Legacy

by Tom Sniegoski

  He backed out, careful not to scratch any of the other fifty vehicles parked in the underground garage. He drove up a winding concrete ramp, but he was forced to stop before a closed metal door.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” he said, flipping down the sun visor. “Yes!” he exclaimed when he found the garage door opener clipped to the visor. He pushed the button, and the heavy door began to slowly rise.

  This is it, he thought, waiting for the door. My last chance to forget about Putnam and the names on that list.

  The garage door was fully open, but Lucas sat behind the wheel for a moment, listening to the engine hum and thinking about his options. Part of him wanted to call it all off, to go back inside and begin the supervillain tutorial; but there was another part of him, one that was starving for answers, hungrier even than the nanites flowing through his blood.

  Lucas stepped on the gas, the tires squealing as he peeled out of the garage on his way to answers.

  There was no turning back now.

  He was surprised that Putnam had just given him an address.

  Lucas had half expected to be picked up in an unmarked car, blindfolded, and driven to some supersecret location.

  He was to find a place called Seraphim Way. Using the car’s GPS system, he punched in the address and followed the directions that appeared on the small computer screen attached to the dashboard.

  The Mustang felt very different from his pickup truck. The closest he had ever come to driving anything this fast was when he had needed to pull a vehicle into the garage for work or park it when he was done.

  This car was something else. He was amazed by its response, a tap of the gas taking him from the speed limit to over in the blink of an eye. Lucas reminded himself to be careful; he didn’t need to be pulled over for speeding in a car he had pretty much stolen. He slowed down, still managing to enjoy the experience of driving the fine vehicle. He wanted to get to Putnam’s as soon as possible, but he knew not to risk it.

  The answers would still be there.

  From a winding two-lane road, he was directed to an exit that would bring him onto the highway going north, and he stepped on the gas, merging with the oncoming traffic.

  As he drove, Lucas studied the city around him. There was something both thrilling and frightening about the place. It was a strange mixture of old and new architecture, buildings of brick, concrete, and wood mingling with towering structures of steel and glass.

  It was as if two cities—one from the past and another from the future—had been crammed together to form a single place.

  He could see why his mother had been sad about leaving here, and why his father had chosen to protect it so fiercely.

  He wanted to know the Angel City better. To learn all her secrets.

  The highway eventually took him to the outskirts of Seraph, to a lonely country road that wound its way through a heavily wooded area.

  Eventually he passed a sign that read EDEN STATE PARK, and he realized he was getting close.

  At a barely visible entrance, he banged a sharp right and carefully drove the sports car down an uneven dirt road. According to the GPS, Seraphim Way would be at the end of this rocky stretch.

  The car bumped along. Lucas tried to steer around the most obvious dips and craters, but he found it impossible to avoid them completely. If Hartwell was going to be pissed at him for taking one of his cars, he would have a stroke for sure after seeing what the vehicle’s frame looked like after this excursion.

  After a sharp bend, the road got a little bit better, and Lucas suddenly found himself coming to a stop in front of a high metal gate.

  “Great,” he muttered, getting out of the car to see if he would be able to pass.

  The double wrought-iron gate wasn’t locked or chained, so he was able to push it open.

  Getting back into the car, he drove through the passage, up the roadway, and around a bend, which was where he saw it.

  Lucas knew he had arrived.

  It looked as though at one time it had been a house, or an old mansion really. Not quite as big as Hartwell Manor, but still plenty huge to Lucas.

  He drove up to the front of the building and stopped. The place looked like hell. A small island of overgrown weeds punctuated the circular drive, and in the midst of it, Lucas saw something. He left the car and went to it. It was a rotting wooden sign.

  Reaching down, he hauled it up, and brushing away the dirt and bugs, he read what it said.

  THE HANNIFORD PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY.

  A mental hospital, he thought, letting the sign fall back to where it had probably lain for years. He wondered if he should take the sign as an omen of bad things to come.

  He left the circle and approached the building. It was a mess—windows boarded up, shingles fallen away to reveal rotting tar paper beneath. From the looks of it, nobody had been here for a very long time.

  Had Putnam been playing with him? Making him jump through hoops like some trained puppy, just to see if he could be trusted?

  “Maybe I wrote down the address wrong,” Lucas muttered, staring at the forbidding structure. It reminded him of a place out of one of the slasher movies he and his mother used to watch when he was still too young to hang out at the Trough.

  “I wouldn’t go in there if you paid me,” he remembered her saying as they showed a building or house very much like this one.

  Lucas smiled as he approached, doing the very thing he and his mother used to complain about.

  Why did the main characters always act so freakin’ stupid?

  It was the need for answers, he would tell her now, speaking from experience. The need to know … It makes you do stupid things.

  He walked up the steps, the ancient wood moaning and creaking, and onto the large front porch.

  Lucas could just imagine the former residents of the Hanniford, sitting in chairs, lined up in a row, getting some fresh air and sunshine.

  The large double doors seemed to beckon to him. He gripped the glass knob and tried to turn it. It refused to move, and Lucas let out an exasperated sigh.

  It must’ve all been a game, he thought, walking to the edge of the porch. He was about to go back to the car and return to the manor when he heard the sound from behind him.

  Lucas turned to see that one of the double doors had opened. A damp, musty odor wafted out from inside.

  “Hello?” he called out, cautiously sticking his head through the doorway.

  The inside was as depressing as the outside.

  The building was just a shell, some random pieces of moldering furniture strewn around the entryway and what looked like a reception area over to the left.

  He entered, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Muted sunshine found its way through the dust-, dirt-and grime-encrusted windows.

  He walked farther into the foyer, searching for something to tell him he was in the right place.

  The door slammed behind him and he jumped.

  “Glad you could make it,” said a disembodied voice he immediately recognized as Nicolas Putnam’s. “Hang a right and head on down the first staircase to your left.”

  “Where are you?” Lucas asked.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Putnam said.

  Lucas walked down the dark corridor, found the staircase, and started down.

  Putnam’s voice followed him, seemingly coming from the walls.

  “Keep going until you reach the bottom,” he told him.

  Lucas obeyed, heading down into the darkness. He was surprised at how well he could see, but figured it was the nanites doing their job.

  At the bottom of the steps he saw that he was in some sort of basement work area, probably a laundry room. “Now what?” he called out.

  “Step over to the door,” Putnam’s voice told him.

  A faint red light illuminated a barely noticeable closet door at the far end of the large room. He walked toward it.

  “Sorry for keeping you waiting outside,” Putman said as th
e old closet door, its surface covered in peeling white paint, swung open to reveal a more impressive-looking metal door.

  It reminded Lucas of the doors he’d seen on bank vaults.

  “Had to be sure that you were alone,” Putnam went on.

  The door began to hum. Lucas could hear the muffled metallic clicking and clanking sounds as the locking mechanism disengaged.

  “That you hadn’t shared our discussion with Hartwell.”

  The door slid open to reveal Putnam, leaning on his crutches, in the middle of a large, well-lit room.

  “What makes you think I didn’t?” Lucas asked, stepping inside.

  The room was a dirtier version of Hartwell’s nest: computers and various pieces of unrecognizable technology lying around; multiple projects at different stages of completion.

  “I’m a good judge,” Putnam said. “You want to know what this is all about … what it’s really all about?”

  The heavy metal door closed behind Lucas with a hiss.

  “Come in, and I promise to make everything clear,” Putnam said.

  “What is this place?” Lucas asked.

  “The Hanniford Psychiatric Facility,” Putnam began. “If you were crazy or had a problem with an addictive substance, this was the place for you … until 1975, when it was shut down for tax evasion.”

  “Do you own it?” Lucas asked.

  Putnam shrugged. “We borrow it. It’s the perfect location for our supersecret research lab.” The man waggled his eyebrows as Lucas followed him into the work area.

  “This looks like a workshop,” Lucas said.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Putnam answered. “This is how I support my extracurricular activities. I design security and surveillance systems for big businesses, and for anybody else who can afford them.”

  “Which is how you’ve been able to keep an eye on me,” Lucas added.

  “Exactly,” Putnam responded with a smile and a nod.

  “So if you’ve got this business, why are you hiding in an abandoned hospital?” Lucas asked.

  “Because I feel safer staying out of sight,” Putnam replied.

  “Who are you afraid of?” Lucas asked. “Hartwell … the Raptor?”

  “Let’s just say Mr. Hartwell wouldn’t approve of what my observations of his activities over the last twenty or so years have revealed.”

  They reached a workstation with two seats. Putnam gestured for Lucas to sit down.

  “I think I’ll stand,” Lucas said, crossing his arms. He looked around, wondering where Katie might be.

  “Suit yourself,” the older man said as he leaned his crutches against the station and lowered his disabled body with a grunt. “Don’t ever get old,” he said as Lucas looked his way. “Or have sixty percent of the bones in your body broken in an explosion rigged by supervillains.”

  “Is that what happened to you?” Lucas asked, his curiosity piqued. “Is that why you stopped being Talon?”

  The older man nodded. “Pretty much,” he said. “Hartwell and I … excuse me, the Raptor and I had been tracking a group of villains that had decided to team up. They called themselves the Terribles.”

  Putnam paused a moment, as if he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

  “They were responsible for a number of robberies where some innocents had been hurt, and that just made Hartwell insane. He’d had enough. He used everything at his disposal to track these guys down and bring them to justice.”

  A can of soda sat on the counter and Putnam reached for it. Lucas noticed the burn scars on his hand.

  Putman took a pull from the can, and continued. “The Raptor and Talon became real pains in the ass out there on the streets. We utilized every street source we could find to get our information. After we were done with them, the lowlifes of Seraph City were pretty happy to give us the location of the Terribles’ hideout.”

  Putnam chuckled, bringing his hand up to touch the disfigured portion of his face.

  “And I’m sorry to say they paid the price,” he said, his voice growing soft and quiet. “We were so damned cocky, we didn’t realize they were playing us.”

  “Playing you?” Lucas asked, leaning back against a counter. “Who, the Terribles?”

  “Yep. It was a trap,” Putnam explained. “They led us right to their door—an unfinished convention center down-town.”

  “And that was where you got hurt?”

  “That was where a lot of people got hurt,” the older man said. “Killed, in fact. The Terribles had captured our key informants and rigged the entire building to explode once we were inside.”

  Putnam reached for his can of soda again, and Lucas noticed how badly his hand was shaking.

  Lucas saw movement from the corner of his eye and watched as Katie strolled by, talking to someone on a cell phone. She took notice of him and waved before continuing on, still talking as she disappeared into another part of the workshop space.

  “So the Raptor was hurt too?” Lucas asked.

  “Yeah, but not as badly as me. He pulled me from the wreckage, removed my tattered costume, and brought me to the closest hospital, telling the emergency room physicians I was an innocent bystander who had been caught in the blast.”

  “So nobody knew who you were.”

  “Nobody knew I was Talon,” he said. “And after a while, Hartwell seemed to forget as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being the rich philanthropist and friend to Seraph City, Hartwell volunteered to pay for all my medical expenses. That was the last I saw of him.”

  “But you were his partner,” Lucas said.

  “I was, but after that incident, it was like I didn’t exist anymore. As if what happened had changed all the rules, turning him into a completely different person.”

  Putnam paused.

  “It was as if whatever humanity he’d had was destroyed in the explosion. What left the inferno was some kind of cold, calculating machine.”

  The words were chilling, but Lucas needed more. He had to know why Putnam believed this.

  “Nick,” Katie said, coming into the area.

  Lucas immediately straightened up, standing taller.

  “Hate to interrupt, but Fabonio is insisting he speak with the system’s designer.” She held the phone out to Putnam.

  The man sighed, pushing himself up from the seat and gathering his crutches.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, placing the phone beneath his chin and hobbling out of sight.

  “Mr. Fabonio?” Putnam asked the person on the other end. “Good day to you, sir. This is Robert Larrange.”

  He was soon out of earshot.

  “Robert Larrange?” Lucas asked, turning to Katie.

  “One of Nick’s many aliases,” she said with a pretty smile.

  Lucas half expected her to take off, leaving him alone until Putnam came back, but she stayed.

  “I guess he was hurt pretty badly,” Lucas said finally.

  Katie nodded. “Physically, as well as mentally,” she said. “When the Raptor abandoned him, it kind of messed him up more than the explosion did. Even after his wounds and bones had healed as well as they were going to, he still had some issues.”

  She really is pretty hot, Lucas thought, struggling to concentrate on her words.

  “He tried to contact Hartwell to find out what had happened, but every attempt went unanswered.”

  “So what did he do?”

  Katie shrugged. “I think he just sort of disappeared. He had money saved, and he took it all out and went off the grid so that nobody could find him. Being the Raptor’s partner had taught him some pretty amazing skills, so it wasn’t hard for him to drop off the face of the earth.”

  “Did Hartwell notice?” Lucas asked. “Did he even try to find him?”

  The girl shook her head. “It wasn’t part of his new mission,” she explained. “Hartwell was all about the big mission … about wiping out evil for good.
”

  There was a question that Lucas wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how to go about it. He didn’t want to sound like an insensitive jerk, but he had to know.

  “You said he … the Raptor … he …?”

  “Killed my father?” Katie asked casually.

  She leaned against the opposite side of the counter, crossing her ankles. Lucas noticed she was wearing red Converse sneakers and some pretty crazy striped socks.

  “He did,” she said, her voice sounding small. “Matter of fact, that was how I first met Nicolas. My dad was one of the original Terribles.”

  Lucas nodded, not sure how to react when a cute girl let you know that her dad was a murderous supervillain.

  “He called himself the Frightener. He was a chemist and had developed this gas that caused people to experience their deepest fears.”

  “Sounds … sort of cool,” Lucas said carefully.

  “Yeah, but he was a jerk. I hadn’t seen him in years. He’d left the country with the other Terribles not too long after I was born, I guess, but when he showed up dead, he actually had me listed on a piece of paper in his wallet as his next of kin.” She stared at her sneakers for a bit. “Yep, a real piece of work, but even a supervillain doesn’t deserve what happened to him. I was always under the impression that the good guys weren’t supposed to do stuff like that, y’know?”

  Lucas nodded, sharing in her emotion.

  “I was fifteen, hadn’t seen him in years, and I was the one who got the call to go and identify the body. Can you believe it? If it wasn’t for some old pictures my mom had hanging around, I wouldn’t even have known what he looked like,” she said angrily.

  “And you think my dad … Hartwell was responsible?”

  “I know he was,” she said. “It took him quite a few years, but the Raptor was taking down each member of the Terribles. They must’ve decided it was safe to come back from wherever they were hiding. Wrong. The week after he offed my dad he hung this guy called the Blade Master by his neck over the Seraph City Freeway.” She shook her head. “Not nice at all.”

  Lucas was about to ask her how she knew it was his father, but Putnam returned, handing Katie her phone. “Thanks, hon,” he said as she took it from him.