StabbtyBnny: Is that poly-fiber I see behind you?
NegativeMn1: Yes, why?
StabbtyBnny: On the piece of copper that has the steel bolts attached, instead of using aluminum as a weight substitute, use the poly-fiber. The aluminum was burning up under the excessive force of your negative energy. You need something that won’t react either way to act as your grounding agent.
NegativeMn1: This is Wilson Fetts, isn’t it?
StabbtyBnny: It is a shame what happened to you, Jericho. Turn this computer off for a few days so no one can track you. I will know when you come back and we will talk some more.
The chat closed and disappeared. There was no record of the conversation I just had, but if it was Wilson, he gave me an idea to try. I did as he asked and immediately shut off the desktop and even went as far as to unplug it from the wall. There’d be no way to trace me back to the abandoned basement of the gl-O-bal building, if I could help it.
It was time to see if the advice I was given was good advice. I laid out my materials once again. Fortunately, all the previous pieces of the gauntlet were reusable. The only way to even tell the copper had been a part of the failed experiments was the discoloring to it. It actually matched the mask I made, that greenish, oxidized look that happens to the metal.
I took off the ruined pieces of aluminum adjacent to the section with the bolts. In their place, I fashioned eyelets and hooks to attach the poly-fiber. Once that was accomplished, I reclosed the bottom of the gauntlet, snapping the metal and hi-tech fabric into place. Sliding it on, there was quite the different feel this time. It felt complete.
I called a tiny bit of my power up and it immediately made a beeline to the bolts. The gauntlet was holding up under the barrage of electricity! From there, I clenched my fist and the energy wrapped around me in a sphere of protection. I dropped the sphere and the electricity retreated to the bolts until I powered down. It worked! The gauntlet was complete!
After all the hours I’d put into this, the amount of work caught up with me. I took the gauntlet off and collapsed into my work chair. Even exhaustion couldn’t keep me from the good feeling that accomplishment brought on. With the two most complex pieces of my new suit finished, the rest could wait until tomorrow. Assembling protection for my chest and legs would be a breeze.
I’m not sure when my eyes closed or when reality turned into dreams. I was at a dinner, The Oceanside Café, eating a large breakfast sandwich and talking to a girl. The waitress, who was also the owner, Darla, made a joke about how much I ate. The girl I was with laughed at me and we began to talk about the upcoming baseball season. It was simpler times; I was happy.
The girl in my dream reached across the table, “My God you’re cute; stupid but definitely cute.”
I’m not sure why this made my stomach turn in knots, but it did. I could see her face as clear as day, at least I thought I could. Her smile, her laugh, the touch of her skin against mine, it all felt so right yet I couldn’t even put a name to her!
The memory jolted me awake. I was still in the basement workshop and all the vivid memories were lost in my dreams. I tried desperately to remember her face, the touch of her hand against mine, but it was all for naught. The moment I woke up, everything I had was long gone. I was once again alone, broken and confused.
The dream did unlock a few clues for me, The Oceanside Café and Darla stayed with me. And of course, a powerful feeling radiated through my body. It was hard to believe, “I was in love once…”
Chapter 13 –
Thursday Afternoon; Wonder-Tech Tower
**Kyle Wonderton**
Running a business, that was something for the likes of my dad, or even Jericho, to do. I was probably the only CEO in Pacific Station that refused to wear a suit and tie. I just felt more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, when I had to be out.
The thing that bothered me the most was having to be here today when tonight was a huge operation that needed to be handled. I didn’t care to meet with board of directors or anything; I owned just enough of the company to make what money I needed. They were brought in to make all the decisions. I was in a foul mood when Phil Jenkins digital head popped up on my screen.
To anyone on the outside, Phil looked like an app on this computer. If he jumped in when I wasn’t here (God forbid), no one would be none the wiser that a former Aces gang member was working for me. Luckily, the meeting had just wrapped up fifteen minutes ago and I was stuck waiting for Becky to pick me up. “What’s up, Phil?”
The door was closed, so I was able to have the speakers up loud enough to hear him. “You remember earlier in the week when it was reported that the gl-O-bal building’s elevator went on the fritz?”
How could I not? We barely used the building anymore. After the fire a few years back, I authorized just the minimum amount of repairs to be done to the structure. Now, Wonder-Tech used the space for storage, old filing, and any company parties we have. “What about it? I haven’t even bothered sending a repairman out. No one uses anything besides the first two floors.”
“About five minutes ago, an internet connection was formed in the subbasement. I couldn’t break into the encrypted message system whoever is there was using, but I thought you should know.”
There was only one reason Phil brought this to my attention. “You think Jericho survived and is holed up down there?”
His face pixelated in and out, as it tended to do. “Is there any chance it is someone else?”
The night the prison blew up, I took that hard. I had gotten Jericho’s prison friends out, they had been successfully processed at the other prison, Valley Correctional, but not Jericho. He’d been hell bent on going after someone and I let him. “No, no there’s not. Just what is he doing there?”
“His computer is offline. He even had a block on the webcam, so I couldn’t even access that.”
As much as I wanted to storm the building and find him, “Continue to monitor the connection. I was to meet with Lattimore in a few hours to go over the details for the upcoming presidential debate.”
Jenkins knew my feelings on that. “That sounds wonderful,” he said in his driest, most robotic voice.
PSPD Chief Woods had made it clear to me a few times since the announcement of the candidates coming to town that his primary concern was an attack from a powered person. There was a good reason for that, too. Candidate Defense Secretary Ronald Victory’s main platform was reforming the way the country handled what he called, ‘the rampant, unchecked, and dangerous powered people.’ And yes, the irony wasn’t lost on me that I was called in to keep him safe.
How I wanted to ditch that and go to gl-O-bal. Jericho and I had much to discuss, including him being incarcerated once again. He was the most powerful ‘super’ in recent memory, a very dangerous one too. However, it seemed he was content to hole up and stay hidden. From what an inmate named Richard Shock told me, Jericho was far from the menace he’d been. “His memory is far from complete,” were his exact words.
“What should we do about him, Kyle?”
Phil was still here, obviously waiting for me to give a direction. “Let him go for now. We know where he’s at and once I know for sure that this debate will be fine, we’ll go and bring him in.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he questioned.
“Your disagreement with me is noted. And it’s not like we’re going to let him roam around free for a week. No, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.”
He fired back with the exact same point Becky liked to bring up. “Just because he saved your life doesn’t mean you should give him a free pass. He’s dangerous, Kyle,” he added emphatically.
Neither Phil nor Becky was there that night. A man as evil as The Negative Man was made out to be would’ve let me die. No, he told me I was the strong leader this city needed and pushed me out of the way from the incoming blast from the Stormfall. Someone who did that wasn’t evil. I refused to believe it.
“I said
I would handle it.” Phil gave one last disapproving look before fading away. It was a good thing too; I was about to remind him how he spent a number of years colluding with Becky’s dad Owen as one of The Aces. Phil’s hands were far from clean and he still was able to rediscover the good inside himself.
Maybe there was some validation to his, or rather their, point about Jericho. I called up my assistant, Shannon Williams. She wasn’t used to me actually using her skills, and it showed when she entered the office. “Mr. Wonderton, is everything okay?”
“Please, Mr. Wonderton was my father, I’m just Kyle.” I don’t know how many times I told the entire staff to call me Kyle. No matter, they never would. “And yes, everything is fine. I was just curious if we have anyone available to go over to the gl-O-bal building and check out the elevator situation.”
She had her tablet with her at all times. She began flipping through screens; I had super human reflexes but I have no idea how she read so quickly. When her eyes popped back up over her low hanging glasses, “Actually our Procurement Manager, Joshua Caines, is on his way over right now to gather up some stuff for R & D. Do you want me to have him check everything out?”
I didn’t want him stumbling upon Jericho and dying, so I had to word this carefully. “Yeah, just have him see if it is operational and if it looks like anyone’s even bothered to use it. I’m not going to sink money into a repair that won’t help the company.”
“Very good.” She nodded and was connected to Mr. Caines, giving him the instructions before she left my office. Huh, I’d probably need to give her a raise.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It wasn’t my personal one, it was my ‘work’ phone. I quickly closed the door and locked it. “Lattimore,” I answered, knowing who was on the other end. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No you’re not, ML.” He took a moment to chuckle at my expense. “However, a Mister Miguel Cintron wishes to speak to you before the meeting this evening. Claims the V.I.U needs to be properly vetted, you know since we work with a real live super.”
God, I hated pretentiousness. “I’m not going to be happy about this, am I?”
“I highly doubt you will be.” Lowering his voice, “Look up asshole in the dictionary and you’ll see this moron’s smug face.”
“Text me the address; I’ll be there soon.”
It wasn’t the first time duty called while people were still roaming the floors at Wonder-Tech. I’d gotten pretty good at changing from Kyle to The Morning Lynx without anyone ever knowing it happened. With the address in hand and my vigilante persona at the forefront, it was no time flat before I was at the address Lattimore sent me – an upscale restaurant called Fisherman’s Wharf.
There was no way in hell I was strolling into a restaurant. A quick text to Lattimore said to have everyone meet me around back. His instincts were right; as they got closer to the exit, I heard a very whiny, almost obnoxious voice complaining about leaving food behind. As they exited, Lattimore was leading three men, two were security and one was a pudgy, balding, middle age man who could only be the illustrious Miguel Cintron.
His beady eyes searched me out. It wasn’t that dark behind the restaurant, so I just imagined he was some sort of mole person. When they finally found me, “The Morning Lynx. Not a good first impression sneaking around like this.”
Yep, I wasn’t going to like this guy. “I’m not here to make impression. I’m here to keep you and your boss safe, that’s it.”
He whipped out a pen and began taking down notes. The heading of the sheet was called ‘The Victory Guidelines.’ I had to hold my breath and count to ten to keep from either laughing or ripping this doofus a new one. When he finished, he ripped out the sheet and handed it to me. I reluctantly took it, reading the first line – Rule #1: Address Miguel Cintron and Secretary Victory as Sir at all times.
I had it. I balled it up and threw it at him. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to stay out of my way and the V.I.U. will keep everyone breathing.”
“Well, I’ve never seen such –”
I dropped down in front of him. His security looked like they were about to tangle, but thought better of it. “This isn’t up for negotiations.” I jumped back up to the fire escape, setting the course for my exit. “Tell your boss that you’ve properly vetted me and my team.”
There was some stuttering and a bit of stammering, but I think I got my point across. However, it would come at a cost. I could already hear Chief Woods now…
Chapter 14 –
Friday Morning; The Oceanside Café
The café opened at six in the morning, but Darla was here preparing at five-thirty. She was the only one in the kitchen, busy getting all of the food ready for the breakfast rush that would no doubt happen. I didn’t want to scare her, so I knocked on the door the led to the kitchen from back by the dumpsters. Her head popped up, curious as to who would be here this early.
She cracked the door open, “Who’s there?”
I had my hood up, even as I stepped into the light coming from the spotlight over the door. “I think you know me, even if I don’t clearly remember you.” She gasped as I lowered my hood.
She didn’t slam the door closed as I expected. No, she just stood there as if she was staring at a ghost. “Jericho Staley,” she muttered. “I thought you were dead.”
“A lot of people assumed I was.” Looking at her brought back no new memories, as I had cautiously hoped for. I needed to talk to her more. “Considering my condition, I might have been better off that way.”
Her expression was sharp, but kind. “The papers and news said you were The Negative Man. I didn’t want to believe it, not the kind guy who frequented here in the morning and was so polite.”
“I don’t remember everything about my life, but I can say for sure that I am The Negative Man.” Again, no anger or fear, but she looked disappointed in me. “I owe you an apology. We were friends, weren’t we?”
Something about me must have made her comfortable enough to step outside. She looked exactly the same from the memory I had, except maybe a few more grey hairs than my conscious remembered. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
She walked right up to me and grabbed my arm. “Come on. We need to get you some decent food. When was the last time you properly ate?”
Her generosity and hospitality were second to none. Before I knew it, two western omelet sandwiches were in front of me at the table she sat me at. The smell triggered a response; this had been one of my favorite meals. I devoured them both in just a few minutes. “Thank you so much.”
She sat down beside me with a cup of coffee. “Jericho, I can’t even imagine what’s happened since the last time I’ve seen you. I don’t need a recap, but as your friend, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I was in a comma for three years, at Black Lagoon Penitentiary. When I came out of it, I had no memories prior to waking up. It wasn’t until my life was threatened that some came back – not all, just enough to get me by.”
She looked on in disbelief. “Jericho, you can’t be out here by yourself. You need help!”
I didn’t know who to trust. If there were high ranking government officials after me, there was no point in risking any more people. Much like Father Reigart, Darla’s concern was genuine. The risk coming here to talk to her was all the more danger I was going to put her in. She wasn’t going to be hurt at my cost. “I appreciate it, I really do.” She saw where this was going. “I was hoping coming here would jog back some memories and that’s all I intend to try and get – but thank you.”
“Was there a particular memory?”
I don’t think it would hurt to share with her what I was trying to find. “I came here once, and a girl met me. We had breakfast together. I think she was someone very important.”
“You mean He-” The glass to one of the front windows shattered and when I looked around, I saw Darla on the ground with a bullet h
ole in her forehead. A second gunshot, now audible, came and I put up my energy field. The bullet was burned up before it ever came close.
I took off out of the restaurant and looked for the shooter. Not seeing anyone right away, the noise of people shouting and then police sirens, I had to retreat. But not before I went back over to Darla one last time. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve put you in harm’s way.”
****
When I was back at the safety of gl-O-bal, the anger and sadness inside of me were at raging levels. All I wanted to do was hurt people. I needed to find out who was behind this so I could track them down and make everyone involved pay.
“Concentrate Jericho,” I reprimanded myself. “Finish recreating The Negative Man – give them reason to fear you.”
The image of Darla lying on the ground with blood coming from the wound pushed me forward to do what had to be done. I grabbed my paper and a pencil; I began my final plans for the rest of the costume. I wanted it to ooze with fear. I wanted whoever saw me to panic and cower like the avenger I was transforming into.
A strange thought hit me. I once did this in the hopes that fear and power would produce a better city, hell a better country to live in. That meant nothing to me. This time when I donned the Negative Man mask, it would be personal, it would be for blood.
I took off my jacket and began to cut holes in it. I liked this jacket that I grabbed from Krum’s. All it needed were some pockets of protection close to the heart and lungs. The fiber-mesh material was basically a present day chainmail, so I quickly went about sewing it into the jacket. It looked terrible, but the defensive functions would be there.
I did the same to the black pants I had made a few days before. Courtesy of the first floor bathroom, I’d been able to wash them last night when the place was empty, which made the fabric a bit easier to work with. Gone were just the comfort aspects of the pants, in their place was protection and the same wild look that my jacket had. There was something about the rough edged look that I really liked. It resembled me, barely put together, yet highly functional.
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