The Negative Man_Legends Can Die

by Jeremy Croston

  I was slowly leaning towards blowing him up; he knew too much. “If you truly understood who I was and what I was capable of doing, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Sandstorm didn’t seem to be afraid, yet he should’ve been. He was dumb enough to have a cell phone in his pocket. “I came here tonight to give you a warning. Do not stay in my city any longer, especially with those five freaks.” He took a drink of the beer Victor placed in front of him. “Our first confrontation was just a trial run. The next time,” he slid his finger across his throat.

  “Oh a death threat?”

  “No threats here, just promises.” He finished his first beer and got up. “I went to the John Wonderton school of vigilantes, either kill or be killed.”

  No answers, no movement. I just glared at the man as he gave me one last smile and walked out of the bar. Victor had walked back down to me, “Miss, is old Tom Armstrong giving you problems?”

  “Tom Armstrong, eh?”

  Victor nodded. “Yep, he’s a county commissioner or something. Self-righteous hypocrite if you ask me, he never pays for his beers.”

  I slid a five dollar bill across the bar to pay for the drink. “Here, take it. No one should have to suffer fools like him.”

  The bartender was reluctant to take it. “No miss, it’s not right making you pay for it.”

  But I insisted, and he eventually relented. I asked him for a refill and when he came back, it was time to see if I could extract any more information. “So tell me, that Armstrong guy, besides being a jerk, anything weird about him?”

  He scratched his scruff thinking. “Nothing weird mind you, just an overbearing relationship with his teenage stepdaughter, Miranda. Poor girl’s gone through the ringer and Tom don’t let her do shit.”

  Then it all made sense, this was a family business. I finished my beer quickly. “Well Victor, you’ve made this evening for me. Thanks for the company.”

  As I left, he tipped his hat once more and said, “Anytime ma’am.”

  Little did he know that show of respect saved the lives of all the patrons in the bar. The encounter with Sandstorm had upset me, greatly. I hadn’t showed it, but I was close to exploding. With a simple gesture, I remembered my humanity, if only for a second. It would probably be forgotten by the time I found Sandstorm and his stepdaughter, Dust Devil.

  Issue #10 –

  Midnight Meeting

  It wasn’t hard once I had his name to find the residence of City Commissioner Tom Armstrong. It was a few minutes after midnight and I was across the street, looking at his front door from the relative obscurity of the park. There was one light on, in the master bedroom on the second floor. Unfortunately, all the cell phones in the house were powered off. There went assassination plan number one.

  The moment the second story light went out, a window opened on the other side of the house. A girl, no more than seventeen was sliding out of it and gracefully dropping down to the grass below. She gave one last look back, to make sure no one saw her, and then she took off towards me in the park. But it wasn’t me she was going to meet. There was a boy not too far from me.

  The girl rushed by my spot, still none the wiser that I was there. She embraced the boy and kissed him. The moment they broke away, I detonated the cell phone in his pocket. He never saw it coming.

  Shock was etched on her face as the boy, who was just standing there, kissing her, was nothing more than a blood stain on the grass. Body parts were scattered everywhere, blood on her pale face. I could’ve killed her, too, but I wanted those who opposed me to suffer. “You can blame your stepdad for this.”

  My voice brought her out of her reverie. The wind in the area picked up and people were beginning to fill the streets to see what happened. Dust Devil found me, “You! I’ll kill you!”

  The young, hot headed super was no match for me without her stepdad. I tossed two cellphones into the air and the wind brought them close to her. The concussive force of the two explosions knocked her out and the wind stopped with it. I walked over to her body, I had to do this quickly before anyone figured out where the disturbances were coming from.

  I picked her up and ran back to the Armstrong residence. The light was back on in the master bedroom and I dumped her body on the porch. I gave a quick knock and heard footsteps racing down the stairs. When Tom Armstrong opened the door, he gasped for air. “What have you done?”

  “Your little girl is still alive,” I said as his face relaxed just a bit. “Too bad the same can’t be said for her secret boyfriend.”

  Armstrong grabbed his daughter and pushed her unconscious body into the house. He slammed the door shut, leaving the two of us on the porch. “You’ve crossed the line-“

  I held up a red, blinking phone. “You’re done talking, only listening.” The fact he was so close made it impossible for him to attack me before the bomb would go off. “Leave me and my crew alone and no one else in this tiny little town gets hurt, understand?”

  His face was red with rage. “How dare you, how dare you come to my home and do this to my family!”

  I held the phone a little bit closer. “I don’t think you get just how serious I am. I’m being lenient tonight, tomorrow could be a whole different story.”

  Even as he fumed, he said nothing. Seeing as how this meeting wasn’t going anywhere any faster, I sat the phone down on a small glass top table. “I’m just going to leave this here, as a reminder tonight. Don’t try to follow me or you are dead, too.”

  I walked off the porch and began to make my way back to the hotel. Armstrong hollered after me, “Kill us now you coward! He would have, you horrible bitch!” His temper tantrum continued until I was out of earshot. At some point, he became incoherent and almost too profane, even for me.

  He was right in one aspect, there was no doubt in my mind Jericho would’ve killed the both of them. Unfortunately for Armstrong and his stepdaughter, I enjoyed the fear and panic my abilities brought far more than Jericho ever did.

  Issue #11 –

  Planning a Heist

  My midnight jaunt didn’t go unnoticed the next morning. It was all over the news, feared freak phone bomber from Pacific Station has come to Indian Point. Zed and the rest of the Fatal Five didn’t care, but seeing my face on the television with a large reward associated with information leading to my capture or death exhilarated me. I was ready to do more…

  Zed was busy explaining to his brothers what to expect once they breached the museum’s outer security. None of that was my concern. I knew my job was to act as the bodyguard outside. There were no chances now that Sandstorm and Dust Devil weren’t showing up. I had taunted them, sent them over the brink. An opponent who is too angry to make rational decisions is an opponent that is easily defeated.

  It appeared Zed was done with the inside part of the plan. He didn’t want to touch me, but he was trying to get my attention. “Heather, are you there?”

  I was well aware of my surroundings; I just was enjoying the mental images of Sandstorm’s burning body as Dust Devil looked on. My own private Saturday morning cartoon if you will. “I’m here. I know what I need to do.”

  He circled an area just behind the front door to the museum. “The security office is right there. They employ five guards that rotate between the control room and patrol. If you can snuff out the control room as soon as possible, we’ll take care of the rovers.”

  “Easy.”

  He looked a tad uncertain, possibly scared. “Once they are out of the picture, Sandstorm and his little bitch sidekick will probably try to come in through the back.” I don’t know why he circled the back entrance, but he did. “The tight confines should work well in your favor.”

  There was a narrow alleyway that led to the back of the museum. It was obviously big enough for a small truck or van to squeeze in and out of, but that was it. The back entrance had a small loading dock, the main one was on the east side of the building, but there wasn’t much room. There’d be nowhere to hide once
the explosions begun. “How long will it take you to get the diamond and be ready to move out?”

  “Once we enter the building and security is taken care of, fifteen minutes.”

  There was almost no chance that the museum didn’t have a silent alarm. As soon as I engaged the guards in the control room, the countdown for backup to arrive would be on. Judging on their probable reaction time, I’d be engaged with Sandstorm and Dust Devil alone for eight to ten minutes. “Perfect. I don’t want to let them off without some suffering.”

  One of the other brothers, Zach I think, shuddered. Zed gave him a tiny nod. “You know, you scare the shit outta us.”

  I gave them what I thought was a warm smile – it probably wasn’t. “Good.”

  ****

  There was less than an hour until we rolled out. I had restocked on disposal cell phones, making sure each had plenty of charge to them. As I took out my uniform from my bag, something fell with it – a pair of goggles that were similar to what The Dark Lion used to wear. Why hadn’t I seen these before?

  I looked inside my bag only to see a small, folded, yellow piece of paper at the bottom. This was getting too weird. Opening it,

  ‘Heather,

  I know I spend way too much time in my workshop, I do. However, it’s all for good reasons. Soon, I’ll have the electron gauntlet perfected as well as a few other surprises. One of them is these; I call them Blast Eyes. The yellow glass is tempered to break through the color spectrum and allow you to see, even through an explosion.

  I’m going to hide them in your bag for now. If for some reason you discover them before I had the chance to give them to you, well, “Happy Anniversary earlier.”

  Love,

  Jericho’

  I held on to the goggles for quite some time before pulling myself together and placing them on my head. Even though he was hundreds of miles away and comatose, Jericho was still watching over me. With him still supporting me, I pledged to myself to finish this job and break him out the moment it was over.

  Issue #12 –

  Fight Club

  Zed’s voice came over my earpiece. “We’re in. Detonate, the front is all yours.”

  I strolled right up to the door and pushed it open. Zed had already taken care of the magnetic locks the museum used for their doors. The alarms didn’t go off, allowing me to walk into the control office without so much as a whisper of trouble. There were two guards sitting inside, talking about the latest sports car about to hit the market.

  Not wanting to waste my explosives on them, “Excuse me, boys,” I said ever so politely. They turned around, shocked to see someone here. “Can either of you tell me how to find the bathroom?”

  I was in full gear, so my identity was no secret to them. The guard on the left, a shorter Hispanic man, grabbed his gun and pointed it at me. “Detonate… you’re under arrest!”

  “Sorry, not today I’m not.”

  Jericho had taught me a lot of things, but hand to hand combat, there I was superior to him. I immediately dropped to the ground as they began to unload their weapons. Bullets went over me, and I used my momentum to roll forward, punching each in the groin. Both guards dropped their weapons, hobbling over in pain.

  What I hadn’t expected was a third guard to get the drop on me. A baton crashed on to my shoulder, sending me sprawling to the ground. Waves of pain overcame me; my shoulder was dislocated. There was only one thing to do. I needed to create some separation between me and the guards for a moment, so I could put it back in place.

  I swept the guard’s legs out from under him with a spin kick. He landed hard on his backside, leaving a clear way out of the room. I took it and fell against the wall in the hallway. Once before, in college, I had to put my shoulder back in during a softball game. Using the same upward jerk motion I used back then, I put it back in. I had to hold back my tears; nothing is worse than setting your own shoulder.

  The relief was almost immediate. No sooner did I have control of myself again, two guards stormed out of the office with weapons drawn. I assumed they thought I fled and wouldn’t be so close, as they weren’t ready for the kicks to the knees and the punches to the throat. I kicked away their guns. “This will go so much easier if you both just give up.”

  Interrupted in my ear, “Detonate, are you finished?”

  I didn’t want the guards to suspect anything, so I flipped down my glasses and pushed them back into the control room. I tossed a phone in and slammed the door shut. Moments later, an explosion rocked the front of the museum. “Yes Zed, three guards are no longer threats.”

  He was talking to someone else, so I didn’t catch what he said right away. He returned to the coms, for my benefit. “Copy that. We’re starting the removal of the Desert Diamond. Sandstorm and Dust Devil will probably be here any minute.”

  I was quite upset having to use an explosive to rid myself of the guards. Still, considering what happened to my shoulder, it was a small price to pay to keep the plan running smoothly. I exited from the front and ran as quick as I could to the next checkpoint. No more than a minute after I arrived did Sandstorm and Dust Devil appear.

  There was a crazed look to them, Dust Devil in particular. They expected to run into me, probably hoped to do so. Now that the moment was here, the tension was almost as thick as a humid night in Pacific Station.

  There was going to be no pleasantries exchanged this time. Both of them wanted me dead for what I did, or maybe even more so, for what I knew. Their identities belonged to me and as a super; your true identity was your weak point. With that in mind, it was no surprise that Sandstorm reached down and brought forth the biggest wall of sand he could muster. And just as quickly, he sent the wave of death towards me, with Dust Devil adding her ability to power it.

  Issue #13 –

  A Deal Made

  **Father Reigart**

  Another newspaper and another headline of death. Unlike crime lord Jim Reno last time, this death was a bit more tragic. The young man, Al, who’d brought me the paper about Reno and shared in the suspicion that Kim was the one who killed him, had been found murdered. It had been described as a brutal scene, the young man had been beaten to death by bare hands, the police theorized.

  The one anomaly that had been presented was perfectly round puncture marks on the face. Harvey Grime’s replacement, Police Chief Brad Woods believed the suspect used brass knuckles with spikes forged on them. My heart broke considering that this might have once again been Kim’s work. I needed to find him and get to the bottom of this.

  My first stop after leaving my church wasn’t the comic book shop. Now, I went down a few blocks to the Drive-In Dive, a little dive bar run by local celebrity Lad Blaze. He was an eccentric man who enjoyed his odd hairstyles, but one who kept his ear to the ground.

  As I walked in, the television was on and disgruntled Ronald Victory once again making all sorts of statements about the super community. “These people are a threat and if the President fails to see it, then a change needs to be made at the top!”

  Blaze saw me enter and hit the mute button. No one was at the bar yet, as it was only four in the afternoon. “Father Mikey,” I hated that name so much, yet my teachings told me to never react, “come by for an early communion?”

  “Just a glass of water, please.” Blaze was dejected but got me my usual. “I’m here about a patron, maybe former patron.” I leaned in close. “Has Kim been in lately?”

  “Nah man, I haven’t seen him since Diana passed on.” He poured himself a shot. “That was something else, huh? Never saw that one coming.”

  I ended up sitting there, talking to Blaze until his first patrons began filing in. He was another soul, lost, that was trying to reach out. His problems were completely different, yet all in the same. I hoped my talk with him helped.

  As I left, I noticed a black truck sitting across the street. Where the emblem of the company who manufactured it should’ve been, there was a skull with its tongue out. Covering the
front bumper were a set of bars, the kind that looked like they would be used for ramming objects. Something about this truck struck me as evil. So it was an even bigger shock when the black tinted window rolled down and Kim was in the driver’s seat.

  He looked awful, pale and malnourished. He quickly waved me over before his window returned to the up position. Against my better judgement, I crossed the street and got into the passenger seat. Instantly, something was very wrong with everything around me.

  Kim fired the truck up and pulled out into the street. “I knew you’d never stop looking for me.”

  “You’re right.” Up close, his skin looked clammy, like someone who hadn’t slept for days. “Do I even need to ask if you were involved in the murders of Jim Reno and that kid, Al?”

  He turned off onto a side street, Coastline Avenue if my internal map was correct. He pulled over to a shaded parking spot and turned the truck off. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

  Each time he said that, it was more and more chilling how similar to my meetings with Jericho these were becoming. “Kim, I don’t believe this counts as confession.”

  “You’re a man of God,” he argued. “Make it count.”

  Knowing I’d regret this, “What have you done, my son?”

  He began to sob. “I’ve killed them, both of them.”

  This was becoming a dangerous situation. “Why would you do something like that?”

  He pulled his glasses off, showing the full effect of his bloodshot eyes. “Because father, I needed an escape. I couldn’t live like I was. I think I made a very bad deal.”

  The passenger door was unlocked, so I slowly moved my hand to the door lever. “What kind of bad deal are you referring to?”