The Legend (13 page)

A sole person attended Albert's funeral.  An en
igmatic male that wore a black Mandarin tuxedo stood over Albert's casket, in Lincoln Cemetery, as it was lowered into the grave.  The ceremony took place in the midst of a storm but the man didn't use an umbrella. 

Afterwards journalists attempted to
get a word from the male but he refused to comment.  He jostled past them ignoring all inquiries.  He had a deadpan facial expression; not a tear nor a smile.  His driver opened the rear passenger door to his custom black Bentley Continental limousine as photographers snapped photos of him.  There are various rumors around the mysterious male.  Some say he's an admirer.  Others say Albert killed someone close to him and he wanted to be certain Albert was dead.  

"Thanks to you my officials are finally off my back." 
Detective Wu uttered as we stood in the dark alley a few blocks from her station.  Her umbrella sheltered her from the thunderstorm. 

"
You’re welcome."

"Three outta three huh?  This is the third homicide you closed and you're batting a hundred.  You seem to be gettin' good at it.  I was thinking maybe we can extend our partnersh
ip?"

"I'll keep my phone on detective."
 
I growled then sauntered away into the dark alley and disappeared into the night.

"And from ashes a Phoenix shall rise..."

Prelude

“Red! I knew you’d show your face again.” 
Tiago, the six foot six, four hundred pound former Brazilian professional fighter uttered in a heavy accent.  He caught Red trying to skulk through the back door to his own high-rise apartment building.  Tiago waited for Red in the unlit rear alley after getting word that he was still in town.  Red timidly pivoted around and gawked at the boss’ newly hired muscle.  Red, who is much smaller than the average size male, was greatly intimidated.  He knew why Tiago was sent. Red discreetly sifted into his black leather blazer hoping he’d come upon a forgotten weapon in his pockets; specifically a pistol but he’d settle for a small knife or razor.  However, there wasn’t any. 

“Oh, Tiago… It’s you.” 
Red muttered while fumbling his keys to the back door of his building.

“Why are you
using the rear entrance?  You’re not trying to hide from me, are you?”

“No… Not… Not at all.” 
Red stammered.

“
You know, I bumped into your friend.  What’s his name?  With the red eyes, black mask and cape?” 
Tiago tried recalling while snapping his fingers.

“You mean
… The Legend.”

“Yeah him
!  He was a brave man.  Pity!” 

“You… You killed him?” 
Red inquired.

“
May he rest in peace.” 
Tiago uttered while forming the sign of the cross with his right hand.  Red’s eyes widened and he began to gasp.
  “You know, the boss thinks you’ve been short changing him.” 
Tiago disclosed while sauntering towards Red.

“I… I… I...”

“The boss says he wants his fifty grand.”

“
Fifty grand?  What if I can’t pay it?”  Red inquired.

“
Oh you’ll pay it.  The boss says fifty grand is also how much your life is worth.”

Red
leisurely backed into the rear door, reached behind him and tried the knob.  It wouldn’t budge.  He peered at the ground, contemplating on a way out of his dilemma.  He started to regret not taking The Legend’s advice to skip town.  Suddenly, Red attempted to make a mad dash towards the street.  Without warning, he darted from Tiago.  However, the former fighter was agile for his size.  He snatched the back of Red’s blazer before he could take his third step.  Tiago effortlessly hoisted the five foot seven, one hundred and forty pound hustler off the ground and pitch him back into the locked door.  Before Red could regain his composure, Tiago clenched the back of his head with both hands and pelted him with a vigorous Muay Tai leaping knee strike into the ribs. Red buckled over.  Tiago caught him by the neck, with his left hand, before Red collapsed onto the ground.  He then hammered Red into the steel door.  Tiago aggressively began pelting him in the face and body while persisting to strangle him with his left hand.  Tiago’s onslaught continued until Red lost conscious.  Tiago released his hold and Red plummeted onto the ground.  Tiago rolled Red onto his back with his combat boots.  He then finished Red off by stomping onto his chest until it caved in. 

“
Congratulations.  Your debt has been cleared.”

"Say babe, can I talk to you?" 
Sammy rapped while pacing behind the newly hired receptionist.  She figured cutting through an alley with the burdensome bags of groceries would shorten her walk home.  Her close-fitting skirt and business jacket outlined her model-like frame.  She couldn't be more than thirty five years old.

"I need to get home." 
She skittishly responded in an apprehensive tone.  She barely turned around but increased her pace.  Sammy looks intimidating standing at six feet tall and weighing one ninety.  His head is cleanly shaved and there is a raised scar against his dark complected skin that stretches on his neck from ear to ear.  The torn-off sleeves on his stonewashed denim jacket reveal his brawny arms. 

"Don't be so hasty lady.  I just wanna talk."

"I don't have time.  My husband is waiting for me."

"Now you're being rude.  You look put together like you came from a good family.  I know your parents taught you manners." 
Sammy was embittered.  At that moment he yanked the back of her dress jacket and stopped her from walking.  He reached around her and pressed the barrel end of his black 1955 Smith and Wesson .45 caliber revolver into her chin. 
"Don't scream baby."

"What do you want?" 
She pleaded while accumulated tears began rolling down her made up face.

"I just want a second of your time.  Not too much, I don't want your husband to worry about you.  Go ahead and slip off your skirt." 
Sammy whispered in her ear. 

"Please don't.  I have money..."

"Oh, I'm going to take that too when we're done.  Now drop your skirt!" 
Sammy directed with hostility as his patience was wearing thin.

While Sammy's hold on her persisted, she freed her hands of the groceries and reluctantly unbuttoned then lowered her skirt as tears continued to drift down her distressed face.  A demented smirk spawned o
n Sammy's lips as he glanced down at her legs.  The distraction furnished me the split second I needed to crash the perverts’ party.

I vaulted off the fire escape into the poorly lit alley.  Sammy heard the grating squeal from the rusty apparatus.  He glanced up in time to catch the dark figure swiftly descending from the black sky.  He was met by my blunt drop kick.  Sammy violently plummeted into a metal dumpster.  The hollow steel made an emphatic banging sound. 
"Get your groceries and leave." 
I instructed her while peering at Sammy.  Soon the sound of rustling plastic bags and frantic footsteps faded into the distance.

"Legend!  Get back!  I'll kill'ya!" 
He blurted while hoisting up his right hand and aiming his revolver at me.  I caught wind that he kept his forty five dry since his mishap.  I dynamically paced towards him calling his bluff. 

The closer I got the more the pistol quivered in his hand until he finally dropped it.  I bent over,
clenched his denim jacket and pulled him off the ground. 
"Please... I didn't mean to shoot that girl.  I got a little excited and I had a few beers that night.  The gun just went off!  Don't take me in.  I'm really not a bad guy!" 
Sammy pleaded.  Without showing any warning, I pummeled him with a wicked elbow across the side of his head.  Sammy's comatose body collapsed onto the ground. 
"Detective, you can find your homicide suspect in the alley on Senate Drive and 12th Street."
  I informed Detective Wu.  I slapped my cellphone shut then sauntered into the alley and disappeared into the night.

Today marks five years since the
"Harlot Murderer's"
last victim was killed.  I helped Detective Wu close over three hundred homicides since; even a handful of cold cases.  Legend's reputation has disseminated to every downtown street corner.  Wanted murder suspects steadily glance over their shoulders for the shadowy caped figure.  They know they are no longer safe.

During those five years I’ve been shot four times and stabbed nine.  Those encounters have taught me to make better judgments.  They taught me to calculate every move and survey scenes thoroughly before entering.  Most importantly, it taught me
that even the smallest opponents can inflict life threatening injuries.

The detective sent me a text message wanting to meet in the usual alley a few blocks from her station.  I was just minutes away.  I arrived just in time to
catch her maroon ’95 Crown Victoria pull in.  The unforgiving rain pelted her vehicle.  The windshield wiper blades oscillated rapidly.  She left the car running and opened the driver side door.  A ladies black walking umbrella unfurled as she stepped out underneath it.

"I've never seen anything like this." 
Detective Wu disclosed while fixing the umbrella stem in-between her left shoulder and neck.  She retrieved a manila envelope containing crime scene photographs from inside her blazer.  She then hoisted her umbrella back up and I began sifting through the photos while standing underneath it.  The sound of rodents rifling in a nearby pile of garbage bags caused the detective to cringe. 
"Ugh, I hate rats." 
She uttered.  

The victim was a husky male, probably fifty years old.  His white tank top was torn and dingy.  It appeared as if he'd been in a brawl.  He was seated
on the aged hardwood floor in an apartment and his back was propped up against a wall.  His head was hunched over his chest and there were hemorrhages throughout his body.  A packed suitcase was found in the center of the room.

A neighbor informed Detective Wu he heard a homicidal commotion from the apartment a week ago.  When it was
over he glanced out of his peephole and noticed a burly male fleeing out the front door. 
"The witness described the suspect as 'Six foot six, and easily four hundred pounds.'  He said the suspect was solid muscle, Like a rock!'  The lower half of his face was covered with some type of skull bandana mask." 
Detective Wu quoted from her notepad. 
"No stab wounds or gunshot wounds.  Just blunt trauma throughout his body." 
She added. 

"I'll see what I can find detective."

It's now ten o'clock in the evening
.  The storm is persistent.  Sal, the bartender, normally lights a Cuban at this time in the alley behind the
“Lucky Clover Bar
.”  I decided drop in on him.  He overhears conversations between local hustlers while he serves them at the counter.  He's been helpful in the past.  I'm betting on him being of some use now.

"Geezus!  You scared me.  Maybe you should start wearing cowbells around your neck.  You appearing out of thin air isn't good for my health." 
Sal uttered after he caught sight of me emerging from the dark alley.

"Neither are those Cubans."

"Yeah well, they make me happy.  Everyone could use some joy in this part of town."

"You heard about the guy beaten to death over on 19th."

"I had a feelin' that's what your visit is about.  I heard his name was 'Rawlins.'  He was a local gambling junkie.  They said Rawlins lost a lot of money from off track betting and couldn't pay his rent.  The Downtown Fallen Saints sharked him a couple thousands but the poor guy was unable to pay them back in time.  Rawlins was trying to split town but the gang caught wind of it.  Sent Tiago to kill'em."

"Tiago?"

"Yeah, Tiago.  You haven't heard of him?  The other day I heard this guy that runs with the Downtown Fallen Saints saying sum'tin bout they hired this contract killer from Brazil.  They say his name is Tiago.  Now if it's the same Tiago ‘Night, Night’ Neves that's been in the news last year then he's gonna be a problem.  You remember, that
Brazilian mixed martial artist. He started taking that experimental steroid ‘Teston-50’ after being on that eight fight losing streak.  His slump suddenly ended and soon Tiago soared to the top ranks.  Officials started questioning his sudden hulking physique.  That random drug test exploited him and he was disqualified from competing.  Word is Tiago developed an addiction to the steroid and he's still using it even though he's banned from fighting.  Tiago became desperate for money and started working as hired muscle for local Brazilian mobs.  If that's the same Tiago, it looks like he made his way to the states.  Be careful with this one Legend."
   Sal conveyed.