The Negative Man_Twilight Days

by Jeremy Croston

Even though I was a Catholic priest, that didn’t mean I wasn’t a scholar of other religions. Kim Krummel and I were sitting in the outside courtyard of St. James Cathedral, meditating. I was proud of how far he’d come since his association with Ronald Victory and the atrocities he’d committed under the corrupt Secretary of Defense.

  Kim had been making some progress with The Morning Lynx, too. John Wonderton’s son was good for the older man, showing him how to use his powers to help people.

  “Father,” my friend said slowly. “I worry I may be a liability in the field next time Kyle asks for my help.”

  “How so?” I questioned.

  “My anger—it is gone. I no longer fight out of malice haunting me. I’ve accepted Diana’s death and have come to terms with my own actions.”

  I opened my eyes and saw the doubt all over his expression. “No-one will ever ask you to continue fighting. If this is a life you wish to leave, then I will see to the arrangements.”

  “I’ll never understand why you do the things you do, Father.”

  The only response I could offer was a smile. “Much like Jericho, you think you’re an evil man, but your soul is that of a good person.” Yes, the similarities were great between the two. How their paths crossed and destinies linked each other was not lost on me. “I have a contact…”

  Our conversation was put on hold as a younger man walked into the courtyard from the main chapel. Kyle Wonderton looked exactly the same as the first day I met him. The years had rarely put a line on his face, even as my own aged rapidly. Gray streaks that were not there years before had all but taken over my beard. Each day a bit more of a struggle to get out of bed and greet the world.

  He walked over to us and joined Kim and I in the grass. “Morning Kim; Father,” he greeted us.

  Even as Kim returned his hello, I could see the markers of someone with worry in their heart. “This isn’t a social call, is it?” I asked.

  “You know me too well, Father.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper. Before I could even read it, the question was spilling out. “Do you know what the means?”

  I lowered my glasses and read over it; Volkkenkrüger. “I’ve never heard of this before? What is it?”

  Both of us were surprised when it wasn’t Kyle answering, but Kim. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “Kim, do you know who this is?” Kyle asked.

  “I do,” he responded. “Well, I don’t know who it is, but I’ve heard the name before from Ronald Victory.”

  Why was I not surprised that even in death, Victory still had more secrets that needed to be unraveled? “I think Mr. Wonderton would enjoy an elaboration to that answer,” I coaxed.

  Kim tugged on his goatee, looking for the right words. “Granted, Victory kept us in the dark quite a bit, but I remember him telling that weasley doctor on his payroll about an urban legend – a super so powerful that if he ever returned, not even he could handle him.”

  “You mean the same Victory that brought Pacific Station to his knees?” Even as Kyle asked, he looked quite taken aback. “Was there ever any proof of this super’s existence?”

  Kim shook his head. “That was the first and last time I ever heard the name. I figured Victory had found him or whatever, eventually I stopped caring and had forgotten. Why are you asking about it?”

  “No one knows this, but there was a serial killer taking out low level powered people over the last two weeks. I caught him last night and after he knifed himself, called himself the first acolyte to return and that two more would come before Volkkenkrüger appeared.” He closed his eyes. “He called himself Fate, promising that Destiny and Providence were next.”

  “Destiny and Providence,” I repeated. “Add on Fate and you have quite the triumvirate of names. It also sounds like a cult.”

  Seeing as this was all we had to offer, Kyle returned to his feet. “Thanks for the leads, gentlemen. And Kim, if you think of anything,” he added.

  “You’ll be the first person I tell.”

  He gave us each a slight motion of the head before heading off back into the chapel and into the city. As we watched him, I couldn’t help but to wonder. “Do you know any more about this Volkkenkrüger?”

  Kim’s eyes narrowed. “No, I told him everything I was sure of. However, I do have a hunch, and if it is right, may provide a few more answers.”

  “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “Father, if you taught me anything it’s that a man makes his own story.” It was Kim’s turn to stand up. “Before I send a real hero into the fire, I’m going to make sure it’s legit.”

  I watched helplessly as my friend followed Kyle’s path out. I prayed for him, hoping that the true Father was with him where ever he went.

  **Kim Krummel**

  It was funny how two hours could change a person’s life. My hunch was right. Unfortunately, it meant that I was also caught. I was tied up in a chair, beaten so bad I couldn’t even see out of one eye. I knew my time was coming to an end, that I’d be with Diana soon.

  Still, I had breath which meant I could atone for all of my sins. The man calling himself Providence wasn’t all that concerned with an old man that had once been one of Victory’s lackeys. With one of my knuckle protrusions, I began to etch his identity into the wood I was sitting on.

  “Kim, Kim, Kim,” he broke the silence. “You were given a second chance, yet you came in looking for trouble. That was a bad decision.”

  “I always wondered my Victory requested you. Turns out he was keeping an eye on you, wasn’t it?”

  That earned me another slap to the face. “Victory was a dead man, even before Jericho killed him. He was digging way too much into my benefactor’s return. Volkkenkrüger will come, have no doubt about it.”

  I spit down in disgust. “The Morning Lynx is coming for you.”

  “Let him,” were the last words I heard on this Earth. As Providence delivered the killing blow, I finished etching his name into the chair. As I slipped to the other side, I hoped my redemption was complete.

  Issue #4 – Kurt Volkan

  Based on what Kim had relayed to me, I at least could fill in a bit more for Becky and Phil. “Apparently the ghost we are chasing dates back to Ronald Victory.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Becky said, flustered.

  Phil had done an extreme amount of searching since the two of them picked me up outside O’Donnell’s residence. With a few clues to go on, he immediately started scouring the web, both the legit outer reaches of the internet and the seedy dark web. He’d found nothing on this mysterious Volkkenkrüger.

  That’s why he was so happy to finally have just a bread crumb to go on, even if it was just a small one. “I’ll apply some clues to this that revolve around Victory and our government. I may have to break some tampering and hacking laws, however.”

  “When has that ever stopped you before?” I asked. “Don’t lead back to here, okay?”

  Phil disappeared off the screen and went to work. Becky, who hadn’t said much, decided it was the right time to drop some concerns. “Kyle, I know it’s our job to protect the city when the police can’t, but this feels different. Strange even, if I can go that far. I think we’d be better off not getting too far into this.”

  I’d never seen Becky back down from something. This was the same woman that went behind my back and made a deal with Jericho! So for her to register some fear, well that was a new one on me. “What do you mean this feels strange to you?”

  She pointed to the name that popped up on Jenkins’s screen. “Volkkenkrüger—doesn’t it just feel weird to you, too?”

  Where I was the physical presence to our team, Jenkins was the brains. However, neither of us compared to the heart and soul Becky brought in every day to keep us together. I didn’t get any weird vibes from this, but if she did, then there was a reason to listen.

  She showed a level head. “Let’s wait to see if Jenkins can find anything new.
Once he comes back, we can discuss everything out, logically.”

  The wait for our computer pal to get back was a bit excruciating. Hours began to drift by as we sat there, playing some card games or even working on our gear. I was pretty spaced out when Jenkins called out to us. “That was interesting.”

  I didn’t even acknowledge at first. Then when I realized he was back, “Oh crap—Sorry Phil,” I apologized.

  “No, it’s okay,” he replied. “I didn’t even realize how long I’d been gone, chasing after dead ends and such.”

  “Does that mean you didn’t find anything?” Becky asked.

  “Oh, there are two possible leads, but both are pretty flimsy.” Hearing we had some leads, the two of us made our way back over and sat down. “The first one doesn’t really hold much with me, as the name Volkh is an old God from one of those old Slavic tribes. Again, I doubt we’re dealing with an old God,” Jenkins reiterated.

  I would concur with that. “So, tossing that one away, what’s the second lead?”

  “Knowing the Victory was the Secretary of Defense, I did a keyword search for the word Volkkenkrüger and words like it. The only file I found was this.” Jenkins faded away and a heavily redacted file took his place. “Allow me to introduce to you Sargeant First Class Kurt Volkan. Mr. Volkan was a prisoner of war sixty-five years ago, tortured with a chemical agent before being rescued. He died three months after returning home.”

  Sixty-five years ago. His file said he died when he was twenty-eight, so he would be over ninety if he was alive today. “I don’t see how a dead soldier really plays into this.”

  “What if he didn’t die?” Becky wondered out loud.

  “Still, he’d be incredibly old,” I countered. “Why in the world should we fear a man in his early nineties?”

  “This is a true mystery,” Phil agreed.

  The three of us sat there in silence as the only real clue Phil could find seemed to be another dead end. I printed off the file and started to read everything, at least everything that wasn’t redacted. The only information that was of any use was that Sargent Volkan was born and raised two hours to the north of Pacific Station in a small town called Sierra Vista. A quick search told me that the town was barely thriving anymore, basically a ghost town.

  “Kyle, all this does is confirm my weird feelings. We should let this one go.”

  And I just might have until we got a knock on the door. Returning the favor, I could see Father Reigart was standing outside the garage, bouncing up and down. Becky shot up, as did I, and we went outside to meet him.

  Reigart looked worried. “Kyle, I know this is unorthodox, but I have a fear I need to share.”

  “Of course, Father.”

  He leaned forward. “I’m worried about Kim. After you mentioned Volkkenkrüger, he left just a few minutes after you, saying he had a hunch. He hasn’t returned.”

  Ahhh hell. “Stay here with Becky and Phil. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Issue #5 – The Long Game

  The hard part to a missing person’s case was starting off where the missing person would’ve gone. Kim had offered no explanations to Father Reigart when he left to go after some clue from his past. I was confident enough to believe that wherever he would’ve gone, he would’ve stayed within the limits of Pacific Station.

  Evening had fallen when I arrived at St. James. This was the last place anyone had seen Kim and it seemed the appropriate place to begin. Waiting for me at the church doors was Lattimore; I had called in a favor.

  “So, you want me to help you hunt down a fugitive?” he asked in a joking manner.

  Yep, technically speaking, Kim Krummel was a fugitive, on the run from the law since his role in the whole Victory scandal. We all knew where he’d been and Chief Woods turned a blind eye to it, seeing how much the city and country had failed the man. As long as Kim stayed on the right side of the law, everything was aces.

  He had. He’d even started to become a productive member of the team. Whenever there was an issue that needed a bit more muscle, Kim was there. Father Reigart had a funny habit of finding redemption cases and making them see their true potential. Jericho had been the same with him.

  “I went to Father Reigart this morning, seeing if the name Volkkenkrüger meant anything to him,” I explained.

  Lattimore lifted an eyebrow. “Never would’ve assumed to check with the clergy. Good call,” he approved.

  Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I wish I hadn’t. “Father Reigart didn’t know anything, but Kim did. Apparently, Ronald Victory let it slip once that whoever this guy is, it scared him. After I left, Kim went to check on a hunch and hasn’t been seen since.”

  Lattimore looked at my funny. “I know we do what we can, but how the hell are we going to track a man that no one knows where he went?”

  “I understand the frustration and the skepticism of what we’re trying to do, but if we don’t look for him, who will?”

  My little rally speech had an immediate effect on Lattimore. “You’re right,” Parker agreed.

  It was time to put everything on the table that I knew. Parker stood there and listened as I caught him up on what Kim had told me and then what Phil had found. Again, I didn’t know if there were any clues hidden in the midst, but it was worth a shot.

  All Lattimore could do at the end was chuckle. “We got a missing person and our primary suspect is some old prisoner of war who is more than likely dead?”

  “This sounds like the start to a pretty shitty mystery novel.”

  “If you were hoping I’d have any ideas from that mess, you were mistaken.”

  I wasn’t surprised in the least. “Sargeant Kurt Volkan was born and raised in Sierra Vista, about two hours away. You don’t think anything there might be worthwhile, do you?”

  “That old mountain town? My ex-wife dragged me there once and I immediately regretted my decision.” Lattimore let out a long sigh. “I know you want to find this guy out of your friendship for Father Reigart, but maybe Kim doesn’t want to be found, either.”

  That was always a possibility. Maybe the memory of Victory and that name triggered something in him. It was reported that about half of missing person cases ended up being runaways. “Even if that’s the case, Kim knew something about Volkkenkrüger. To let him go without looking, well we gotta try, right?”

  “This is your case, Kyle. I’m just along for the ride.”

  Just like that, the two of us were on our way to Sierra Vista. As he said, it was a two-hour drive into the middle of nowhere. The moment we actually entered the town, it was clear to see that when people left here, they didn’t come back. Everything looked old, as if no-one had done any renovations to any place in years. Even small details like the road and sidewalks looked in disrepair. Lattimore navigated the streets like the pro he was, missing the potholes and big chunks of road that had never been refilled.

  “Welcome to Sierra Vista,” he said solemnly.

  “I knew you said it was in rough shape, but this is hard to see.”

  Lattimore continued driving until we reached the local library. It wasn’t quite time to close and the two of us walked in, unsurprised that we were the only people here. In fact, I didn’t even see anyone working here.

  It didn’t take too long to find the public records on the town and the people who lived here. With a last name like Volkan, I assumed it wouldn’t take too long to find something out. Sure enough, I found a newspaper article about his capture and another one about his passing. Neither article held much information about the man himself, just pretty much the same stuff Phil had already discovered.

  After reading the second article, I tossed the paper to the side. “I think this may have been a mistake,” I admitted.

  “If we head back now, we’ll be in time…”

  He stopped talking when he saw my eyes perk up. On the back of the paper I casually tossed away was faded handwriting. I grabbed it real quick and tried my best to make it out. “
I think this is an address.”

  Lattimore looked at it wearily. “This could be anything, Kyle.”

  I knew he was skeptical from the start, but I wasn’t going to allow bias to interfere with a potential clue. I pulled out my phone and typed in what I thought was the address on the back of the paper. It was heavily faded, but it had to be here for a reason. The place was only six minutes away.

  Reluctantly, Lattimore followed me out and we drove to the random address. It was a still working factory. The doors were locked up, but smoke was coming out of the stacks from the top. Something about the entire situation was off.

  The two of us got out of the car and walked over. “You think the door is locked?” Lattimore asked.

  Even if it was, that wouldn’t have been a problem. However, when I pushed the door, it swung open without any resistance. The main lights were off with the emergency set providing just enough for us to see as we walked in. The sounds of machines were still churning. I got the feeling that just an hour or so ago, this place was bustling with life from the workers.

  We walked down the hall towards the offices that blocked the entranceway from the main factory. It looked like name placards used to be on the doors but were long removed. Except for the very last door, on which there was a worn brass plate that read Providence.

  I went to turn around and point out that this clue was worth following when the butt of a gun slammed in between my eyes. As the scene went black, Lattimore just smiled meekly as I fell to the ground.

  “Sorry Kyle, but I warned you not to come.”

  Issue #6 - Volkkenkrüger

  When I came to, Lattimore was standing in front of me, just out of arm’s reach. “I thought I hit you a bit too hard, Kyle.”

  The groggy feeling invading my mind kept me from answering right away. My eyes were a bit out of focus and my mind was swimming with confusion, and possibly a concussion. “Why?” I finally asked when words could be formed.