Legends Can Die

by Jeremy Croston

  As I closed my eyes, a phone appeared. It was going to be the device I used to gain control. Someone close to me would be the power behind it, I believe the woman that I loved. “I failed.”

  “When the puzzle pieces fall together in your head, you’ll see that you didn’t fail so much as learn a great lesson.” Father Reigart looked down at his watch. “Time sure does fly when you’re deep in good conversation.”

  There were no clocks in the church. “What time is it?”

  “It’s time to go find out what’s next in your journey, Jericho. You have thirty minutes until midnight.”

  Chapter 19 –

  Sunday Night; Wonder-Tech Tower

  **Kyle Wonderton**

  We had one hour left until Jericho’s self-imposed deadline of Chief Woods was reached. I’d spent the morning talking to Parker Lattimore, trying to get a feel for where the chief was in his investigation. Lattimore, who looked a bit tired and pale, said the computer forensics guys were hitting all sorts of walls. “I hate to say it, Kyle,” he began, “but the word ‘conspiracy’ might seem appropriate.”

  “Tinfoil hats or something worse?”

  “Do you remember reading a few years back about Clickbait Wade, the hacker who broke through Pacific National’s firewalls and drained all the client bank accounts?”

  Who could forget Clickbait? I mean his trial was a mess – everything from aliens to secret underwater government bases came out of his mouth. “Don’t tell me that nut-job was on to something?”

  Lattimore wiped some sweat off his forehead. Had he been running or something this early? “What if I told you that it’s looking more and more likely that this leads back to someone high up in the government?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I don’t joke much, ML. It also turns out the murder that Homicide is investigating, Darla Bannister, is connected as well.”

  I just looked at him from under my hood. “The café shop owner? Wasn’t that just a drive by shooting gone bad?”

  “Nope, The Negative Man was there at the time of her death. That came from Woods himself, so keep it quiet.”

  “Damnit.” This information would’ve been good just a few hours ago. “That explains a lot. I confronted him after he fled City Hall.” And his reaction to how Becky handled the situation. “Let’s just hope we didn’t antagonize him to do anything rash before the truce is up.”

  Lattimore looked around to make sure we were still alone. “I know you have access to a high level hacker. Do you think you can have him or her look into this? We need all the help we can get.”

  He was obviously referring to Phil Jenkins, unaware that he’d basically become a computer program and wasn’t even a true person anymore. It wasn’t a bad idea, thinking on it. “Yeah, I’ll see what my guy can find. If we come across anything, I’ll get in contact right away.”

  “Thanks. The last thing this city needs is for The Negative Man to burn it to the ground.”

  And that’s how we got to where we were. Thinking it must have been someone involved in the whole Project Jericho ordeal, that’s where we started. Phil had been trying his best all day to crack the infinite amounts of security some of the files had embedded on them, mostly to little luck. The only things we’d been able to gain access to were old files on Jericho himself, his days as a lab rat. Those who worked behind the scenes, they were like ghosts.

  Becky hadn’t seen these before and after reading them, her compassion began to show. Tossing away another file about Jericho’s childhood, “Kyle, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  It was dark stuff. The tests they ran, the operations they put together to kill him when things weren’t working out, killing his guardian in cold blood – yeah, it wasn’t anything pretty. “No one’s personal tragedies should be objectified. I felt guilty enough knowing.”

  Phil chimed in, too. “I just read about Dr. Leonard Cooper, the one who killed Dr. Ellison Staley. He was an evil man; no wonder Jericho is as unstable as he is.”

  Cooper was the one I was most familiar with. His work on the Stormfall Theory was what I had used to try and kill Jericho, to get revenge for my father. “As much as we’re learning on our trip down Jericho’s past, unless we get some solid evidence to help out Woods, all of this is for nothing.”

  There wasn’t much Becky or I could do. This was entirely on Jenkins to get deep and find facts that’d help us. Whenever he printed off a document that he thought might have something, then we’d spring into action. Unfortunately, as the timer was counting down, those leads were shrinking up quickly.

  Minutes ticked away, and soon we were down to the final fifteen minutes. Lattimore had texted me twice since eleven fifteen asking if I had anything to add. It wasn’t looking good. “I can’t believe this,” I shouted at no one in particular. “No one is that good, there’s always a bread trail somewhere.” I knew Jenkins was trying his best, it just wasn’t good enough. “You mean to tell me there’s nothing to link anyone to Porterhouse or the attack on Black Lagoon.”

  “The order that Hopfauf Air Force Base received has more redactions than then some black op files I’ve combed through. Whoever ordered this, they were awfully quick on the trigger to get redactions put on the order.”

  We’d been looking in the wrong place. “Phil, would the Secretary of Defense be able to make independent orders – order an air strike this this?”

  An executive order appeared on the screen. “Two years ago, Victory gave himself the power to order strikes against domestic terrorists if the threat level was raised to red.”

  “What was the threat level at Black Lagoon the night of the airstrike?”

  Pages began to filter through as he dug deeper. Becky whispered into my ear, “You don’t think a presidential candidate would do such a thing, do you?”

  “Have you heard the man speak? Jericho personifies every risk one could think of when talking about the super community.” It was easy sometimes to forget how naïve Becky was to the world. “As incentive as it sounds, he probably thought he was doing the world a favor by taking him out.”

  “Three hours before the strike, when the prison hadn’t even reported the riot yet, the threat level of the prison was raised from yellow, bypassing orange and straight to red. The official who gave the order was Secretary Victory.” The documents faded away as his face came back up. “The timestamp was messed with. At first glance, it would look to someone as if the threat level was raised after the fires started.”

  We had the proof. “Phil, email those from an anonymous account to Chief Woods immediately. And anything else you can find in connection.” We had less than ten minutes to spare. “We may have saved the city some casualties, but I’m afraid to see what war this will bring.”

  “This is the right thing to do, Kyle.” Becky placed her arm around me. “Jericho gave us no choice and in the state of mind he’s in, had Woods not had an answer for him, I shudder to think what would’ve happened.”

  “You’re right.” I was naïve, too. There was such a grey area between what was right/good and bad/evil. Sometimes bad and right overlapped. Wasn’t that the philosophy of Jericho’s last attempt to take over Pacific Station? “We did what was necessary on our ends. If this results in an attack against the Secretary, then I’ll do my job and defend him.”

  “We opened Pandora’s Box tonight, didn’t we?”

  “I have a bad feeling that we’ve reached another crossroads. And neither path looks to be all that promising.”

  As selfish as it sounded, I thought about the legacy I was building: first the Stormfall and now uncovering this truth. Who was to say if I was any better than The Negative Man with my own actions? I looked over at my father’s old cloak, disappointed in myself. I hoped wherever he was, I hadn’t disappointed him, too.

  Chapter 20 –

  Sunday Midnight; PSPD Station

  And Woods’s time had just run out. There were two ways to approach this situation, calmly walk
in or go in guns blazing. I chose the first option, knowing that violence wasn’t warranted… yet. As I opened the glass door and walked in, it was plain to see that my arrival was expected. SWAT team members were lining the entrance way, their guns trained on me.

  Not that it would do them any good. “Can one of you upstanding citizens point me in the direction of Chief Woods’ office?”

  A woman, heavily protected in her SWAT uniform, stepped forward. “I’m Team Leader Cindy Smith. I will escort you to his office. Follow me.”

  Her words were short and curt. I followed in step as she moved out of the entrance way and into the main portion of the police station. With every step I took, those assault rifles followed me. It was nice to see such loyalty amongst team members.

  The mood in the squad room was fever pitched. Every officer who worked for the chief must’ve been here. Each was wearing a bullet proof vest and their fire arms were out. I was flattered by such a reaction to my entrance. “This is too much for me. To be greeted so warmly, it is an honor.” I meant my words, but I don’t think they took it as flattery.

  Smith led me up a set of stairs and at the top was a single office. Sitting behind his desk was Brad Woods, a weariness from hours of long work plastered all over him. “That’ll be all, Smith. Back to your post,” he commanded.

  She gave him a salute and closed the door behind her. It was glass, so we could still see the entire squad room. Woods was sitting, so I did the same. I even took my mask off; he knew who I really was, anyway. I guess I looked bad, as he grimaced a bit at the sight of my face. “Been living life off the grid recently.”

  “I see.” He clicked his mouse a few times and the printer behind him started firing off page after page. “Jericho – do you mind if I call you Jericho?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” My personality had him on pins and needles. “Jericho,” he began yet again, “when you gave me this deadline, I assumed it was a lost cause. I took the deal that night to keep the bloodshed and hostility to a minimum.”

  It was a wise decision. “As you can see, I’m a man of my word. I’ve stayed out of sight while you had time to investigate everything.”

  He grabbed the stack of papers and put them on his desk, right in front of his hands. “This isn’t the way I usually conduct investigations, yet what we’ve turned up is quite troubling. The question is, how do we proceed?”

  “You want to know what I’m going to do with the information, correct?”

  “It’s as simple as that.”

  We both knew the answer. I was going to do some terrible things to the person or persons responsible for all of this. There was a conflict brewing – should I tell Woods the truth or keep his conscience clean with a little white lie? You know the old saying, the truth will set you free? “I’m going to take that information and hunt down those responsible. They are going to wish they’d never started a war they weren’t ready for.”

  He slid the top paper over. It was a cover sheet entitled, ‘The Investigation of Brandon Porterhouse: His Ties to Ronald Victory.’ I knew it! Woods did too. “Through quite a few back channels and some unsolicited help, we were able to connect Porterhouse to Victory through discrepancies in official reports. I have everything right here, but Jericho, do you honestly know what you are going to be up against?”

  “Chief, it’s not your place to talk me out of this. You did as I asked and when you give me the report, our business will be complete. If you feel the need to try and stop me, that’s your call.”

  Woods did the right thing. He handed me the entire document, even getting out the industrial sized stapler so I could keep all the papers together. It was at that point I was getting ready to head on out, but the chief looked like he had more to say. Sitting back down, “I know the moment I leave the station, I’m a hunted man. So let’s finish this talk before that happens.”

  It was hard to tell if this was impromptu or a practiced speech. Either way, it was heartfelt. “I’ve been an officer of the law for as long as I can remember. You’re a different case. According to my predecessor and his files, you were a domestic terrorist and a high level threat to all of national security. I’d agree with those statements.”

  “I would –”

  “Not done yet.” Woods leaned in. “I also have come to conclude in our dealings that you’re an honorable man, one who seeks truth and wishes to see our world be a better place. The difference is the paths we’re willing to take to see that happen.”

  Good lord, he sounded just like John Wonderton. “I’ve heard this before, from The Dark Lion of all people, and a rather close friend of mine.” I was beginning to think Father Reigart had his hands deeper than even I saw. “I am what I am, Chief. It’s too late in the game to change up the rules.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  His appeal to me didn’t fall on deaf ears, it just wasn’t a tune I was interested in listening to. “I came here tonight under a truce. Will I be able to leave the station without being shot at?”

  He nodded. “My officers know that they are to allow you an exit as long as the situation remains peaceful. As you stated before, the moment you leave the station, you’re back to being number one on our most wanted list.”

  “Even after the stunts Victory has pulled?”

  “Jericho, if you think I can go after the Secretary of Defense, a presidential candidate no less, you’re truly insane.”

  There was a decent question lingering about my sanity. “Then let me do it. Allow me to be the one who seeks justice, no matter how it’s done.”

  His gaze said it all. “I can’t do that. We both know that.”

  “Then I look forward to our game, Chief. Stop me, if you can.”

  I left his office and slowly began the walk back out of the station. I was surprised that boy wonder, Kyle, wasn’t here. Oh he probably was, lurking in some shadow just like his father. If it was a fight he wanted when I left the building, I would give him hell.

  Just entering the entrance way, the doors leading out of the station opened. I had to stop for a moment. Realizing shit was about to hit the fan, I fired up my energy shield as the figure, some sort of half organic, half mechanical beast entered and opened fire with his blaster. The SWAT team never stood a chance.

  “Titan?” No, she was dead. I saw Diana Krummel die on the CW Poseidon. From behind my shield, certain features could be made out. It was definitely a guy; he had a closely trimmed beard with short brown hair. He was also wearing glasses, with the left eye glowing red behind the lens. “Erin?”

  He heard me and stopped shooting. “The Negative Man, priority Beta protocol.” It sounded a bit like him, just a hollow, machine voice. “Police Chief Woods, Alpha target.” He stomped closer to me, not even trying to avoid all the dead bodies that littered the entranceway.

  From behind, all the police officers were rushing forward to take on the incoming threat. My shield was still up; I was unsure if he’d try to attack me or not. He never got the chance. Kyle Wonderton dashed in from the broken down door and delivered a supersonic rush attack to the back of the creature. A punch of that power should’ve killed him.

  Erin, or what used to be Erin, stumbled forward. “The Morning Lynx. Disengage protocol enacted.” Foot boosters kicked on and the new incarnation of Titan flew straight up, crashing through the ceiling. Maybe Woods wanted a skylight? Either way, with the distraction, I dropped my shield and followed Erin’s lead – except I found a transformer box to jump in to make my getaway.

  Dungeon Bay Research Facility –

  Project: Titan-Six

  **Ronald Victory**

  Erin had returned from a successful venture into the heart of Pacific Station. How I wish I could’ve seen the looks on their faces when a new and improved Titan prototype blew into police headquarters and made them pay for getting involved. What was Police Chief Brad Woods thinking?! He had no right to get involved with The Negative Man’s issues.

  General Whis
nant was downstairs being briefed on the op before Erin went back to his more uncooperative self. That was the only downside to his transformation as the new Titan – after about three hours, the host body began to regain control and could reverse it. In fact, all my test subjects have a flaw I wish could be taken care of, yet the good doctor assured me otherwise.

  There was a knock on the door and my aide, Miguel Cintron, entered. “I’ve received confirmation that Madame Vice President Angela Morales is en-route to Pacific Station. Maybe she’ll finally announce her vice president selection as well,” Miguel added. I didn’t care. Who she chose wasn’t even remotely interesting to me. I was interested in… other things.

  “It’s about time,” I growled. She was supposed to be here yesterday, but she decided to stop in Red Rock for some memorial service honoring two fallen vigilantes, Sandstorm and Dust Devil. What an awful way to cause a delay. “When does her flight touch down?”

  “According to her public agenda, she and her husband, Adam, will be here tomorrow morning and will be giving a welcoming speech later in the afternoon.”

  Perfect, this is just the chance I needed. “After the success of Erin’s mission last night, we will be able to begin the next phase of our project. A suitable test subject is needed and Morales will be the perfect candidate…” No pun intended.

  **Erin Cieslik**

  I had the same migraine each time I came off of the transformation from that monster. The uncontrollable instinct to do what I was told to, it was horrible. Most days I just wanted to die; living in such a way wasn’t worth it anymore. God forbid Danielle or the kids knew what happened to me. It’d ruin them.

  The door to the containment room popped open and General Davy Whisnant casually walked in. He signaled something to the soldier behind him as he entered. I wasn’t sure what that was all about until the red light that acted as the camera feed went out. That couldn’t be good. “Hey, Erin, how are you feeling?” he asked lightly.