Chime of the Iron Steed

The indoor air had grown stifling. Forcing my bulk through the door threshold once more, I descended the echoing stairwell to the front concrete stoop. Chained against the black iron railing stood a towering commuter bicycle, its frame baking under the open sky. Scaling the cold tubular balusters, I hauled my golden claws onto the knurled rubber handlebar. A domed chrome bell sat perched beside the brake lever. Left head hissed at our warped reflection; right head murmured, tracking the spring-loaded striker. Center head decreed total awakening. I drove my center snout down upon the brass trigger with full force. A sharp, crystalline ring shattered the street, vibrating through the metal tubing beneath my talons. We flared our wings, sovereign of the echoing height.