* standard disclaimer goes here*

Central's Urban Legend

All places have their legends; urban myths. Rats the size of hubcaps reptiles in the sewers. These are the ones you hear everywhere. Then there are the serious tales, murder sprees strange disappearances and unexplained deaths' that seem uniquely fitted to a city. Then finally the strange sightings that spring up in connection with the more tragic tales. The spooks, and specters and apportions that pop up in the wake of tragedy. Central City's greatest legend has these elements. Going back the old timers say it all started June of 1940 more or less. As they would classify in those days a mad scientist was eluding the police. One attempt to capture him had resulted in the death of an up and coming criminologist. One day later, the mad doctor turns up having been "subdued" by the police commissioner. Shortly before that the scientist's thugs had been found in a Wildwood crypt raving that a "spirit" had come after them.

That was the start of it. Crooks turned up already busted up when officials arrived. A tall figure being seen slipping in and out of police station windows. Just two words muttered sent the most hardened thug scampering in the underworld, "The Spirit." It wasn't long before this so called Spirit's alleged deeds caught the eye of the media. If the masked man ever did have a mundane identity it was never uncovered, in fact it seemed that the masked two fisted crime fighter was the only identity in use by the man. The police's general attitude ranged from being happy for the help to envious at being repeatedly shown up. When speculation on who the Spirit might be Commissioner Dolan would always sit snugly never giving comment.

For a considerable amount of time sightings of the Spirit were common. Citizens paid little attention to the masked man in blue, eating at the dinner on Broadway, or a figure appearing and vanishing among the head stones of Wildwood Cemetery. While others might think it bizarre that's just the way things were in Central City, which is until one day the regular stopped. It was about a week later people started to realize he'd all together vanished. Any possible sightings of the Spirit turned out to be a dummy the acme company was shifting across town. Over time the presence of the Spirit faded from the minds of most citizens. Those who assumed him mortal, reasoned he'd grown old, his disappearance simply retirement. . Others wondered if he really was a spook returned to punish crime and had finally found peace.

Still on a particularly hard case every once in a while evasive suspects turn up beaten up with no clue what hit them, or a case breaking tip coming in from an untraceable source. Over the years Wildwood cemetery long believed to have served as the Spirit's base of operations has been severed several times to no avail. Note a trace of any foreign underground structures have ever turned up only the dearly departed. Despite all this still through the mist in the slums of central city, where the lowlifes lurk, people claim to see a man in a rumbled blue suit strolling the always whistling a catchy tune of days gone past.

It was a hot day in June; unfortunately, it was stifling inside the aging Central City police department. The old air condoning unit had as many had half expected failed to take the stain of another humid summer. In accordance to the heat index many of the windows had been propped open in desperate attempt of creating a breeze. The more stubborn one left to be forced opened sometime after sunset. A lone ancient fan was swinging back and forth in the room. Several detectives sat closest the toe blades rotter blades deeply involved in discussion.

"This is getting out of hand we got to bust the Murphy gambling joint and when we get there their already laid up for us. That's the third one month and June isn't even half over," said the brown haired man in his 40's.

"And all three of them saying something big and blue did it to them. You know what that sounds like." Said the dark skinned cop to the left.

"Not that again Eli, there's no way in hell it's him." Said the last mans with the balding head.

"Bradley swears he saw him last month ."

"Disappeared down a dead end and when he followed he vanished". The others finished slight irritation in their voices.

" It's more likely a new group trying to muscle their way in."

" I just don't get it rival gang we'd have found them dead. These young guys don't mess around."

Whoever it was they're good. We haven't found a trace of anyone but the," he paused "victims. No prints no hairs, nothing, just them saying a blue thing went around and KO'ed them."

Stuff like this has been happening for years," said Eli "and now we start worrying."

"Once in a blue mood we can keep out of the press but if this keeps up something is going to leak."

"Well too late for that." Printed pages were slammed on the desk in front of them. The men turned to Commissioner Klink looming over them. "Post has already mentioned something in the crime beat. I don't know who's more stupid the paper for printing it, or you all sting around debating whether or not a spook doing you work for you. What are you waiting for get out there and do your jobs and no talking to the press!"

With that the commissioner stormed out slamming the door behind him. The detectives stared at one another for a moment. " So," the brown haired one said, "what did the lab come back with on those fibers from the Satin case?"

Commissioner Klink entered his office with a bottle of cold water someone had forced in him after his outburst. He was pushing 80; it wasn't surprising that a few of the officers worried about him and with the heat wave looking to be the worst to hit the city in years. He currently had not asked for an AC to be put into his office and turned on when he came in every morning. He opened the bottle noticing the cap had already been loosened for him and downed half the volume.

He headed back in his chair putting his feet up on a desk that had been in the room well before he'd been a patrol man. He pulled open the left hand bottom draw and retrieved from the very bottom an old worn picture frame. It held a black and white photo of a group at the beach. Old commissioner Dolan stood in the center. His daughter Ellen stood behind him. Klink himself stood to her left, his hand clamped on the squirming pug faced toddler in front of him. Sitting on the sand in front of Dolan was a boy who's grandson was now one of his detectives.

Last his eyes passed on the man on the right, a person he had not thought about in years. In the photograph he had an arm around Ellen, noticeable was the fact he was wearing gloves along with his swim trunks. His eyes were obscured by sunglasses, but Klink still knew that under the glasses his face was further obscured by a mask. Like everyone else he knew the man as the Spirit, no other name. Klink always figured Dolan knew who was under the mask but had diligently remained tight lipped. Years later he'd tracked down the files coinciding with the vigilantes' first appearance to get a good idea of the truth. Problem was that was still decades ago.

He took another swig of water and sighed, "So is it really you, ya show up"

The sun had set and heat was just starting to brake a little. The lack of urban sprawl as one moved further in land and north from the port had always been a feature that separated Central City from other cities. No one had ever bothered to give the swampy mud flats the land fill treatment and suburbia had filled in east south ward down the coast. The only usable portion of land made up Wildwood Cemetery.

It made the whole area even more ominous for Detective Eli White. He'd been told to bake off but after all those stories he'd heard as a kid he just had to take a look. That look around happening after dark no so much his idea. It had taken that long to get home, ready, and out of town in traffic. The stone walls were rather low but invested with thorny weeds. White pulled out a pair of think gloves he normally used for yard work. Then he climbed up trying not to catch thorns on the small gap between his pant leg and sock. Standing on the wall he surveyed the dark stone hidden in the tall grass and moss covered mausoleums.

He jumped down and began walking. The area he entered was a piece of the grounds that rand closed to the road into town. It seemed like a good place for a hide out. The lines form the upstate power grid carrying hydroelectric power for met a transformer station nearby. The truth was he really didn't have any idea what to do once he got there. It seemed crazy to think succeed where those with research and equipment had failed.

It was slow going, trees and bushes had been planted in an usually high frequency. It felt like trudging though a forest not a cemetery. Eli felt to late of course his fool sink down into the hidden hole. Unable to compensate he fell forward with a cry of surprise. Lying there feeling like an idiot he heard the grass and bushes start to rustle. A light fell on his face and he felt a chuckle.

"Sometimes you're a lot like your grandfather you know that?"

"Commissioner Klink," he said getting up, " what are you doing here?"

"Mostly watching you wander around like a blind man. Not to mention wining a bet with Morgenstern. You know white there is a local Chapter of T.A.P.S. if you like ghost hunting."

"He wasn't a ghost sir," White moaned.

"I never thought the Spirit was one Ghost tend not to bleed. Now not normal I'll give you that."

"So you think it's him?"

"I don't know what to think White. That's why I'm out here that's why you're out here. We're just blindly hoping he'll drop into our laps."

A noise interrupted Klink's train of thought. He cut his light and motioned for Eli to get behind a nearby mausoleum.

"Sir, it's probably just a security guard."

"This place has been shut down since the 50's city doesn't bother with more likely it's trouble."

He had a point after all Eli thought before he was just thinking how suited this place was for conducting business you didn't want people to see. A car came up a clearing in the growth that had once been a road. Head lights still on a small figure got out of the car. A woman White classified. She reached back into the vehicle and the trunk of the car opened with a dull clunk in the quite night. She retrieved from the trunk a shovel and lantern. She turned on the lantern and cut the car's head light and locked up her car. She approached the nearest grave marker and bent down carefully inspecting it then moving on to the next one.

As she got close to the cops position they were able to make out her features in the soft light. Ash blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, Green eyes slight beady like she spent much time glaring at people.

"Just our luck it's Central City's own Lois Lane wantabe."

"What?"

"Alice Tennant. I shoved her article in your face around 1:15 today. "

"Oh I never read the bylines Sir."

"Hush she's coming this way."

He was right White noticed Ms. Tennant was moving along the grave stones inching closer to where they stood. She smiled set down the lantern and stood up.

"Is she going to dig someone up?" White whispered, "What story is she working on now improper burials?"

"Oh I could imagine you could say that Eli. Come on we should do our jobs." With that he stepped from their hiding place aimed his light at her and flicked it on just as the shovel struck dirt.

"You do know there are channels you have to go though to get a body exhumed Ms. Tennant." He said. The reporter froze like a deer in headlights, and then like a switch had been flicked in her mind she dropped the shovel dug into her pocket and produced a tape recorder.

"Commissioner Klink any comment on the possibility of vigilante activity on the rise in Central City?"

" there is no evidence of any suck activity. Now I do have evidence of attempted grave robbing."

White got the feeling Klink was enjoying this on some level.

"I solved it." Alice Tennant said, "I've solved the mystery of Central City's greatest legend!" Despite the position she was in she was giddy to reveling things that would only dig her in deeper.

"What the deli on Iger Street puts in the corn beef to make it taste so good?" asked Eli trying to be part of the conversation as he retrieved the shovel from the ground.

"No. I know who he is. The Spirit. It was so simple. It's him!" She jabbed her finger at the marker of the grave she had trying to desiccate. Eli brought his own light on the stone for a better look. It belonged to one Denny Colt date of death June 2, 1940.

"I looked at the articles he get's murdered and the next day the cops nab his killer, when the maniac had been eluding them for months "

"So you've seen those crime shows it doesn't take long to track down a criminal once you separate him from his hide out."

"Both were tall, thin, athletic, black hair blue eyes. Somehow Colt wasn't dead. There's no one in this grave commissioner. Just let me"

"No," he said firmly, "You are not digging up a grave in the middle of the night! Will you and the detective here get it thought your think skulls regardless of how similar the M.O.'s are it's not the god damn Spirit! If the man's is still around he'd be my age at least. And I'll tell you men my age do not go around beating up crooks! Alice Tennant you are under arrest for attempted desiccation of grave. White read her, her rights." Klink then got a cell out of his pocket to request a squad car to pick them up.

Half an hour later a squad car dropped Eli off where he had parked his car on the side of the rode earlier that evening. Alice Tennant's car would be toed and impounded in the morning. He had mostly just stood there staring at the reporter in silence for that half an hour. Wash she right about who the Spirit was? The Commissioner had been quick to cut her off. He was most likely right it couldn't be the same man. At the same time Eli's grandfather who had been (at least in the stories he told) closed to the Spirit. Grandpa White had little clue the man was before and even less where he vanished to.

Maybe…

Maybe there were some things he was better off. Ok he thought to himself I'm having clichéd thoughts now. I'd better just go home and go to sleep. Then as he fumbled with his keys in the dark he heard whistling. He looked up just as a man walked past him dress jacket off and folded over his arm also clasping a beat up looking fedora. He paused looked right at Eli bid him good evening and continued on. He climbed over the cemetery wall and disappeared from view leaving only the fading sound of whistling.