The Negative Man_Legends Can Die

by Jeremy Croston

  Lattimore pointed to a set of boots prints that walked away from the scene. “One set of prints probably means one perp. Whoever this guy is, he’s strong as a bull.” He nudged the dead man’s arm, which was broken in at least three different places. “No regular man is snapping bones like little twigs.”

  When Lattimore nudged him, a set of dog tags fell to the ground. Using my left hand, the one without the menacing metal claw grip, I picked up the worn and faded pieces of metal. “This man was a ranger.”

  “Can I see those?” Lattimore stretched out his hand and I dropped the tags in it. “Captain Channel Esposito, huh? I know that name from somewhere.”

  The name meant nothing to me. “Killing military personnel isn’t going to be a great read, especially with Vice President Morales and Secretary Victory showing up next week for the final presidential debate.”

  Lattimore groaned. “Don’t remind me; Woods has been on my back ever since they announced Pacific Station as the site.” The medical examiner’s truck showed up while he was complaining. “We need to find this guy, fast. He can’t elude us forever.”

  I was upset it had been going on this long. “Whatever it takes. We can’t let this guy keep running around. Maybe it’s time you went to the press with the real details.”

  He didn’t like my suggestion. A few years ago, murders similar to this one popped up for a week or so, and then stopped. The public forgot all about them, until this latest round started back up and didn’t stop this time. The official statement from the PSPD was that this was gang related. With a history of having gang related issues, the story was bought by the press and the public. It kept the tension from boiling over.

  However, it was time, in my opinion, for the public to know the truth. We had a serial killer super on the loose. It was the only way to dig up new leads that hadn’t been found. Lattimore shook his head. “Woods will never go for it. If word gets out, the panic levels will reach epidemic level and we’ll be in even worse shape.”

  There was nothing more to say. “You’re handcuffing us to a small search field. Still, if that’s the way we have to do it, then we’ll find him. I’ll text you if my team finds anything new.”

  Officer Lattimore nodded and I was gone before the medical examiner ever saw me.

  ****

  Below my father’s old house was my hideout. Becky Walker was behind the computer screen going to town. The moment I had called her with the update, she was on it.

  It was crazy how things had changed in the three years since Liberation Day. That’s what it was called the day I defeated The Negative Man. But I really didn’t. At the last moment, I veered off to the side and let up. Jericho Staley, as much as it pained me, saved my life and sacrificed himself. Now he was holed up over at Black Lagoon, in some sort of coma from the blast of the Stormfall. A blast that was meant for me.

  Fingers were snapping in my face. “Kyle, I was talking to you.”

  Her bright eyes and smart smile brought me from the past back to the moment. “Sorry, was lost in thought.”

  “You need to let that day go. Just because he saved you doesn’t make him a good person.”

  We differed on that. Not taking the bait, “Did you find anything new on our serial killer?”

  She rolled her eyes and went on. “On the serial killer, no. However, this Captain Esposito was quite the character. It took a lot of digging, and, in fact, Phil is still deep in the world wide web.”

  “People don’t call it that anymore.”

  “Well they should.” Becky pulled up the files she had. “Esposito worked for Secretary Victory for a number of years, under a general named Dave Whisant.” Still, nothing clicked for me. “That name meant something to me – he was the guy who lost a plutonium core, right here in Pacific Station.”

  How did I not know about that? “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “It gets better. Your dad and Jericho Staley helped the government find it. Esposito and another captain, a Joshua Pabon, were the ones who were found guilty of stealing it. Pabon died in an encounter with The Dark Lion and Esposito has been a fugitive for years. Treason, murder, espionage, the whole kitten caboodle on that guy is listed.”

  “So, our dead man is a bad guy?”

  Becky clicked another document and zoomed in close on a paragraph. “See here? Esposito’s wife was killed by a super and he went rogue. He did a lot of bad things and wanted to make an example of Pacific Station. You know, because of our lax super restrictions.”

  Back east, supers were basically tagged like animals and kept under close surveillance. That wasn’t the way the west coast worked. Supers were treated as regular citizens; no one was guilty until proven so. “I wonder if our serial killer knew this, or if this is just wrong place, wrong time?”

  “It would’ve taken a special kind of guy to kill Esposito. His background was very combat heavy.”

  The clues were beginning to add up. “We know we’re looking for a super with super strength. He, or she, would have to be excellent in a fight, and may have government connections. I think we need to look closer at the other murders.” I grabbed my notebook off my desk and flipped to the page where all the other victims had been listed, including the ones from a few years ago. “Can you and Jenkins go through each of them and make sure we’re not missing something?”

  She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. Yes, Becky and I are dating. “I certainly can, but I have one favor to ask you.”

  “Your favors tend to be a bit over the top.”

  She handed me an email print off. “Accept this job.”

  I read over the email, which was from Chief Woods, carefully. Apparently while I was out meeting with Lattimore, the chief of police was working an early Sunday morning, too. This was an official request to help with security for the presidential election. If I accepted this, I would be working with Officer Lattimore and the two chiefs of staff for each official – Miguel Cintron for Victory and Harry Chase for Morales.

  I loathed and despised mainstream politics. “You have to be kidding.”

  She snatched the email from me. “Kyle, this election is huge for our country. With the proper candidate in place, regulations against supers could be lightened, or struck away forever!”

  Where I was blasé about it all, Becky was incredibly passionate. “The police can handle this.”

  “With all the bad people creeping up in our city lately, they need you.” She gave me that look that just begged me to challenge her on this point.

  I wasn’t going to do that. “Fine.”

  “Seriously? You’ll do it?”

  “I was under the impression I probably didn’t have a choice.”

  A face immediately popped up on the computer screen behind us. It was the digital face of Phil Jenkins, formerly known as Clubs in Becky’s father’s gang, The Aces. “We have a code red, guys!”

  Both of us gave him our attention. “What is it, Phil?” I asked, hoping he got info on our serial killer.

  But he said something else entirely. Something that we very much didn’t need at this moment in time. “According to prison records, Jericho Staley is out of his coma.”

  Chapter 5 –

  Sunday Morning; Cell Block A Twenty Two

  Andy Dos Cervezas was throwing haymakers like they were going out of style. His soccer hooligan style of fighting was completely something that Frosty and his crew weren’t prepared for. One of the goons broke away from Andy and beelined it for me, thinking I was the weaker target. He was probably right.

  I know people kept telling me I was this Negative Man guy and a pretty bad hombre myself; I just didn’t really believe it. If I was really that bad, wouldn’t I have remembered something of my previous life? Still, the goon was intent on making a name for himself and beating me down was probably a good way to do so. As he approached, I tried to take a fighting stance.

  His first punch broke through my pathetic defense and connected firm on my jaw. It hurt like
hell, but I was still on my feet. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t out cold. I don’t think the goon could, either. He reared back and projected his left fist towards my face again. Something way down deep clicked inside of me. I grabbed his arm and shoulder tossed him to the cement floor.

  “Frosty, it’s your turn to get an ass kickin’!” The voice belonged to Andy and he’d just finished knocking out the dude with the shiv, kicking it away from all of us. Frosty was hightailing it back upstairs, away from the big Englishman.

  I still had problems. The shoulder throw kept me from immediate danger, yet my opponent was far from down and out. He pulled out his shiv from his prison jumpsuit and sliced at me two or three times. That razor didn’t look hygienic at all, so I did my best to keep away. He lunged forward and nearly pierced my stomach; I was just flexible enough where the shiv cut the jumpsuit.

  There was only one choice – try to fight back. As he came at me again, I tried to jab him away. The first one surprised him, but the second was easily knocked aside. With nothing else to do, as he went to stab me, I put my arms up in an X formation, a last ditch attempt at defense.

  Sharp pain never came, for me anyway. When I opened my eyes, the goon was out cold on the opposite wall, his jumpsuit charred and smoking. I jumped when I felt a massive hand slap me on the shoulder. “Sweet baby Jesus, you do have some juice, don’t ya?”

  I guess he meant what happened to the guy who was barely alive across from us. “Andy, I have no idea what I just did.”

  “I’ll tell ya what ya did; you knocked the sense out of him and then slapped him one more time for fun!”

  I had no idea what that meant. I don’t think Andy knew what he was blabbering on about, either. Still, with the trouble gone, the two of us gathered up the three downed men and dropped them into one of the rooms off the main area. No use having the guards see what happened, we’d be the ones to catch hell for it. Plus Frosty had abandoned everyone, shaking in his closed off room upstairs.

  By the time the rest of the block got back, Andy and I were playing tic-tac-toe with one of the shivs on the cement floor. A few of the prisoners looked surprised to see I was still in one piece, all except for Old Rich and Clickbait. Rich was smiling ear to ear and laughed as he walked by me back to our shared room. Clickbait, on the other hand, dropped down beside us. “You caused that power flicker.”

  It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “As The Negative Man, you had total control over the electrons that charge particles. You could mess with polarities and even integrate your mind into objects that put off enough power to handle it.” Wade was stating these things like it was my biography or something. “I have experienced flickers like that before. One time, a number of years back, in a hospital of all places.”

  His jittery talk was starting to put me on edge, too. “No, I keep telling you guys, The Negative Man’s not me.”

  “Sure.” He stood up. “C’mon Andy, guards will be in to check in five.”

  This would be my first guard check, so I made my way back to my room, as it seemed the thing to do. Rich was lounging on the bed when I came in, reading a Bible. “Wade thinks your powers are awakening,” he said as calm and cool as ever.

  “Rich,” I tried to keep it level, “I know people think I’m this guy, but the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.” Could I have been in denial? Sure, I mean who wants to be told they were the worst powered person to ever come along? “I have no memories, I can’t fight to save my life, and look at me!” I leaned up against the block wall annoyed. “I’m not a super. I’m a loser.”

  He wanted to slap me, but the steel doors to our cell block opened and the guards began to file in. I was saved a beat down by inspections. Rich joined me as we moved outside our room. “This conversation isn’t over, Jericho.”

  That I figured. He didn’t say anything else as the inspection took place. A guard by the name of Skelton walked back to our area. He gave me a funny look but said nothing. He checked our room, which didn’t have much, then left as quickly as he came. He passed another guard on the way back and whispered something. I didn’t like this at all.

  Neither did Rich. When the coast was clear, “With Frosty failing to finish the job, look for the guards to take up the cause.”

  “Damnit,” I said, quietly. “It was one thing when it was a fellow inmate I need to worry about. The guards; I’m not dumb enough to think I can handle that for long.”

  Rich took a step out and looked over. Wade and Andy wore the same nervous expression he did. The guards must not have been making it much of a secret. “Listen Jericho, no matter how things start to go down, I told Father Reigart I’d have your back.”

  His tone was rather ominous. “Are you expecting something pretty bad?”

  “Let’s not worry about it right now.”

  ****

  Dinner had been a pretty subdued affair. No one went out of their way to talk to our little group. In fact, from across the dining hall, Frosty had a group gathered around him. I was fairly certain he was telling them what happened during the lunch hour.

  The only person in good spirits was Andy. “Bugger, I hadn’t had a good throw down like that in years! I tell ya, Wade, you should’ve been there.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t.” Clickbait didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who wanted to ‘throw down.’ He even said as much. “It’s barbaric the way some of these animals act in here.”

  “We’re prisoners, Wade. This isn’t going to be the scouts. Be glad we have someone like Andy in the group.”

  “I’m with Rich.” Andy had saved my bacon and in the process, put his own life in danger. “Still, I don’t want violence to be my only way out of this.”

  “Our only way,” Rich reiterated. “Like it or not, the three of us hitched our wagons with you. The only way to do this is as a team.”

  Wade nodded at Rich, and even Andy seemed to be on board. “Guys,” I started. “What’s going on here?”

  “Jericho, we’re going to be the first men to break out of Black Lagoon.”

  As I looked on in disbelief, the rest of them started laughing.

  Chapter 6 –

  Monday Early Morning; Prison Yard

  We were part of the first group to get exercise time in the yard. The prisoners we were with were either still half asleep or annoyed they were out of bed this early. The only people who weren’t in a semi-groggy state or pissed off were the four of us. According to Rich, we had exactly one hour to accomplish our tasks.

  These tasks you ask? For Rich’s plan to be successful in us breaking out, the following requirements had to be met. Wade was handling getting a prison guard access card to clone. Andy, being the tallest of us, had the task of getting a rope high enough on the west lookout tower that we could repel up.

  That rope would be us no good unless I got my own job done. There were two security cameras in range of the tower. According to Wade’s calculations, it wouldn’t take much of a bump to get it off of where we needed to go. The first camera was above the basketball hoop. This would be the easiest one to take care of. I wasn’t a great basketball player and it showed. “Damnit,” I said to no one in particular as I missed. The guards looked over and I could tell they were laughing at my futility.

  Perfect – they didn’t have a clue what my real purpose was. The second shot missed, too. And by missed, I mean I actually made a shot. That was unintentional, I promise you. The third shot ricocheted off the top of the backboard and hit the wall to the right of the camera. The fourth shot was true, taking a weird carom off the rim, bouncing off the backboard again, this time striking the bottom of the camera and pushing it just a few degrees up. That’d have to do.

  I kept playing for a few more minutes before a few guys came over and rather rudely pushed me off the court. I was a bit irritated until I looked over and saw Rich give the smallest of head nods. Somehow I figured he was involve
d. Either way, I had one more camera to adjust.

  At the opposite end of the yard, this camera was about fifteen feet in the air and no real reason to be around it. When I pointed this out to Rich, he said, “Damnit Jericho, the moment you realize you’ve got some bat shit crazy powers bottled up inside, the better.”

  I was walking around, by myself, kind of pacing the area. I was drawing a blank on how to handle this. I needed to hurry, time was short and the guards got suspicious of activity that didn’t fall into their ideals of how a prisoner should act. The sun was starting to peek over the prison wall, too. My morning cover would soon be gone.

  My pacing was beginning to catch the attention of the guards. I caught him making eye contact with me as he briskly walked over to where I was. Shit. As he got closer, “Staley, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Nothing, sir.” If you didn’t add the sir at the end, some of the guards took that as disrespect. “Just enjoying a sunrise.”

  Without saying another word, he grabbed me by my jumpsuit. I was caught unprepared for such a motion and, with ease, he began to drag me back to the middle of the yard. My one chance to complete the task was slipping away! I didn’t know what to do! Without much thought, I reached my hand up, towards the camera, and tried to will myself forward, away from the guard. That didn’t happen, but something else did.

  A blue spark shot from my hand and hit the camera.

  Whatever happened, the camera’s angle dropped and the task was complete. By the time the guard ‘dropped’ me back off with the other inmates, it was time to go inside.

  ****

  “After what transpired, you either believe me or you don’t.”

  I had told Rich what happened. This further cemented his belief that my powers were about ready to burst on to the scene. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, I just don’t remember.”