four corners of Poland. He fondly remembered the Cursed Knight or the Mermaid, who had just died. Almost all his friends were dead, his enemies too. The friendship of the man from Grodno had become precious to him.

Maja Pokuszalska, the journalist, had pursued him from the beginning. She had immediately sensed that he was at the center of the fight against the underworld. At first he had run away from her. But he liked her. He had faced it. They had been married for over twenty years. 

As soon as he got married, new troubles started: he had to protect his wife, protect his love. If a lone vigilante puts his life in danger, a married man puts his family in danger. After several threats and two attempts on Maja's life, he had given up his fight. He was now a full-time businessman. Maja had also left her newspaper to work with him. They had both become peaceful middle-class citizens of Rzeszów. So Bialy Orzel, Poland's white eagle, walked the renovated streets of downtown Śródmieściela without worry. He had become a peaceful notable of this city, without enemies. His war was long over.