Free The Legend by G. A. Augustin

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