The Legend (8 page)

After scouring the neighborhood
, I stumbled upon an abandoned vintage movie theater.  A red letter duct taped to the doors stated
"Warning: Do Not Enter.  Hazardous Materials Inside."
  The chain lock had been snipped.  I pulled the tall weighted brass door open and sauntered in. 

The stench of mold was inundating.  Probably wasn't good for my lungs but I doubt I could stay up for another minute.  A spacious stained glass skylight allowed the
morning sun to seep in.  It provided me with ample visibility.  The ceilings were high.  Fragmented paint chips fell from them; probably contained lead which also wasn’t good for me.  There was a mural of graffiti on the walls.  I heard footsteps pacing about on the balcony above; probably junkies tying one on. 

I continued to survey the closed down theater.  There was a lofty wall with autographed black an
d white photos of celebrities hanging from it.  As far up as I can see were snapshots of notable '60s movie stars, comedians, athletes and entertainers.  Collectors would pay top dollar for the nostalgic artwork disregarded in this theater.  It seems there once was an era where citizens weren't swindled by politics.  Life was easy back then.  Those days are long gone.

I
continued on and came upon a movie display. 
"You!" 
I growled with deep animosity.  It was a towering manikin of The Legend.  He donned a black cloak that veiled over his shoulders and covered his body.  The cloak disposed on a stand in a perfect crescent.  His face was concealed by a black mask that amplified his devilishly red eyes.  The display was aged.  The ensemble appeared to be moth-eaten.  Behind the figurine was a cardboard cutout of a dark city with the words,
"The Urban Legend"
on top of one of the buildings. 
“The elusive ghost that has been haunting me.”
  He allowed Hoytsworth to get away in that alley.  There's nothing I want more than to confront him but this was just a lifeless movie display.

I sauntered dow
n a staircase that led me to a basement.  It appears renovation work has begun down here.  Fluorescent lamps illuminated the white painted walls, ceiling and white tiled floor.  The intensity was unbearable.  I staggered through a corridor until I came upon a door with a frosted rippled glass window.  Bold black lettering decals spelling
"Manager's Office"
adhered to it.  The door was unlocked.  I made my way in.  There was a bare vintage oak desk and a grubby red leather couch inside.  There were also torn vintage movie posters hung on the walls.  The stench of mold wasn't too bad in here.   I considered the room to be a suitable place to sleep. 

Ten hours passed before I awoke.  I didn't anticipate I'd be out this long but I was up for twenty four hours.  My headache was gone.  I noticed three missed calls from Detective Bernhardt.  He left me a voicemail. 
"Duane, I have issued a warrant for your arrest.  You need to turn yourself in.  That stunt you pulled at the motel was all caught on a surveillance camera..." 
I deleted the message before listening to it in its entirety.

Just then
, the door to the office began to creak open. 
"It's occupied!"
  I barked but it continued to gape.  Suddenly, the dark caped figure sauntered into the door way.  He peered at me with flaming red eyes. 
"Legend!" 

"Why'd you let Hoyt get away?"
  I demanded while jolting off the sofa.  He remained silent. 
"Answer me!" 
I directed while fronting him.  There still wasn’t a response from him.  His silence riled me up.  I rushed towards him, clenched his black ensemble and made an effort to drive him into the hallway wall.  However, my intentions were unsuccessful.  He swiftly spun around and redirected me into the wall instead.  I was catapulted head first into it.  My sharp headache suddenly resurfaced.  

My vision became bleary.  He sauntered towards me. 
"YOU BASTARD!" 
I roared while pitching a riled right hook at him.  He eluded it.  I followed by launching a multitude of feral strikes but I was unable to connect to his jaw.  His cunning movements allowed him to scurry behind me and clench me in a choke hold.  I made strides to break his grip but he's much stronger than me. 
"LET ME GO!"
I roared but my demands fell on deaf ears.  Instead he began dragging me down the lengthy corridor.  I continued to struggle with him but his hold was too firm.  My heels flailed against the dusty hallway floor leaving a trail behind.

He continued to drag me through the hallway.  While peering at the fragmented ceiling, it suddenly broke into distant grim clouds that were illuminated by lightning strikes.  Soon afterwards I felt the rainfall.  The absolute moon lingered over us as he persisted to yank me through the storm.  He continued to drag me and we passed underneath a towering steel arch with the words
"Lincoln Cemetery"
embellished into it; the cemetery Lolani is resting in.  Moments later he unclenched me and I plummeted to the muddy ground.  I planted my hands into the grass and made an effort to lunge at him but a tombstone before me suddenly held me spellbound.  It was hers.  While gazing at the headstone The Legend sauntered towards me and stood up beside me.  I peered up at him.  He clenched his mask and suspensefully revealed himself. 
"Wha... What is this?  What's going on?" 
I stammered while getting to my feet.  The Legend was...
Me!
  It was as if I was standing before a mirror.  I staggered backwards distancing myself from him. 
"What's happening to me?"
  The doctor warned me about these hallucinations.  They feel so real; down to the pain and emotions. 

I turned around and began to sprint away fro
m him.  While glancing back at The Legend, I lost my footing and stumbled into an open grave.  However, it wasn't six feet deep.  It was a continuous hole with no end in sight.  I frantically plummeted through the endless pit.  Suddenly I noticed the bottom and was nearing it at breakneck speeds.  There was no way to avoid the impact.  I was moments away.  Just as I neared my demise, I jolted out of my sleep. 

I awoke to find myself back inside the manager's office lying on the dusty floor.  I gathered myself together, stood up and brushed myself off.  The series of
nightmares and hallucinations suddenly came into light.  It was a directive being conveyed to me.  It was what this city longed for.  I was no longer Duane; "
I am The Legend!" 

After gently removing the tattered ensemble from the manikin on the movie display, I tucked it underneath my left arm and exited the abandoned theater.  Dark clouds are rolling into the city.  I glanced
at the time on my cellphone; it’s minutes after eight o'clock pm. 

Downtown is lively on this Friday, July 4th night.  The streets are packed with festive residents headed to the fireworks display at the harbor.  I jostled past them and made my way to the subway station. 

The train rumbled to my stop then came to a screeching halt.  After the double doors parted, I stepped off then headed up the stairs to the exit.  I was met by a heavy storm.  I treaded several blocks until I came upon
Delancey’s dry cleaners.  The metal rolling gate was down and locked.  The red neon vertical sign was left on.  The
"D's"
still flickered.  I went into the alley and headed to the rear of the establishment.  I sifted in my pocket and hoped the key still worked.  The floodlights on top of the door gave me some visibility.  After putting the key into the deadbolt lock, it turned and I was able to gain entry.  Even the passcode to the alarm system was unchanged.

I flipped the light switch
and the fluorescent bulbs began to crack and flicker.  Seconds later the dry cleaners was illuminated and I noticed the front of the store; the counter and the replaced storefront glass door.  The last time I was in here she was murdered.  For a moment I was taken aback but my task suddenly came back to mind.

I headed to the hefty vintage black sewing machine that Mr. Delancey refuses to replace. 
"It's been in the family business for forty years,"
he once told me.  A roll of white thread was already loaded into the machine.  I grabbed the metal stood and began to work.

The aged machined rumbled as it punched the thread through the moth-eaten ensemble. 
The white stitching contrasted with the black but I wasn't competing in a fashion show.  As long as the tears were sewn, I was content.  I also altered the ensemble to fit me. With this black mask and cloak, I can use the shadows to conceal myself and reveal myself like a ghost; just like The Legend did in the comic book.  I know how fear works now and I can use it to coerce.  It was now time.

I peered at Hoytsworth's girlfriend's apartment from the roof across the street.  A breeze in the night sky caused my cloak to fluctuate conjointly with it.  The perpetual rain tapered off for the moment.  A burgundy Buick Regal suddenly screeched into the block and veered into a vacant parking spot.  It was Hoyt.  He sounded his horn three times and seconds later his girlfriend scampered down the front steps.  She wore a close-fitting purple dress that revealed much of her cleavage.  A matching handbag was fixed underneath her left arm.  She got into the passenger seat and the Regal sped down the street.  Tonight, on the 4th of July, an acclaimed funk band is performing at the P Street Club.  I came upon the tickets to the party in Hoytsworth's pants pocket.  I was convinced he'd keep to his engagement.

Hoytsworth clenched his girlfriend's hand and
made a mad-dash to the nightclub.  He was trying to prevent his red velvet blazer and matching mohawk from getting ruined by the rain.  Security admitted him in after he was frisked.  While peering through the skylight, I lost sight of him amongst the animated partygoers.  The dim lighting inside wasn't helpful either.

I surveyed the crowd thoroughly and still couldn't catch sight of him.   I then remembered the phone numb
er I'd gotten from the caller ID.  I dialed his number. 

I
suddenly perceived a man decked in a red velvet blazer and black leather pants hoist his illuminating cellphone to his ear.  He posed amongst the partygoers in the center of the dance floor.  I found the illusive Hoytsworth that no other detective in Capitol City could.  I slapped the phone shut and kept an eye on him. 

Security frisked all the patrons before they were admitted into the establishment.  He couldn't possibly be armed.  Hoytsworth's been running long
enough; it was time to bring him in.

I picked up a loose brick from the roof
and, with much vigor, pitched it at him through the skylight.  The shattering glass sent the partygoers rushing off the dance floor.  They screamed and hollered while scrambling for safety.  Hoytsworth ditched his girlfriend and also darted off the dance floor as the brick just missed him.  He glanced up at the skylight and found a dark caped figure standing on the roof and peering at him with flaming red eyes. 
"What the fuck?" 
He uttered then bolted out a rear door.

The back door le
d Hoytsworth to a rear alley.  He bustled out and began sprinting towards the street.  He's panting heavily.  Hoytsworth suddenly got an earful of a loud grating squeal.  He glanced back and caught me scaling down the steel fire escape.  His gator shoes gave him little grip on the wet concrete surface.  While looking behind him, he slipped in a puddle and plummeted to the ground.  Before he could get back to his feet, he caught glimpse of the dark caped figure sprinting towards him. 

Hoytsworth hopped back onto his feet and darted to
wards his car.  He was suddenly daunted when he noticed all four tires slashed.  I couldn't allow him to speed off in his Buick Regal again
.  "Got-Dammit!" 
Hoytsworth barked.  He then began sprinting towards the elevated train station.  He scampered up the steps and suddenly slipped on a discarded hamburger wrapper.  He managed to keep his balance after gripping the banister and continued up. 

There were no employees inside the station booth.  Hoytsworth hurdled over the turnstile.  Once on the platform he gawked at the entrance and waited for my arrival.  He no longer burdened himself with ruining his disco attire in the rain.  He quivered on the platform as the storm drenched him.  His fists were balled as if he were ready for a fight.  His mohawk toppled over and the red die ran down his face.  Suddenly the sound of thunder caused Hoytsworth to lurch.  

"It's over Hoyt." 
I growled.  The thunder distracted him long enough to allow me to sneak up behind him.

"Wh...
Who... Who are you?" 
He stammered after abruptly pivoting around.  I clenched my mask and snatched it off.

"You stripped me of my pay, violated my personal space and took the life of the sole person that kept me balanced!"

"NO!  Not you..." 
He muttered.
"I thought you were de... I KILLED YOU!"

"That was your mistake.  Instead of putting two more bullets into her, you should've put them into me!"

Suddenly a distant air horn reverberated throughout the station.  Hoytsworth glanced down the dark tracks and noticed the headlights of the elevated train nearing.  At that moment, he swiftly lunged towards me and tackled me onto the platform.  My head was hung over the tracks and he pinned my neck down with his forearm.  The rushing train was seconds away.  I made attempts to break his mount before I was decapitated but his awkward hold made it difficult.   I wrestled with him as the train careened into the station.  In a last ditched effort, I firmly kicked Hoytsworth off me and moved out of the path of the surging train a half second before it took my head.  Hoytsworth landed on his back.  Just as he made it back onto his feet, I dashed towards him and pelted him in the jaw with a feral right hook.  It made a deep cracking sound and he was rendered unconscious.  He collapsed onto the platform and lied sprawled on the ground.  I got on top of him, clenched his blazer and began whaling his face with right hooks.  I was enraged and wanted to inflict him with deep pain.  I wanted to kill him.  Although he was out cold, I persisted to pommel him.  Suddenly, in a puddle besides us, I caught sight of my reflection.  I was taken aback.  I looked like a monster; like some kind of demon.  It stopped me in the middle of a strike. 
“Geezus, what am I doing?”