The Negative Man_Legends Can Die

by Jeremy Croston

  That was still a question. When I walked back outside, my mind answered it for me. I saw a place, gl-O-bal Innovations. Below the main floor, there had been a workshop that I once used. If that was where I was meant to go, then it was as good of a start as any.

  The Negative Man was once again free.

  Dungeon Bay Research Facility –

  Project: Titan-Six

  **Ronald Victory**

  “Gentlemen, may I present to you Secretary of Defense, Ronald Victory.”

  The two men in the room stood as my chief of staff, Miguel Cintron, announced my presence to them. As soon as I entered, Cintron walked right back out, closing the door behind us. A very unlikeable man, he had his uses and was reliable.

  General Davy Whisnant and Professor Jeremiah Presley both stood at attention. I hated the protocol and frivolity. “Gentlemen,” I started. “At ease, for the love of God.”

  Whisant put his hand down from his hat and took it off. Presley was a bit more awkward, but eventually found it reasonable to just stand there, shuffling his feet. Whisnant took over the situation. His cool, slow drawl was pleasing and his laid back expression was a reason so many people back on the Hill loved him. “Congratulations on the destruction of Black Lagoon.”

  I was quite proud of that. Any evidence of my interference and dealing with Warden Porterhouse were long gone under a blaze of glory. “With Jericho dead, I just proved that even a legend can die.” Ridding the world of that wild card made things much easier going forward. “Everything is falling into place, gentlemen. How is our team progressing?”

  “Mr. Secretary, everything is just about ready to go.” The general gave a quick nod to Presley.

  We were in an observation room. Below us was a training ground of sorts. It was Presley’s pride and joy, which made it almost impossible to understand. I didn’t give a crap though, it produced results each time. There was a steel door at the far end of the training ground, currently closed. “Is my team on the other side?”

  Presley pressed a button and the observation room window disappeared – a computer screen was displayed on the glass. “Yes sir. They are performing at levels we could only dream about!” he rattled off excitedly. “Balefire is especially impressive. Her ghost-walking ability really meshed well with the perfected Titan serum.”

  “Excellent,” I said as the names appeared in front of us. I smiled as I read over the folks listed, their real identities followed by code names for the field:

   Adams, Heather: Detonate

   Balefire, Winter: Wraith

   Cieslik, Erin: Armageddon

   Krummel, Kim: Abbadon

   Pappas, Christopher: Blade

   Wilson, Zed: Amalgamate

  I rubbed my hands together greedily. “Have we perfected Amalgamate’s ability? Last I heard, he needed his brothers to perform the joining.” That was the update I was most anxious to get.

  Presley smiled. “Thanks to the perfected Titan formula, we were able to synch all six of them together. At any point, one of them can join with Zed, fusing their powers into one person.”

  If I understood Presley right, if all six joined together, we’d have one singular super with all the powers. “This seems too good to be true.” I added, “What’s the catch?”

  Presley deactivated the computer and the observation room once again looked over the training ground. “When you put six minds together, six highly unstable minds at that, the results can be quite disastrous. So far the longest they had held together before reaching what General Whisant calls the critical point is five minutes.” There was something else, too. “And Amalgamate loses his diamond skin ability.” Shaking his head, “We’ve tried everything, but there’s no remedy to date.”

  The loss of Zed Wilson’s diamond skin was an unfortunate side effect, but I had bigger concerns. Referencing the time limit Presley shared, “Is that true?” I asked Whisnant.

  He nodded. Even in a serious conversation like this, his half smile was still on his face. It was like the man could stare down a nuclear weapon, which I guess he had before. “Secretary, even as individuals, this team you had us put together is dangerous. But that was the point, wasn’t it?”

  I couldn’t help but smile too. “Yes General Whisnant. When our country sees how dangerous these lunatics are, the people will turn to me. So yes, that is exactly the point.

  **Heather Adams**

  “Jericho, jump!” I whispered into the flip phone I was holding. The rest of the “group,” if you could even call them that, were walking around aimlessly waiting for the doors into the training ground to open. Knowing someone might spot me at any moment, I flipped the phone closed and put it away. I hoped it was enough.

  Being this close to the one who orchestrated the events that were currently happening at Black Lagoon, I learned so much. It was a shame I threw it all away and gave into the beast I’d become. I was no longer the Heather that Jericho would want. I couldn’t even stomach looking myself in the mirror anymore. Why did I follow Zed to this hell hole?!

  The news reports that were being played over the speakers in the holding room went dead, just as the reporter, Holly Hasset, relayed information that the prison had been lost. Replacing the news was the voice of the man who had been pulling all the strings, including mine: Secretary Victory. “Get into positions. We’re about to run another test.”

  Erin Cieslik, or Armageddon as the ones who ran the program called him, punched the wall. “I’m done doing all these stupid tests!”

  Even with his outburst, we all knew there was no choice. The door would open and we would comply. Ever since being injected with that toxin, our freewill was gone. Whatever was put into it amplified the control being exerted over us by Ronald Victory. Once you gave in, there was no turning back.

  That was okay though. Heather Adams was dead, there was only Detonate. And Detonate only lived to cause pain and suffering.

  The doors opened and it was time to give in. The brief moment of feeling like a human and contacting Jericho dissolved, only leaving the cold blooded killer behind that the Titan injections had turned me into.

  Chapter 11 –

  Wednesday Afternoon; gl-O-bal Innovations

  I slept most of the day Tuesday and even for a good portion of the day on Wednesday. It was only around noon that I got up and began to take in my new found freedom. Or half freedom; I was still a prisoner of my own mind. Portions of my life were crystal clear and others were so far away from me that I was worried I’d never know the truth.

  gl-O-bal Innovations was my home currently. There only seemed to be a skeleton crew working in the building these days. To make sure no one came down to where I was, I forged a polarity lock on the elevator, one that would respond only to me. I was lost and, even worse, alone. I needed to get control of myself before I ventured back into the world to see what had become of it.

  My big breakdown had come in the middle of the night Tuesday. I woke up sweating with the realization that three years of my life were spent in a coma and another few months spent not even knowing who I was. Terrifying, awful thoughts rushed through me. Then, almost as if my mind knew I needed something, a face and a name came to the surface – Father Reigart. I even knew where to find him, St. James Cathedral. When I was ready to leave the safety of this workshop, that would be my first stop.

  When I was ready – ready to find the one or ones who tried to have me killed. All signs pointed back to the government and a powerful figure inside as the puppet master; Frosty had said as much. Whoever this person was, they would live to regret the day they did this to me. Once I was ready, once The Negative Man returned to form, nowhere would be safe. The lengths I would go to find out their identity – well let’s just say I was willing to do just about anything.

  There was an important piece missing. I needed to rebuild my suit, as my old one was long gone. Even if it was still around, my powers were different this time; the Stormfall altered me at a molecular
level. This meant I would have to devise something to control a wilder, almost primal power. It also gave me purpose, something to focus my mind on. I needed that more than ever – an idle mind was a dangerous mind.

  I couldn’t believe all the raw materials that were basically abandoned down here. I had everything from an incredibly strong poly-fiber material to pieces of surgical steel, and more! It was like an inventor’s dream. There was even a complete set of Red Wolf tools that were in pristine condition. Like the voice on the phone, all of this felt so oddly familiar to me. When I picked up a wrench, I didn’t know how, but I knew these belonged to me.

  Wiping off the years of dust from one of the work tables, I grabbed a few different materials and began experimenting on different functions and looks. Time began to slip away from me as my mind worked faster, more controlled with each design I tried. Soon, schematics fell into place, concepts of what I needed formed instantly. The two most important parts had to be made first – a mask to once again become my symbol, one that could also withstand the wild force of the negative energy in me. I’d need a gauntlet too, one perfectly crafted to act as the conductor of my power. It had to be strong, yet light; this was going to be the focal point of all my attacks and movements.

  There was a dedicated shelving system for all the metal. A lot of the shelves were empty; there was the steel as I mentioned, along with copper and aluminum sheets. Copper was a wonderful conductor of electricity, so I grabbed as many sheets as I could get. A few of the sheets were the perfect size to make a face mask. Eagerly, I got down to business.

  I was famished by the time I put my hammer down, having tacked in the straps so it would slide over my head. There had been an artistic flair as I designed the mask – giving it a sly smile, nose, and ‘surprised’ eyes. I amused myself as I slid it over my face. The fit was perfect, snug from the steel bands with cushion on the backside of the forehead and chin. This wouldn’t be coming off at all during combat.

  My hunger had grown to the point I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I had eaten through all the energy bars that had been left down here. Peeking out the window, it was well past nightfall and I wouldn’t have a better time to find food. Fortunately, before I started all my other projects, I had the bright idea to use some of the cotton sheets to fashion a pair of black pants. They were by no stretch designer quality, but they were functional and wore well. Putting my black jacket back on, I pulled my hood up and opened the lock to the elevator.

  I felt okay until I reached the glass doors to leave the building. Once outside, I felt vulnerable. I quickly made my way to the nearest food cart and ordered two hot dogs with the few bucks I’d found in the workshop. With food, I was prepared to go back, but the pull to St. James Cathedral was too much. With the night as my ally, I changed direction, away from gl-O-bal.

  ****

  As I walked in, I felt inappropriate eating the last of my second hot dog in such a place. It was empty, but the lights were still on. I wasn’t sure what to do. I kind of roamed around for a few minutes, until I saw a wooden door. Curious, I opened it and found a small seat inside. Closing the door behind me, I sat down and just waited.

  The little cut out window above the seat opened up. Whoever was on the other side was apparently waiting for something, possibly a password? “Hello, is anyone there?”

  Whoever it was started coughing violently. When it passed, “Jericho? By God, is it really you?” a stunned voice asked me.

  “Father Reigart?”

  “You do remember!” Before I could really correct him, “We all thought you were dead, caught up in the explosion caused by the bombings.”

  “I’m not dead, Father.” I looked into the window and saw the same bushy bearded face from a long lost memory. “But my mind, it’s not right. I know who I am, but so much is missing.”

  There was a defeated sigh from the other side. “Jericho, we tried. We really tried.”

  “This isn’t your fault, Father.” I knew this was a good man, one that cared for me. Warm feelings returned to me for the first time in ages. “It seemed when I confronted Porterhouse, part of my mind was unlocked, but not the entire thing. I know who I am, what I’ve done, you know? But there are so many missing pieces, so many parts that are just black.”

  “Jericho, know this – you are not safe. The moment the ones who devised the destruction of Black Lagoon find out you survived, they will come for you.”

  “When I’m ready, I hope they do.”

  “You’re confused and have to be exhausted. You are welcome to stay here until you are strong again. This is a place of healing.”

  I couldn’t do that. Father Reigart was right, if the people who I was after found out before I was ready, I’d become their target. It was time to retreat to my workshop. “I’ll be okay, Father, trust me. In the meantime, for your own safety, don’t mention me to anyone. If this runs as deep as you think, the element of surprise is on my side for the time being.”

  “Wait, before you go,” he stopped talking. I heard him rummage around in something, and then his hand appeared at the window. “Take this, it will help.”

  There had to be a couple hundred dollars there. “Father, I can’t take this. It belongs to the church.”

  “Nonsense.” He dropped the bills into my booth. “You have friends, Jericho. Whether you remember or not, there are still people who care about you.”

  “Who?”

  “As much as I want to tell you, what happens in these booths is one hundred percent confidential.” I knew that rule; it was one I had counted on previously, or so my subconscious told me. “I will always be of assistance in any way I can be. Just please don’t push for answers that I can’t give.”

  It was a lost battle, not taking the money that is. I picked up the bills and placed them into my pocket. “Thank you and thank whoever is watching out over me. One day I hope to either remember their name or be able to repay them in person.”

  A soft chuckle filled the air. “You’re a good man, Jericho. Don’t let anyone, including your old memories, tell you differently.”

  “I hope you still believe that after I’ve finished my business.”

  Chapter 12 –

  Thursday Afternoon – gl-O-bal Innovations

  “Damnit, not good enough!” I shouted, as I slammed the fifth attempt at a gauntlet on to the table. “Why does the damn metal keep warping?!”

  Frustration was getting the best of me. After as easy as it was to make my new mask, the gauntlet was causing me all sorts of problems. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the right combination of copper to aluminum. I needed the aluminum for weight purposes – with the steel bolts attached to act as lightning rods, if I went all copper, it would just weight too much. This had to be practical in combat, nothing short of perfection would do.

  I grabbed my drawings and looked over everything from the design to the calculations again. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a second opinion, but who in this city would be as smart as I was? And why did I feel like I had this problem before? It was like some sort of joke; in order to get all my memories back, I had to experience situations that were eerily familiar or exactly the same as I once dealt with.

  Picking up the pencil, something was coming to me, but it wasn’t a fix to any equation or a way to rearrange the metals involved. No, I wrote down a name – Wilson Fetts. I scratched the mangy shag of brown hair I had on the top of my head. “Curious.”

  I booted up the old desktop computer I’d found in a garbage can during a scavenger session Wednesday night for parts, or anything useful for that matter. You wouldn’t believe what people throw away. Hooking this up to the internet was pretty easy and, if you didn’t mind the slow boot up time, it worked pretty well. Once I got access to the ‘net, I typed in Wilson’s name into a search bar to see what I’d get.

  My answer was the third choice; Wilson was a master’s student in electrical engineering at West International Tech, about three hours south. He seemed
rather young to be that advanced in his education. Then I chuckled; if this was someone who could help me, of course he had to be extraordinary! There was an email address listed under his student profile. Being bold, I clicked the link and typed out a very short email:

  ‘Hello Wilson. You may have helped me before and I could use it again. Contact me back, please. J’

  The email address I had created didn’t give much away, and was kind of lame – techman_J@smail.com. I was just hopeful my cryptic message would get to him and maybe he could help.

  Instead, something else jumped right on to my screen. It was a communication screen in the form of a direct message. Considering I had no messenger programs on the computer, this came across as odd. Still, it was open, the username StabbtyBnny at the top. I apparently had a username assigned to me, NegativeMn1.

  StabbtyBnny: This is a surprise – so you’re still alive, Jericho.

  NegativeMn1: Yes, I am. Who are you?

  StabbtyBnny: The rumors are true, you don’t remember much. I am a friend.

  NegativeMn1: How can I be sure?

  StabbtyBnny: You need help, I can provide that.

  NegativeMn1: Hacking into my emails? That doesn’t seem trustworthy.

  StabbtyBnny: This model computer has a built in webcam. Turn it on and show me the design.

  I was weary to do so. However, I got the impression my new friend could probably turn it on whenever he wanted. The fact he was giving me the choice gave him a little bit of credibility. I opened the program menu and turned it on. A bright light shined in my face.

  StabbtyBnny: You look terrible, Jericho. You may want to clean up before you go looking for Heather.

  NegativeMn1: Who’s Heather?

  StabbtyBnny: This is even worse than I thought.

  StabbtyBnny: Show me what you’ve got.