# The Shadow Knows! (Final Update 6/3/04)



## The Shadow

Hey there.  I've been posting a log of the Mutants & Masterminds game I play in at the "Atomic Think Tank" - Green Ronin's official M&M forum site.  Several people there have urged me to cross-post here, so I thought I'd give it a try.

This is a solo game, usually played weekly over the phone.  The GM goes by "SuentisPo" online, so I usually refer to him as "SP".  He is, as you will see, quite evil. 

Character sheets are posted in the Rogues' Gallery, under "LA Under Shadow".

Gaming session posts will be marked with the M&M icon, campaign backgrounds with the News icon.  (If this is inappropriate, somebody please let me know.)

This first post is actually a short-short story I was inspired to write before the game actually started.  It introduces the Shadow and his sidekick/associate, Carlos.

----------------

*A Night Off* 

Alex took a calm deep breath as he quietly entered the run-down building, his mind-sight showing its interior to him as clear as day despite the hour. None had seen him - of course. He paused at the top of the lobby stairwell, taking a moment to finish "getting into character." By the time he went down the stairs and swept his trademark floppy black hat off the ornate banister knob to place it on his head, it was the Shadow who did so. 

But where was Carlos? He should be sitting at the computer with the headset on, turning to him with a sunnily sarcastic, "'Morning, sir!" and offering him a fresh cup of coffee. Strange how quickly I've gotten used to him, he mused, closing his eyes and letting his mind rove outward. There he was - dim with rhythmic sleep patterns. Sacked out in the next room, no doubt on one of the weight machines. That's the second time this month, he thought with a trace of annoyance. 

It vanished when he went into the room and took in the boy's ludicrous position - draped over the leg-curl bench, legs askew in the machine, knuckles of one hand resting lightly on the floor while the other forearm inadequately pillowed his face. He'd thought experience with his son David had inured him to the contortions of teenage sleepers, but this was a bit much - exhaustion was written in every line of the young man's body. 

Carlos stirred and mumbled a little as the Shadow carefully worked his legs out of the machine, but did not wake. He did manage to half-sleepwalk over to his cot when the Shadow lifted him easily onto his feet and supported most of his weight - noticing as he did so that Carlos' tank top was still sodden with sweat. He worked the boy's shoes off carefully and covered him with a blanket. I suppose I should go home, take the night off, he thought. No, wait... David's on a date tonight, and there's no work tomorrow. What's to go home to? 

He sank into a chair by the cot, lazily looking around, taking in the textbooks and papers scattered over the nearby desk. That boy drives himself too hard, he thought. But the inner rejoinder, "As hard as you?" was a difficult one to answer. 

Moved by an obscure impulse, he took off his hat and studied it for a moment, hesitating. Then he tossed it (unerringly) onto the banister knob from across the room. 

He looked back at the sleeping youth at his side, thinking. He looks so young this way, so vulnerable... you'd never guess the hard life he's led when he sleeps. Alex sat for a timeless time, thinking nameless tumbling thoughts. After a while, he hesitated again, then reached out and ever so gently brushed an errant lock off of Carlos' forehead. The boy's eyelids started twitching then as he entered into REM sleep. Oh, oh, Alex thought glumly - that'll teach you. But Carlos relaxed back into deep sleep, smiling slightly. 

The next REM cycle was not so gentle. Alex started when Carlos abruptly sat bolt upright, gasping for air. The young man hunched over and hugged himself, the very picture of misery, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Alex touched his shoulder and asked, "Are you OK?" 

"OH! Uh, fine, sir. I..." Carlos gulped. "I had a bad dream." Alex nodded. "Was it one of the 'special' ones?" "NO. I, uh, don't think so." 

Alex got up and started rubbing his shoulders, which were still bunched and hard. "Want to talk about it?" Carlos sighed gratefully as he started to relax. "Thanks, sir. Not yet... if that's okay." "No pressure." 

Carlos yawned and asked, "What time is it...?", then he gasped and his eyes went round in horror when they found the clock. "Caramba! I'm sorry, sir!" He flushed and looked away. "I didn't mean to, it won't happen again." Alex said firmly, "Don't bother about that, I've decided to take the weekend off. And in any case, I have something for you to do tonight, so you won't be able to man the place for me." Carlos nodded eagerly, "Sure, what is it?" Alex snorted. "Go and shower and get dressed, get some food in you, Mr. Castaneda. Then we'll discuss it." 

He made a king-sized omelet while Carlos showered, smiling ever so slightly as he deliberatedly added some mushrooms. Carlos grinned and took the inevitable ribbing on that subject while he inhaled the thing with typical teenage gusto, giving as good as he got. Then he sat up and asked, "What have you got for me, sir?" 

"Carlos, when was the last time you went out and had some fun?" The boy's face betrayed surprise. "But I have fun all the time, sir. I like being here!" "Perhaps so, but I asked when was the last time you _went out_ and had some fun." "Er... I grabbed some pizza last Thursday after classes." He grinned wolfishly. "There were some hot chicas there too!" 

Alex nodded, letting that pass. "Well, your assignment tonight is to go out and do something thoroughly enjoyable." He rummaged in the petty cash drawer (his wallet safely at home, after all) and passed over a few bills. "On the house." "Wow, uh, thanks, sir!" But Carlos' expression at this remarkable change of routine was something closer to wary uneasiness than gratitude. 

Alex permitted a trace of the Shadow's cold, no-nonsense tones to enter his voice. "Carlos, you are using yourself up before my eyes, and I won't have it. If you can't sleep, that's one thing - you're still getting used to your powers. But you spend every waking minute taking care of everything but yourself. Since you won't, it falls to me to do so." Taking in Carlos' stricken expression, he softened the blow by adding, "Do we have a meeting of the minds, Mr. Castaneda?" (The joking nickname taking some of the sting from his words.) 

Carlos essayed a weak smile. "Of course, Chief. Mind like a steel trap." (In cheesy Maxwell Smart tones.) Alex snorted. "I shall have to tell Garrity to add a Dome of Silence to his plans." Then, shaking his head, "Then again, he probably would." When Carlos laughed with relief, he added, "Now run along and have some fun, see a late movie or something." The boy nodded and started to go, when something prompted Alex to say, to his own surprise, "Wait, I'll join you." 

Alex doffed his all-too-characteristic black cloak and gloves, then cloaked them both in invisibility until they were well away from the base. Then they found a late-night movie worthy of MST3K, dissecting it mercilessly on the way back - Alex's humor dry and sardonic as always, Carlos' laughter merry. Then they played cards for a while, until Carlos started to yawn contagiously. "Time for bed, Carlos. If I docked your pay a dime each time you yawned, I'd soon be arrested for using slave labor!" The boy yawned again and nodded, "Yessir. And sir... thanks." Ducking his head shyly, he added, "I had a good night." 

Alex yawned himself and stretched, then walked amiably over to the stairwell. There he was brought up short by the sight of the Shadow's hat on the banister knob. He stared at it for a time, troubled. It wasn't until he left the building and started walking home that he tried to put the thought into words: 

"Wasn't I doing this all by myself just a few short months ago? When did I start to..." he let the words trail off, not quite daring even to think the remainder of the sentence.


----------



## The Shadow

This first session occurred about five months after the events in "A Night Off", game time.  It's mid-November 2003 in Los Angeles.

---------

Alex strode purposefully toward the base. A Friday night, and David had asked permission to stay out late with the gang watching movies and eating pizza. They'd made an early start of it - he should be able to get a lot done. Perhaps he'd be able to get a lead on those mysterious black cars. 

Long, pricey, and with tinted windows, they'd been causing a lot of talk on the street of late - talk that gave the Shadow pause. They weren't the first group to try to muscle in on the power vacuum he and the Forbidden had left in the area, but the first to use tactics like these. Local underworld leaders would get taken for a ride, in which the benefits of mutual cooperation were supposedly discussed. Upon their return, they would be... different. Colder, more purposeful... and, the Shadow had found to his shock, with a mental shield about their memories that was difficult to pierce. They didn't seem to have it in for him personally, so he was at a loss to decide what it was all about. 

Worse yet, when he'd seen one of the cars himself last week, it had registered blank to his inner sight - something that shouldn't be possible, unless robot cars had been suddenly perfected. He'd tried getting a better fix on it by sending out a pulse of psychic energies, but got only that whatever was in the car was even blanker than empty space. To say he didn't like it was an understatement. 

Alex ghosted into the building, went down the steps, and let the Shadow take over as he put on his hat. The lights were out... oh, right, he was early. Carlos would still be sleeping. He put on his cloak quietly and checked his weapons. Should he wait? 

Nah. He'd been getting spoiled lately, with all the commlinks and security systems and even Garrity's latest toy, a hovercycle immune to radar (among other features). A night out on foot would be like old times, and perhaps keep his edge from being blunted. 

He left a note on the keyboard, "Went out on my own," and suited actions to words. Sticking relatively close to the base, it was a quiet night, save for a loud domestic disturbance down the block. He waited to see if it would get violent; when it didn't, and the husband stormed out in a huff to go get his drink, he dismissed it as not worth his time. 

While patrolling, one of those cars came motoring past - blank as ever to his mindsight. He tried "pinging" it again... and his flesh crept when it slowed down and stopped. He stepped back into an alleyway - if they could sense his regard, perhaps they could sense other things... after an interminable time, the car powered up again and moved on. 

The Shadow eyed it in frustration as it sped away, unable to give effective pursuit. "Nostalgia has its limitations," he muttered as he memorized the license plate. 

Keeping an eye peeled for members of his network, he caught sight of Hands stepping out of a bar to go to the john. Perfect. 

"Malone." The man started badly. "Who's there!" The Shadow did the chuckle, throaty and rich with mockery. "I would think you'd be used to me by now, Malone. The Shadow knows!" He permitted Hands to see him, then, and the man's face spasmed. 

"Shadow, I, uh, what do you want to know?" "Everything, Malone. Everything. But especially about these black cars. You know the ones I mean." 

Malone spilled his guts feverishly while the Shadow slipped into the upper reaches of his mind to help spot evasions and the like. The man's hatred for him washed over him, overmatched only by his gut-wrenching terror. "Nobody knows much about them. They invite you for a ride, cut you a deal, and you're not quite the same when you get back. Hell, this one guy with the Blue Stars swore he'd never go with them, but he went meek as a lamb when they came! They say he's making money hand over fist now, but, you know, ain't quite the guy he was." "Who says?" "I don't know! People." 

"Who else is in with them around here?" "The biggest guy around here would be Carlos. You know, El Bandito of the Red Shivs?" 

The Shadow filed that away and handed the man a ten dollar bill. "Anything else?" A variety of things flashed through the man's mind in a panic, including an imperfectly-hidden reference to a crime he'd committed recently. That brought an unpleasant smile. "You've been a good boy lately, haven't you Malone?" "YES!" Hands squeaked. "I even turned down a B&E job recently!" "And why was that?" "I wanted to take it, but I knew what you'd -" "You lie poorly, Malone. The Shadow knows!" 

"All RIGHT! I was all set to buy a whore that night!" The Shadow tsked. "Malone, Malone, Malone..." Defensively, the young man said, "I didn't break the law THAT much, it wasn't something BIG..." "Never mind that. What else do you have for me?" He watched Hands come to a decision. "There's these other guys around..." The Shadow was amused to discover the man's fervent hope that they and the Shadow would manage to do each other in. "Go on." 

Malone shivered. "There's just something WRONG with them! No, wait... wrong with their suitcases." He seemed puzzled. "Their suitcases?" the Shadow prompted. "I don't know how to describe it... I just now remembered. They're just guys, big guys, dressed a little classy for the street, you know? I don't know what they're out doing. But they've got these big aluminum suitcases, and somehow I forgot all about them. They just... look really weird. They give me the creeps!" 

"Interesting," the Shadow observed, "now be a good boy and don't fight." He went deeper into Hands' mind. The man stiffened as he caught on to what was happening, looking ready to bolt. The Shadow examined the memory, but there was little more there than what Hands had told him. As long as he was in there anyway, he followed the associations of that earlier hint of crime, and found a small-time break-in Hands had done in a company's cafeteria vending machines. 

"All right, Malone. That was most interesting." He held out another couple tens, then pulled them back when Hands reached out for them. "Anything else you'd care to confess?" "No..." The Shadow smiled nastily, "What about the vending machine job a couple weeks ago?" Hands' face curdled and he moaned in fright as the Shadow gently pushed him up against the wall. 

"It isn't nice to steal other people's money, Malone," the Shadow observed in deceptively mild tones. The man was still speechless, so the Shadow went on, "I think an anonymous donation to that company is in order, don't you? With a little extra thrown in for the damage to their locks." Malone nodded frantically in approval. "I'm so glad you agree," the Shadow noted, as he patted the man's cheek and tucked the tens in his jacket pocket. 

As he turned to go, the Shadow paused and asked, "Malone, have you ever TRIED to get a legitimate job?" "Yes! But... they don't seem to want me." He got in reply only a snort of contempt and an acidic, "I can't imagine why..." 

After leaving Malone, the Shadow heard the telltale rustlings that meant Carlos was putting in his commlink and coming on-line. "Good morning, Mr. Castaneda. I trust you slept well." "Evening, sir. Yeah. Why didn't you wake me?" "Nostalgia. What have we got on the Blue Stars and the Red Shivs?" Carlos' innocent voice responded, "One's Crips and the other's Bloods?" earning a dry, "Thank you, Carlos, I couldn't possibly have figured that out without your help." Carlos added, "The Shivs have a thing for knives..." then gave it up when he saw the Shadow wasn't buying any. "While you're at it, run this license plate number. Big black stretch model." 

Tappity-tappity-tappity, he heard faintly through the commlink. "The car's supposed to be a brown Suburban - must be a stolen plate. We don't have much on the Blue Stars in the database, they seem to be one of the newer splinter groups. They don't have anything near your current location, sir. We have a little on the Red Shivs and El Bandito." "What have they got nearby?" "There's the crackhouse on 18th..." 

"It's back already?!" the Shadow said incredulously. He'd cleaned the place out thoroughly not a month ago. "You know what they say, sir - supply and demand." "We'll see about that!" 

Annoyance warred with a warm sense of satisfaction as the Shadow surveyed the place. Bars on the windows, deadbolts on the doors, guards posted all around the place... you'd think they were afraid of something, imagine that. "At times, a reputation has its rewards," he said to Carlos. "I'll have to come back sometime soon and give Garrity's new 'Shaolin Doohickey' a try, he'll like that - and no doubt it'll give the Shivs something to talk about for a while. But for now... I suppose finding El Bandito and the black cars is the top priority." 

Most of the guards were in pairs, but there was one all by his lonesome at one of the corners. The Shadow tsked - poor planning, these gang members have never been the sharpest knives in the drawer, whatever they call themselves. He leveled his gun at the hapless young man (noting with minute discomfort that he was barely David's age, if that) and spread his invisibility over him, meanwhile letting him see through the illusion so he didn't realize he was invisible. This, of course, had the side effect of letting him see the Shadow. 

The boy tensed, his jaw going slack in shock. "Keep your hands where I can see them," the Shadow warned as he approached. "You're not the Shadow!" the boy blurted out, "The Shadow can't be spotted!" That worthy suppressed a grin - yes, he did have a reputation with this gang - and did the chuckle, spreading it out into a malicious laugh. "All right, I am not the Shadow. You have nothing at all to worry about. Except, oh, wait, I'm pointing a gun at you." Close enough now to reach out and touch, he added, "And you are going to tell me what I wish to know." 

The laugh did it. The boy froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. My word, the cloaked crusader thought, I didn't even have to "push" fear at him to do that. Shrugging, he plunged into the lad's mind, keeping the gun leveled on his chest. 

Aloud, he asked, "Tell me about the black cars," meanwhile reading the associations and responses that leapt up mentally. But he had to wrestle with the boy's raw inner strength, greater than he'd guessed. [Yes, I was rolling incredibly badly that night, and the GM was blessed by the dice gods.] For a moment, the gang member got the upper hand, seeking to know what the Shadow's plans were. The truth - that he wanted information and wasn't planning on killing him YET - did not do much to assuage fear. 

Enough of this! He pointed the gun directly between the boy's eyes and said mildly, "I suggest you play nice," but to his astonishment realized he'd made a misstep - the boy actually feared mental invasion more than death! His revulsion for it was overpowering - with a moan, he tried to bolt, gun or no. 

The Shadow swept his legs out from under him, then pinned him to the ground. [Finally, some decent rolls!] Twisting the boy's arm up behind his back and holding the gun to his temple, he said, "If you don't tell me what I wish to know, or if you lie, I will have to go into your mind again. You'll like it even less the second time." "I'll tell you anything!" "Where is Carlos?" "At the Hangout, man!" A local arcade, popular among certain shady circles. "What do you know about the black cars?" "Carlos is the only one who talks to them! He said we'd make a lot more money!" "And have you?" the Shadow inquired scornfully. "I dunno!" "What about the men with the suitcases?" "Huh?! You mean the couriers...?" He knew nothing. 

During this time, the hapless gangbanger's comrades noticed his "absence" from his post, and started coming to see what the trouble was. The Shadow cursed silently, and rapidly dipped into the boy's mind to erase the substance of his questions so as not to tip El Bandito off to his next move. It took longer than he expected, too long. The other gang members were on him by then, and they had guns out. He let the boy become visible to give them something to think about, then couldn't resist telling him, "I suggest you find another line of work if you want to grow up." (Not his most inspired line, but not bad under pressure.) When Carlos (HIS Carlos) shouted at him, "Get out of there!" he complied. 

It took some fancy moves and dodging to get out of the sudden mass of bodies. He bumped into one, but even with that "clue" the man saw nothing. But another stumbled into him from behind and his eyes flew wide when the Shadow whirled on him. The Shadow dropped his shields, letting his seething emotions boil outward. "Get out of my sight!" he hissed, and the man fled as if demons were cackling after him. [That was actually an ordinary Intimidate check with a +21 bonus. I rolled a 2.  ] 

As he jogged toward the Hangout, the Shadow said calmly, "Make a note for the weekly calendar, Carlos. 'Clear out crackhouse on 18th street.' And remind me to look up that kid I reamed tonight..." 

"He could perhaps be useful one day."


----------



## The Shadow

[I was almost too embarrassed to post this session... To be honest, I haven't gotten regular gaming in a looong time, given that the gaming group has been forced to, you know, grow up.  Matching schedules is a killer. I'm not in the habit of thinking deviously on my feet any more, and I made several gaping rookie errors that the Shadow would frankly never have made. Plus I'm not yet used to M&M combat. Ah well, chalk it up as a (re-)learning experience.] 

As he approached the Hangout, the Shadow was filled in by Carlos on El Bandito: Carlos Gomez, 24 years old, five of them illegally in the US of A. He'd done time, but never hard time - small-time stuff like assault and battery. (Though he'd been tried for things like murder-one, none of it had ever stuck.) 

He also had Carlos check juvey records on Juan Martinez, the boy he'd just got done reaming. (He'd picked up the lad's name while in his mind.) 17 years old, with a rap sheet as long as your arm, but for nothing worse than drug possession. An address was given (Juan was on probation), but it was of a large flophouse that the boy might or might not ever have actually visited. 

The Shadow surveyed the Hangout briefly; he'd been there before. The upper floor was given over mostly to arcade machines and a bar, the basement to pool tables. The basement was more popular for less-than-forthright doings. Fortunately the door was open for ventilation; he was able to slip right in. 

He went through the first floor thoroughly, just on the off-chance. The Red Shivs were heavily represented among the clientele, but there were also a half-dozen Angels - a girl's gang, mostly rebellious rich kids. Ordinarily they wouldn't amount to much on the food chain, but money does talk... and their current leader, "Lady V", had quite a fearsome reputation. (A flair for threats, and a tendency for people she threatened to not be heard from again...) The few patrons not in gang colors were being hassled confidently by the Shivs. 

The door down to the basement was guarded by a heavyset guy with an air of competence about him and a baseball bat ready to hand. But why bother, when there was a fire door also available? Garrity's 'Shaolin' device would get an early workout, that's all. 

The thing worked! Walking through the door was slow and unpleasant, like walking through peanut butter. But no harm was done to it nor the Shadow, so he breathed easy. Going down the stairs, he passed through the other door, and found himself in a scene that struck him as positively surreal. 

As a lead chemist at a major pharmaceutical company, Alex had sat through his share of interminably boring business meetings; he knew the drill when he saw it. But he'd never before sat in on such a meeting devoted to drug sales... the illegal kind, anyway. Nor was the dress of the participants exactly up to corporate standards. It was like Dilbert crossed with Dickens. (Fortunately the proceedings were in English.) 

A scraggly young man (20 at the most) named Josef was doing a not-entirely-uncreditable imitation of an accountant, though he'd do better with a suit, ten more years, and ten fewer convictions. It appeared that sales were actually up overall this quarter, but costs were also on the rise. (A moderately snazzy, if unpolished, chart tracked these statistics.) A sharp dip in sales a month ago was explained as "one of our crackhouses being raided by that nutball who calls himself the Shadow". The cloaked crusader frowned and committed the youth's face and mental signature to memory - he should show more respect. (And he proceeded to do the same for the other major lieutenants.) 

Next, Carlos called upon Jorge, who evidently handled the protection racket - nothing excessively overt, just threatening to hang around and hassle customers unless moderate sums were paid. Jorge reported that business was doing well, with about 75% of businesses in their territory having caved in. They were stepping up "persuasion" on the rest, but he warned that there were a number that "We probably won't be able to get without using heavier measures - they don't have many walk-ins." Carlos responded, "Then we don't get them." Evidently the gang leader was not out to stir up excessive trouble. 

Jorge yielded the floor to Miguel, who reported that he had managed to bribe "somebody on the force". (The Shadow's ears pricked up, and he taped the rest on a mini-recorder.) This individual couldn't let them "get away with murder", but could make evidence disappear if needed and snarl things up in other ways. He also warned that with the recent election, many of their solidly-bribed people in appointed office were being replaced by "The Terminator", and it would take time to figure out who among the new people could be bent. 

Finally, an unnamed, unpleasant-looking fellow reported that with "our new business arrangements" - here shooting a glare at Carlos, who glared back - it was harder to keep the "putas" in line. "We have to beat them more." 

Carlos wrapped up with a pep talk that only heightened the Shadow's sense of unreality. He ended with, "Our new business partners tell me that things are going smoothly. We just have to keep things quiet for now - if we all fight amongst ourselves, the only winner will be The Man." 

"They also say that they aren't willing to commit resources to the Shadow unless we provide proof of his existence." The Shadow listened with great intensity at this point! (Evidently his strategy of trying for urban-legend status in respectable circles was working to some degree.) At the rising tide of dismay, El Bandito continued, "Yes, I know WE know he exists, but they aren't buying it without proof. So put word out on the street: Five grand for anyone who can name a name of one of his collaborators. Ten for anyone who brings one of them in, if they've got useful information. Fifteen for anyone who can get solid proof of the Shadow. And fifty G's for anyone who brings in his head - with or without the body attached." 

"What sort of proof do they want?" someone asked. "Hell if I know! But if you can get a good photo or a videotape of him, I figure that'll do it. Yes, I know he can't be seen, but he's gotta be human - he might slip up sometime." The Shadow frowned - he was more vulnerable than they knew, for his mental invisibility only worked on people, not machines. He would have to be cautious. 

With that, the group filed up the stairs, with the Shadow following. Carlos moved for the door, but was confronted by the group of Angels. "Lady V's not happy with you." El Bandito sneered, "And why should I care?" "You don't wanna make Lady V unhappy." "What's she gonna do about it if I do?" "You could get hurt." "Yeah," another Angel smirked, "or lose some face. Lady V's got a thing for making people lose face." There seemed to be a private in-joke involved, for the Angels all laughed. Carlos said only, "I ain't afraid of Lady V," and started to leave. 

Only to get zapped by the Shadow's suggestion that his bladder was quite uncomfortable. Sure enough, the man decided to wander over to the bathroom, followed closely by the Man of Mystery. 

Just the two of them. Once El Bandito was in a compromising position, the Shadow aimed a heavy blow at the back of the man's head. 

[Mistake one - I was expecting an easy knockout. No such luck. No dodge bonus means you HIT - it doesn't help you do damage. Plus, a guy like Carlos is not a minion. And finally, the GM was rolling like a demon, while I suffered from my usual player-level Unluckiness disadvantage all through the combat. I swear I should get points for it!  But I got 19's and 20's for sensory rolls and so on. Go figure!] 

Carlos slammed into the wall, but was still alert. He spun around and spotted the Shadow. He also spotted the Shadow's hastily-drawn gun. Tense but retaining a certain degree of cool, he asked sarcastically, "Are you here to rape me, or do you mind if I zip up?" The Shadow magnanimously permitted this, so long as his hands remained in sight. 

[Mistake two - I can't BELIEVE I didn't search him. Terminal brain failure!] 

"Care to go for a ride?" "Thanks, but I've got one outside." "I'm afraid I really must insist." "I'll pass." "And if I take exception to your passing?" 

[Mistake three - witty banter is all very well, but let's remember who's holding the gun, shall we? I finally remembered and started taking control of the situation again.] 

"There's only one door out of here..." The Shadow laughed maliciously. "Oh sure, ha ha. But there's no way you can get me out here past my boys - and that window isn't big enough for either of us." The Shadow peremptorily gestured. "Go stand over by the sink, Carlos." "I prefer 'El Bandito'." "Your preferences don't interest me. Now turn around." He pulled out Garrity's doohickey again. (That wall was an outer wall of the Hangout - I'd checked.) 

[Mistake four - one hand to hold the gun, one hand to stay in contact with El Bandito... which hand were you planning to use the device with, again? I dithered, then settled on holding it in one hand and wrapping that arm about his middle.] 

Activating the phasing device, the Shadow shoved El Bandito forward, but the man instinctively braced and couldn't be budged. [Not my fault for once, unless you count my incredibly crappy dice-rolling.] In the moment of confusion that followed, El Bandito managed to spin away and pull out a semiautomatic. [And the Shadow's player proceeded to curse himself for an unusually hapless village idiot.] 

The short silence that followed was filled by the Shadow's words: "You should have done it my way, Carlos. I wasn't going to kill you, but now..." They traded shots, neither conclusive. El Bandito ducked behind a stall for cover and started spraying bullets around in a panic. None came near the Shadow, and he managed to wing the gang leader. 

Suddenly the Shadow realized: He can't see me! When he turned his back on me, my invisibility reasserted itself! He carefully worked his way around the field of fire and dispassionately looked upon his enemy, who was himself looking in entirely the wrong direction. You must die, he thought; it must not be said that you fought the Shadow to a standstill. Carlos Gomez, I sentence you to death. 

The next bullet tore messily through El Bandito's head. The man lived, but hung on by the barest of threads. Since others were bursting into the bathroom, the Shadow spread invisibility over his enemy, picked him up in a fireman's carry, and stepped through the wall. 

Once through, he had (his) Carlos call 911 and tried first aid to keep El Bandito in the land of the living a little longer. No such luck, the man was slipping rapidly. The Shadow went into the man's mind, slapping aside the shield around his memories almost effortlessly. [Oh sure, NOW I roll a natural 20!] 

_How do you contact the men in the black cars?_ A distinct impression of a phone number. 

_Who are they?_ No knowledge on this subject. 

_What happened during your car ride?_ A well-dressed man in the car reaching into a satchel with a spherical metal object glimpsed inside, manipulating it... All of a sudden, the things they were saying started to make sense. 

_What do they..._ Too late. Carlos "El Bandito" Gomez had met his reward. 

The Shadow filled Carlos in on what he'd learned as he dropped by the crackhouse again. (But Juan turned out to not be on duty any longer.) "But sir," Carlos' puzzled voice responded, "didn't Mr. Garrity tell us that it wasn't possible to make a machine that could do telepathic stuff?" "Yes," the Shadow replied, "so either he was wrong, or else they were using the machine to boost an already-existing telepathic talent. I would not, myself, be inclined to bet on Hal being wrong about something like that." "That makes sense. What now?" "Run the phone number of the black cars... No, wait. Send Michael Barnes an email telling him to meet me tomorrow at the library at 10 PM. I'll have him do it." 

With that, he decided to use the rest of the night seeking black cars on his hovercycle (sent out by Carlos to home in on his commlink beacon), but had no luck. Finally, he managed to hunt up Harvey to drop off the tape and warn him about the dirty cop he'd found out about - Harvey'd know who to tip off in Internal Affairs. 

And with that, he headed "home" to the base, a little wiser and no worse for wear.


----------



## The Shadow

Alex stalked down the stairwell and dropped his hat on the knob at once. (No doubt a sign of his upset, as he usually takes it off only when he leaves for the night.) 

Carlos spun around in his chair and took in the look on his face. He got up to help Alex off with his bulletproof vest. "So, uh, do you want to talk about it, sir?" 

Alex did not respond at once. He got off the vest and his cloak, and hung them neatly on their hooks. Then he sat in a chair and stared off into space. Carlos, knowing his moods, wisely kept silence. 

"How much did you hear?" he finally inquired. "Most of it." "Ah." Longer silence. Then: 

"I did not want to kill him." 

Carlos sat down. "Do you want my assessment of what happened?" "Very well." "I think you got caught up in your own image - invisible, untouchable. You let hubris get the better of you for a moment. It happens to the best of us, sir." 

No response except a minute sigh. 

Hesitantly, Carlos went on, "I see a good man sitting there..." Alex finally looked at him and said with quiet firmness, "No, Carlos. I am not a good man. I do what I do because I must. Not because I think it right." "You're not working to make the world a better place?" "A cleaner place, perhaps..." He snorted. "I am scarcely Mother Teresa." 

"Well, no," Carlos replied uncomfortably. (Over the previous year, he'd been returning to his Catholic roots and getting moderately devout.) "But then I guess Mother Teresa wouldn't do very well in your position either..." He changed the subject. "I did some checking up on El Bandito and the Red Shivs that may help us figure out what to do next." "Very well, let's hear it." 

The boy dutifully reported on some rather old violent crimes believed to have been committed by his erstwhile namesake - beating rivals to death and the like. Alex looked at him, having picked up on the fact that he was being cheered up. "You found this in the time since I left the Hangout?" "Yessir." "While the smart thing to do, it was also a kind thing to do." Carlos looked intensely nervous for a moment. "What do you mean, sir?" "Never mind. Who is likely to succeed El Bandito?" 

It developed that in Carlos' expert opinion, three successors were likely. "There's Julio, his right-hand man. He's basically Carlos' protege. He's likely to follow through on everything Carlos was doing. Then there's Mario, the guy in charge of pimping. They didn't get along. And finally Maria, Carlos' ex-girlfriend, more or less." Alex frowned. "I did not have the impression that the Red Shivs were the kind to take direction from a woman." Carlos shrugged. "I don't know who she'd pick to use as her figurehead, but she'd be the one really in charge." 

"It occurs to me that the successor, whoever it is, will be needing to make some decisions about the black cars very quickly." "Well, the whole thing will probably take a week to shake out at least, sir." Alex replied sardonically, "I imagine one of Julio or Mario will be dead before the week is out." "Probably," Carlos said matter-of-factly, "If not, the Red Shivs will probably splinter." 

Alex had a sudden thought. "Did I just start a gang war between the Shivs and the Angels? Given that Carlos died just minutes after being threatened by them." "It honestly depends on who succeeds El Bandito, sir, and what their goals are. It would be easy to start a war if they want to. I'd guess that Mario would go after them, while Julio would pin the whole thing on you. I have no idea what Maria would do." 

"Will the price on my head go out on the street, do you think?" "Again, it depends. Mario despised Carlos and will likely oppose anything he was in favor of. Julio, on the other hand, got where he is by not making waves (the last protege met a sudden end by making them...) and working to keep El Bandito happy. ... Honestly, sir, we want Mario to win." 

Alex sighed a world-weary sigh. "I suppose I can arrange that if I work at it. What I would really like is for nobody to 'win'... but I suppose that's too much to ask for." 

Coming to a decision, he announced, "Carlos, I want you to be careful." The young man looked faintly puzzled. "I'm always careful, sir, don't worry..." Alex gave him a look. "Have you forgotten? You are one of my principal 'collaborators', as El Bandito so gently put it." 

The look on Carlos' face would have been priceless in a less serious situation. Plainly he HAD forgotten. Visibly flustered, he got out, "Er, yeah, I guess I did, sir." Alex added with quiet intensity, "I don't want anything to happen to you." The boy ducked his head, pleased, but unsure of what to say. 

Alex filled the short silence with, "I also want you to get word out to Maria and others of the network that there may be danger in the upcoming weeks." "OK... Who else?" "I've already spoken to Harvey. They and Doc Griswold are the most likely targets. And you might say a word to the 'fan club.'" Carlos snorted with wry contempt. "Even Ricky?" Alex weighed it. "I suppose he might go off and do something stupid, now that you mention it." "Honestly, sir, their connection is remote enough that they probably aren't in danger. Not enough people take Ricky seriously enough to think he's actually tied to you." "Very well." 

"And Carlos..." "Yessir?" 

"If you were thinking of seeking out the men with suitcases... Don't." That one syllable was freighted with ominous finality. 

Busted! The boy suddenly found the table intensely interesting. Alex continued, "If you happen to come across one, by all means get a good look at the suitcase and tell me what you notice. But do not show undue interest and do NOT attempt to follow them under any circumstances. Understood?" He waited until he got a meek "Yessir," in reply. Disaster averted, Alex thought. 

Alex glanced at the clock. It was quite late - early, rather. Carlos followed his eyes and said, "Hadn't you better be getting home and to bed, sir?" (Saying nothing, to be sure, of his own sleep schedule!) Alex snorted. "Yes, mother." It took Carlos a moment to decide that was a joke, and therefore safe. Then he grinned. "And be sure to button up, it's chilly out!" 

Alex grinned despite himself as he rose to his feet. "What did I ever do before you, Carlos?" He got the impudent reply, "Bumbled along like usual, sir - just not as well." "Just so. ... I'm glad you're here." He gripped the startled Carlos' shoulder a moment, then went up the stairs. 

Once home, he performed his nightly ritual of looking in on his son. But instead of reassurance, he found this night only a new worry... 

David was sleeping on his belly, the covers in disarray... with a stained bandage about his left shoulder. Alex froze for a long moment. Then he entered the room, got a closer look (the stains were brownish, like curiously old blood), and retrieved David's clothes from the chair he knew they'd be on. Taking them out of the room to look at in the light, he found no obvious bloodstains... but the shirt was conspicuously missing. 

Sensing movement behind him, he whirled only to find his sleepy-eyed son confidently holding a baseball bat. "Oh! Uh, hi, Dad..." Plainly he was expecting a prowler. 

Alex asked in conspicuously emotionless tones, "Hello, son. How did you come by the bandage?" "Oh, uh, a guy knifed me." (Trying to say it casually - no big deal, Dad, just a Friday knifing - and not quite making it.) "A guy. Knifed you." Acutely uncomfortable, David said, "Uh, yeah." 

"You do not seem very bothered by this." Playing for sympathy, David made a misstep: "Well, you know, after being kidnapped and worked over by goons last year, it doesn't seem that bad. Just a scratch..." Uncharacteristically, his father turned his back on him, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. He strode into the bathroom and leaned on the counter, struggling to collect himself. David trailed behind sans bat, getting nervous. 

The boy offered, "The movie was longer than we thought so we decided not to watch another one and go for a walk instead." Silence. "The rest of the gang eventually went home, so Twyla and I started heading back to her place." Silence. "This guy with a knife said she was going to come with him. I said she was with me, and he slashed at me. Got me the once before I took it away from him." Silence. David plainly took this for an ominous sign, getting more nervous as his recital went on. 

Alex abruptly cut in. "Let me have a look at that shoulder." David submitted meekly to his father's ministrations with visible relief. The cut was shallow - too shallow for the amount of dry blood on the bandage. "How deep was it at the time?" "I don't know! Deep enough to need a bandage." Alex sighed. More evidence of David's healing powers. "Were you hurt anywhere else?" "Just some bruises." 

"How did you get the blood on your hands?" For the second time that evening, a young man gave him a flabbergasted look worth framing if it'd been a less serious situation. He stuttered, "H-how did you know?!" while displaying his clean hands. Alex snorted without amusement. "I am the detective in the family, remember?" He pointed to the bloodstained knobs on the sink, and David said some words he probably shouldn't have. 

The boy started looking intensely uncomfortable again. "I, uh, banged two of their heads together." "So there were two of them." "Uh, yeah, you see it was sort of, that is, I mean..." "David, we both know you are avoiding saying something. Just say it." For once David didn't bridle at Alex's bluntness, and did as he was told... in a small voice. 

"There were six of them." 

"Six." "Yeah..." then he added, "Not all at once!" as if this were an extenuating point in his favor. "Were they all armed?" "Yeah." "Any guns?" "One of them. I, uh, threw one of the other guys into him before he could draw it." "I see." Another silence followed. 

David filled it with more nervous explanations - a little more unabridged, this time. "We weren't looking for trouble, Dad. It was by this alley..." He described the location, and Alex recognized it - an alley notorious for violent crime that he'd cleaned out of lowlives himself several times. He mentioned the notoriety, only to be met with a blank, "I didn't know." 

At any rate, David had taken the knife from the erstwhile rapist (breaking his arm in the process), while one of his buddies got in the slash on his shoulder. After that, nobody managed to touch him, save for a few whacks with a stick he got from one of them. "He was pretty good," he added nonchalantly. 

"David, where did you learn to fight like that?" "I dunno. Roughhousing with the guys, I guess." Having been in more than a few spats himself, Alex did not find that theory too believable. 

"The two whose heads you knocked together... There was a lot of blood?" David said in a small voice, "Yeah." "Are they still alive?" "...I dunno." "How do you feel about that?" "Weird." "I do not blame you." Silence again prevailed. This time, it was Alex who broke it: 

"I killed a man tonight." He NEVER talked about the Shadow's doings with David. Never. David went tense with shock. "I did not want to kill him." 

The boy looked away first. "It was too EASY, Dad! It shouldn't be like that... so easy." (A memory: David getting ready to try out for the track team while his father timed him. Upon hearing the time, he showed shocked pleasure, then uneasiness. "It's too easy..." He never did join the track team...) 

Alex's face twitched - a rare sign of loss of control. "Killing should never be easy," he said, and the two reflected soberly on that. David asked hesitantly, "Have you ever... you know. Done it by accident?" "No. I am very deliberate in what I do."

David shook his head and repeated, "It was too easy," looking like a little lost boy for once. 

The father in Alex instinctively knew what to do. He hugged his son tightly - noticing that the hug he eventually got in return was curiously gentle, as if David were suddenly afraid of his own strength. 

Alex was still struggling to retain emotional control when they parted. Abruptly a new thought occurred to him. "How is Twyla?" "She's all right. None of them touched her." "So she is all right, but is she _all right_?" David took his meaning and said uncomfortably, "I dunno." "What does she think of... what you did?" David bit his lip and repeated, "I dunno." Alex twitched again. 

Suddenly he asked, "David, why are you standing like that?" David blinked and shifted in surprise. "Like what?" "You dropped into a fighting stance just now." "I did?" He visibly tried to regain the position, looking, well, like a gangly inexperienced seventeen year old trying to mimic a fighting stance and failing - comic, if it weren't so dead serious. "Like this," he demonstrated. David immediately fell into a matching stance, poised on the balls of his feet, clearly surprising even himself. Alex sighed. As if their lives weren't difficult enough. 

"Well," David said too brightly, "I'd better get back to bed." "Yes," Alex agreed wearily. "G'night, Dad..." 

"I love you, son." 

"Love you too, Dad."


----------



## Piratecat

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Only to get zapped by the Shadow's suggestion that his bladder was quite uncomfortable. Sure enough, the man decided to wander over to the bathroom, followed closely by the Man of Mystery.
> 
> Just the two of them. Once El Bandito was in a compromising position, the Shadow aimed a heavy blow at the back of the man's head.




Let's hope the tabloids never get ahold of this. No criminal will be able to use the toilet in peace again!


----------



## Lela

Wow, not even a page long and filled with a huge amount of substance.  It must be the one on one thing.  Very nice.

 I feel like I'm reading Batman here.  Only with a little more complexity and deeper supporting characters.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Let's hope the tabloids never get ahold of this. No criminal will be able to use the toilet in peace again!




Holy Hannah, Shadow! Not even a page in and the mighty Piratecat has posted on your storyhour!

Glad to see you made it over here.

-Swack-Iron (aka Winter over at the Atomic Think Tank)


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Wow, not even a page long and filled with a huge amount of substance.  It must be the one on one thing.  Very nice.
> 
> I feel like I'm reading Batman here.  Only with a little more complexity and deeper supporting characters.




*blink* Now there's a compliment and a half!  Thanks, Lela!

And PirateCat:  The streets get cleaner even as the bathroom gets, ah, messier.     Entropy has to increase, get me? 

Thanks for suggesting this, Swack-Iron.

I'll be getting background material on the Shadow, Carlos, and the major members of the Shadow's network here and in the Rogue's Gallery shortly.


----------



## The Shadow

This campaign is picking up from a duo Champions campaign run several years ago, in which the Shadow adventured with a similar outcast vigilante called the Forbidden. (A life-drainer who had to drain life occasionally to survive, who went after criminal low-lives so he could live with himself more easily.) The campaign fell apart when the GM prematurely offered the Forbidden a way out of his life-hunger, which was his sole motivation for adventuring. I'd always loved the campaign, though, so the GM and I decided to revive it in a solo M&M version. 

In this campaign, all powers must come from the Psionic, Super-Science, or Training sources. (ie, no mutants, aliens, wizards, "gods", people hit by lightning, or whatever.)  Psionics is genetic in nature, but not a mutation - it's a natural part of the human species, and always has been in one degree or another. (Most people with psi powers don't even realize it.) Super-Science is limited to a few geniuses, governments, and major corporations, and it's usually highly experimental. (Powered-armor superheroes are usually corporate PR stunts more than anything else.) Training is pretty much limited to people highly trained in martial arts or the like. The GM raised the cost of Mental Protection to 3 pp/rank because he wanted it to be rare - most psis are untrained. 

Psionics is not publicly known to exist in this universe, though there's more chatter about it there than here. Several early researchers who talked about having definitive proof of it suffered mysterious heart attacks... The predominant attitude of the media and academe is withering skepticism. There are very few open "superheroes" - most of whom are military types hired to wear powered armor, beat up a few bad guys, smile for the camera, and mention the sponsoring corporation's products. 

The only other major difference between this world and ours is that 9/11 did not happen - an anonymous phone tip cracked the plot wide open.  Most people have forgotten about the whole thing.

Now for the main character.  His sheet (among others) is in the Rogue's Gallery in the "LA Under Shadow" thread.  This background is repeated there to avoid confusion.

--------------------------

Alex Brighton did not have a happy childhood. Nobody seemed to like him, but they couldn't explain why... "There's just something WRONG about him, but I can't put my finger on it!" they'd say. He had to work five times as hard to get the same recognition and approval as others. Life, he decided, just isn't fair. 

It wasn't. Alex was born a rare homozygous telepath - he inherited telepathy genes from both parents. (His dad was a consummate salesman - an unconscious Mind Controller - and his mom a sensitive soul with much insight into others and a not-entirely-unfounded belief that she could predict the future with Tarot cards. They broke up when Alex was 7 - Alex's dad couldn't appreciate a woman with mental shields for long...) His powers raged out of control, projecting his emotions - especially the darker ones not suited for public display - to everyone around him. Meanwhile he would occasionally "overhear" the ugly thoughts others directed at him in response, which only alienated him further. 

The solution he instinctively hit on worked in the sense that he survived and remained sane, but it didn't leave him any better adjusted socially. He trained himself to suppress and control his emotions as much as possible so there was nothing left to project... Of course he wasn't entirely successful. When agitated, the steep mental walls he'd erected would slip and he'd "zap" people again. "Most of the time he's a cold fish, and the rest he's a hair-raising freak!" 

A brilliant young man, he entered university early, majoring in chemistry. There he met Jennifer, a psych major who found him irresistibly fascinating. (She was genetically "mindblind", immune to telepathic vibes.) She saw a shy and retiring young man, but one with a nice smile and (once you got to know him) a magnetic personality. She couldn't figure out why everyone treated him so badly for no apparent reason... Alex for his part found friendship, and then love, intoxicating. Within a couple of years, they were married. 

Alex got a good job at a major pharmaceutical company, researching flora and fauna from around the world to discover, purify, assess, and alter new drugs. Meanwhile, he and Jennifer had a little son named David. After making a name for himself with a highly promising new cancer therapy, he gained a coveted promotion despite his social awkwardness. Life was good, far better than he'd ever dared to hope for - he had a loving family, challenging work, the satisfaction of helping others, and, as he learned to shield better and better, even a few friends. He had the money to indulge a few hobbies, like growing rare tropical plants (something he'd started doing for his Ph.D. dissertation) and collecting tapes of old radio shows. Including "The Shadow". 

Then Alex's world came crashing down about his ears when Jennifer was raped and murdered by a hopped-up burglar. To add insult to injury, the guy got off on a technicality! Alex snapped and went on a rampage through his precious tropicals, destroying them to vent his rage... but when the juice soaked into his hands, he started to shake and then had a seizure. 

When he got to his feet, he discovered to his astonishment that he could "hear" the thoughts of his terrified son in the next room. When he stumbled outside, he heard a neighbor thinking that he must be drunk... when Alex glared at him, the man's face was suffused with terror and he ran for his life. Alex, while not entirely understanding, smiled grimly. He could use this. 

The murderer died that night, and he was very, very frightened before he died. (The coroner ended up ruling the case a truly bizarre suicide. You don't want to know.) While stalking him, Alex discovered something new - when he didn't want to be seen, he WASN'T. He was like the Shadow, clouding men's minds! 

And why SHOULD some other guy lose his wife, some other little boy his mommy? There were more animals out there. Somebody should do something about it... somebody like him. Who else knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? 

Alex didn't do anything rash. He took a sabbatical from his job, and used his chemical knowledge to isolate and purify the compound that had opened the door in his mind, altering it so it would no longer impair his judgement or give him hallucinations like it had that first night. (The seizure turned out to be due to another, unrelated compound.) 

He got a gun and learned how to use it. He took karate classes, and then classes in other, more esoteric martial arts. He turned out to be something of a natural. (He has genes for biokinetic powers as well, but they're latent as they don't mix well with telepathy. But they make him stronger and faster than a guy his age and size ought to be.) 

And when he felt ready, he donned black clothes, pulled on black gloves, swept a black cloak about his shoulders, and put on a battered black hat. Then he took a small white pill. The Shadow lived again... his eerie, mocking laughter from thin air striking fear into the hearts of the criminals of Los Angeles. "The Shadow knows!" (He also muffles the lower part of his face with a black bandanna, and uses a tiny amount of Illusion to fuzz his features, making them entirely nondescript save for the blazing intensity of his eyes.) 

Five years now he has stalked the streets, a year or two of which alongside the tormented mystic known as the Forbidden, and there have been many changes. He has put together an enormous network of informers - criminal scum who fear him more than they fear higher-level criminal scum. And he has found a few people who approve of what he does and are willing to help him. 

David is seventeen now, and starting to worry his father. The boy is much too strong, much too fast, and heals ridiculously quickly. (The biokinetic genes that skipped the last couple generations of telepaths came out with a vengeance in him - Jennifer's mindblindness in effect canceled out the telepathy genes David got from his dad.) David has inherited his father's stern sense of justice, and might try his hand at fighting crime more rashly than his father. His raging biokinetic hormones (mentioned in no biochemistry text) make for a fairly stormy relationship at times, too. 

Still, David has received an object lesson that may give him pause. He was kidnapped and severely roughed up by a syndicate who discovered the Shadow's secret identity about a year ago. (The Shadow and the Forbidden utterly dismantled it - nobody who learned anything compromising is still alive.) He of course healed the physical damage rapidly but the psychic scars are another matter. 

David found out about his dad's powers and "night life" at that time, and still isn't sure how he feels about it. It has become an edgy subject for the two of them, a sleeping dog neither cares to disturb. It is pretty much a given, though, that David would NOT approve of Carlos, who has been the Shadow's sidekick for the last eight months or so. 

Carlos is a former gangbanger (18 years old) who turned over a new leaf after a nasty run-in with the Shadow. He caught the Shadow's notice by his immunity to the Shadow's mental invisibility... Carlos also has compellingly accurate, if unpleasant, dreams about the past and future, and often gets flashes of danger moments before it occurs. At a second run-in - the Shadow rescuing Carlos from gang members beating him up for trying to go legit - he managed to save both their lives by giving warning of a sniper bullet. 

The boy had absolutely nowhere to go (a truly awful home situation, and in the neighborhood of his old gang to boot) and the Shadow liked his spirit, so he brought him to live at the base and support him in his work. He doesn't let Carlos go out on patrol or mix up in the rough stuff (though Carlos has had to come pull his bacon out of the fire once or twice) - mostly Carlos feeds him information from the base computer through his (Garrity-provided) commlink and offers him what he can from his unpredictable psychic talents. 

Anyway, Carlos all but worships the Shadow - the closest thing to a father he's ever had - and he and David would likely feel highly threatened by each other should they ever meet, which Alex tries to make sure doesn't happen. 

Alex has determined that the drug he uses is not addictive... but the same cannot be said for the Shadow persona it makes possible. Alex doesn't LIKE the Shadow, but he NEEDS the Shadow - needs to let the rage and anguish he feels out of its cage sometimes. (His Psychic Assault is nothing more sophisticated than exposing the target to his swirling confusion of bottled-up emotions all at once.) He keeps his two lives - and thus David and Carlos - as separate as he possibly can while still remaining sane. It's gotten a bit precarious at times...


----------



## The Shadow

And now for...

---------------------

Carlos Gutierrez was a typical casualty of society gone wrong. Abandoned by his father before his birth and neglected by his drug-addicted mother, he was mostly raised by an aunt and uncle who didn't really want him and abused him physically and verbally on a regular basis. His true family was the local gang, the Lions. By the time he was seventeen, he was a hardened fighter and gunman (having killed two men) and a fairly accomplished drug dealer who occasionally sampled his own wares. 

All of that changed when the Shadow broke up a gang rumble that Carlos was participating in with great enthusiasm. Mind you, the Shadow himself got a nasty surprise - Carlos HAD always heard rumors about his Gypsy grandmother, and had occasionally had some weird dreams, but he hadn't figured on seeing this dude all in black striding through the battle bold as brass with a really weird feel to him! Nobody else seemed to see him... Was he a ghost? A hallucination? BANG! No, ghosts and hallucinations don't bleed. But then the dude turned on him, (gripping his wounded arm) and sheer ravening fear ripped through the boy like he'd never known it before. He pissed himself like a baby and ran... soon the others ran too. 

Scrabbling at a wall to get away, he could do nothing but cower, babbling his terror, when the dude approached him, exuding a cold contempt. He knew him now - damn, that Shadow guy was said to be a KILLER! Scary-loco. But he just hauled Carlos to his feet and held him against the wall, keeping the fear on him. Finally he spoke: "You're not quite old enough to have wholly lost your humanity, boy. But mark my words - you shall be there soon, if you keep on this path. And I will be waiting for you." Then, after relieving him of his gun and stash, "Now get out of my sight," with a shove. Carlos didn't need any more encouragement to make like a rabbit. 

Maybe it was the fear, worse than he had ever known. Maybe the drugs in his system hyped up the whole experience. Maybe it was the sudden flash of ultimate sadness and tightly-leashed fury he got when the guy touched him. (Something to do with his wife? She died, ugly...) And maybe he'd been gradually ripening for some sort of change for some time. Whichever, he couldn't get the Shadow's words out of his head. And he knew, down to his core, that they were the truth. Not just that he was on the road to losing his humanity - but that the Shadow would be waiting for him. Somehow he knew that the man was intertwined with his destiny. 

Carlos turned over a new leaf. He ditched the drugs and went to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He got a job for chump change and started taking classes to get his GED. He separated himself from the Lions as much as he could without getting killed, suffering the inevitable beatings stoically. He got involved with his church, which had always seemed boring and pointless up to that point. He found to his amazement that he was actually tentatively happy in a way he'd never imagined before... but also that the memories of his old life filled him more and more with shame. 

Almost a year later, walking home from work one night, he got waylaid by his homies from the Lions. This was no ordinary beating - they were joking around about putting a bullet in him if he didn't stop "putting on airs", and maybe it wasn't all a joke. Next thing he knew, the Shadow was there, a most welcome sight, tossing unsuspecting gang members about with abandon. The Shadow hauled him to his feet, just as on that other day, then recognized him. "You," he said flatly. "I warned you..." but to the astonishment of them both, Carlos suddenly burst into tears. He started pouring out his story as he never had before to this total stranger who had changed his life so much. But suddenly a nameless dread gripped him that he could not explain, nothing like the Shadow's fear. He cried out, almost involuntarily, "Look out!" The Shadow (already more than a little paranoid) dove forward, bearing both of them to the ground, while a rifle shell cracked into the pavement through the space they'd both occupied a moment before. 

The Shadow made short work of the sniper (who turned out to have been tracking him for weeks for the local crime syndicate). Meanwhile, Carlos was busy falling in love - not a love like he'd had for the girls, but a love for an idea and for the man who embodied that idea for him - the man who could have leaped any direction and let him take the bullet but chose to save his life too. He poured out the rest of his story, with many tears, on that street corner when it was safe again, not even daring to hope for any response... he'd been disappointed so many times. But the Shadow pondered deeply for a while - Carlos had the distinct impression the man was looking right into his heart - then said, "Come with me." 

He set Carlos up on a cot in the basement of an abandoned building he'd fixed up. (He'd moved some of his more outre' stuff there out of concern of putting his secret identity at risk. Later, that basement got souped up into something completely other by Hal Garrity.) The lad would receive room and board and a small stipend for watching the place and doing whatever errands the Shadow needed doing. It wasn't much by most standards, but to Carlos it seemed like heaven compared to flipping burgers while sleeping on the street on those nights he didn't feel like getting yelled at by his aunt or beaten by his uncle. 

The Shadow has come, with ample justification, to trust Carlos implicitly. He hasn't revealed his true name (he's too paranoid for that) but Carlos knows what he looks like. Carlos is nearing nineteen now, but his feelings for the Shadow stop only just short of worship. The man is the only father-figure he's ever had, and he soaks in every bit of approval and affection. (The Shadow is not all that demonstrative toward him, but it seems like a lot by Carlos' standards.) He mans the headquarter's communication panel, keeps track of details, has learned carpentry just so he can keep the place in repair, and offers what he can from his unusual but unpredictable flashes of the past and future... but what he really wants to do is help in more tangible fashion. He scrimps and saves to take karate lessons, and works out with the base's gym to exhaustion daily. The Shadow has told him it's a no-hoper, but he keeps hoping anyway. (Despite the official lack of hope, though, Carlos has helped pull the Shadow's bacon out of the fire on a couple occasions - occasions he is fiercely proud of.) The Shadow has been getting a little concerned about Carlos' fixation on him, and when the kid finishes his GED - it's slow going, because he missed a lot of school - he intends to gently push him toward college or some other path that will get him out on his own. 

While the Shadow never discusses his "real" life with Carlos in any substantive way, Carlos has picked up more than he lets on through his retrocognition. He knows about David and has a pretty good idea that David causes the Shadow some grief, which makes him privately indignant. Indeed, if the two were ever to meet (David has no clue about Carlos' existence), it's probable that sparks would fly - with Carlos likely seeing David as a spoiled brat who is too stupid or too pissy to appreciate his father, and David seeing Carlos as a threat - somebody who knows more about his dad's "other" life than he does! (And who's a tiresome one-man cheering section for the old man, to boot. Plus, ahem, who's considerably more hardened and experienced than most teenage wannabes.  But if they were to get past the initial conflagration, they would likely have a good bit to learn from each other. 

Carlos is unfailingly eager to please without being too obtrusive about it (he outgrew being obtrusive in his first few months at the base). He has metamorphosed into a rather clean-cut youth who makes a good impression on people. He donates a large fraction of his money anonymously to the families of the two young men he killed. He always addresses the Shadow as "sir". (People he sees as "decent folks" are also always "sir" or "ma'am".) While the Shadow can do little wrong in his eyes, he is merciless to his own mistakes. A bad grade on a test in his GED classes, or a word of disapproval from the Shadow on any topic, is liable to find him driving himself even harder than usual in the gym and denying himself fun activities. (Once, early on, he "punished" himself by going to his old house and deliberately mouthing off to his uncle, then submitting to a terrific pasting, but the Shadow gave him a VERY stern talking-to after that, and he's never repeated it.) 

Though he'd been in and out of juvie repeatedly as a child and teen, now that he's eighteen "Mr. Reston" (Lance Reston is an upper-crust lawyer-minion of the Shadow's, who is definitely a "sir" in Carlos' book) has gotten his record sealed by the court. Lance has also managed to get Carlos off probation in view of the manifest change in his life, which is why Carlos doesn't have to worry about keeping the authorities notified of his rather unusual address. (The criminal justice system never knew about the gang shootings, otherwise that probably would've been impossible.) 

Physically, Carlos is a bit short (5'6") and sensitive about it. He's also rather slender for his height - he didn't have the best nutrition in his formative years. Even so, he's managed to pack a surprising amount of wiry muscle on his slim frame with his arduous workouts, and there isn't an ounce of fat on him. He has a truly impressive collection of scars and welts, especially on his back (where his uncle got overly enthusiastic with a variety of domestic implements) and a number of nasty burn scars on his wrists and torso - cigarette-size and on up. (Some from being "punished" by his uncle, some self-inflicted to prove his machismo, some from being tormented by a rival gang and by the Lions when he tried to leave.) He is quite embarrassed about these marks of his old life. 

While at home in the base, he usually lounges about casually in shorts and a t-shirt or undershirt; when "on duty" he will be seen constantly wearing a wireless headset to monitor police bands and keep in touch with the Shadow. When he goes out, though, he takes great pride in his appearance, usually wearing a button-down shirt and a nice pair of jeans or slacks, his jet-black hair slicked back with gel. His father was Mexican and his mother Puerto Rican; he speak Spanish as fluently as English. 

Carlos doesn't get enough sleep, and it's not just that there aren't enough hours in a day for GED classes, the laborious studying he has to do to keep up with them, karate classes, his long workouts, and helping out the Shadow at night. The long and the short of it is that he's afraid of his dreams and wants to sleep as little and as hard as possible. He rarely sees pleasant things with his precognitive and postcognitive dreams, and even his normal dreams are plagued with nightmares - nightmares of the things he's done and suffered in the past, of letting the Shadow down, of failing to measure up. (He can usually tell which dreams are "special" and which aren't, but it's not a sure thing.) The Shadow has talked to him gently about it a few times, and occasionally takes a night off to let Carlos recharge the batteries and simultaneously let Alex have some quality time with David. (Alex himself is one of those rare people who only needs two or three hours of sleep a night, so his schedule does little to discommode him.) When he finds the kid snoring on the bench press, he knows a night off is overdue.  

The two have a series of standing jokes between them. The Shadow calls him "Carlos Castaneda", though he had to loan him one of the books before he got it. Carlos strikes back with cheesy TV and movie references - especially from "Men In Black", "Meet Joe Black", "Dirty Harry" and so on. (Nor does he neglect "The Shadow".  A typical exchange: 

"Don't eat any mushrooms while I'm gone." 

"Jawohl, Herr Kapitan!" (In an incredibly bad fake German accent - Sgt. Schultz from Hogan's Heroes.)


----------



## The Shadow

The Shadow has collected a number of individuals who are sympathetic to his cause and are willing to help him out from time to time. 

He also has a collection of low-level criminal scum who are so terrified of him that they are in effect minions - willing to spill everything they know with the barest prompting, and even willing to occasionally stick their necks out on his behalf, simply because they fear what he might do to them more than they fear what higher-level criminal scum might do. Most criminal scum will just kill you, after all... 

Finally, there are what could almost be called a few Shadow fan-club members in local high schools and even on the streets. A bizarre mix of goths, misfit loners, and Straight-Edge types, they think he's cool. Very few, of course, are willing to do anything concrete in the name of his coolness, but there are a few hard-core types. (Carlos could be considered an extreme case of one of these.) 

Here's a few specific people I've thought of. 

*Officer Harvey Grant:* Harvey's a grizzled old beat cop in a number of the Shadow's favorite haunts. He is glad to see somebody finally taking the fight to the bad guys - unlike those wimpy politicos who keep tying the cops' hands. He is well-connected among police circles - everybody knows ol' Harvey - and he's quite willing to pass on tidbits to the Shadow. Given an extreme enough emergency, he might even be willing to put his career on the line - retirement isn't all that far off anyway, and it'd be worth it to finally get his licks in. Harvey's younger partner, though, is a bit nervous about the Shadow, though it would take extreme provocation for him to rat on his buddy. 

Harvey's one of those guys everybody likes. In interrogations, he's always the Good Cop, and he's quite good at it. He's developed a mild potbelly, but is still within regulations. He's held quite a number of positions in the force over the years... the only reason he's a beat cop in his 50's is that he has trouble with authority - and to be honest, he likes being in the thick of things. His wide range of experience means that he knows a lot of people all through the force, though - and people from lab techs to detectives are often willing to share a little more with good ol' Harvey than they probably ought to. He also knows his neighborhoods, and the people in them, like the back of his hand. 

Harvey was a redhead in his youth, but he's mostly grey now. His family life is not the happiest - he argues with his wife a good bit - but neither is it a disaster. He has grown-up kids. 

*Doc Griswold:* A dedicated doctor who does a lot of charity work in neighborhood clinics. The doc has a dry, biting sense of humor - think Dr. McCoy - and can get quite gruff with people who get themselves hurt through stupidity... but his bark is much worse than his bite. He sees so many deaths and injuries from gang stupidity and other causes, and also sufficient drug addictions, that he is willing to patch the Shadow up quietly, no questions asked. On one infamous occasion, he even made a house call to the Shadow's hidey-hole at the pleading of a tearful Carlos. 

The doc (his actual name is Ezekiel, which he hates - the few who are on a first-name basis call him Zeke) is a stringy, dignified older guy with piercing blue eyes. His hair is grey and neatly kept. He is a fairly recent widower with grandchildren he dotes on - and has shrewdly guessed that the Shadow has also lost the love of his life, though he hasn't pried or otherwise tried to find out more. His black doctor's bag is a constant companion, and also his shield on the street - the local gangs have declared him off-limits out of respect for what he does in the community. 

*Lance Reston:* A high-priced upper-crust lawyer the Shadow saved from a mugging. He and the Shadow have never actually met since then, but he's done a good bit of pro bono work on his own initiative since that day to gum up the works of those trying to crack down on vigilantes like the Shadow. He is toying with the idea of running for office - maybe DA, maybe even something more political - and pushing a tough-on-crime agenda. Certainly he's well-enough known to the city's elite. The Shadow has passed on the names of a couple different people he thought deserving of a break (Carlos was one) and Lance has willingly helped them out on the cheap. He'd do the same for the Shadow. However, Lance himself may be needing the Shadow's help in the future - his teenage son is getting involved in a really bad crowd. And if he ever does get into a position of political power, the underworld powers-that-be will probably not take very kindly to him. 

Lance is WASP clean to the bone, and dresses with understated elegance and style. Everything about him screams "class" - but softly. He has the confidence of a man who was raised rich yet still has earned his way in a tough world - he graduated very high in his class, and is a rising star in legal circles. He has a gift for setting people at ease; if he does go into politics he'll probably be very good at it. 

*Maria Volanti:* A private investigator, hard as nails. She gets the job done, and her sources of information often complement the Shadow's nicely. They have a bit of an arrangement: She passes on what she hears, he does the same, and has even occasionally mind-probed a scumbag for her when she asked nicely. In turn, she wouldn't object to leaning on people the Shadow wanted discreetly leaned on, and would even consider going in somewhere with guns blazing if he really needed help. And note that though wild horses couldn't drag the fact from her, Maria is a closet romantic. She entertains a certain degree of fascination toward the Shadow, and would not be averse to it becoming rather more than fascination if given the excuse. So far it hasn't been given. (A standing joke between them is for him to sneak up on her, to her indignant "Don't DO that!") 

Maria is a smoldering Italian with long, jet-black hair. (And the temperament of a classic red-head.) While not very pretty in the classic sense - perhaps even a touch on the homely side, especially given the broken nose - her features could be described as "interesting"... and her hair and sultry dark eyes make up for a lot. She dresses in power suits and packs a gun at every opportunity - if she could get away with carrying grenades in her purse, she's the kind to do it. (No wonder she and the Shadow get along...  While not exactly a feminist in most respects, Maria does have a serious chip on her shoulder against those who are surprised at finding a female PI - "What, you think maybe a coupla balls would help me do my job? Maybe I should take yours?" She still has a trace of a New Yawk accent - if asked what she's doing on the West Coast, she just mutters, "Long story." 

She makes a mean spaghetti sauce, and is prone to inviting friends to dinner for good Italian cooking. 

*Hal Garrity:* Hal's a brilliant but scatterbrained inventor and tinkerer who operates out of his garage. (Which is equipped with something quite other than your standard workbench...) He could probably be rich if he had the determination to stick with one project long enough and the people-skills to market himself. As it is, he's one of those people too smart to be an effective member of society - he makes a living by repairing stuff in the neighborhood and selling bizarre novelties. Hal would love to be a gadgeteer superhero, but lacks the courage and physique for it. He contents himself with supplying some of the Shadow's more unusual goodies. (The Shadow often designs and synthesizes "interesting" chemical compounds for himself, but Hal has much more skill with the packaging.) He also designed some of the "special" features of the Shadow's headquarters, and willingly consented to having his memory of the specifics wiped for his own safety - the mere knowledge that he helped design the local "Bat-Cave" is enough to keep a smile on his face. 

Hal has a face like a hyperactive chipmunk, and glasses so thick you could use them as re-entry shields. He is unhealthily thin and pale. He's balding somewhat prematurely in his 40's - what hair is left is salt-and-pepper. He wears whatever is at hand. Hal cannot seem to sit still for more than a few moments - he has to DO something. He talks a mile a minute... then gets lost in thought in the middle of a sentence, not budging from his reverie until prompted. His classic response to requests for explanations of his magic is, of course, "Oh, never mind!" 

*"Hands" Malone:* A typical example of the scum who propitiate the Shadow. A small-time hood, Hands got a taste of what the Shadow could do to his mind while breaking and entering, followed by one of the most sincere beatings he'd ever received. Back on the street, Hands still makes his living by larceny (knowing no other trade), but is so racked with nervousness he isn't very good at it any more. He supplements his income with the pittances the Shadow gives him for singing like a canary upon command. He always begs the Shadow abjectly to wipe the memory of their meetings, so that it can't ever be gotten out of him. 

Hands (his real name is James) is in his early 20's and in moderately good shape, though he'll probably flab out as he gets older. He's one of those people who manages to look tacky even in a suit, but he more often wears a mildly grungy T-shirt and leather jacket with jeans. He is blessed with entirely nondescript brown hair and eyes. He seems either unable or unwilling to find honest work no matter how much the Shadow terrifies him, which excites the Shadow's profound contempt. 

*Ricky Montel:* A typical example of one of the Shadow's more dedicated young fans. He affects dressing in black, wearing a floppy black hat, and speaking in sepulchral tones. (The tattoos and piercings are his own idea of accessories, though.) He's also enough of a tough-guy that not many mock him for it. Ricky isn't averse to going to bat for the downtrodden - with an actual baseball bat. The Shadow's had to speak to him sharply about that... (*Ricky slammed against wall by invisible figure* "Listen up, BOY. If you want to get yourself killed, at least have the decency not to do it in my name!" Ricky thought that was so cool!  Terrifying at the time, yeah, but cool! It gives him serious bragging rights in some circles, to the Shadow's chagrin. On the other hand, he hasn't done anything TOO stupid since then, either...) Anyway, Ricky is one of the Shadow's plug-ins to the teen crowd, a group he doesn't interact with well on his own. (If you really want some amusement, Ricky could even go to the same high school as David!  True, David lives in a better class of neighborhood than those the Shadow tends to haunt at night, but Ricky is as capable of slumming as anyone else. [Note: The GM took me up on this.]) 

Ricky is a big bruiser of a kid (16 years old) who typically dresses in a black tank-top (usually of some heavy-metal band) to show off his muscular arms and his tattoos (including the logo from the Shadow movie on his right biceps), black jeans with a studded leather belt, heavy black boots, and of course the black hat. When he wants to be especially impressive (or to conceal the bat) he will wear a black trenchcoat over all that. He'd all but kill for a cloak like the Shadow's, but hasn't figured out how to have one made yet. He has multiple piercings in places of your choice, and also favors bracelets with spikes small and blunt enough to be allowed in school. 

*Jerry MacTavish:* Unique among the Shadow's contacts in that he isn't a contact of the Shadow! Rather of Alex... they knew each other in college. Jerry has an erratic mind-shield (he's heterozygous mindblind) and was a pretty clean-cut straight-laced All-American as a young man, so he got along OK with Alex... and it didn't hurt that he liked hanging around Jennifer, too. Anyway, Jerry was Air Force ROTC and ended up flying missions over Iraq in the Gulf War. He was shot down, captured, and severely ill-treated. Honorably discharged, he returned to the States a broken man - heavily burdened with Post-Traumatic Stress syndrome. 

Alex came upon him again by sheer coincidence about a year after Jennifer's death - driving home from work, he caught sight of a homeless man being shaken down by low-lives in an alley. Being Alex, he had to stop and do something... and, being Alex, he was packing heat. Between the gun and the surreptitious use of his Aura of Menace, the bad guys were soon beating a hasty retreat... and Alex found that the homeless man was his old college buddy. 

Alex took him home, fed him, and listened to his story. (Jerry, for his part, was devastated to hear of Jennifer's death.) Moved, Alex decided he had to try to help him somehow. While Jerry slept on the couch, he downed one of his pills and tried to touch the man's subconscious mind. The effort exhausted him [ie, he used Extra Effort to get an Extra for "Unconscious Alteration"] but he succeeded in reversing the trauma that had burned into his friend's brain, and restoring his native sense of hope and determination. Jerry woke a new man. He attributed the change to the shocks of the previous day (the mugging and the news of Jennifer's death) and to Alex's kindness - which was more true than he knew. 

Over the following years, Jerry succeeded in turning his life completely around. He got a job as a pilot and, after some time and with the help of his much-relieved family, he started his own charter-flight business. (Some shrewd investments in stocks at the height of the Internet boom helped finance this.) He visits the Brightons a few times a year, and David has come to call him "Uncle Jerry". 

When his dear friend Alex came to him a year ago and told him that David had been kidnapped and hurt to try to get at his father, Jerry was outraged. Upon the news that it could conceivably happen again, he readily agreed to help get David out of harm's way if the need should arise. Alex gave him a sealed envelope with instructions, to be opened upon a certain phone call... and other than that, their relationship has not changed. There is NO connection between Jerry MacTavish and "the Shadow", and Alex intends to keep it that way. Jerry does know that Alex is a telepath, however - Alex had to tell him SOMETHING to convince him why he couldn't just go to the police. (The secret of Jerry's cure came out at this time.) 

Jerry is a white-bread All-American - blond, blue-eyed, ruggedly handsome. His military habits of neatness and order have reasserted themselves with a vengeance - everything in its right place. In short, he looks like something off a recruiting poster, right on down to the crease in his slacks. He got married recently (Alex was the best man) but does not have any children. 

*Mike Barnes:* Better known as DarKnight in cyber-circles. A 15 year old hacker extraordinaire with the usual arrogance, Mike has a fascination for comics, especially "dark" heroes like Batman, the "Dark Knight". Naturally the rise of the Shadow in his own backyard, so to speak, caught his fancy. (Mike lives in San Diego.) He maintains one of the more elaborate websites on the Shadow, full of fanciful theories - one Carlos and the Shadow often visit to see what is being said, and occasionally to plant rumors. 

The secret to Mike's success as a hacker is that he is a cyberkinetic - he possesses the Datalink power. (And possibly a specialized Computer "Possession" power, too.) He noticed the bizarre way in which the Shadow's computer interfaced with his site [Note: As the base writeup says, Hal Garrity has provided some mods to the base's telecom that really shouldn't be possible], and traveled down the lines to "visit" - only to find a truly alien operating system he had difficulty making head or tails of... [Garrity's home-brewed OS - I'm surprised the poor kid didn't go mad ] and no data of any interest. (The Shadow does not keep interesting data on the Net-connected computer.) Meanwhile, Carlos and the Shadow (who was looking over Carlos' shoulder at an amusing post) both sensed the presence of a mind located IN their own computer! 

The Shadow lashed out with Telepathy, and managed to hold on to the terrified youngster's mind long enough to gain his name and address. When DarKnight managed to flee down the connection, the Shadow saw him off with a healthy dose of telempathic fear. Then he paid the lad a little visit at home late one night... Turnabout, after all, being fair play. 

Once satisfied that the boy was not part of some plot against him, the Shadow went easy on him. Well, by his standards, anyway - Mike found the experience the most terrifying of his young life. Much like Ricky, though, he also found it extremely cool! But unlike Ricky, he has had the stupidity and unwisdom of his actions firmly impressed upon him. (Mike is a good deal brighter than Ricky, and also is rather the pencil-neck geek - skinny as a rail.) 

Mike considers himself an "agent" of the Shadow in the mold of the movie. He has pledged himself to help the Shadow out with any hacking needs he may have - and the Shadow has found the offer sufficiently intriguing as to not discourage him too much. He has, however, made it VERY clear to Mike that any further stupidity - especially boasting about their meeting - will be met with unpleasantness. Mike, already used to keeping the secret of his cyberkinesis, readily agreed to this. The two have set up a number of very hard-to-reach email addresses to keep in touch - and Mike turns up at an agreed-upon public-access computer on a regular basis to meekly have his mind read so the Shadow can be assured he is keeping their agreement. (It also gives an ultra-secure means of passing on news and assignments - the email addresses are only for arranging "drops".) 

DarKnight's site remains one of the main places to visit for (mis)information on the Shadow, and he has willingly set up a number of different dummy usernames for Carlos to use as plants. Nothing untoward has appeared there, and his mind remains "clean". In fact, the only point of friction so far is that Mike bristles at always being called "Michael".  Not too much, though - he can handle "Michael" much better than he can "unpleasantness".  

*Ed Fullman:* Once one of the better burglars in the area - specializing in defeating alarm systems and other electronic surprises - Ed decided that crime really didn't pay after a nasty run-in with the Shadow. Starting out as a locksmith, he later branched out into security consulting. Along the way he got a helping hand in the form of a grant from an obscure nonprofit... after looking "penumbra" up in the dictionary he started to get an inkling into what was going on. After he'd thought about it a while, he decided it was pretty classy for the Shadow to lend a hand as well as a fist or a bullet. (Normally the Shadow would not have the Penumbra Foundation directly help somebody he'd "converted" - he'd go through more elaborate channels. This was probably an oversight - perhaps he got Ed's last name wrong.) 

Anyway, Ed has kept his mouth shut... and sent the Foundation a little note offering them a great deal on security consulting if they should ever need it. The note referred to the Foundation's motto, "Out of the shadows, into the light," in such a way as to hint that he knew. The Shadow has learned most of what he knows about locks and disarming electronic systems from Ed - though of course he hasn't openly learned as "the Shadow" and has used an entirely assumed name, which Ed himself likewise guessed and accepted. Ed has let it be known that he'd be willing to help out if the Shadow needs to get into someplace he can't manage on his own, though so far he hasn't been taken up on this offer. 

Ed is not exactly a virtuous man - he got out of crime because he didn't see it as worthwhile, not because he saw it as wrong - but he does believe in paying his debts, and is quite relieved nowadays to be legit... it's a lot less nervous-making. If he does do a break-in for the Shadow, he'll expect to be paid for his time and risk, though not steeply. He won't betray the Shadow willingly - he can be a stubborn cuss when it comes to commitments he's undertaken, and he's decided he owes the Shadow several big ones. (Even if he comes to perceive himself as having "paid off" his debts, he will honor the "connection" so long as the Shadow plays straight by him.) 

Ed is not the marrying kind, but he does have a couple children out of wedlock with different mothers. He pays child support loyally - that's another debt he feels honor-bound to repay. He's a hair under thirty with a wiry build, with the hands of a pianist and wire-framed glasses. He has dark brown hair and green eyes and dresses neatly. His habitual expression is one of sardonic amusement with life.


----------



## The Shadow

And just so I don't completely overwhelm you with background information, here's the next session, in which Amazing Grace makes her first appearance.  She'd been one of the most important NPC's in the original game.

------------------------

Alex puttered about the house a little in the morning, putting off his troubles a while until realizing it was futile. When David got back from his morning jog, he asked after Twyla and was told he hadn't been able to reach her yet. "Let me know what you find out," he asked, and David agreed. 

Then Alex went out to the base. Carlos was, unsurprisingly, still awake - and snickering at the computer screen. "What is it this time?" he asked, and got the gleeful reply, "Congratulations, sir, you're a vampire. It's obvious - you only go out at night, after all. Some say you're a _moral_ vampire who only drinks the blood of criminals, others argue you're a psychic vampire who feeds on fear and pain. Currently they're arguing about whether or not a stake through the heart would do you in." 

The Shadow snorted. "This might be a good time to toss in the alleged correspondence between my appearances and the phases of the moon again." (One of Carlos' screennames specializes in that pet theory.) "Do you want me to play up the werewolf angle?" "No, just throw it out there and let them draw their own conclusions. It's always better that way." "Will do, sir." He then muttered to himself, amused, "Thank God I'm a person." [Carlos' private terminology: "People" (in the mass) are idiots, while "persons" are individuals.] The Shadow asked, curious, "How long have you been a person, Carlos?" "Well," the frank reply came, "since shortly after I met you, sir." "I believe I shall take that as a compliment." "You should." 

"And Carlos... see what you can find out about recent doings in this alley." He gave the location. "I have reason to believe that some bodies turned up there last night. ... No, I didn't do it! ... I want to know how many and how they died." Carlos nodded and started tapping away at the keyboard. "Got it, sir - a police report filed this morning..." He read a bit then whistled. "Wow, sir, this is a nasty one!" The Shadow winced visibly. 

"Five dead. One with a knife wound... Two with crushed skulls... One guy with a broken neck... Another with his chest caved in. What happened?! Do we have a new serial killer on the loose?" The Shadow, looking very unhappy, took a long time to reply. "...A man that I know has body-altering powers that he hasn't learned to control." "Wow! He does this stuff like this every time he gets upset?!" "No, just every time he's attacked on the street." "Self-defense, huh? Well, that's a relief. Still - five guys at once!" 

The Shadow sighed. "It was six actually. And he did it with his bare hands." Carlos stared. "He crushed a guy's skull with his bare hands? Sir, this guy is dangerous!" Defensively, the Shadow grated out, "He's not a bad man. They jumped him, not the other way around." "Well, I'd assume so - that's what self-defense means, and even a guy like that'd be stupid to jump six guys with weapons if he had a choice, but..." 

Carlos trailed off as he took in the Shadow's expression and tone of voice. Warily, he asked, "Do you know this guy personally, sir?" Long silence, as the Shadow wrestled with how much to share. 

Almost unwillingly he admitted quietly, "He's my son." Carlos's eyes bugged out. "Your son! But he's just a kid! What is he, sixteen?" "Seventeen... Wait a minute, I've never mentioned him to you before! How do you know about him?" The Shadow's tone grew almost a bit menacing. 

Carlos temporized hastily, "Well, given your age, it would make sense..." The Shadow cut him off. "You haven't answered my question, Carlos." "I... I got a flash of him with you once. I guessed his age based on how you look now compared to the image I got." "Why did you never tell me this?" The undertone of menace was still there. 

"It... it didn't seem important." Then, in a small voice, "Are you mad at me?" The Shadow was silent for a long time. Finally, he replied, "No, Carlos, I am not mad at you," and the young man let out his pent-up breath. 

All business once more, the Shadow asked, "Have any of the bodies been identified?" "No sir, not yet. Do you want me to check later today, maybe the newspapers too?" "Yes. I want you to keep tabs on this." "Will do." 

The Shadow brooded a bit longer, then picked up the "Shadow hotline" phone and dialed. "Grace? This is Shadwell." 

The rich Southern drawl of Amazing Grace came through clearly. "Why Mr. Shadwell, what a pleasure to hear from you! Will you be wanting an appointment?" "Yes." Teasingly (knowing full well the answer), she asked, "A 'couch' appointment as usual, I assume?" "Of course." "I can fit you in at one - will that do?" The Shadow agreed, and hung up. [The 'couch' business refers to the fact that she IS a high-priced courtesan. But while she has no formal degree, she's also quite good at counselling... being a powerful telepath and mind-controller helps more than a little, of course. Some of her clients just want to talk.] 

"I'm going out looking for the men with suitcases, Carlos. Do you mind staying up a little longer?" "Not a problem, sir!" So the Shadow went on a fruitless search until 1 PM, when he turned up invisibly at Grace's home. 

At his knock, the door opened, and Amazing Grace appeared wearing a simple silk robe. She looked him over as he stepped in and said, "I do hope you're not broadcasting that way to the general public!" "Sorry," the Shadow muttered, "A moment of weakness," and zipped his shields up more tightly. Have to watch that, he mused. I'm more upset about all this than I thought. 

He proceeded to prove it by taking his hat off and crumpling it a bit in his hands as Grace brought him a cup of tea. Curling up on a sofa with her own cup, she asked, "All right, Alex, what brings you by?" "Several things, this time. Business AND pleasure." He put so much acid into that last word as to leave no doubts about the purity of his intentions. She raised an elegant brow. "Go on. ... Should I cancel my five o'clock?" 

Alex finally sat down. "It shouldn't take that long. Business first. What do you know about the men prowling about in the black cars?" She responded, amused, "I assume you don't mean the FBI types who tend to infest this neighborhood!" Her Southern twang was much muted today, Alex noticed, a faint lilt in the background. Her stage persona packed away in storage, perhaps? At his nod of agreement, she said, "I've heard a little. They carry big suitcases that are curiously repelling." Alex's heart sank - so it was all the same outfit after all. "Our kind of repelling, that is... and I do fear that it may be cybernetic." 

Alex frowned. "I have it on the best authority that that just isn't possible." "I wouldn't know, dear. But I do have a pet theory. Only a theory, mind you." "Go on." She shrugged. "Those suitcases are just about the right size to hold a human brain..." Alex stared at her in shock. "Are you telling me that they've cored some poor bastard and put his BRAIN in a suitcase?" 

"I know nothing for certain. Nothing, in fact, but the word of one of my clients... and I will freely admit that he's more than a little paranoid. But it's not just theory that they're after him. ... He's one of us, you see." 

Alex asked incredulously, "But if they've got telepathic brains in suitcases, why on earth are they using them to infiltrate the gang scene in LA? What is there about small-time hoods to interest them? Why not go to Washington... or NORAD, for that matter." 

Grace sipped her tea. "How much travelling have you done, Alex?" "Some, on business." "And how good are you at spotting people like us?" "Slightly." "I'm quite good at it. And I can tell you that there are more of us here in southern California than on the east coast. Why, I don't know. But it's true." 

"All right, perhaps they've got some more suitcases to fill. But still - why the gangs?" She laughed musically. "You're the investigator, not me!" "True... Perhaps it's the drug angle. I imagine that adding cocaine to the life support fluid could help quite a bit in controlling even a telepathic brain. Then again, surely it wouldn't take very much..." "Or," Grace added bleakly, "very much _per brain._" "I refuse to believe they have THAT many telepaths. Perhaps they just need the money - all this technology has to cost." He mused some more, then shook his head. "I would seem to have my work cut out for me. At least they think I'm a myth." 

"Keep it that way as long as you can, Alex. They know my client isn't a myth, and they are definitely hunting him. He's convinced they want his brain, but again, he isn't the most stable of individuals." "I will bear that in mind." 

"So much for business," he concluded. "Now for pleasure. ... It's David." Grace nodded, unsurprised. 

He told her the gist of the fight the previous night, and concluded, "I don't know anyone capable of giving him the training he needs. I'd do it myself, but I'm not superhuman! ... That way, I mean," he amended at her smirk. "Do you know anyone?" 

Grace sighed. "You never bring me easy problems, do you?" Alex snorted. "The easy problems I can handle on my own!" "To be sure... The best teacher would frankly be the Forbidden. Do you know how to contact him?" "No, or I would have already. He covered his tracks well." 

She mused a while, then said, "I know of two who might be able to help you. The first is very competent and completely discreet, but lacks David's... advantages... which could cause problems. The other has all the advantages one could wish, but..." "But," Alex suggested, "he is less than discreet?" 

Grace sighed and got up, moving to the window. "People differ, Alex. Some see the world all in black and white... and worse yet, they don't always agree on which is which. If this man decides that David is too dark a shade of grey, things could get ugly." "Not worth the risk, then?" "I'm not saying that. The payoff could also be very great. A lot depends on David. And I would not like to see a training accident happen to the first individual I spoke of." "Well, tell me more of the second man, then." 

Grace pondered. "Have you ever watched many of the more cheesy kung-fu movies, Alex?" "I can't say that I have." "Well, he is almost the perfect stereotype of the 'wise old master'. Full of confusing aphorisms for every occasion." "I know the type. 'Confucius say.'" Grace chuckled briefly, then went on. "He firmly believes that what he does is based on 'chi', and all the philosophy that goes along with it. Mind you, the philosophy might do David good if he will actually be willing to learn." 

"Would he want payment, or will he take David on for the challenge? I understand 'wise old masters' go in for that kind of thing." "It depends on how he views David - whether he takes him as being sadly in need of control (in which case he will insist on payment) or if he takes him as being granted a rare and precious gift, in which case he will probably see the challenge as sufficient." "What sort of coin does he accept payment in?" "You needn't worry. Money will do quite nicely." 

"Can you sound him out ahead of time so we can decide?" Grace nodded. "I'll try to set things up for next week." 

"Thank you, Grace. This has been very difficult, and of course David has been quite shaken by it." "Of course. He's lost some of his innocence, poor boy. I shall miss it. He was such a sweet boy." [Amazing that a professional prostitute can say that with not a hint of innuendo. She was completely sincere and chaste about it.] 

Alex rose to his feet. "You've taken a load from my mind." Grace smile grew, not precisely warmer, but more personal. "I'm glad, Alex. A pleasure as always." He paused at the door. "If you will permit me a slightly impudent question?" She dimpled and shrugged languidly. "If you like." "How on earth did you meet the 'wise old master'?" 

Grace laughed. "I could say I met him professionally... and give you entirely the wrong impression. In fact, he actually trained the first individual I mentioned, the discreet one. He ought to be discreet, he's my brother." Alex struggled to keep his jaw from dropping. "I never knew you had a brother!" "I have parents too, if you can imagine that!" she teased. "Impossible," Alex maintained, and took his leave after thanking her again... feeling vaguely honored by her confidence. 

He dropped off the costume at the base (Carlos was sound asleep) and then went home. David was reading in the living room. "Hi Dad." Alex nodded. "Son, we need to talk." The boy looked a little apprehensive, but set the book aside. "Yeah?" 

Alex sat down near him. "I have learned some details of what happened last night." Never one to soften the blow, he simply handed over the hardcopy of the police report. David read through it slowly, wincing visibly in several places. Finally he set it down and said quietly, "I didn't do the one that was knifed." "I know." "And I swear I only broke that one guy's arm, nothing more." "I know, David. I believe you. But we need to act to make sure that something like this doesn't happen again." "How?" 

Continuing, Alex said, "I am arranging for you to be trained by someone with abilities similar to your own. Grace knows him and is contacting him for me." He noticed with slight resentment how the rising storm in his son's countenance subsided somewhat at the mention of Grace's involvement, but he kept his voice neutral as he said, "What I need to know is if you are willing to learn." David sighed and pondered. "I'll give it an honest try," he said. "That's all I can promise." "And what is an 'honest try'?" "I'll sincerely follow through with what's expected of me for a few weeks at least." "Very well. I will warn you that it will take up a great deal of your free time." David nodded. "Figures." 

Alex explained the details, then hesitated and gripped David's shoulder. "This has been very hard for me, son. I can only imagine how hard it has been for you." David resorted to the universal teenage answer for any topic too hard to want to deal with: He shrugged ambiguously. "I love you, David." Another moody shrug. Alex suppressed a sigh and let him be. 

[If you noticed that Alex was more animated and open with Grace than even his own son, you get a gold star. The reason is simple: People like the Forbidden and Amazing Grace are peers of his with formidable mental shielding. He has no real chance of hurting them by accident. He can allow himself to be himself with them in ways he doesn't dare permit himself with others... even those he loves best. That is part of the tragedy of his existence.] 

[The GM tells me, btw, that Amazing Grace is about the only person around who could conceivably tear down Alex's walls and teach him to shield in a more healthy manner. But since they're so deeply embedded in his personality and sanity, it would take about six months on a desert island (ie, nobody around to get zapped) and near-total trust on Alex's part, at least at the outset. In other words, it ain't gonna happen. He likes Grace, but that doesn't mean he trusts her with his soul.] 

[Alex's homozygosity, btw, means he has more raw psychic potential than just about anybody, including Grace. It's just that the vast majority of that potential is bound up in containing his raging emotions and preventing him from "zapping" everybody around him. If he were ever to fully "cut loose", he could probably beat down any telepath on the planet not similarly cursed... the problem is he'd go hopelessly mad just afterward. But of course, he has such incredible inhibitions against "cutting loose" that it's psychologically impossible. He's never been able to lower his shields that far.]


----------



## Swack-Iron

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Thanks for suggesting this, Swack-Iron.




I thought the audience here might appreciate it. I note that as of 10:45 PM PST you've got only 11 posts and a whopping 81 page views!

FYI, in case you didn't notice it, there's a M&M banner, in case you'd prefer to use that one over the more general "Comics" banner.


----------



## The Shadow

Swack-Iron said:
			
		

> FYI, in case you didn't notice it, there's a M&M banner, in case you'd prefer to use that one over the more general "Comics" banner.




I did indeed miss that, thanks.  I've edited it in.


----------



## The Shadow

In the evening, David announced he was going out to play a shirts-and-skins basketball game with the guys, maybe pick up some pizza afterward.  Alex asked, "How is your shoulder?  It might be best to play on the 'shirts' side."  David responded, "It looks no worse than a cat scratch now, Dad."  "Very well.  Have you spoken to Twyla?"  David shook his head, plainly uncomfortable with the question.  Alex let it go.

At ten, the Shadow was stationed by the public library, his mental sight focussed through the wall on a particular computer.  Shortly before the hour struck, a mental trace blossomed there that hadn't been there before. He reached out with telepathy, taking in the young man's cocksure yet respectful overtones.  *Michael.*

_Hi, boss!_ the response came, with only a little quickly-suppressed irritation over the name.  *Do you have anything to report?* _Nothing unusual._ *Very well.  I have an assignment for you.  An interesting one, this time.*  Unconcealed glee - all the Shadow's requests of him thus far having been dull and humdrum.  _Tell me more!_

*Very well.  Give me fifteen minutes, then come to my 'home' computer again. I will have it connected to your site.*  Great surprise and greater curiosity - he'd never been "invited" to the base computer after that first fateful meeting.  _I'll be there!_

The Shadow sped back to the base.  "Carlos, pull up DarKnight's site."  Carlos looked mildly surprised, but clicked on Favorites. "Here you go, sir..." he said, then looked startled when the Shadow, instead of coming over to the computer, went and sat on his cot.

Then, "Sir!  Mike's in our computer again!"  Calmly, the Shadow told him, "I sense him too."  "Is he allowed to do that?"  "I have invited him this once."  Carlos said a bit dubiously, "All right, then..." as the avenger of the night reached out with his mind again.

*Here is the situation, Michael.* He passed on what he knew of the black cars, sparing the boy only Grace's "cybernetic" theory.  *The trouble is that they can likely spot you in a computer as readily as I can...*  Mike's cocky confidence took a bit of a dive at that point.  *...So I propose to come with you.  I am good at not being seen.*  Shock and a delighted-scared anticipation. _HOW?!_ *...Hold still.*  Then, aloud as he stretched out on the cot, "Carlos, I am going to appear to sleep for a little while.  Do not be alarmed."  A little more dubiously, "OK, sir..."

The Shadow wormed his way deeper into Michael's mind, getting a firm hold there and settling in.  There was no resistance.  He let his awareness expand in and through the boy's unique esper talent.  [In game terms, I used Extra Effort to get an Extra for maintaining telepathic contact beyond Sight range.  The GM and I agreed that my "touch" range Area Mental Invisibility could also apply to "mental touch" in this situation.] *Let's go.*

Mike traced down the phone number obtained from El Bandito's mind in moments, but the information gained was not terribly useful.  It was a cell phone, with a P.O. box given as address.  The bills were always paid in cash.  The name proved to be a dead end - evidently a false one.  The Shadow did make a note of which post office the box was obtained from.

Searching phone company records for calls made to and from the phone recently yielded about sixty numbers, and soon sixty names - a couple of which the Shadow recognized as belonging to gang leaders.  *Dump the data into an Excel file and send it to my computer,* he directed, intending to have Carlos do a cross-reference with the gang database at a later date.  Mike promptly obeyed. _Now what?_

*Is there any way to trace where a cell call was made from?*  Mike hit on the bright idea of checking the cell company's records of what stations calls from that number were routed through.  After some tedious searching and triangulating, he reported, _Most of the calls are made from a single block, boss.  I can't guarantee that they live there, but they certainly spend a lot of time there._  The Shadow smiled an unpleasant mental smile.  *Excellent.  What is on that block?*

A quick search of city records, then... _A big office building.  No floor plans available, sorry.  There's about twenty companies that rent offices there._  He provided the list, and one of them niggled at the Shadow's memory.  [I made a pretty good Int check.]  He'd heard of "OmniMetal Inc." before - at work, or in the newspaper perhaps, he couldn't recall.  *Does OmniMetal have a website?*

Mike flashed them over to another computer.  _Yeah, but it's down.  Server trouble, it says..._  Then the boy froze when the Shadow "shouted", *Get us out of here, Michael! NOW!*

The connection was broken at the speed of thought.  _What? WHAT?!_ *Someone scanned us psychically, or rather over our location.  I do not believe they could have spotted us, but I also do not believe in taking chances.  I think we have found what we were looking for.*  He did not mention the strangeness of the fleeting contact... a curiously "flat" mental trace, with none of the inevitable tiny fluctuations one found even in a skilled telepath like Grace.  It was as if the scanner were completely focussed on the task at hand, even monomaniacal, with no distractions or other thoughts getting in the way. *Excellent work, Michael.*  He sensed the young man swelling with pride the instant before he broke the connection.

Carlos started when the Shadow leapt off the cot.  "Plug in, Carlos."  "Already done, sir."  The Shadow was already nearly to the hangar.  "Good.  Pull up this address on the master map so you can give me directions."  "Done."  The Shadow did a quick check on the cycle, then activated the lift. "Oh, and Carlos?"  "Yessir?"

"Leave a message on Grace's machine. 'Mr. Shadwell is meeting the people he spoke with you about at this address.'"

"I suspect she'll be interested."

[And as SP put it, "A bit paranoid, are we?"   To which the only possible reply is, "ALWAYS!" ]

[BTW, when the Shadow smiled his smile and said "Excellent," I just about pictured him doing the Mr. Burns thing. Scary. ]


----------



## The Shadow

As the Shadow sped toward the office building of OmniMetal Inc., he rapidly filled Carlos in on what he and Mike had found.  "Do a websearch on OmniMetal, tell me what you find.  Check recent news stories in particular."  "Sir, Mike's still in our computer - do you want him to handle it?"  "By all means."

After a short interval, Carlos reported over the commlink, "Mike says he's finding lots of boring stuff, for whatever that's worth." "Check through it for things that would be interesting to me, as opposed to him."  "Gotcha, sir... They're involved in a good bit of electronics assembly, looks like, pretty high-tech cutting-edge stuff.  Oh, here's something, they were involved in that robotic arm business."

The Shadow clicked on the memory that he hadn't been able to nail down before.  A very sophisticated prosthetic arm had been a nine-day wonder in the news a month or two ago.  While its range of motion was limited (with improvements expected soon), within that range it had a delicacy and precision beyond anything else on the market, indistinguishable in performance from a normal human arm.  "Oh.  That."  Then, grimly, "Wasn't there also talk of them developing a full-body exoskeleton?" "Yeah, I seem to recall that."

"Oh, sir, Mike just found out that OmniMetal is a subsidiary." "What is the parent company?" "It's called the 'Organized Multinational Investment Group'."  The Shadow snorted. "Now there's a name with marketing cachet for you.  Have him see what he can find about them."  Shortly after, "Mike says he's running into some really heavy firewalls, sir.  He asks if you want him to proceed."  The Shadow pondered a moment, then said, "Tell him to go ahead."

Moments later, Carlos shouted, "OH CRAP!" and started typing so furiously the Shadow could hear it clearly through the commlink.  "What is it, Carlos?!  Talk to me!!"  "Can't, sir, wait a second!"  Then, "OK, he managed to break the connection in time.  Mike says there's something really Bad in that computer, sir." The young man clearly pronounced the capital letter. "It tried to attack him, but I was able to warn him just before it struck.  He's scared, sir."  Carlos' tone revealed that he was rather shaken himself.  "Tell him he's earned a good night's sleep.  Did he get anything at all?"  Carlos typed a little more, then reported, "Just a filename, sir. 'Overmind Project'."

Silence, then, "Carlos, please repeat that." "The 'Overmind Project'."

"I do not like this, Carlos.  I do not like this at all."  He hesitated, then finally continued, "Grace has a theory.  A very speculative theory, mind.  She isn't sure about it."  Carlos, a bit nonplussed by the Shadow's uncharacteristic hedging, asked warily, "What is it, sir?"  "She thinks these people are carrying around human brains in those suitcases."

"Gross!  Why would anybody want to do that?!"  "You do not understand, Carlos.  _Living_ brains.  Living telepathic brains, to be precise." Long pause.  "Oh sh- er, shoot, sir.  Um. Where, uh, exactly did these brains come from?"  The Shadow did not bother to answer that one.  After a little more cogitation, Carlos followed up with, "And what do they want them for?"  "I do not know. But I do not like it." Carlos' agreement was fervent.

By this time, the Shadow had reached his destination - an eight story office building.  He circled it slowly, getting a feel for the place, his mental shields at maximum and his invisibility firmly in place.  Then, cautiously, he lowered his shields to let his mental senses range outward.

The first thing he noticed was a pervasive basso "hum" in the psychic background, almost like the thrum of a bank of generators.  It tended to wash out other mental impressions, make it more difficult to get a fix.  But after some patient (and quite passive) scanning, he managed to ascertain a number of facts.

The bottom half of the building seemed empty save for watchmen, janitorial staff and so on.  The Shadow guessed that the first four floors were occupied by the other tenants of the building;  at any rate the fifth, sixth, and seventh floors seemed to reflect OmniMetal's style...

Those floors featured some of the strangest minds the Man of Mystery had ever encountered.  Flat, passive, dormant - inhumanly so.  The closest thing he'd ever seen was when he'd probed someone deep in meditation.  These minds were awake, but not thinking anything at all.  They were... waiting.  Waiting, and nothing more.

There were also some more normal minds moving about, though there was something strange about them too that he couldn't quite pin down.

Finally, the eighth floor, which at first had seemed quite empty, proved to have the same utterly blank reading that the black cars had.  The Shadow frowned deeply.  They have power and to spare, it would seem, he thought.

He stopped and hovered the cycle between two windows, near a place where his senses told him a mind was waiting.  Cautiously he extended his telepathic awareness into its surface thoughts... or what would have been its surface thoughts, if it had any.  There was a blank inactivity there that frightened the Shadow more than he could say.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought.  He projected a single word to the waiting mind, as flatly and emotionlessly as he could:  _Report._  [SP:  "Ballsy." ]

The mind abruptly flared into activity, and the Shadow nearly cried out as he experienced something like a red-hot poker in his mind.  He broke the contact frantically;  it had been trying to stun him, render him senseless.  When he recovered himself, he observed the reaction inside the building.

The more normal minds were converging on the location of the one he'd just interacted with.  Now that they were closer, he got a better "feel" for them... weak minds that seemed somehow augmented, sporting greater psychic strength than they ought to somehow. He'd never seen anything like it, and found it quite disturbing.  These augmented minds entered some sort of rapport with the mind he'd touched... After a short time, they went their separate ways again.

Grimly, the dark avenger reached out once more with telepathy, this time to one of the augmented minds.  Despite its unnatural strength, its shields were no match for him;  he easily slipped into the stream of consciousness...  Noticing peripherally as he did so that one of the "waiting" minds suddenly became frantically active.

Surprise and uncertainty - something about an alarm being triggered.  Racing to another room and announcing, "The detector just went off!" Then tapping at a keyboard and anxiously scanning a printout that would have the answer.  "Sh**, we're being probed!"  Somebody else present ordering, "Activate the defenses."  The Shadow decided it would be prudent to back off the cycle from the building, but remained in mental contact.  There was some more typing at the keyboard, then several "waiting" minds speared probes over and past the Shadow's location - he was certain they did not notice him.

Then the mental background noise stepped up, and it became difficult to maintain his contact with the man in the building - the closest analogy he could think of being that of feedback squeals from an amp.  Thinking quickly, he gave one parting shot before he broke off the connection:  _You should not trifle with Mastermind, fools! You have invaded my territory long enough!_  Hopefully that would give them something to think about - something other than the mythical "Shadow".

The Shadow sped away on his hovercycle, relaying what he'd found to Carlos. "That's some big bad juju in that place, sir!"  "Yes, Carlos.  I know."  He didn't bother to repeat that he didn't like it, as that would have been quite superfluous.  "Either those 'augmented' men live in the building, which I doubt, or they are working the night shift.  I believe I shall pay a visit again early this morning, see what happens when they get off work.  In the meantime..."

"I think I am going to see if I can find Juan Martinez again.  My instincts tell me that he has been involved with these people before... They would certainly account for his unnatural terror of mental contact, and he does have a mind-shield stronger than the average.  It could be unrelated, I suppose, but it is worth checking."

[To quote a Mr. Han Solo:  "I've got a bad feeling about this..."  For that matter, Obi-Wan's comment has some merit too - the one about millions of minds crying out in unison...]

[That's no moon, ladies and gentlemen...  I think this may be the biggest caper the Shadow's ever faced.  Hope it's not more than he can chew.]


----------



## The Shadow

Just a little info here - I've decided to mark the actual sessions with the M&M icon, and campaign information with the News icon. (If this is inappropriate, somebody please let me know.)

Does anybody mind my practice of interspersing new campaign information in between every few sessions?  I've got a lot of it;  when I get inspired, I produce reams and reams... and I got really inspired this time around!

By the way, my avatar is taken from the following old movie poster for the Shadow, which captures my image of Alex almost perfectly:


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> "Five dead. One with a knife wound... Two with crushed skulls... One guy with a broken neck... Another with his chest caved in.



 RBDM!!!!!



> Just a little info here - I've decided to mark the actual sessions with the M&M icon, and campaign information with the News icon. (If this is inappropriate, somebody please let me know.)



 Icons aren't a big deal.  Just a little flavor/filler.  I wouldn't worry much about it if I were you.

 Great avatar.  Does Alex have that same nose?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> RBDM!!!!!




I haven't encountered this acronym before, but I'm guessing it means something like, "That's one bad-ass kid!" 

Yes, you don't want to make David mad.  Trust me on this.  The lad don't know his own strengt'. 

The GM has let a little about his stats slip, btw.  David is PL 8.  He has a 20 Str _normally_.  (Doesn't look it, though, he has a very dense musculature.  He's well-built, yes, but not Arnie.)  If he gets an adrenaline rush or perceives a threat, his Super-Strength and Super-Dexterity kick in, along with a bit of Strike (extra unarmed damage) and, I'm guessing, a considerable amount of Attack and Defense.  Oh, and of course Regeneration coming out of his ears, and a bit of Running.  Flawed Immunity to Poison - when he and Alex found this out, they did a controlled experiment... David gets buzzed after drinking four six packs of beer.  He also hasn't seemed to get sick since puberty, though I don't know for sure whether he's Immune or just super-healthy.



> Great avatar.  Does Alex have that same nose?




I'm not particular about the nose (and anyway, when acting as the Shadow he maintains a light Illusion about his face to fuzz his features), it's the intensity of the eyes that grabs my attention.  That and the wonderfully battered black hat... too many depictions of the Shadow show him in a freakin' bowler or the equivalent.


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> I haven't encountered this acronym before, but I'm guessing it means something like, "That's one bad-ass kid!"



 Actually, it stands for Rat Bastard DM.  Generally, it's saying that the DM/GM is evil in that good, realistic, DM way.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> Yes, you don't want to make David mad.  Trust me on this.  The lad don't know his own strengt'.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> The GM has let a little about his stats slip, btw.  David is PL 8.  He has a 20 Str _normally_. (Doesn't look it, though, he has a very dense musculature. He's well-built, yes, but not Arnie.) If he gets an adrenaline rush. . .



 I'm not up on my M&M but I'm getting the gist of most of it from the power names.  So, if I have my Intro to Bio stuff down, the Mindblind power surpreses the Telepathy.  Which, in turn, doesn't allow the Telepathy to suppress the super-strength.  But, as I understand it, Alex has to be careful around his son so as to not project too much, right?

 So, does the combination of abnormal protiens in his system result in something completely different?  Or do I have the sequince wrong?  Then again, perhaps all the chromosoms in question weren't passed on to him.

 This would also affect Amazing Grace somewhat.  She seems to have a brother with similar abilities as David (though not as advanced).  Following the same logic above, wouldn't he have to be a half/step brother?  Assuming the genes were passed on that is.

 Keep in mind that I'm running off a 100 level course (I dumped the 200 level course due to cemestry problems) that I took a year ago.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> . . .it's the intensity of the eyes that grabs my attention.



 You're defintally right there.  Those drill right into you.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Actually, it stands for Rat Bastard DM.  Generally, it's saying that the DM/GM is evil in that good, realistic, DM way.




Heh.  You ain't seen NOTHIN' yet.   SP and I know each other from way back, and we've gamed together for nearly that long.  In a word, I trust him to screw me over hardcore and make it fun.   (That's why I gave him such an incredible plethora of hooks on the Shadow.)



> I'm not up on my M&M but I'm getting the gist of most of it from the power names.  So, if I have my Intro to Bio stuff down, the Mindblind power surpreses the Telepathy.  Which, in turn, doesn't allow the Telepathy to suppress the super-strength.  But, as I understand it, Alex has to be careful around his son so as to not project too much, right?




Heh.  I see it's time for me to post my "Genetics of Psionics" treatise.  Coming right up...

As for projecting around David... David has a rudimentary mindshield that he instinctively learned to erect just from being around his dad.  The main reason why Alex was so keen on not getting too emotional in that scene with David was that he was on the verge of losing control of his shields.

That would be a Bad Thing, even by Egon's standards.    Put it this way... I've figured out the numbers for a (hopefully temporary) radiation accident should Alex ever completely "blow his top".  Turns out he can blanket the entire American Southwest, and a large chunk of Mexico, with a Mental Blast or Telepathy...



> So, does the combination of abnormal protiens in his system result in something completely different?  Or do I have the sequince wrong?  Then again, perhaps all the chromosoms in question weren't passed on to him.




See the next post, it should explain much.



> This would also affect Amazing Grace somewhat.  She seems to have a brother with similar abilities as David (though not as advanced).  Following the same logic above, wouldn't he have to be a half/step brother?  Assuming the genes were passed on that is.




Actually, I think Grace's brother is a normal, or mostly so - just a very highly trained normal.  At any rate physically - he may or may not have telepathic powers, I simply don't know.  There's a 50% chance, assuming they had the same parents.



> Keep in mind that I'm running off a 100 level course (I dumped the 200 level course due to cemestry problems) that I took a year ago.




Heh.  As it happens I tutor chemistry in RL, among other things.  What's your major?



> You're defintally right there.  Those drill right into you.




Don't they just!  When I saw that poster on the web, I said immediately, "THAT is the Shadow."


----------



## The Shadow

Here's the writeup I did on psi-genes.  SuentisPo and I had batted ideas around casually, but I went and got inspired, and he liked it.   So.

-----------------------------------------------------

*Genetics of Psionics*

OK, let's start with the Telepathy gene.  Yes, in real life there would probably be around 50 of them, but that's too hard to analyze.  In any case, assume that this is the most important gene, the key factor.

The Telepathy gene (which affects brain development in the womb, though most of the "hit" from it comes in the major brain-restructuring that occurs in puberty) comes in three alleles:  T (Telepathic), N (Normal), and B (Mind-Blind).  N is, of course, by far the most common allele.  T, however, is dominant over N.  It hasn't spread very far through the population because frankly, there's selective pressure against it.  B has remained rare because it's mostly recessive and there is very little selective pressure FOR it, since T is so rare.

The basic combinations are:

NN:  Perfectly normal in every respect.  The vast majority of the population has this genotype.  "Normals" do have a certain baseline level of telepathy, but it's very minimal.  It surfaces in "hunches" and the like.

TN:  Telepathic powers of some sort.  Alex's father had this genotype.  So, probably, does Grace.  The exact form the powers take depends on other details of neurotransmitter pathways, womb environment, and psychological development as a child.  It turns out that the Brighton line has an unusually favorable constellation of genes supporting the T allele, hence they tend to be "strong" telepaths.  By and large, this is an adaptive genotype, producing considerable reproductive fitness.  Alex's dad is the perfect example.  (By the way, better prenatal care in the modern world may be helping assure that "useful" telepaths are becoming more common.)

TT:  Too much telepathic power for one's own good, usually - telepathy that rages out of control, bombarding the subject with the thoughts of others without mercy.  (Alex himself has this genotype, of course.)  Again, depending on other details, this can have varying effects.  In Alex's case, the "telepathic" phenotype has been activated all through his limbic system, as well as in his forebrain, making him a telempath.  This is a terribly maladaptive genotype, with the subjects often committing suicide at early ages, going hopelessly insane, or at least being so socially awkward that they aren't likely to reproduce.  Given the strength of Alex's telepathic heritage, it's very unusual that he's avoided all three fates.  Partly it's been luck (meeting Jennifer) and partly it's been sheer strength of character.

Yes, this does imply that Alex's mom was a telepath (TN genotype).  She needn't have been very strong, though.  Perhaps initially, it was the commonality of their powers (instinctively recognized) that drew Alex's dad to her - though it's also what made him lose interest in her later.  (Too resistant to his Mind Control.)  In his subsequent women, he preferred "suckers".  Thus Alex is probably the only child in the family victimized with the TT genotype.

NB:  Phenotypically normal, for the most part. Such people might receive fewer "hunches" about others, but I doubt it's a strong enough effect to show up statistically.  They can sometimes have erratic, unreliable shields.

BB:  Mind-blind, with the brain closed off to telepathy.  (Jennifer's genotype.)  These people may tend to be slightly socially "clueless", but of course many other variables are involved.  Jennifer, for example, was clueless about precious little save for direct telepathy.

TB:  This combination (David's genotype) tends to cancel out and produce phenotypic "normality".  The B allele, no longer suppressed by an N allele, can counter the changes of the T allele to some degree.  Minor telepathic powers are possible, given the way other genes fall, but uncommon.

BB's are naturally shielded against telepathy at all times - in fact, they generally can't turn it off.  TT's and TN's have to learn how to shield through skill.  (And TT's have extreme motivation to do so, but also greater difficulty.)  NN's can also learn to do this, but it's not nearly as effective as they have no direct experience with the other end of things.  TB's are in pretty much the same boat, though some of them may be a little better than NN's.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now for the Esper gene.  Two alleles:  E (Esper) and N (Normal).

NN:  Normal.  Again, there's a certain baseline level of "hunches" normally active in the human nervous system.

EN:  Esper.  Just as with telepathy, the details depend on other factors.  Alex has this genotype - the E and T alleles play off of each other to a degree, this is one factor in the "strength" of his powers, and also something of their "slant".  It accounts for his unusually powerful "Detect Minds" power and his Darkvision.  I suspect he got it from his mom rather than from his dad.  Carlos also has it, though his own heritage and psychological development have thrown it into a very different channel.

I was tempted to make E a fourth Telepathic allele, a variant on T that activates in the sensory centers of the brain.  In that case, Alex would have been the TE genotype.  (And his mom would have been an esper rather than a telepath.)  But I'm not sure the complexity involved is worth it.  I suspect the two genes are closely related, evolutionarily speaking, though.  Espers are more common than telepaths.

EE:  This one is somewhat maladaptive, though it's not as bad as TT.  Such people are often TOO "plugged in" to the universe for their own good, to the point they start to ignore the universe as perceived by normal people.  They tend to be dreamers, mystics, cult leaders.  I am starting to wonder if Hal Garrity is an ultra-esper - he has incredible insight into *how the universe works*.  He can make "guesses" about how to do things that are uncannily good.  It's not that he's necessarily of very high intelligence as we normally understand it - he may even have tested poorly in school.  What he's really got is a radically different KIND of intelligence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then there's the Biofeedback gene.  Call the alleles F (Feedback) and N (Normal).  This gene and Telepathy are somewhat antagonistic to each other - they are trying to produce competing, incompatible effects in the brain.  T generally wins out in the forebrain, which removes one's biokinetic powers from conscious control.  It also tends to suppress F elsewhere - telepaths rarely have strong biokinesis.  This is the case with Alex, though in his case his hindbrain still does a somewhat better job of maintaining his body, which accounts for the "edge" he retains in combat as he ages.  Also, it may be that his T and F alleles settled down to an uneasy peace in his limbic system, which would account for his truly unnatural degree of control over his emotions.  Then again, that may well just be highly motivated self-training.

NN: Normal, of course.  As usual, there's a baseline of what normal humans can accomplish.  It can be improved quite a bit with training.

FN: An unusual degree of control over normally inaccessible processes.  In David's case, this produces conscious control of hysterical strength and rapid self-healing.  Apparently he's even used it to subconsciously control his growth.

FF:  Really powerful biokinesis.  There's something of a bottleneck for these people in adolescence - if they survive the raging of their hormones, they develop control in adulthood and are quite fearsome.  Society's reaction to their extreme emotional swings as teenagers often produces rage, violence, and social deviance.  They often end up as criminals, unfortunately.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, there's the Telekinesis gene.  (There are others, no doubt, but I'm not going to write them up.)  The alleles are C (Controlled), K (Kinetic) and N (Normal).  The K allele is recessive, but is actually fairly common in the populace, as it's been highly adaptive all through human history;  it's just not usually turned on in the forebrain (usually, in fact, only in the cerebellum), so there is no conscious control - the power manifests as an uncanny degree of "luck" or a boost to physical "skill".  The C allele probably got started as a defect in K (and even now, K may be spontaneously mangled into C as a genetic defect in transmission) - it activates the gene throughout the brain.  (Though there may be bizarre interactions with the other psi genes, just as with Biofeedback.)  C is NOT adaptive, at any rate in most human cultures.  Such people tend to "poltergeist" as kids and get persecuted as witches.  Also, since it's a rather recently damaged gene, there may be side effects in some individuals - I suspect psychological instabilities of various kinds and degrees.

NN:  Normal, as usual.

KN:  Also phenotypically normal.  They might have a slight "edge", but nothing too striking.

KK:  Unconscious telekinetic.  Great athletes, dancers, and so on not uncommonly have this genotype.  (They get more out of less training than others.)

CN:  The potent C allele is suppressed in most parts of the brain by N.  Surprisingly, the dust settles into more or less the same phenotype as KK - C remains turned on in the cerebellum.  As mentioned, though, some people may have side effects.

CK:  Full-blown telekinetic.

CC:  Same phenotype as CK, though they may be somewhat more powerful.  They're also more likely to be unstable.

I feel pretty sure that Carlos is either KK or CN.  Teke interacts very nicely with his Esper abilities and may have helped channel their development.  (It manifests unconsciously in his uncannily good dodging - his precog gives him warning, but he still has to be able to act on it.  I was already thinking of giving him Hero's Luck, and this idea might just push me over the edge.)

Since poltergeisting fits in very well with his grandmother's spooky reputation, let's say she was either CC or CK.  You could work it either that Carlos' dad got a C and so did he, or that his dad got a K and that Carlos picked up another from his mom.  I think it's much more fun to say that Carlos is CN than KK - it gives you a lot more "play" with his family in terms of powers.  (If so, he's got an excuse even in addition to his rotten childhood for the sheer potency of his nightmares.)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taking the genes in order of presentation, Alex's genotype is TT, EN, FN, NN.  Jennifer was BB, NN, NN, NN.  Their son David inherited TB, NN, FN, NN.  (David is thus likely to have a very unusual mix of kids - some telepaths and some biokinetics and some normals.  A lot will depend on the mother(s) too, of course.  If he ends up raising a TT kid, he will probably understand his father a LOT better.)

Alex's father was TN, NN, FN, NN.  His mom was TN, EN, NN, NN.  (Actually, any of the people above might also be KN, as it's the same phenotype as telekinetic NN. You might even be able to make a case for David - or even Alex - as KK.  So it's possible that telekinesis will crop up somewhere among Alex's relatives.  Let's face it, though, the Brighton line is already pretty loaded, so I lean against the idea. On the other hand, who knows what Alex's stepmoms had...)

Carlos is NN, EN, NN, CN.  His grandmother was, let's say, NN, EN, NN, CK.  (Maybe even EE.  Possibly even TN, though that hasn't come down to Carlos.)  Therefore his father has to be at least EN in Esper and CN in Telekinetic.    Conceivably, Carlos could have gotten one of his "special" genes from his mother's line, but both of them fit well with the Gypsy mystique.

Hal Garrity may be NN, EE, NN, (K/N)N.

Amazing Grace is probably TN, NN, NN, (K/N)N, and she's both quite powerful and quite skilled.  You might be able to make a case for EN too.

Hexmaster is TT, NN, NN, (K/N)N.  I don't think he's an esper.  He also has some serious psychological issues.   [Hexmaster was a mentalist opponent to an early version of the Shadow.  Mutater and Leech, below, were two of his henchmen.  One cool part of giving Hexmaster this genotype, btw, is that it gives him and the Shadow something tragically in common - a connection they never had back in the old game.]

Mutater is probably NN, NN, FF, (K/N)N.

Leech may possibly be NN, NN, FN, (K/N)N, and he probably has some other genes in play too.

[Some other characters from the Phantom's world that I included as benchmarks have been snipped.  (The Phantom is my longest-running superhero character, hands down, though the Shadow is my very first superhero character.  He's gone through five different versions over the years, though this fifth M&M version is, IMHO, by far the best.)]


----------



## The Shadow

As long as I'm posting campaign material anyway, what's a little more?    Here's the writeup I gave SP on the Shadow's base, though it rambled on to a few more subjects as well.  As you will see, some of this stuff will be very worth knowing in just a couple episodes.

The bit at the end refers to some endnotes on "A Night Off" that I clipped when I posted here for heightened dramatic effect.  Here they are again, for the sake of posterity:

[ Gaming note: Carlos has gained a good deal more confidence over the succeeding months. He won't be nearly this nervous over changes in routine or in the Shadow's moods. This was the first time they had really done something together other than fight crime. Nowadays they might take a night off for a movie or dinner every couple months, and play cards for an hour or two on slow nights. The hat on the banister knob is a firm ritual, btw. If it's not there, it is an infallible sign that "The Shadow is IN."] 

[ The refurbished base has a vastly improved security system, of course, but it's pretty inobtrusive. It scrutinizes your irises, retinas, fingerprints, DNA, mental signature, and three or four other things that Garrity will tell you to "never mind" about, all as you approach the stairwell. If you pass, you just walk down the stairs and open the door. If you don't, you'll never even see the stairwell, just a blank wall. A perfectly solid blank wall. A more than perfectly solid blank wall - a howitzer might scuff the paint, but then again, it might not. Doc Griswold visited the place before Hal worked his magic, btw, so his knowledge, while compromising, isn't quite as much so as one might think.] 

[ By the way, I discovered while writing this that Alex likes to cook. He says a chemist needs to keep a hand in with cooking to avoid hardening of the mental arteries, even if at the expense of the physical ones.  He is a methodical, disciplined, but mildly inspired culinary artist - the sort of guy with an organized spice rack and neatly stacked cup measures he always knows where to find. But when he gets going, it's almost a meditative thing for him. I suspect that David as a bachelor will look at the varied contents of his cupboard and ask himself, "What would Dad do with this?" much the same way I ask myself what my mom would do.  ]

--------------------------- 

The Shadow's base has the following twelve features: Communications, Concealment, Defense System, Gym, Hangar, Laboratory, Living Space, Power System, Reinforced Structure, Security System, Super-Power (Mental Invisibility), and Vehicle. Since the Living Space feature is quite limited (enough facilities for, oh, four people tops rather than ten if a few more cots are unfolded), I feel justified in having the Laboratory double as a chemistry Workshop. The Mental Invisibility is derived from the Shadow himself - Garrity has arranged that he can spread his "Vanish" effect over the base at will through the medium of his commlink, provided he's within a range of 35 miles. 

The place doesn't have a mainframe, so the Computer feature is not needed. There's a couple desktop computers networked together, though - one in the main room and one in the lab. Alex uses these for research notes and a database of his contacts and enemies. Carlos uses them to play games.  

There are four basic rooms (not counting a good bit of storage space). The largest is the main living area. The first thing you see as you come down the stairwell is the computer desk, where Carlos usually sits when he's on duty. Off to the side there's two desks (one for Alex, one for Carlos) and Carlos' cot and living space. (Alex offered to set him up in the gym room so he wouldn't be quite as "exposed" to Alex's movements, but Carlos likes to be in the thick of things. More space here, too.) There's a screen set up that Carlos can dress behind. He's rather whimsically put several Shadow posters on the wall - from the recent movie, and older sources as well. There are several photographs of his family members there too - the one of his mom is especially treasured, but the one taken of him and the Shadow against one of the base's walls (by a timered camera) is second only to that. There might also be a picture or poster of his latest heartthrob.  The fridge and stove are against the far wall, as is a sink. 

The more distinctive bits of the Shadow's costume, like the cloak, are hung on hooks next to the stairwell, save for his hat, which inevitably is on the banister knob. There's a shelf stocked full of chemistry references by his desk, though these often migrate into the lab. There's also a small collection of favorite books for slow times, which Carlos is also encouraged to read. 

A door leads to the gym, where there is a well-equipped set of weight machines, a free weight bench, and a mat for martial arts practice, tumbling, and meditation. The bathroom and shower are in here, as are a washer and dryer. 

How the Shadow got the water working before the place got "Garritied" is a good question. [Snip. The GM and I worked this out. The place is the basement of a condemned hotel that the syndicate that kidnapped David used as a safehouse. Since the syndicate was utterly destroyed by the Shadow and the Forbidden, they're not using it any more... and nobody else knew about it, so. They had arranged for the hotel to be zoned for "minimal occupancy" - which is why the water and lights still worked before Hal worked his magic. The Shadow has Lance Reston quietly making sure that the place doesn't get slated for destruction.] 

A door from the gym (on the wall to the right of the other door) leads to the lab. This room is off limits to Carlos except for routine maintenance like emptying wastebaskets - there's just too many things that can go wrong if you bump into something or whatever. As a reminder of that fact, the door is kept locked, although Carlos has a key. There's a crisp white lab coat and a pair of goggles hanging from a hook on the door. (When in use, the Shadow's cloak and hat hang there instead. You don't want to wear such things when working with chemicals.) 

Another door off the gym (across the room from the main door) leads to the hangar. This is nothing more than an open space (with tools and such) surrounding a Garrity-modified elevator shaft that now goes up to the roof, and stops nowhere else. Please note that while the elevator is in operation, the door to the gym will not open - and that when it is not in use, it is no easier to break into than the rest of the base. The comm panel user can keep this door locked remotely, and can also check the atmosphere inside for contaminants. (The seal on the door is airtight.) 

The hangar holds what Carlos jokingly calls the Shadowmobile, though the "Shadow cycle" might be more appropriate. It looks and acts like an ordinary (if high-quality) motorcycle, painted jet black, with only a few exceptions. First, it doesn't use gasoline, but draws off the base's power supply to recharge its astonishing batteries (which allow up to 24 hours of continuous use). Second, it has no ignition, and will activate and respond only for an approved user - preferably one with a commlink, though this is not strictly necessary. Third and most importantly, it flies... 

The Shadow-cycle is bought like an ordinary motorcycle, except Garrity went for lighter-weight materials, lowering its Hardness slightly - Movement 7, Hardness 7, Armor Bonus 0. (Thus it has a cruising speed of 35 feet/round tactical, 128 mph travel.) It has a secondary mode of "air" movement, and the following features: Invisibility +2 vs. radar and sound (the engine is incredibly quiet), and a commlink. Total cost: 12 points, as required - 7 for movement, 1 for the secondary mode, 2 for Invisibility, 1 to extend Invisibility to sound, and 1 for the commlink. 

The commlink allows the Shadow or Carlos to give the cycle simple remote commands - such as "Hover at 50 feet," "Go home," or "Come to my commlink beacon, avoiding obstacles." Note that since the cycle is technically part of the base, the Shadow can extend his Mental Invisibility over it at will through his commlink if he is within range. In fact, a common tactic is for him to tell it to hover inaccessibly high, cloaked in invisibility. Who's gonna go looking for a motorcycle suspended high in the air, after all? 

The Shadow has a black helmet to wear, but he rarely does if he's going flying, which he generally is. He generally keeps it in the boot. His hat goes in there as well.  There is also a bottle of herbal pills there, as well as extra ammo and knives. 

Carlos' job is to 1) keep the place up, 2) run whatever errands the Shadow needs done, and 3) man the communications panel while the Shadow is on the job. He cleans, keeps the furniture in repair, buys food, and so on. He not uncommonly runs messages to people like Maria, and also keeps up his own friendships and contacts on the street. Originally he was little more than a janitor and was paid $8/hour or so (more than he was making flipping burgers), as well as room and board, but as he earned the Shadow's trust (fairly quickly, actually) he has been given more responsibility and now commands a higher salary - flat, not hourly - than he could expect to get anywhere else at his level of education. 

In any case, Carlos has been in it more for the intangible benefits than anything else. The Shadow has grown uncomfortable thinking of him simply as an employee, too. He's come to rely on Carlos to relay data to him through the (Garrity-provided) commlink and throat-mike he wears when in the field - and, as mentioned, the lad has pulled him through some rough situations. You can't set a dollar value on that. (Plus, of course, he's grown extremely fond of the kid.) Still, the ritual of payday - in cash, of course - gives structure to their relationship and the formalities of employment provide a sort of high ground to retreat to when the Shadow gets nervous or Carlos gets overwhelmed with emotion. 

It's a pity that Carlos can't list the Shadow as a reference, as he's learned a number of marketable job skills in the base. Custodial work and carpentry, yes, but he's also become a skilled receptionist. Yes! The Shadow's base has not just one, not two, but three phone "lines". Loosely so-called, as they are not physically connected to the phone system, and thus are completely untraceable and unbuggable. (This was too much for Alex even after getting to know Hal. "Garrity, how is that POSSIBLE?! The phone system is a switched, station-to-station network!!" "Well, y'see, the trunk lines are... Oh, never mind!"  

The Shadow got the idea for setting up dummy corporations for his own purposes after Lance set up the "Clara Gutierrez Memorial Foundation" as a channel for Carlos to anonymously help the families of the guys he shot. (It only helps those two families, but nobody's going to find that out without a subpoena, and it's all quite legal. By the way, the name would be hard to tie to Carlos, as his mother and father were never married and she never took Jorge's name. The only reason HE uses the Gutierrez name was due to the pettiness and spite of his aunt and uncle, who insisted on it to constantly remind him that he was not "really" part of the family. Plus, Lance checked - there was an actual girl killed in a gang shooting some years ago named "Clara Gutierrez", it's a pretty common name.) 

Anyway, there are two perfectly legal corporations created to serve the Shadow's ends. Their phone numbers lead to the phones in the base (more of Hal's wizardry) but their mail goes to P.O. boxes which Carlos collects from daily. Lance has done his job well; nobody is going to tie the names of the (purely honorary) CEOs, CFOs, boards of directors, and so on to him, Alex, or Carlos. One is "Nightshade Enterprises", which basically acts as the Shadow's front in the legal realm and also gives his contacts like Maria a means of contacting him. The other is the (wholly unrelated) "Penumbra Foundation", which he uses to funnel ill-gotten gains he's seized from scum to charitable causes and individuals he thinks deserving of a break. (He never keeps such funds for himself, another point Lance will make much of if he should ever come to trial.) One such cause is the Clara Gutierrez Memorial Foundation, though it's a tossup whether Carlos knows that or not. 

People who know that Nightshade Enterprises is related to the Shadow are supposed to ask for "Mr. Castaneda" when they call. If they don't, something has gone wrong somewhere. There really is no way for anyone to ever know that the Penumbra Foundation is related to the Shadow short of getting the knowledge from the Shadow himself, from Carlos, or from Lance. Calls there will usually be related to the details of disbursement, and Lance usually handles that himself. (He's a lawyer the Foundation has hired, all above board, to handle such things for them.  

Here's a sample phone conversation, Carlos speaking in crisp professional tones: "Nightshade Enterprises, this is Charles. How may I help you? ... The 'Shadow'? I'm not sure who - oh, do you mean 'Mr. Shadwell'? He's just stepped out, can you hold for a moment?" Then, switching back to the Shadow's commlink, "We've got trouble, sir..." "Shadwell" has become their private codeword for trouble from an unexpected direction. (Now that I think of it, I suppose Carlos could list Shadwell as a reference.  It's not like companies do background checks on previous employers, and it's a genuine corporation in any case. Maybe Carlos isn't paid in cash after all - he might just get a check from the company!) 

The third phone line is used for the Shadow to make utterly untraceable calls with, and for him and Carlos to call in with and leave messages when they're out. David has also been given the number (to memorize) to get ahold of his dad in DIRE EMERGENCY. Nobody else should ever know it. Carlos never picks up that line, but lets the answering machine take it first. (Carlos can patch any call through to the Shadow's commlink, btw. Oh, and the security system has Alex's pager number recorded in a way only Alex can get to. Carlos can give the system a command to dial that number in case of dire emergencies and send a given text message. They have a code worked out for such situations - for example, "Call Castaneda about overruns," if the base is being attacked.) 

In addition to the three phone lines, there's also a broadband Internet connection that works by similar black magic. The computer with the connection is not connected to the base network in any way, but this is really just paranoia on the Shadow's part - I don't see how it could be hacked past Hal's highly-unconventional "firewall".  (Yes, true, even if it's untraceable, perhaps a hacker could send bits once the Shadow made first contact, and his computer could potentially execute them. But first off, the thing runs on Garrity's home-brewed operating system - the base network uses Linux, because Alex cut his teeth on UNIX, but he wanted something "special" for the connected computer - and second off... but, well, that's enough, isn't it?  Carlos frequents a number of games and chatrooms, but is too conscientious to let anything untoward slip. 

There are a number of websites all claiming to be the "official" site of the Shadow, btw. All false, of course! Alex and Carlos get some riotous laughs out of these. One of Carlos' more wearisome duties is to periodically check up on what people are saying on the message boards of those sites and others that track vigilantes. He gets the occasional belly-laugh out of it, but mostly it's a lot of poorly-spelled trash. 

By the way, the Shadow's commlink does not operate by radio waves - it's been "Garritied". "What is it, then, Hal? Neutrinos?" "Of course not, nobody'd use neutrinos, they're too fidgety, everybody knows that. Obvious, too. I don't like being obvious. Got to take the time to do things right..." "What IS it, then?" "Well, it's sort of like reversing the phase of... Oh, never mind!" 

As already mentioned in "A Night Off", the concealment, security system, and structural integrity of the base are pretty amazing - and if that weren't enough, the Shadow can extend his invisibility over it and everything in it, and even over the entire hotel, if desired. He doesn't have to actually be present - he can do it through the commlink simply by willing it. The defense system is non-lethal, but has a variety of potential effects, limited only by Hal's fertile imagination. Restraints and stun beams, mostly, though he took into account the possibility that some people might be immune to those. If a command word is given, or a "panic button" pushed (there's one in each room, covered with a panel so it isn't accidentally bumped), the place will go all-out against everyone but the Shadow or Carlos (or David, who has been keyed to the system without his knowledge), which could conceivably be lethal. Fortunately, the defenses have never yet needed to be used. Another command word directs the defense system to revoke "guest" status on a particular person and act accordingly. (Both the Shadow and Carlos know how to "introduce" someone as a "guest". Only the Shadow knows how to permanently key someone to the system and how to give or revoke the ability to give orders to it. The system verifies the identity of a speaker before following his orders, and is smart enough to recognize the use of coercion and fail to cooperate. It even checks the mental signature for traces of mind control.)


----------



## Horacio

Wow 

Too much data to absorb: a wonderful cast of characters, setting info, a metahuman genetic explanation...

A wonderful story hour!


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Heh.  You ain't seen NOTHIN' yet.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> SP and I know each other from way back, and we've gamed together for nearly that long. In a word, I trust him to screw me over hardcore and make it fun.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> (That's why I gave him such an incredible plethora of hooks on the Shadow.)



 You've kinda inspired me to put some stuff together for a PC I've been looking to play.  When you're a redeamed Incubi, you definitally have a past.  It's a given. 




			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> Heh.  I see it's time for me to post my "Genetics of Psionics" treatise.  Coming right up...



 Whoa.

 My Biology teacher would be thrilled to know how well I understood that whole thing.  Still, now's a good time to sleep and absorbe.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> As for projecting around David... David has a rudimentary mindshield that he instinctively learned to erect just from being around his dad. The main reason why Alex was so keen on not getting too emotional in that scene with David was that he was on the verge of losing control of his shields.



 And Amazing Grace can defend herself.  Got it.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> That would be a Bad Thing, even by Egon's standards.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Put it this way... I've figured out the numbers for a (hopefully temporary) radiation accident should Alex ever completely "blow his top". Turns out he can blanket the entire American Southwest, and a large chunk of Mexico, with a Mental Blast or Telepathy...



 Hmmmm, desert island is right.  It would be an interesting way to jumpstart T and B evolution though.  When they're the only ones left alive to propogate you tend to push things along.

 Then again, there's the amazing loss of humanity involved.  That might be a bad thing.





			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> Actually, I think Grace's brother is a normal, or mostly so - just a very highly trained normal. At any rate physically - he may or may not have telepathic powers, I simply don't know. There's a 50% chance, assuming they had the same parents.



 Which also assumes that both parents were TN/TB.  If only one was there's only a 25% chance.  I think.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> Heh.  As it happens I tutor chemistry in RL, among other things.  What's your major?



 Multimedia.

 At the beginning of that class, the teacher mentioned that we were going to be getting into some Chemistry stuff.  He asked who had had a Chem class before (maybe three other guys didn't raise their hands).  He said we'd have to focus but we should be fine.  Considering that I'm brilliant, I didn't think there'd be a problem.  I just didn't consider that I'd never had a Biology class before either. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 Not my best move.

 It didn't help that the teachers weren't exacly great at passing information along.  One was pure science guy (everything, including writing your name, has at least 3 steps to memorize) and the other decided not to go into the clown business.  He was good with props but you never exactly remembered what the giant rubberband was meant to help explain.

 But, honestly, it came down to me not knowing anything about either Chem or Bio.  I dumped the class and took the Intro course.  Apperently I'd picked up more than I thought in the other one because I flew through the 100 level.  And it had a great teacher too.

 [/Hijack]  (maybe)


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> You've kinda inspired me to put some stuff together for a PC I've been looking to play.  When you're a redeamed Incubi, you definitally have a past.  It's a given.




Yeah, I'd be willing to grant that as a premise. 

A happy inspiration to you! 



> Hmmmm, desert island is right.  It would be an interesting way to jumpstart T and B evolution though.  When they're the only ones left alive to propogate you tend to push things along.




I suppose.  Maybe SP can use that as a plot... a villain wanting to plug Alex into a psionic amplifier and kill off all the normals.  (Shades of X2!)

Dang!  That sounds very much like something OmniMetal, or their superiors (as you'll see later) might try, actually...



> Which also assumes that both parents were TN/TB.  If only one was there's only a 25% chance.  I think.




Nope.  in a TN/NN mating, there's a 50% chance of TN and a 50% chance of NN.

In a TN/TN mating, it's 25% TT, 50% TN, and 25% NN.



> But, honestly, it came down to me not knowing anything about either Chem or Bio.  I dumped the class and took the Intro course.  Apperently I'd picked up more than I thought in the other one because I flew through the 100 level.  And it had a great teacher too.




Congrats on facing reality.  It don't come easy to most people.


----------



## The Shadow

[Hold onto your hats, Gentle Readers!  This one of the most "happening" game sessions I've ever had in over twenty years of gaming.    Emotionally, anyway, if not in body count.]

The Shadow sped his hovercycle toward the crackhouse on 18th as he outlined his embryonic plan to Carlos - that Juan Martinez, the young gang member, might just have encountered some of OmniMetal's shenanigans.  Carlos responded, "Makes sense, sir.  Worth a try, anyway."  "My thought exactly."

Coming up on the crackhouse, the sable sleuth circled slowly, checking on the guards... only to be puzzled by their absence.  Something is wrong here, he thought, as he let his mental senses flow outward and down.  Little did he know how wrong!

There was only a single mind in the building.  A turbulent, insane mind... multiple personalities flowing in and through each other.  Telepathic vibes were much in evidence, but apparently directionless and purposeless, with no clear target.  As the Shadow, shocked, expanded his awareness, he realized that this single mind formlessly occupied perhaps fifteen or twenty square feet near the center of the apartment complex that the Red Shivs had turned into their crackhouse.  He tried 'pinging' it to get a better look, and the psychic environment heaved and roiled like a boiling pot;  he did not repeat the experiment.

The Shadow landed and dismounted, silently commanding the cycle to hover seventy-five feet off the ground.  Making his way to the front door, he found it unlocked.  Yes, something is very wrong here.  He drew his gun.

The door opened (the Shadow knew from his previous visit) on a hall that formed a T, with a door opposite the entryway leading into the common area of the complex.  The strange mind was in that common area, and the Shadow sensed as he approached that one of its personae was gaining the upper hand, becoming stronger, persuading the others to follow its lead.

With grave misgivings in his heart, the Shadow took one of Garrity's toys out of his cloak - the Portable Window, a small pane of glass perhaps an inch on a side.  Placing this against the door, he peered through it to the other side.  [Gadget giving the Penetrating Vision (blocked by air, you have to get right up to the wall) and Blindsight feats.]  To his shock, the evidence of his eyes did not match that of his mind:

There were perhaps fifteen people in the room, not one.  About two-thirds of them were male, the rest female.  About five were Red Shivs, the rest looked like random street people - junkies, streetwalkers, thugs, street rats.  They were getting dressed as he watched, putting on their shirts in unison.  In more than unison - even those in T-shirts or the like went through the motions of buttoning their buttonless shirts!

There, the man in the center, he was the dominant persona the Shadow had sensed.  Tall, well-built, better dressed than the rest, though with wildly unkempt hair and a halfhearted mustache.  He was buttoning his dress shirt while the rest copied his motions, even to the extent of bumping their elbows solidly against the wall.  The Shadow, stunned, realized that these people were somehow a single mind, and that the dominant element was learning to control its extra "limbs" right before his eyes!  Clumsily, yes, but growing more practiced as he watched.  Then he noticed the suitcase.

Sitting next to the tall central figure, it was large, boxy, aluminum... just like the one Hands had seen.  But rather than the curious "blank" effect of the black cars, it was now to the Shadow's senses simply an ordinary suitcase.  And it was open.  The combination filled the cloaked crusader with dread.

Quietly he relayed what he was seeing to Carlos for future reference.  "Sir, I don't understand, that's simply bizarre!"  "Hush, Carlos.  I am about to do something stupid."  "Sir!  Remember when we talked about hubris?"  "Yes, I do. But I must do this."  He reached out telepathically to the group mind.

Swirling confusing thoughts, impossible to make head or tail of.  The Shadow decided to try to probe the central figure, the keystone persona.  Two things then happened at once.

The Shadow realized to his dismay that the central mind was psychotic - and that this was not simply attributable to the definitely abnormal psychological environment.  The man had been far around the bend long before coming to this place, this night;  he was the human equivalent of a rogue elephant, a man-eater, a rabid dog.  But the second thing was at least as shocking.

The eyes of all the people in the room abruptly swivelled to focus directly on him, as if they could see him through the door.  How did they sense me?!  That's never happened before!  Furthermore, they were all filled with a burning need... a need to kill.  The Shadow backpedaled rapidly, stowing the Window and readying his gun as the bodies began to move toward the door - a bit clumsily as they got in each others' way.

They huddled purposefully but apparently unseeingly toward him.  The Shadow gave ground toward the front door, grimly awaiting his moment;  he had already chosen his next move.  Yes, there was the director, the central figure - taller than the rest.  The dark avenger braced himself, exhaled, and squeezed off a single round.

The shot was beautiful, straight by the book.  The man's brain splattered messily and he went down like a marionette with cut strings.  Scratch one rabid dog, the Shadow thought grimly as he observed closely what happened to the rest.  Confusion, unrest, turmoil... then consolidation.  To his dismay, he realized the group mind had imprinted on the original pattern, that the psychosis had taken root.  But it was not that realization that made his flesh creep and the hairs of his neck stand on end.  No, that came as the fourteen people said in eerie unison,

"We are *Legion*."

Then they rushed him.  The Shadow retreated hastily, realizing that if he stood his ground he might take down a few but then the rest would be on him.  He sent a silent command to the cycle and mounted it before they reached him, rising to twenty feet.  (They didn't seem able to see him any more, thankfully.)  The bodies spread out in the yard and into the street, looking around.  A passerby stopped to stare at their concerted actions.

The Shadow was about to start shooting again, then had another idea.  He dropped his shields and poured forth the rage, hatred, and anguish that he normally never displayed at the group mind before him - a barrage of emotional torment capable of bringing strong men to their knees.  He hoped it would affect all the bodies at once... but was nonplussed when they showed no sign of noticing it, much less being fazed.  Seized by another thought, the cloaked crusader circled around to the back of the house, ran in the back door, and made his way to the central room, snatching up the suitcase.  (Putting his arms around it rather than touching the handle.)  Outside once more, he secured it with a line firmly to the cycle to keep both hands free, then got off the ground again, climbing to get a view of the tactical situation.

The Shadow's blood ran cold when he saw that five of the bodies had seized the passerby and were carrying him, struggling, toward the house.  "Right.  Carlos, make a note."  "Sir?"  "We are now at war.  Every single man and woman ever involved with producing this abomination is going to die."  The boy gulped but responded gamely, "Yessir."  Then, big, "Sir, what's HAPPENING?!"

"Put it this way, Carlos.  I suspect that life in Los Angeles may never be the same again.  ... For that matter, life in the United States of America may never be the same again, unless action is taken, and swiftly."  "ARE YOU SERIOUS?!"  "Yes.  Now be quiet, I am about to do something stupid again."

The Shadow reached out to the group mind below.  _What are you doing with that man?_  An echoing multitude of mental voices responded matter-of-factly, *He is not Legion.  He will be Legion. *  Most of the bodies were in the house by then, but the last few stopped in surprise.  _Missing something?_ the Man of Mystery inquired maliciously.

*We will take it from you.  We are Legion.* _Then you are not willing to negotiate for it?_ *We will take it from you.  By force or by trickery.  We are Legion.  You will be Legion.* _Do you need the suitcase to make that man Legion?_  No response at first, either out of confusion or indifference, then, *It is not necessary to us. It is useful.* _Why not bargain for it, then?_ *You are not Legion.  When you are Legion you will understand.*  "Don't count on it," the Shadow muttered under his breath as he descended.  He tersely filled Carlos in on the situation, then added, "I'm going in.  If you get any funny feelings, let me know right away."  "I've got a funny feeling NOW, sir!  Sort of.  Might be nerves."  "Thank you SO much, Carlos."  "Sorry, sir."

His mental senses reported that three or four bodies were guarding each of the main doors while the rest congregated in the central room, doing something telepathically to the terrified civilian.  The Shadow tried to contact the man, but the psychic environment was so roiling and disturbed that he couldn't get through.  He dismounted the cycle and pulled out the Shaolin device again.  Moving swiftly, he phased through the wall of one of the apartments in the complex - fully prepared to sell his own life and that of the man inside to put an end to Legion.

But when he set his hand on the door leading to main hall, Carlos shouted, "DON'T! It's a trap!"  He recoiled, then tried to phase through the wall again... cursing when the little device fizzled halfheartedly and went dead.  Hearing a sound by the door, the dark avenger spun and brought his gun to bear just as four of Legion's bodies poured through.  They were carrying guns, and they obviously knew how to use them.  The Shadow took in the odds in a split second, then leapt for the window as the first shots were fired.  He crashed through the glass, tucked, and rolled, coming up unhurt.  He immediately dove for the wall, bringing his gun to bear on the window from one side.  Nothing showed itself.  Damn!  It's as if... they can see me again!  And why didn't I sense them on the other side of the door?!

He frantically racked his brains for a way to burn the building - the man inside would be a sad casualty of war, assuming they hadn't managed to "convert" him yet, but it would be worth it.  As if they'd read his mind, he heard gurgling sounds from within and caught a whiff of gasoline fumes from the broken window.  What on earth?!

Well, disrupt their plans as best as may be.  He ran past the window, firing into it, hoping to ignite something.  He succeeded.  He called the cycle as the place caught and got airborne once more.  The man they'd captured was running frantically away from the place - still human.  Reasoning that he'd be running the opposite direction from Legion, the Shadow checked the other side of the house.  Sure enough, there were two of the bodies... and the Shadow realized with shock that they did not register on his mental senses at all!  They were not just blank, like the black cars... it was if they were not there at all.  He fired a few shots, he tried to track them, but they swiftly managed to lose him in the absence of the edge his special senses gave him.  Damn! he thought, shaking.

"Carlos.  Call Grace.  Tell her I'm coming over immediately. ... When she asks why, tell her it's the end of the world."

On the way there, he added, "Call emergency number 4 and patch me through."  When an answer came, the Shadow said tersely, "Jerry, it's a go," and hung up.  At least David would be out the state soon - one less thing to worry about.

Pounding on Grace's door, he was not too surprised to find her aiming a pistol at him from the bushes to one side.  She sighed in relief as she recognized him.  "All right, Shadow, what's happening?!"  Her Southern drawl was pronounced;  it must come out with stress.  For answer he opened his mind to her and gave her the rapid telepathic version of events at the crackhouse, which caused her to say something very unladylike.

Then, "You had best get that suitcase analyzed at once... you have a friend good at that kind of thing, don't you?"  The Shadow nodded.  "Yes, and I will.  For now we must hope Legion isn't capable of exponential growth without it, while assuming that they are.  Mobilize everyone that you can.  Oh!  And before I forget," he went on to give her the telepathic nutshell version of what he'd found out about OmniMetal.

Her eyes flew wide.  "Overmind!"  "I had the exact same thought."  "But it doesn't make sense!  This isn't their style at all... Something's gone wrong."  The Shadow responded, "I agree.  They've lost control over their project. Grace, we may have to work with them - they're the only ones who really know what is going on."

"You have no idea how little that thrills me, darlin'... On second thought, maybe you do."  The dark avenger was never more dark than in his reply:  "Grace, let me make my own position perfectly clear.  I intend to kill every single man and woman ever involved with this project.  But _they_ don't have to know that yet."  Grace, while not usually the bloodthirsty kind, nodded her emphatic assent.  "I'll sound them out.  Now get going!"

The Shadow did not waste further words, but set the cycle on course for Hal Garrity's hometown, a distant suburb.  On the way, he said, "Carlos, call ahead to Hal Garrity's place.  Tell him I'm coming." "On it, sir." "Oh, and Carlos, call emergency number 1."  David's cell.  It rang and rang and rang.  He cursed and said, "Try 2."  The Brighton home.  It also rang repeatedly.  The Shadow groaned - David had probably left the cell at home again.  Given that it was the weekend, Jerry would be heading to the house as per instructions...

He set the cycle on autopilot and closed his eyes, reaching out with a great mental push. _DAVID!_

In his mind, he sensed frustration and anger as he heard, "Twyla, I - What the?!" _It's your father.  Go home *at once*. Jerry will meet you there.  Go with him and do what he says.  NOW!_  David, unused to mental contact, replied out loud, "You can't just - No, Twyla, not you!"  _It's the End Of The World, son.  Do as I tell you!_  His mental tone brooked no argument or delay.  "All right, I - Twyla, I just remembered something.  I have to go!"

The Shadow maintained the contact as David ran off.  _What did you learn from Twyla?_  He got back the surly reply, "What does it matter, I thought it was the end of the world!"  With the universal Parental Warning Tone, _David..._ along with the unspoken subtext of 'Don't push it.' The boy answered grouchily, "She's put a bunch of stuff together, and she's mad at me for not telling her I'm some sort of superman."

_Has she been starting rumors?_  "No, she's kept her mouth shut."  The Shadow sighed - no way to tell, as yet, if that was just teenage wishful thinking or not. _Good, because I've been tempted to go and wipe her memory of the whole thing._  His son blazed at him, "That's disgusting, Dad!  You can't just go around doing things like that!"  _I can if it would help ensure your survival and mine._  "Don't change the subject!  It's wrong to mess around in people's heads that way!"

_We can argue about this another time, son.  I am having a REALLY BAD DAY._ "Not so bad that you don't have time to consider mindwiping my girlfriend!"  Angry now, _All right, David.  You tell me if we need any more headaches when there's a contagious group mind of homicidal maniacs running around!_  Stunned silence, then, "If you are putting one over on me to shut me up, I swear I'll never speak to you again as long as I live." The retort, _Have you ever known me to 'put one over on you' before?_ brought David up short - whatever else his father's failings might be, dishonesty was not one of them.

After some thought came the grudging reply, "OK.  I'll go with Uncle Jerry and cooperate.  When will it be safe again?"  [SuentisPo interjected at this point, "Isn't a child's faith in his parent's abilities touching?" ]  Alex kept his sigh to himself. _Soon, I hope.  I will contact you when I can. ... I love you, son._ "Love you too, Dad...  Oh sh*t!"

_WHAT?!_  The Shadow started getting frantic as he sensed David's emotional state getting more primal, more angry, more poised.  _David, WHAT IS GOING ON?!_  The boy all but snarled at him, "Not NOW!"  The Shadow belatedly became aware that David was involved in a fight.  Feeling utterly helpless, he did the only thing he was able to do to help, symbolic though it probably was - he extended his mental shields over his son.

Finally, amidst great pain, "Dad, you have the WORST timing!"  _Are you hurt?_  "Yeah.  One of them shot me." _WHERE?!_  "Lower abdomen."  Alex went cold - a gut wound. _Where are you?_  A half-amused snort.  "You know that alley you told me to avoid?  It was the fastest way home - you said to hurry."  Alex frantically struggled within his own mind for control as his shields cracked and threatened to crumble.  He was just about to break off the contact to spare both of them the consequences of that when to his relief David's pain began to subside.  "Ahhh.  That's better."  _Are you going to be all right, son?  Can you make it home?  Let Jerry take care of you..._  "I think I'm going to be OK, Dad.  Scratch one shirt, though."  _You are getting better at this sort of thing, I see..._  "Just as well, right?  Oh, for crying out loud!"

Alex held his mental tongue while David confronted his new attacker.  "Listen, a**hole.  I just got done beating up six guys with guns, OK?  So it's not like that stupid little penknife is gonna scare me.  And I'm having a really bad day.  In the last fifteen minutes, I've had a nasty argument with my girlfriend, I've been shot - though the guy who did it is in a lot worse condition, believe me - and my dad has yelled at me.  Right now the last thing you want to do is PISS ME OFF!!  Got it?"  Then, "Huh, it worked."

_Will you be all right, son?_  "Yeah, I'll be fine, Dad - it's not much further."  _All right, I should go.  Be careful!_  "You too!"

The Shadow shook himself out of the light trance he'd drifted into, noticing that he wasn't far from his destination.  "Carlos, did you get ahold of Hal?"  "Yeah - he asked if it could wait until morning, I said it couldn't, and he said you owe him one."  "Thank you.  Do what you can while I talk with him - put the network on alert and find out whatever you can."  "Yessir.  And I'll do whatever checking I can on Legion too - like if anybody's used that name before, or..."  "It's Biblical, Carlos."  There was a moment's pause as the full weight of the situation dawned on the young man, then he said in a small voice, "Oh.  Right."

The Shadow put Carlos out of his mind as he landed in Garrity's back yard.  Hal was there, his chipmunk features pursed in disapproval.  "You really shouldn't drive the cycle that hard, you know.  It's not good for the engine."  "Hal..."  "Well, it isn't, Shadow!  You need to be more careful, treat it right.  I built it to last, but there are limits, you know.  You should..."  "Hal!"  "I'm just trying to tell you how to treat the cycle.  This stuff is important, you can't just..."  "HAL!  I have something interesting for you."  The Shadow freed the suitcase from the cycle and held it up invitingly.  Garrity trailed off and his face lit up as if Christmas had come early. "What is it?"  "I do not know.  I was hoping you could tell me.  ... We'll have to check to see if it's trapped first, though."  "Right!  Come in, come in, what are you waiting for?"  The shorter man spun on his heel and stumped into the garage, the hovercycle forgotten.

Once inside, Garrity excitedly measured the suitcase, then pulled out something that looked like it originally came from the guts of a television set.  (And, knowing Hal's methods, the Shadow speculated that in fact it had.)  Placing it on top of the case and squinting at a monitor, he announced, "There's an explosive charge... but it's not armed.  It's safe to open." Then, as the Shadow reached for it, "Oh, wait, there's some sort of gunk on the handle.  You should wear gloves."

The sable sleuth looked down at his always-gloved hands and inquired with mild sarcasm, "Should I burn them afterward?" Garrity shrugged [I think he has Immunity:  Sarcasm ] and said, "It depends.  How paranoid are you?"  Then, taking in the Shadow's look, he added "Never mind, I forgot," and fired up his infamous garbage disposal unit (a disintegration device that could be a terrible weapon in the wrong hands) to receive the gloves.

Inside, the case held several carefully-cushioned reagent bottles.  Alex, the professional biochemist, pricked up his ears.  "They aren't labelled... We'll have to figure out what's in them. Do you have a mass spectrometer?"  Hal gaped at him open-mouthed. "Why?!"  Alex blinked, then grinned despite himself.  "I might have known you'd have something better.  Well, let's get to it!"

It didn't take long for the souped-up television tube to provide detailed chemical diagrams of the three compounds - complicated long-chained carbon compounds.  Alex pointed to one, "See that pattern of rings, there?  That's the basic structure of cocaine, though it's been heavily modified...  I don't recognize either of the other two off the top of my head.  What can you tell me?"

Hal typed rapidly on a keyboard.  "The stuff in the second bottle should act as a powerful stimulant.  My program says the third one is caffeine."  "Hal," Alex said patiently, "I can assure you that it isn't caffeine."  Hal replied apologetically, "I know, there must be a bug in the program."  (SP rolled a 1 and had fun with it. 

Hal would happily have spent the rest of the night tracking down the bug, but Alex recalled him back to the problem at hand.  "We need to know what effect these compounds have on the human brain, and some idea of whether it's permanent or temporary.  Ideally we need to figure out how to reverse it, too."  He took pencil and paper and quickly classified the major structural elements of each molecule, then sat down at Hal's computer and started doing directed searches in chemistry databases.

Between Alex's considerable expertise in the field and Hal's formidable genius and instrumentation, the two made progress in unravelling the mystery at an astounding rate... though still too slowly for Alex's taste.  He lost himself in the problem, barely noticing when the exhausted Carlos went to bed... when he paused to stretch a while later, pleased at their preliminary results, he was shocked to see the clock reading six _P.M._  He sighed. "In theory I have to go to work in the morning.  I suppose I'll have to call in sick - Legion is more important."

Returning to the task at hand, he summarized their results, more for his own benefit than Hal's, ticking off points on his fingers.

1)  The chemicals seemed to be a powerful stimulant and hallucinogen unlike anything else Alex had ever encountered;  an alkaloid strikingly similar to that of the active ingredient in his own mind-opening drug (and a variant of it, Formula T36, that he and Hal had created a while back to sap a subject's will with no lasting effects);  and a cocaine derivative with extensive changes of unknown function.

2)  The alterations in the cocaine molecule were very low in yield to produce - it would take a great deal of cocaine to produce a small amount of the new compound.  This was the most probable explanation why OmniMetal had been infiltrating the gang scene.

3)  It seemed likely that the changes in the brain produced by the chemical cocktail would be distressingly permanent and irreversible.  But Garrity felt sure (having made an extensive study of psionics and brain chemistry) that telepathy alone could not produce the same changes.  Any "conversions" made without the reagents' help would likely be easily reversible - if such conversions were possible at all.

4)  There were sufficient chemicals in the case to "convert" perhaps another twenty people.  The nightmare exponential growth scenario seemed much less probable than at first.

5)  The chemical expertise needed to produce the reagents was extremely sophisticated.  Based on his extensive knowledge of the industry, Alex guessed there were perhaps three or four outfits in the Los Angeles area capable of making them - of which one was his own company, and one of the others was OmniMetal.

6)  With considerable effort, Alex and Hal could design specialized enzymes to break down the Legion-chemicals in the human body.  Ideally one would want a ten year project with extensive animal testing, but under the circumstances they wouldn't feel the need to notify the FDA...

The commlink broke into his reverie.  A sleepy Carlos said, "Sir, Amazing Grace wants to talk to you."  "Patch her through, Carlos."

Her voice was smooth and controlled, but still accented.  "I've contacted OmniMetal.  They tried to stonewall at first, denying everything - it was very difficult to even talk to anyone but secretaries... but when I passed on your description of the man leading Legion, they got very agitated and willing to deal.  I don't think they're faking, either - I read them from a few blocks away while I called from a pay phone.  Now they want to talk to you."

"You did remember that I used the name 'Mastermind', not 'the Shadow', right?"  "I haven't named any names at all.  I said only that I had gotten my information from another telepath."  "All right. We'll call them shortly."  Then, quietly to Hal, "Garrity, do you have one of your magic phones here?"

"Now, Shadow, there's no such thing as magic, you know, just natural laws operating..."  "Hal!  Do you have one of the _secure_ phones here?"  "What?  Oh.  Sure."  He rummaged around amid some junk in the garage and triumphantly produced an oversized phone.  "Can you switch somebody onto that line from the commlink?"  "Not a problem," the inventer assured him as he pushed several of the thing's many buttons.

Grace asked, "What just happened?"  "What do you mean?"  "My phone just clicked a number of times and now you sound a little different."  "We won't be traced now.  ... It's magic, Grace, just accept it."  (Said more to irritate Hal than anything else.)

"Are you ready, Shadow?"  She passed on the number.

The Shadow paused to seat his hat more firmly on his head.  "Ready."

He reached out to the phone.

[Like I said, a heck of a lot went on.  I don't know that my writing can get across just how CREEPY Legion was.  SP did a fantastic job of presenting them/it.]

[BTW, I would like some outside opinions - SP says he thinks Alex "jumped the gun" in sending David away, especially since the Shadow's cover was quite un-blown.  I think he's just plain insufficiently paranoid.   The vision haunting both Alex's mind and mine was that of the runaway growth scenario - like "Night of the Living Dead", only the zombies aren't slow or stupid, they all think together, and they have unknown psychic powers.  By the time you realize something like that is happening, it's too late.  Alex realized at the time his fears might not be entirely justified, but he decided to act BEFORE Southern California was deluged by Legion just in case he was right.  What do you think?]

[I also have to say that, although the early part of this session was first-rate horror, the comic relief was also great all the way through.   David's little speech to the mugger is already becoming a classic in my mind, and there are number of little touches all the way through. I got in some licks of my own, too

[When the suitcase was first opened, SP said, "OK, this looks more like an 'Alex' device rather than a 'Hal' device..." meaning that it dealt with chemicals rather than electronics.  But I interjected before he finished, "You mean it makes sense?" and he just about fell over laughing. ]


----------



## The Shadow

By the way, SP told me later that I set his plans all a-kilter. I was supposed to devote my energies to taking down OmniMetal, then run into (a much-expanded) Legion later on as a long-term enemy. He was going to introduce a flashback to Legion's creation at that time to display the crushing irony that it was "born" on the very night the Shadow went after its creators, and in a place familiar to him, even. When I decided to go back there at the appropriate time, he decided to run with it, though. 

I think things are much more interesting this way, don't you? 

EDIT:  I should mention that SP claims he described some corpses in the room Alex phased into.  I don't remember this - SP thinks it was confusion with the term "bodies" when referring to Legion - but it comes up later.


----------



## The Shadow

[This session consisted almost entirely of the phone call with OmniMetal.  A lengthy call, but a very informative one...]

As he dialed the number, the Shadow asked Grace, "Do you want to talk to them first?  They already know you."  "Very well."

When a secretary answered, Grace calmly informed her that her boss was expecting the call.  This promptly got her connected onward, and a friendly male voice came on the line.  "Hello?" "I spoke to you earlier today.  You wished to speak to my associate."  "Ah yes, of course!  Please put him on."  With that, the Shadow interjected, "I'm listening."

"Pleased to meet you, sir.  What should I call you?"  "You may call me Van Helsing.  Dr. Frankenstein, I presume? ... Or should I say Dr. Mengele?"

There came an easy chuckle. "I'm not a doctor at all, actually, just a manager.  Call me Mr. Johnson.  And that second comparison of yours is rather harsh.  I hope we can discuss it.  I must admit, though, the first doctor you mentioned is a rather uncomfortable fit!  We do indeed seem to have, well, created a monster."  "Indeed."

"One of our employees seems to have, ah, decided to take some unauthorized steps on his own.  Quite without our knowledge.  We're very concerned."  Silence.  "His name is Thomas Christophilous."  "Was."  "I beg your pardon?"  "Mr. Christophilous, or rather his body, is quite dead." "I see.  That is unfortunate, we were hoping we would be able to cure him of his... condition."  "Which one?  The group mind, or the psychosis?"

A slightly embarrassed silence followed.  "Yes, it does appear that our psychological evaluation of Mr. Christophilous was, ah, flawed.  We're looking into just how he managed to slip through the cracks the way he did."  "He was, of course, a telepath."  "Yes."  "It would not seem difficult for him to suborn those who performed the tests."  More embarrassment.  "As I said, we're looking into it."

The Shadow changed the subject incisively:  "What is the Overmind Project?"  A long pause, then, "My, you are quite well-informed I see."  At the lack of a response, he continued, "You must realize, I don't remotely know everything there is to know about it.  You see, OmniMetal is part of the Overmind Project, not the other way around.  A small part, but an important one, I trust.  But I have been authorized to share certain parts of our research program with you."  "I am listening."

"In a nutshell, Project Overmind is intended to improve the human condition by inculcating new forms of mental awareness and sharing.  Ultimately, ideally, even a group consciousness embracing the entire human race."  His voice glowed with seemingly sincere idealism... but the Shadow could not hold back a shout of mirthless laughter.  "My word, you are a pack of innocents!  You wouldn't sound so eager if you'd met Legion!"

In hurt tones, Johnson responded, "I assure you, sir, this 'Legion' is not at all what we had in mind.  Our work with telepathic group minds has been conducted in entirely different directions."  The Shadow inquired in razor-sharp tones, "And were all the experimental subjects willing ones?"  "Of course!"

The Shadow's voice rose as he spat, "You DARE to say 'Of course' on such a matter to me?!  I've seen the tame, computerized telepathic brains you make use of!"  "You're misinterpreting the situation, Van Helsing... or should I say, 'Mastermind'?"  The Shadow's response to that coy barb was a stony, "Mastermind is known to me."  "I see.  Well, as I was saying, you're operating under a false assumption.  The brains we make use of aren't 'tame'.  Nor are they human.  Not at all!  They're domesticated, vat-grown animal brains."

"Telepathic animals?  Now I've heard everything."  "Their talent is tiny but measurable if you know what to look for.  At OmniMetal, we've found ways to artificially boost that talent in specially-grown brains.  If you know enough biology, you'd probably even be able to tell what sort of animal we use if we cracked open one of the boxes for you... but I'm afraid that's a company secret."  "And what, pray, is the purpose of these talented animal brains?"

Johnson heaved a sigh. "I'm afraid they turned out to be a dead end.  We make what use of them we can, since it'd be cruel to just dispose of them."  The Shadow boggled.  "Cruel?!"  A snort came from the other end of the phone line.  "Well, I realize that as your enemies, we have to be heinous monsters with no trace of human feelings, but yes, cruel."  "They don't feel anything at all.  They don't THINK anything at all."  "Oh dear, we seem to have overestimated you.  While not a telepath myself, I've been assured by our personnel that the animal minds live in a state of contentment.  They know nothing but their current condition, and they're quite happy with it."

The Shadow forebore from mentioning that those "contented" minds had tried to burn his own out.  He just said, "And I suppose your group mind projects also use these animal minds."  "Oh, no, that project involves humans. We'd never get useful data out of animals.  As I said before, they're quite willing, though."  The Shadow made a skeptical sound, which prompted the impatient rebuttal, "No matter what you may think of us, Van Helsing, use a little logic!  Would it be wise of us to create a group mind with vastly enhanced psionic powers out of minds with a reason to hold a grudge against us?"  The Shadow kept his own counsel on this, uttering only a stony, "Go on."

Johnson resumed, "Our group mind project has been a bit disappointing, actually.  We were afraid it was turning out to be yet another dead end.  You see, we've managed to create these group entities of telepaths with chemical aids... but once they come apart again, the subjects invariably have a strong antipathy to each other that makes further work impossible."  "Did Mr. Christophilous ever participate in one of these experiments?"  "No, actually, he didn't.  He was the researcher in charge of them.  Tell me, do you have any indication how much of his knowledge the Legion-mind possesses?"  "All of it."  "Oh dear.  That will make things more difficult."

"Tell me about these chemical aids."  "I'm not sure how much technical background you have..."  "Give it to me in detail.  I have resources."  "Very well..."

It developed that the three chemicals were meant to be administered in a specific sequence.  First the will-sapping alkaloid, to open the mind wide;  then the stimulant, to ramp up the brain to a new level of activity;  and then a third chemical (the cocaine derivative, though Johnson did not say this) to awaken latent psionic abilities.  Guided by a specially-trained telepath, people in such a state could be brought into a telepathic communion... though, as already stated, the results were generally disappointing.  The three drugs all had quite short half-lives in the human body (minutes to an hour), though in some cases side-effects lasted longer.

"The good news is that our research does point to ways to defeat this 'Legion'."  "Oh?"  "Yes. First, if you break sufficient numbers of members out of the group mind, the whole thing should simply collapse.  Our data suggests that a third to half of the members will do the trick. Furthermore, the individual members have all the weaknesses of ordinary humans - they can be rendered unconscious normally, with deprives the group of their input for as long as they're out."  "And how do you propose to break them out of the group?"

"Are you familiar with psionic 'screamers'?  No?  Well, we have mechanical devices that disrupt psionic activity in a certain radius.  Set one of those off near some of Legion's bodies, and their communion should be completely disrupted.  Once disrupted, as I've indicated, they shouldn't be able to rejoin - in fact, they'll probably have an overwhelming loathing for the Legion-mind."  "You don't know the half of it.  What sort of shape will they be in?"  "Well, you must understand, we've never dealt with anything quite like this.  But my guess would be that they'll be disoriented and very upset at the least, possibly suffering from some deeper psychological damage."  "Will they continue to be homicidal maniacs?"  "I can't say for certain, but if anything, I'd think they'd be more likely to be catatonic."

The Shadow changed the subject with a cold smile.  "You do realize that Legion will know all this too - or at any rate, whatever Christophilous knew."  "Yes.  We think we can easily hold him - er, them, er, it? - off here, and so the best guess is that Legion won't even try - though we'll be prepared just in case.  The real worry is that it will seek out other places in this area that can make the necessary chemicals.  I'm not sure just how many there are nearby..."  "My resources indicate four or five in Los Angeles County."

"Well, then.  You see the problem.  We have the screamers... and we also have a very good anaesthetic gas that can knock out the bodies... but we can't exactly approach other companies and ask to install such things in their premises.  It would raise eyebrows."  "It would indeed."  "You seem to be talented in getting into places unawares and finding things out.  Perhaps you..."  The Shadow had to chuckle his usual throaty chuckle.  "You want me to plant your paraphernalia in these companies and be on hand to take Legion down when and if it shows up."  "Well...  Yes.  We realize you can't be everywhere at once, of course.  But it may be that the screamers themselves will be enough."

"You seem very confident of that.  Do you have an armed force in your company?"  "Yes."  "What are they armed with?"  "Tasers.  And batons."  The Shadow felt very uneasy.  "I do not believe you are taking Legion seriously enough.  It has very unusual psychic powers.  It is also highly adaptable... in particular, it is very skilled in evading notice by ordinary psionic means.  And in seeing through mental screens."  "Oh dear, that is a little worrisome.  But don't worry, we have resources even Christophilous didn't know about.  Why would it attack here when there are easier pickings elsewhere?"

"Because you have people with the clear expertise to make the stuff!  Perhaps even stockpiles of it, still?"  "Well, of course.  Do you have any idea how expensive it is?"  The Shadow ground his teeth.  "Of course it's expensive... given that it's made out of COCAINE."  Johnson paused as he digested that.  "It's regrettable that we've had to use such materials, of course..."  "Obtaining it illegally, I might add."  "Unfortunate, yes, but it's definitely not easy to obtain large quantities of it, even for research purposes."  "Do you know just HOW it was obtained?"  "I have no idea.  That's not my department."

The Shadow gave up in disgust.  "Tell me about Christophilous."  It developed that the man had been 34, single, with a degree in biochemistry and a minor in psychology.  He was middle management at OmniMetal, as mentioned heading up the group-mind project.  He had a hobby of making models of dinosaur skeletons, and was also a talented amateur sculptor, mostly of busts.  He had pretty much been a model employee, though with a few crotchets.  He tolerated no romantic liasions or flirting among his subordinates, even seeking disciplinary action for rather minor incidents.  But he had a zeal and a drive for the project that was very much what upper management wanted to instill.

The Shadow snorted at that. "Some corporate culture you have there. ... Had he been disciplined of late?"  "'Disciplined' is not the right term, but he did have rather an argument with his bosses not long ago.  You see, the project had focussed on creating group minds between small numbers of skilled telepaths - usually just three.  The results were poor, but Christophilous was convinced he could do better with a larger number of latent people - mostly "normal" people with scant telepathic ability.  It was felt that this course was not at all likely to be productive."

The Man of Mystery concluded harshly, "He wanted a group mind he could control."  Johnson replied uncomfortably, "It does seem that way now, yes."  "When he died, why didn't the group mind simply die with him?  Given that it was entirely focussed on and through him."  "It seems that it somehow managed to change from a centralized structure to a more distributed, weblike network."

"Have your experiments ever produced such a web?"  "...No.  There has always been a central telepathic director."  "So, you cannot be certain that your experimental results really apply to Legion after all."  "Certain, no.  But we have the best - indeed, probably the only - experts in the field working on this.  We are confident of our conclusions."  I wish I were, the Shadow thought glumly.

Struck by another idea, the sable sleuth asked, "Did Christophilous know where the cocaine was obtained from?"  "He was not privy to that information."  "He certainly seems to have become privy to it."  "There do seem to have been some security leaks, yes."  "Him being a telepath, after all."  Glumly, Johnson had to concede, "Just so."

"How will I pick up these 'screamers' and gas of yours?" "Well, you could come in person..."  The Shadow laughed coldly.  "I think not."  "Or you could send a courier.  You can contact me at this number and authorize them.  And, cliche' though it might be, a pass-phrase might be for the best."  Grinning mirthlessly, the Shadow said, "Very well.  How about, 'A mind is a terrible thing to waste'?"  Johnson did not seem greatly amused, but acknowledged it.  "By the way," he added, "I really ought to warn you that using that gas on people is technically chemical assault, which is illegal."  Puzzled, the Shadow pointed out, "So is breaking and entering - which you have also asked me to do."  "Well, yes, but I just felt I should point it out, since not everyone is familiar with the finer points of the law."  The Shadow offered only a nonplussed silence and then a rather cynical, "Thank you so much."  Johnson said, "Is there anything else to discuss?"

"Yes.  You have asked me to help you, I believe."  "It seems to me that you have also asked us.  But yes, we certainly have."  "Now there is the price."  "The information we've given you isn't enough?"  "No.  I want access to your files.  All of them."  "Let me speak to my superiors."  After a minute or so, he returned and said, "Let me make a counter-proposal.  We will give you free access to the group-mind project files and to Christophilous' personnel record.  And you may request access to other things, but it has to be cleared through me first."  "Very well, I agree."  "We will prepare a login name and password for you, to be given to your courier.  Everything should be ready to go by 8 AM.  You may contact me here at this number during the day;  at night, Mr. Torrance will be here instead.  You may speak freely to him, though he is not as well-informed as I."  "Understood."

After a few more details were worked out, Johnson hung up.  The Shadow waited for Garrity to confirm that the connection had also been broken at Grace's end, then exploded, "Grace, are these people FOR REAL?!"  "I was about to ask you the same thing, darlin'!"  "Do you buy that telepathic animal business?"  "I've never heard of anything like it.  And I definitely did not like how blase' he was about Legion.  There doesn't seem to be a 'Plan C' in case these screamers and the knockout gas don't work."  "You noticed that too, eh?  I am certain of one thing, though."  "Oh?"

"Yes.  OmniMetal's computer system is about to be thoroughly hacked."  He could almost see Grace's brow arching. "I didn't know you were good at that sort of thing."  "I'm not, but I know someone who is."  "Ah.  Just be sure to request some files first, then have them hacked along with everything else.  Makes you look innocent."  "Devious woman," the Shadow chided.

"I should go now, Shadow.  I've spent too much time on this line, and in this location."  "Very well.  Will you call back?"  "I'll contact you again when I can."  "Until then."

The Shadow bade Hal a quick farewell (and reminded him to keep working on the anti-Legion enzymes) then hopped on the cycle.  As he sped back toward the LA metro area, he filled Carlos in, as always, on events.

The boy was loudly skeptical of Johnson's claim not to know where the cocaine came from. "Pssh!  Yeah, right!  Where else are you gonna get that much?!  Either he's lying... or he's shutting his eyes."  "Astute, Carlos.  Yes, I agree.  I am not sure just how much Mr. Johnson knows of his company's activities... and how honest he was about what he does know."

"And what do you make of that animal-brain stuff, sir? Do you suppose he might be shutting his eyes on that part too?" "In a way, I certainly hope not.  I would rather believe he was telling the unvarnished truth... but it does seem rather far-fetched."

"Have you been having any strange dreams lately, Carlos?"  After a hesitation, he got the response, "I had one last night."  "Earlier today, you mean?"  "Right.  It was one of those weird symbolic ones instead of anything clear-cut... I feel sure that parts of it were 'special', but not the whole thing."  "Very well.  What was it?"  "I was swinging through the trees... you know, like Tarzan.  Then I dove into a pool of water and swam underwater for a while.  When I came up, I saw the world through a pair of computer monitors rather than eyes."  "Did you wake up from it?"  "The buzzer woke me up."  "I see."

"Carlos, I want you be extremely careful.  I want you to take no risks at all, in fact."  "Do you, uh, think that, maybe..."  he swallowed and went on, "Well, the whole 'chop shop' thing might happen to me?"  "I want to make sure that it does not."  "I'd think that would make for a really scary dream, though, and this one was just mildly disturbing."  "It occurs to me that a disembodied brain isn't likely to experience much in the way of emotions."  In a small voice, "Oh."  "Don't worry, Carlos.  We'll be on our guard.  That's why the dreams are useful.  You hear me?"  "Yessir."  "As I said:  Take no risks."  "You don't have to warn me twice, sir.  Well, three times, I guess."

The Shadow mercifully changed the subject, discussing other matters in the case.  Then he abruptly pounded the handlebars.  "I keep thinking that Juan Martinez will have a missing piece of the puzzle! Or at least something useful.  My gut tells me he had a close brush with Legion - or possibly other OmniMetal activities.  Or possibly even both.  If only there were a way to find him! ... Of course!!"  "What is it, sir?!"

"I should have thought of it before.  I've been in his mind, quite deeply, twice..."  He slipped into the same light trance he'd used earlier in the evening to reach David, and strained outward with a great telepathic push "tuned" to Juan's signature.

The connection was made, though slightly more tenuously than usual.  The boy was eating a hamburger... in McDonald's.  Perfect!  He carefully dipped deeper into Juan's mind to find which restaurant it was... but the lad was as perceptive as the last time, and reacted with the same overwhelming panic.  Damn!  He maintained the contact, and succeeded in getting a location - a suburb south of the city, a long ride.  He immediately turned in that direction.

Juan rushed outside, leaped on a motorcycle, and gunned the motor.  The Shadow tried reasoning with him, but couldn't get past the wall of panic in the boy's mind.  Driving like a demon, weaving past cars... Not weaving well enough.  He was hit.  [I got a sweet roll on the Telepathy Use, Juan got an even sweeter roll on the Sense Motive, but failed the Will save.  Then the kid has to go and utterly flub a Drive check!  Guess SP's magic doesn't always work, eh?]

"Carlos, there's just been a motorcycle accident in this suburb.  Pinpoint it for me!"  "On it, sir... Yes, the reports are just coming in.  Motorcycle and a car... the motorcyclist is down... he wasn't wearing a helmet... they're calling an ambulance."  At this point, Juan passed out, and the Shadow lost the contact. "Where are they taking him?"  "Hold on... Sisters of Mercy."  The Shadow continued to fly grimly, awaiting more information.  "They're taking him to trauma, sir. Fractured skull."  "Right.  Give it an hour or so, then call the hospital and ask for 'Juan Martinez' by name, find out his condition."  "Will do."

By that time, the Shadow had arrived and invisibly snuck into the hospital.  Carlos reported, "He's in the ICU in 'serious condition', sir.  That's all they'll tell me."  The Shadow had a look for himself, and decided that Juan wasn't going anywhere any time soon.  "I suppose I'll have to come back.  He isn't up to dealing with me yet."

"At least now I know where to find him."

[Johnson bugs me.  He was very idealistic, very sincere, not smarmy at all.  Passed several Sense Motive checks.  Good ones, even.  Of course, there was no visual feedback... and no mental verification.  Still.  I wonder how many people in the hierarchy REALLY know what's going on.  Somehow I think things aren't nearly as innocuous as Johnson says.]

[Carlos' dream makes me, and Alex, much more nervous than the Shadow let on.  I'm going to trust SP not to do anything egregiously unfair, however.]

[Pity about Juan, btw, but Alex doesn't really feel guilty about it.  If he'd had his way, the kid never would have noticed the quick mental probe, and would have had an unexpected meeting with the Shadow on the street.   However, I suspect the Penumbra Foundation is going to be picking up a large chunk of his medical bills.]


----------



## The Shadow

As long as he was in Juan's room, the Shadow decided he might as well go through the lad's effects.  There wasn't much - clothing in gang colors (though no distinctive hat or bandannas) and a wallet with 50 or so dollars in cash, an expired credit card, and a driver's license.  He passed the number on to Carlos before leaving.

"Carlos, in the morning I want you to... Sorry.  I know I've been loading you down lately."  "It's OK, sir," Carlos responded with cheery sarcasm, "What do you want me to do in my copious spare time?"  "Get in touch with Lance and have him arrange to have the Penumbra Foundation pick up Juan's medical bills."  "Will do."  "Tell him to use a dummy name - 'Uninsured Accident Victims' Fund' or something."  "Gotcha.  Anything else?"

The Shadow pondered.  "Have flowers sent.  Perhaps with the Foundation motto - 'Out of the shadows, into the light.'  He's a smart kid, he'll figure it out."  Carlos predicted, "He'll panic, throw the flowers away, and try to escape."  "You really think so?"  "_You_ would."

That was so true that the cloaked crusader let out an honest laugh for the first time in weeks.  When he was able to breathe again, he said, "You know me too well, Carlos!"  "Well, you would!  You'd figure they were poisoned or bugged or something."  "All right, all right.  Send a plain card with the flowers, then.  We don't want to give him a heart attack."  "Check. What now, sir?"

The Shadow considered.  "Has the crackhouse on 18th cooled down yet?"  "I don't know, but it should have."  "Then I think we will have to pay a visit there together.  I am very interested in what you might pick up, given the bodies I saw... Dead ones, I mean."  Carlos said, "Good idea, sir," but his voice betrayed a slight edge of nervousness.  [Carlos is uncomfortable with his visions of death and murder, and who can blame him?]

Speeding back to the base, the Shadow picked up Carlos, cloaking him in invisibility as he jogged below the cycle.  (They'd set the comm panel at the base to patch through their commlinks to each other, so they could still communicate.)  The crackhouse turned out to be half-burned, and surrounded with police tape - evidently the corpses had set off an official investigation.

Together they entered the building, the Shadow pointing out the room where he'd seen the bodies.  Carlos paced around it several times, apparently futilely... then he abruptly stood stock still as his face went white with shock.  As the Shadow  waited patiently for the vision to play itself out, the young man's head suddenly jerked to the left. "We've got to get out of here, sir!  It's HERE!"  The dark avenger drew his gun.  "It?"  "Legion!  It's gotta be!  We've got to go!"

"Right."  They moved for the exit, only to find a Legion-body awaiting them outside - a young man, formerly a Red Shiv.  Putting Carlos behind him, the Shadow snapped off a shot, missing.  Legion casually informed him, "You will die now," as it cut loose with a titanic blast of mental force, which the Shadow managed to adroitly "sidestep", preventing it from attuning to his mental signature.  My word!  he thought.  I've never seen such strength, even in Grace!

He subvocalized into the commlink, "Carlos, run.  Call the cycle and get out of here.  NOW!"  "Yessir," the boy replied, suiting actions to words but adding, "And watch out, there's more on the other side of the house!"  The Shadow backpedaled from the house, buying Carlos time to get away, and also getting the Legion-body between him and the house to avoid a potential crossfire.

It made no move to follow, save with its eyes.  The Shadow snapped off a couple more shots, missing but managing to evade its mental thunderbolts as well.  Then one of them got past his guard, staggering him for a moment with the sheer ravening HATE it projected into his soul.  Worse, he could tell it now had his number, as it were, and could continue to pummel him without any need for further targeting.

Getting desperate, the dark avenger deliberately calmed himself and stood his ground.  He drew a bead on the thing's torso, exhaling and choosing his moment with care.  The next mental blow broke his concentration, but he still managed a solid hit.  As it crumpled to the ground, the Shadow rushed it, applying his boot to its head with vicious force.  [Incidentally drawing a "Tae Kwon Leep" joke from SP, if you've heard that skit. ] The body's lights went out, quite thoroughly.

He hurriedly ordered Carlos to circle around, meanwhile reaching for a pair of handcuffs - a Legion-body, prisoner, could be invaluable.  But when Carlos called urgently, "You have to get out of there, sir!  There's too many!" he cursed.  After only a half-moment's thought, he coldly put a bullet in the thing's brain and rushed to where Carlos was landing, rather clumsily.  "Two down, thirteen to go."

Taking the driver's seat from Carlos, the Shadow lifted a bit cautiously, not used to flying with the weight of two.  Then he went home by a very circuitous route, using buildings for maximum cover.  When Carlos confirmed he sensed no sign of Legion nearby, he finally landed at the base.

Once safely inside, he turned to Carlos and gripped his shoulder hard. "Are you OK?"  The young man looked a bit shaken, but his "I'm fine, sir," seemed sincere enough.  "What did you sense in the house?"  Carlos shivered. "He - the guy you described, Christophilous - had some way of forcing people to stand still.  While they stood there helpless, watching, he shot them in the head."  Determination leavened with utter loathing filled the young man's voice as he continued softly, "That THING has to die, sir."  "I couldn't agree more.  Legion seems to have that effect on people who've met it, I've noticed. ... Tell me, did you notice it there at first as a danger-warning, or in itself as an unusual psychic trace?"  Carlos shrugged helplessly.  "I'm not sure.  Things were happening fast."  "So they were."

The dark avenger thought out loud, trying to understand what had just happened. "Why was it waiting there at the crackhouse?  Was it expecting me to return?  Or is there some other reason?"  The two of them bandied theories about to no avail - there simply wasn't enough data.  "Well, in any case, I'd best inform OmniMetal of developments."

Carlos nodded brusquely and sat at the computer, putting on his headset.  "Putting you through on the 'hotline' phone, sir."  The Shadow picked up the phone, and told the secretary who answered, "Put me through to Mr. Torrance.  Tell him it's Van Helsing."

A neutral male voice shortly came on the line:  "Good evening, Mr. Van Helsing.  Or do you prefer to be called 'Doctor'?"  The Shadow said impatiently, "It doesn't matter.  I have had another encounter with Legion."  Torrance abruptly became all business.  "Tell me everything you can."

"It was at the same place it was 'born'..."  "Do you believe it regards that place as its lair?"  "I do not know.  It may simply have been anticipating my return for further investigation."  "I see."  The Shadow pictured the man taking notes efficiently on a pad - the pauses were about right.  "Another of its bodies is dead."  "How many does that leave?" "Thirteen, give or take one - I did not have time for an accurate count that first night. And I am assuming that it has not added anyone in the last few days."

"More importantly, I discovered it has a mental attack of a power unlike anything I have ever seen before. It nearly took me down... and," he added bluntly, "if it can take ME down, it can definitely take down anything of yours that I've seen."  Torrance grunted in reply, then asked a series of probing questions about Legion's behavior and tactics.  The Shadow found himself forced to appreciate the man's ability to get to the meat of the situation as he answered them to the best of his ability - though of course saying nothing of Carlos or his own abilities.

"So to sum up, would you conclude that it does not seem to be creative in its use of tactics?"  The Shadow thought for a moment, then replied, "Yes, I would.  At any rate, if I had fourteen people with psychic powers to deploy as I chose, I would definitely have done things differently.  It also seems to be rather single-minded, trying the same thing over and over without adjusting much to events."  A longer pause, then Torrance responded, "I will inform my superiors."

"There is something else.  I do not believe you - OmniMetal - is taking Legion seriously enough.  What it lacks in creativity, it makes up for in sheer power and numbers.  If I were you, I would destroy my stock of group-mind chemicals and hide those with the knowledge to make them somewhere that Legion can't find them."  "I will relay your suggestions to those with the authority to act on them."

"I will be sending a courier for your 'screamers' and gas at 8 sharp in the morning."  "Very well.  Do you have a description of the courier?"  "Not yet.  I will call to authorize him or her in the morning."  "Understood. Is there anything else?"  "No."  "Good night, then."  Click.

Carlos said thoughtfully, "That guy was different from Johnson - blunter, more matter-of-fact."  "Indeed, very business-like.  Perhaps he has military training... at any rate, I HOPE someone over there does!"

[Most interesting, no?  I found myself liking Torrance more than Johnson, even though I suspect he knows more than Johnson does.  Weird, eh?  Probably because he shares the Shadow's proclivity for getting the important stuff out of the way without excessive formalities.  Alex feels no need to get all buddy-buddy with OmniMetal.  Plus, he seems to take Legion seriously, which Johnson did not.]

[Just thought I'd share a suspicion that has been developing in me over the last few weeks.  Notice:

*O*mni*M*etal *I*nc.   Which is a subsidiary of:

*O*rganized *M*ultinational *I*nvestment Group.  Perhaps these initials are significant, referring to something like:

*O*ver*M*ind *I*nstitute?  At any rate, it's interesting...  All I can say is, "Oh, my." ]


----------



## The Shadow

Yes, a bit more setting info.  Don't worry, there's not much more!  Since it's mid-November in the game world, Thanksgiving will be coming soon for the Shadow... so I thought I'd post some of the people who will be turning up.  Some of them will be turning up even before then, too...

I've never put this much work into a character background before. I think I'm freed to do so because this is a solo game - it would be impossible for a GM to juggle this much data for six characters!  

--------------------------------------------------------- 

I need names for these people. So I think I'll take advantage of a bizarre coincidence I just noticed (it's either that, or my subconscious mind acting up) - there's a lot of royalty names going on here. Alex, as I've said, is probably named after Alexander the Great. "David" was, of course, King of Judah. And in Spanish, "Charlemagne" is "Carlos el Grande". 

Call Alex's dad "Philip", who was Alexander's father. Phil had a quirky sense of humor and he had at least some education, though I don't think he finished college. ("Why shell out the dough when I can make it roll in on my own?") His own name might have suggested his son's to him. Call his mom "Elizabeth", or Beth for short. Her maiden name is, oh, Sharp. 

[A few more notes on this:  Philip was a real jerk. He didn't realize he had psi powers, he just thought he was God's gift to consumers (and women).  He could basically talk anyone into anything.  "Of course Alex belongs with me, your Honor.  Right?  Right!"   He divided the world into three basic classes - salesmen, suckers, and a**holes (people who are inclined neither to sell nor to be sold to).  Just guess which one Alex fell into... He was a terrible disappointment to his father once his powers turned on in puberty.]

[Beth, for her part, was a washed-up ex-hippie, very New Age, very well-intentioned, very flaky.  And too sensitive for her own good... once Alex's powers activated, she simply couldn't stand being around him.  She made an attempt to approach him after Jennifer's death, but the bad vibes were so strong that she couldn't even enter the church, and she's probably been flogging herself with guilt over it.  Alex's only full sibling, a younger brother named Rich, grew up with her.  He has shown no inclination to meet the rest of the family.]

Jennifer's parents are Frank (because he is  and Mary. Jennifer's maiden name was Torland - the Italian grandmother is on Mary's side. (Her family calls her "Maria".) 

[Note: More about Jennifer's family has been established over the phone. The reason why Frank "is" frank is that he was always honest and open with Alex about how uncomfortable he and his wife were around him. (Both Frank and Mary are BN - Frank shields better than Mary. Only Jennifer was fully mindblind.) Both Frank and Mary have made a big effort to be nice to Alex despite his Aura of Menace - he shields better these days, and also mainly interacts with them over the phone, so things are tolerably good. Mary still has ingrained habits from the early days of her daughter's marriage, though... she plainly doesn't like Alex much, but does her best not to let it show.] 

[The Torlands live in Minnesota, and are very much stolid Midwest types - big on family values. The Brightons generally visit once a year around Christmas. Over the years the extended family has gone from merely tolerating Alex to actually including him somewhat - his obvious grief over Jennifer's death won a lot of them over.] 

[Jennifer's youngest sister, Julie, is the only member of that side of the family to live near the Brightons.  She's a martial arts instructor and has noticed the signs of training in Alex.  She's a little weird... according to SP, she gets along fine with Alex EXCEPT when he's having a bad day and broadcasting too much.  I have no idea what this means, yet.  She and David get along great;  she visits every couple months or so.]

Carlos' parents were Jorge and Clara. Clara's maiden name was Garcia. Carlos' aunt and uncle are Marta and Roman. Roman is Clara's older brother, so they are Garcias too. He refers to his dead sister as "that whore". (Well, in Spanish "esta puta".) You can imagine how endearing Carlos finds that... (And what Roman's feelings are toward "that whore"'s son.) The infamous Gypsy grandmother was perhaps Perdita, though she may have had another Romany name. 

Alex works for Eli Lilly. (It certainly makes sense for him to be in the pharmaceutical field, given his skill in extracting, purifying, and altering that herbal compound.) He heads a research team devoted to analyzing and testing natural compounds for drug activity - and he'd probably be head of his division if it weren't for his "night life" and his personality. He much prefers to handle the analysis end of things, leaving the animal testing to others. (He harbors privately cynical thoughts about society vis a vis lab rats, but doesn't burden other people with them.) Alex takes quiet pride in the fact that his work really does help people - he himself is responsible for the characterization (and fairly inspired alteration) of a compound from sea squirts that holds considerable promise as a cancer treatment if the FDA ever gets finished with it. (If he ever does go on trial for being the Shadow, Lance will play this up to the hilt.  

Alex isn't the best of managers, as you can imagine - he was promoted on the basis of competence, not personality. But he's fair and doesn't ask anything of anyone that he's not willing to do himself. His team has known him for a while now and they've gotten used to his quirks. (Several of them are first-generation Asian-Americans, and they find his highly formal manner quite easy to deal with.) There don't seem to be any major complaints. Alex's boss, the head of the division, is Bob Carter. He's not as smart as Alex, and they both know it, but there's no hard feelings either way... Alex would probably hate having Bob's job, and they both know that too. (Even if he did want it, there's no chance he'd ever get it - it's too "political".) 

Alex's right-hand man on the team is Dat Vu, a quiet Vietnamese who was on the wrong side in the war and spent some time in a re-education camp. He is a fairly "deep" kind of guy, and his creativity and Alex's mesh well. They get along great - Dat shares Alex's philosophy on cooking and chemistry, and the two trade recipes and even cook together. (Alex has learned to make a mean spring roll.  Dr. Vu is perhaps the only close "friend of the family" the Brightons have - David's met him any number of times. [Note: This was written before I came up with Jerry MacTavish.] (And he'll have met the other members of the team, and Bob Carter, at least once or twice.) If anybody is in a position to give David sage advice about his father and/or growing up that he'll actually listen to, it's probably him. While Dat doesn't know about the Shadow, he's very insightful into the human condition and has made some shrewd guesses about Alex's pain. (Dat's about 10 years older than Alex. His children are grown, and he has a few grandchildren that he dotes on.) As a Buddhist who's been around the block more than a few times, he's not one to dismiss the idea of telepathy at all. 

Question: Any other adults out there David really respects and will listen to? Teachers, perhaps? [The GM came up with a couple teachers.] 

Mrs. Vu (her name is Tran) is a sweet, petite ball of energy who alternates between mothering Alex and showing him deference because he is her husband's superior. David just gets the mothering.  Her English has more of an accent than Dat's. A typical sample: "What you feeding this boy, Dr. Brighton? He gonna shrivel up and blow away! And look at you! No meat on bones! High time for good Vietnamese cooking, yes?" David: "I've actually gained five pounds since my last visit, Mrs. Vu." Mrs. Vu: *kisses his cheek* "You are sweet boy. Stick up for father like dutiful son, yes!"  (She also jokes that it's a pity all her daughters are married already, because "This sweet boy will make fine husband!"  She's one of those little ladies it is impossible not to like. 

The Brightons and Vus generally get together sometime on Thanksgiving weekend to collectively make an odd hybrid meal of turkey and traditional Vietnamese dishes, then eat it. (They don't live all that far away, by LA standards.) To be honest, Alex enjoys it more than visiting Jennifer's side of the family, who seem mostly to tolerate him more than anything else. (Jennifer was very dear to the Vus, and vice versa, btw.) 

Alex takes a fair bit of work home - he has to, to keep up with things - but always leaves at least six hours for the Shadow's activities and two hours for sleep. (As mentioned elsewhere, he only needs two hours of sleep a night.) Crazy as it may sound, being the Shadow actually lets him unwind from being a chemist.  Almost like a hobby, though he takes it MUCH more seriously than that. In addition to all that, he makes a conscientious effort to spend time with his son, especially school events. He isn't shy about taking a day off for family reasons - family comes first, with Alex. (Then the Shadow's work, which in a way is family-related; then his job.) 

Question: What does David think of his dad's mundane job? Is his father's example yet another reason to go into medicine? [David wants to go into sports medicine when he grows up. SP says that he finds the cancer therapy business fairly cool, but the details of Dad's job are uber-boring.] 

The Shadow has his own little chem lab in the base, of course. Mostly he's acquired the equipment as outdated stuff from his company that was being junked. Some of the more exotic stuff that he could never have afforded or acquired on his own has instead been "Garritied". Alex has also taught himself some forensics so he can do his own work in that regard without having to turn evidence over to the police - next to the witches' brew in a sea squirt, forensics is pretty easy.  

I wonder why it hasn't occurred to Alex to check his bloodstream and David's, and even Carlos', for unusual compounds. He and Carlos probably don't have any, but David surely does. Perhaps it's just the sheer mental disconnect between his beloved son and a sea squirt!  But it's entirely possible that David's got something in there that could be beneficial, and perhaps he'll think of it someday. While he's certainly wondered about the genetics of the stuff they can do, gene analysis is not really his field. [This is a bit obsolete. As mentioned earlier, Alex has since done a workup on David's blood once they found out about his alcohol-resistance.]


----------



## The Shadow

How do you delete a post?  I accidentally double-posted and I've edited it to this, but I'm not sure how to just get rid of it entirely.


----------



## Lela

Just leave it as "Double Post" or some such and a mod will run across it eventually.  Especially since P-Kitty reads this thread.  Even if they didn't, we've all done it plenty of times (wait until you have a quintuple post, _oi_).

 Jumped the gun?  It's possible but not unreasonable.  Which alley were we talking about when he got jumped?  Are you sure Legion wasn't behind it?

 If they were, well, you definitally didn't jump anything.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Just leave it as "Double Post" or some such and a mod will run across it eventually.  Especially since P-Kitty reads this thread.  Even if they didn't, we've all done it plenty of times (wait until you have a quintuple post, _oi_).




Thanks for the info.



> Jumped the gun?  It's possible but not unreasonable.  Which alley were we talking about when he got jumped?  Are you sure Legion wasn't behind it?




The same notorious alley where David got into the original fight where he killed those four guys.

And I see no way that Legion could possibly have been behind it, no.  It's just one of those things.

What did you think of Legion's "birth" scene?  Creepy, eh?


----------



## Lela

Totally creepy.  Kinda freaked me out in fact.  Glad I had the lights on.

 Really, it comes in as the perfect villian against the Shadow. Suddenly your powers aren't worth crap and you're relying on the gun. I'd say bring David in for back-up but we both know that would never happen.

 I was just mentioning it. I wondered if Alex was paranoid enough to think it was Legion. It does seem a little odd that gang members would be haunting that alley agian so soon.  And I could see Legion looking into bringing someone like David into the hive.  After seeing the reports of what happened there, I wouldn't put it past the freaky guys to try and enhance their powers.

 I guess it won't be long before people avoid it like the plague. Kill how many guys in a week in one place (and brutally like that) and you're likely to create an urban myth.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Really, it comes in as the perfect villian against the Shadow.  Suddenly your powers aren't worth crap and you're relying on the gun.  I'd say bring David in for back-up but we both know that would never happen.




Heh.  Funny you should say that...   Not that Alex would ever bring David in, no, but there is somebody he's starting to feel forced to tap...



> I was just mentioning it.  I wondered if Alex was paranoid enough to think it was Legion.  It does seem a little odd that gang members would be haunting that alley agian so soon.  I guess it won't be long before people avoid it like the plague.  Kill how many guys in a week in one place (and brutally like that) and you're likely to create an urban myth.




No, not even he is that paranoid.   The timing would have had to have been incredible... even if Legion had managed to probe him that thoroughly without him noticing in the first place, which I doubt.  (Anyway, Alex had no way of knowing what route David would take.)

And yes, I daresay that alley will gain a VERY fearsome reputation...


----------



## Lela

If Legion had been around longer I'd feel inclined to argue.  But they haven't really had time to set anything up.  I just meant that they might be staking out the alley, waiting for someone who could do that kind of stuff.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> After seeing the reports of what happened there, I wouldn't put it past the freaky guys to try and enhance their powers.




I forgot to comment on this.

I mentioned to SP a week or so after that last session that it seemed odd that Legion had suddenly developed the ability to blast people (and with an emotional special effect, no less) only after the Shadow had blasted it first.

His response?

A grin audible over the telephone and a smug, "Learns quickly, doesn't it?"

Now I'm afraid to use ANY psi powers on it! 

Oh, and he also informs me that this version of Legion is actually much _weaker_ than the one he had been planning to inflict on me later.  "You may just be able to kill this one with brute force, if you try hard enough and get lucky."

Gee.  That just gives ya a warm glow of optimism, don't it?


----------



## Horacio

Creepy bad guy (or creepy bad distributed mind) that Legion  I agree it makes a very fitting villain for the Shadow. 

I like this story more and more, it's quickly becoming one of my favorite stories.


----------



## The Shadow

[Thanks, Horacio!  Now here's a long in-person session, about 4.5 hours.  (The first, and so far only one, of its kind.)  More headaches for the Shadow, as if he needed any!  SP continues to roll like a demon, while we figured that my average roll during the entire session was about 6 or 7.  No, I'm not joking!  I rolled a 1 three times in a row, even.  Sure makes it hard to feel superheroic!  But, a lot was learned, even at the expense of a bit of the Shadow's dignity...]

The Shadow stretched.  "Well," he said wearily, "as long as we have a breather just now, I may as well do something about the Red Shivs.  I might not have an opportunity later."  Carlos stared at him.  "Do you have a different definition of 'breather' than the rest of us mortals, sir?!"  The dark avenger shrugged.  "I can't do anything about Legion until 8 AM.  I may as well put some of the remaining hours to good use."  "If you say so.  Don't you have to work in the morning, though?"  For reply, he got a sigh. "I suppose I will have to call in sick.  I hate doing that, but it does seem necessary."

"First, though, I think I'll call Maria Volanti, get her started on a few things.  It's only a quarter 'til 10, she should still be up."  He picked up the hotline phone once more, and dialed.  The phone rang repeatedly, then a muzzy voice responded, "If it's not important, I'll kill you on general principles."  "It's important."  "Who is it?"  "Your friend in black."  "Oh.  Should I get a cup of coffee, so I can recover from being awakened fifteen minutes after falling asleep?"  "If it's a bad time, we can talk in the morning..."  "Ah.  So it's important, but not urgent."  "Precisely. And I'm sorry for waking you."  "Seven AM, then?"  "Done."  "Back to my beauty sleep, then."  Click.  The Shadow sighed.  Some nights nothing seems to go right.  "I'm off."

Lurking in and around Red Shiv territory, he took in the buzz on the street... and was surprised when one his regular informants put his hand to a suspicious lump in his pocket.  "Don't even think about it," he warned, only to get the wary reply, "Too late... I've already thought about it."  "Why?"  "Buncha people turning up dead... some with no marks on 'em.  Some people say it's you."  "Not my style," the Shadow informed him, and proceeded to explain about Legion.  "Put the word out.  This thing needs to go down."  The man relaxed somewhat after that.

It turned out that about a third of the rumors centered on the Shadow, about a third (correctly) on some new more-than-ordinary element, and about a third taking the Occam's razor approach... namely that no special explanation is needed for dead gang members during a leadership struggle.  Something to that, the Shadow mused.  He also learned that OmniMetal's black cars were very much in evidence on the street, more even than before... but that they weren't stopping and picking people up.  Scanning for Legion, perhaps?

Rumors about the succession struggle among the Red Shivs were confused - things were too early to call.  But the Shadow was able to confirm the last known addresses of Julio and El Bandito's ex-girlfriend Maria Escolante that Carlos found in the gang database.  As the primary rivals for leadership with Mario (the pimp whose policies were likely to be inadvertantly Shadow-friendly), he intended to discourage them both as thoroughly as possible.  The things I do in the name of survival, he thought to himself with disgust.  Well, it has to be done.

For a man seeking to take over the Red Shivs, Julio certainly didn't show a well-developed sense of self-preservation.  While there was a deadbolt on the door and bars on the windows, the sable sleuth had to grin when he found the spare key on the ledge above the door.  "Almost too easy."  He let himself in, then froze briefly as he heard the soft warning beeps of an alarm system.  Moving swiftly to the panel and removing it from the wall, he managed to squelch it before it went off.  He replaced it on the wall, aware that it wouldn't fool anyone used to it for long.  Now, was Julio home yet, or still to come home?

Exploring invisibly, he soon had the answer.  Peering through the slightly ajar bedroom door, he saw Julio's mistress brushing her hair and heard her chattering in Spanish to a man in the adjoining bathroom - presumably Julio himself.  This was confirmed when he emerged, wearing only a pair of sweatpants.  He sprawled on the bed and chatted with the woman, incomprehensibly to the Shadow.  (And it was quiet enough that Carlos couldn't make out the words.)

Choosing his moment with care, he vanished the door, making it "unnoticeable" as he opened it slightly, slipped through, and closed it to its previous angle.  Unfortunately, Julio apparently caught sight of something odd happening in the mirror on the other wall and leapt off the bed, grabbing a shotgun from the headboard.  He said something peremptory to the woman - whose name was apparently Ana - and stalked past the Shadow over to the door, peering warily through it.  Then he called out in heavily accented English, "Who's there!"  After a pause, "If you're still there, we're calling the cops!"  Then he said something in Spanish to Ana, who nodded and reached for the phone.

The Shadow put his gun to the back of Julio's head and suggested mildly (and audibly, for Julio's ears alone) "Tell her there's no need to call the police."  The man froze quite impressively, but had the chutzpah to follow orders a bit too literally:  He said, in flat-toned English, "There's no need to call the police."  Ana looked over at him quizzically, then shrieked when she saw the Shadow, to that worthy's internal groan.  Worse yet, she snatched up a pistol from the desk and aimed it at him.

Julio said carefully, "It would appear we have a standoff."  "I'm not too concerned.  As it happens, I only came here to talk."  "What do you want to talk about?"  "The Red Shivs.  I've become quite unhappy with you."  "What do you want?"  "I want you to make a decision:  You can leave town, right now, for good.  Or you can die.  ... Or, I suppose, if you feel inclined, you can go down to the local precinct and confess all your manifold crimes, that will satisfy me."

Julio was a cool customer.  He said scornfully, "Of course I'll say whatever you want while you have a gun to my head.  But what's it mean after you're gone?"  The Shadow said with tight amusement, "Do you think I'm not able to check up on you?  How will you know I'm not watching?"  "If you kill me, she shoots you."  "I'll take my chances."  The man shrugged. "I can't make any decision right this moment - not one that means anything.  And you can't watch all the time.  I'll take my chances too."

The cloaked crusader did not like the man's tone, and decided to soften him up a bit.  He lashed out with fear - fear of his own person.  It worked, rather better than he was expecting - the man crumpled to the floor whimpering wordlessly, dropping the shotgun and curling up in fetal position.  Ana screamed and fired... but her shot went wild.  The Shadow whirled on her with his own weapon, and let her feel the full force of his aura of telempathic menace.  "Drop it!"  She may not have understood the words, but the effect was gratifying - she shrieked again and hid behind the bed.

Then he reached down and hauled Julio to his feet - the man moaned in panic.  "Oh stop that," he said in disgust, "Listen to me!"  Shaking him lightly, then slapping him, he got no response from Julio save for incoherent babbling in Spanish.  Carlos informed him, "He's not talking to you, sir.  He's, uh, praying.  Confessing his sins because he thinks he's about to die."  The Shadow rolled his eyes.  "Carlos, tell me how to say, 'Go into the bathroom and shut the door.'"  He repeated the words, and Ana crawled frantically over there and obeyed.  The Shadow picked up the pistol and the shotgun, unloaded them, and tossed them into the closet.  Then he turned back to Julio and tried to back off the telempathic fear a bit.  In the process, he lost his hold on Julio's mind... but the man's widened eyes and rapid breathing showed it scarcely mattered - his spirit of defiance had been crushed like an eggshell.  He stared at the Shadow and his gun like they were avenging angels.

"I believe we were talking about a decision."  The man nodded frantically.  "Since you seem so keen on confessing your sins, perhaps you'd care to continue down at the precinct?"  Julio moaned and said, "They kill me!"  "Who?"  "If I tell, the Red Shivs in prison - they will kill me!"  "Quite the band of brothers you have there, eh?  Well then, I will permit you to leave Los Angeles... and never come back."  "I need time!"  The Shadow said coldly, "You have twelve hours.  If you're still here by then, you will die. Understood?"  "I understand!!"  "I trust you'll use this opportunity to rethink the error of your ways?"  "Yes!  I swear!"  "Where are you going?"  "Baja!  Sonoma!"  "A bit out of my way... but I'll find a way to check up on you.  Remember that."  "Si!  I remember!"

Not content just to cooperate, Julio in fact started spilling his guts.  "I give you information!  Mario has moved - I found out just today!"  He feverishly passed on the address, to the Shadow's amusement.  "What about Maria?"  "She still in the same place.  Mario wants to make her his puta."  "We'll have to see about that...  What influence does she have among the Shivs?"  Julio looked confused.  "None."  "Ah."

"Now, if you will be so kind as to show me out?"  He trooped Julio toward the door at gunpoint, to make sure he didn't try any mischief.  Not that he expected any - the man seemed thoroughly broken - but no sense in taking chances.  "Spread them on the wall there," he said as he went out.  Julio obeyed instantly.  The Shadow couldn't resist patting him on the shoulder as he left.  "You've been a good boy."

"One down," he mused.  "Now for Maria.  Carlos, do you think Julio was telling the truth?"  "As he saw it.  He's probably right that she has no direct influence... indirect is another matter."  "Ah.  Well, I trust that it will be irrelevant shortly."  

He surveyed her house;  she had the wit not to leave her spare key anyplace obvious.  The Shadow shrugged - sometimes the direct approach is best.  He rang the doorbell while remaining invisible.  A female voice called in lightly accented English, "It's open, come right in!"  Open?  He tried it;  it was.  Gun warily at ready, he went down the hall to the light he could see coming from the half-open bedroom door.

There he found her draped comfortably in a chair, pointing a large, strange-looking pistol directly at his chest - it looked disturbingly like something Garrity might have created.  She also wore a metallic-looking hairclip, and wide bracers on her forearms that seemed to have rows of buttons on them.  "Do come in," she said, and as he complied (pointing his own gun directly at her) her eyes and weapon visibly tracked him.  The cloaked crusader remarked in his deceptively mild tones, "I've come to talk."  "Put your gun away, then."  The Shadow weighed options.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  He lowered his weapon, and she responded by placing hers on the desk within easy reach then lazily sipping from a cup of coffee.  "I've been expecting you," she remarked.

He returned the diffident reply, "Have you."  "Yes, I've researched you quite thoroughly."  "And what have you found?"  She shrugged.  "If you were corruptible, I'd bribe you."  He bowed slightly in acknowledgement:  "I see your information is accurate so far."  "If you were reasonable, I'd bargain with you."  "I have my rational moments now and then."  "As it is, I hope to convince you that I'm not worth your time."  "Oh?"

She gestured. "As you can see, I have a good many toys.  Carlos was quite generous in his gifts to me."  "And where did he come by them?"  "He didn't.  I have a supplier of my own."  "Who might that be?"  She smiled tightly.  "A very... reliable supplier."  She adjusted her hairclip, and the Shadow caught a flash of something metallic by her sleeve.  "It's hardly friendly to palm something while we're chatting," he chided.  "Oh, I didn't palm anything."  She lifted her sleeve to reveal a tight bracelet with the same highly finished, high-tech look.  Then she slipped a finger under the identical ring of metal around her neck.  "That's my insurance."

The Shadow returned to the original subject.  "And what do you plan to do with these toys?"  "Look, whoever you are.  I've been a prostitute all my life.  The last few years, I've been a gang lord's mistress, and I've gotten used to being comfortable, with relatively little work."  "Ruling the Red Shivs will take work."  She shrugged. "That's life.  It'll keep me comfortable, which is the important thing."

"I think I may have done you an inadvertant favor.  Julio's left town."  "I'd guessed that."  "How so?"  "You set off one of my little tell-tales, let's say."  After a brief moment's thought, the Shadow said, "Julio's house."  "Very good! ... I want to thank you for coming straight here after Julio rather than going to Mario's first, by the way."  "Oh?  Why?"  She rolled her eyes.  "Because then I would've had to wait up a couple more hours!"  Cold, the Shadow noted - very.  "Well, what will you do about Mario?"  She smiled that predatory smile again.  "Mario doesn't understand about insurance."  "I see."

"So why aren't you worth my time?"  She shrugged.  "Frankly, I view you as part of the cost of doing business.  We don't need to fight. If you find a pusher careless enough to get caught by you, maybe the next one won't be as careless.  If you catch one of my people knifing someone, well, maybe the next one will be smarter."  "Survival of the fittest, eh?"  She shrugged again.  "I survived, they can learn too.  Anyway, my toys could make it bad for you, but why bother?  If you don't come after my people in an organized way, I don't feel the need to go after you in an organized way.  Sound good?"  The Shadow made no commitment, but only said, "I appreciate your candor."

She said, exasperated, "What do you want, then?"  After some thought, the cloaked crusader responded, "I want not to be annoyed."  "Something we have in common."  "And just before his untimely demise, El Bandito did something that annoyed me very much."  She frowned in thought, then said, "The bounty."  "Ah, you've heard of it."  "I've heard of a lot of things. Well... If you're willing to overlook a few deaths in the coming days as I consolidate my position, I'm willing to overlook the orders of the late lamented Carlos."

That twisted the Shadow's guts but he forced himself to relax and say, "I don't worry overmuch about which gang members kill which other gang members, or who leads the Red Shivs."  She looked skeptical.  "Weren't you going to try to remove me and Mario to get the Shivs to splinter?"  He shrugged wearily.  "In an ideal world, there would be no gangs at all..."  She interrupted with a snort, "And no drugs either... or psychopaths in black hats and cloaks."  The Shadow arched a brow.  "I haven't encountered any psychopaths in black hats and cloaks, have you?"  At her laugh, he continued, "As I was saying, ideally there would be no such things.  But we don't live in an ideal world.  I've been around the block enough to know that if I eliminate the Red Shivs, there'll just be another gang to take their place.  I just want to minimize the harm they do to everyone else.  ... And to be blunt, I have more important things than the Shivs on my mind."

Her eyes narrowed.  "So that thing IS for real!"  "Thing?"  "The thing that's been disappearing my people lately, and raiding my drug shipments.  You've fought it twice recently, I believe."  "You are remarkably well informed."  "Though I didn't think burning was your style..."  "It isn't.  It was Legion's idea... though I was certainly willing to burn the place if that was what it took to kill it."  "Legion, eh?  That's the name of a demon, isn't it?"  The Shadow nodded.  "New Testament."  "Right.  Well, it does seem we have a common interest there.  Perhaps I have some information that will be of use to you."  "I am waiting."

"I know of three locations it's been spotted."  She gave the addresses.  One was the crackhouse on 18th, one a flophouse, and one a warehouse of no particular note.  "If it'll help, I'm even willing to use a drug shipment as bait for it."  The Shadow replied with heavy irony, "That is most generous of you."  She ignored the irony and replied bluntly, "Practicality.  If it helps take the thing down, I'll save money and manpower in the long run."  "As you say."  "I'd better give you my cell number in case you need to arrange things - or if there's new information.  There's pencil and paper over there."

She added a bit snidely, gesturing to his right hand hovering near his gun, "Can you read your left-hand writing, or are you ambidextrous?"  The dark avenger looked at her levelly.  "Just tell it to me.  I have a very good memory."  "Do you."  She gave the number, and the Shadow repeated it back to her once, knowing that Carlos would take it down.

Then he said, "What will you do about the black cars?"  "Oh.  Them."  "Carlos was being used by them, you know.  More than just 'used', I should say."  "'Pawn' would be my term."  "They were controlling his mind."  "Don't worry, I plan on staying my own woman."  She patted her hairclip again, and added, "And I don't have much use for them.  All they seem to want is cocaine.  Lots of it.  For free.  I don't do 'free'."  "Do you know what they want it for?"  She studied him with narrowed eyes.  "No."  "Legion is a mistake of theirs.  The chemicals they use involve cocaine.  As you said, lots of it."  She frowned. "I see..." and he could see wheels turning.  Confusion to both my enemies, he hoped.

The Shadow inquired, "Is there anything else you want to say?"  "Not right now."  He tipped his hat ironically and said, "Then I believe I shall take my leave."  "Very well, good night... oh, and what's my number?"  He repeated it back with Carlos' help.  "My.  You do have a good memory."  He turned to go, deliberately turning his back on her... unwilling to show her any sign of fear.  There came a click from behind him - but he recognized it as her nails on the desk in time to still his instinctive reaction and continue walking out.  Her chuckle came softly after him, "Interesting."  [And I just have to say, 'cause Alex won't:  "Bitch!" ]

On the way back, he stated darkly, "I suspect I was just videotaped, Carlos.  And I don't like it at all. ... How much of that did you get?"  "Parts of it."  So he filled Carlos in on events, arriving back at the base by the time he was done.  The young man rose to help him with the vest, and asked, "What now, sir?"  "I vote we take a well-deserved break.  We've had a LONG weekend."  "Sounds good to me!"  "What would you like to eat?"  "Thai?"  "Very well.  Should we have it delivered?"  Carlos groaned on cue at that well-worn joke.  The two walked companionably down to the nearest Thai place (invisibly part of the way) and got some takeout, then returned to devour it.

Alex caught Carlos in a particularly greedy moment, and used one of the lines from the Shadow movie on him:  "You're a barbarian, you know."  The boy nearly choked with laughter, then after swallowing gave Shiwan Khan's response:  "Thank you!"

Afterward Alex shuffled a deck and asked, "What shall it be?"  "Poker?" Carlos asked hopefully, and Alex rolled his eyes.  Sure enough, he lost the first twenty chips in steady succession (Carlos' powers making him very hard to bluff) and thus had to clean up.  Afterward he sat back down, and asked quietly, "Carlos... I've been meaning to ask you."  "Yeah?"

"The reason why you work out so hard in the gym and take those karate classes... it's because you want to go out in the field with me, correct?"  Carlos looked uncomfortable.  "Well, yeah."  "Why?"

The boy floundered, "Well, I want to do the right thing, the good thing.  To be heroic I guess, you know?"  Alex responded, "And do you feel you did all that earlier today?"  "I guess..."  "I do not feel very heroic.  And I do not think I am particularly noble or good."  "Well, you weakened Legion a little, and so maybe it won't hurt other people as much, right?"  "I do not mean just today.  I mean in general."  Carlos protested, "But you make the streets a safer place for ordinary people!  That's worth doing!"

Alex did not directly reply. "Carlos, I am in a bind."  "What do you mean?"  With his usual bluntness, he stated, "I can't sense Legion, at all.  And you can."  In the rapt silence that followed, he went on, "It can see through my invisibility, too.  Against it, I lose my edge - I am simply a man with a gun... and, admittedly, a mind shield.  I need any edge I can get to beat it."  Carlos whispered, "You want me to go out in the field with you."  Alex said with quiet rage against himself, "No, I do not want that at all.  But I may need it."

"I'll go."  Alex looked at him sharply.  "Even though we've been warned by your dream of what may happen?"  "...Yeah."  Alex held Carlos' eyes.  "Very well.  Here is the condition:  I expect you to follow orders.  That means if I tell you to scram, you scram... no matter what the situation looks like."  Carlos looked away and mumbled, "You mean... even if it looks like you're going to... die?"  "That is what I said."  "Oh."

After a long silence, Alex asked, "What are you thinking?"  "I'm trying to decide if... if I can do that, sir."  "And can you?"  Carlos bit his lip.  "If I have to, I guess I can."  "Good."

Another long silence followed.  Then Alex rose and went to the storage room off the gym, returning with a cot, which he unfolded.  "What's that all about, sir?"  "I'm going to be staying here in the base for a while, I think."  "But what about your home?"  "My son is somewhere safe, and I'm going to be taking time off from work.  It will be best for me to be close to the action."  "Oh."

"I should probably sleep now."  "Yeah... I guess I'll watch some TV softly, if that's OK?"  "Of course."  "Good night, sir."  "Good night, Carlos."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

When Alex woke, he got dressed efficiently and paused to study the lightly snoring Carlos with a moment of worry.  Shrugging helplessly, he turned to the phone and went down the list of calls he had to make:

1)  Sisters of Mercy reported that Juan's condition was unchanged.

2)  "Franklin High, how may I help you?"  "This is Alexander Brighton."  (Spoken softly so the sleeping Carlos won't hear.)  "There's been a bit of a family emergency, and my son David will be out of town for most of this week.  Possibly all of it, I'm not sure yet."  After a few more formalities, that was taken care of.

3)  "Hal, I'm arranging to have the stuff from OmniMetal picked up today.  I want to have you check it out for me... and in a neutral location, just in case they can track it.  Perhaps a motel or something.  Can you think of one roughly between your place and mine?  A Motel 6?  Good.  I'll pay for your time, of course."  A pause while Hal made the arrangements then called back:  "Room 109, very good."

4)  "N&R Courier Service."  (From the list of companies Carlos had dutifully researched and listed for him.)  "Yes, I need a package picked up at OmniMetal Inc. and delivered to room 109 of the Motel 6 at..."  The details were worked out.  "They'll want the name of the courier for verification purposes...  Andy Matuczek?  I'll let them know.  Who will sign for it?  Richard Shadwell.  You'll have it there sometime between 9 and 10?  Thank you."

5)  "Hal, they'll have it there sometime between 9 and 10.  They're expecting 'Richard Shadwell' to sign.  I'd appreciate it if you'd do that for me...  Yes, Hal, this is getting a bit cloak-and-dagger."

6)  "Maria, it's your friend in black again. ...  Carlos told you about the bounty the Red Shivs were going to put out on my 'collaborators', right?  The good news is that I've arranged for it not to happen.  The bad news?"  With forced cheerfulness, "I'm dealing with a company that cuts telepaths' brains out and puts them in black boxes, and have been forced to work with them to deal with one of their mistakes, a contagious group-mind of telepathic homicidal maniacs."

She responded, "Paging Dr. Frankenstein... Dr. Frankenstein, you are wanted in surgery to remove your brain..."  "Precisely.  Anyway, I am thinking you can help me with this..."  "Gee, why can't you ever just want my help to make the perfect spaghetti sauce, huh?"  "I'm already a pretty good hand with spaghetti, but I can always use a few tips from the master."  "What do you need?"

"While I have to work with these people, I don't trust them any further than I can throw a whale..."  "Getting soft in your old age, I see.  It woulda been a planet a few years ago."  "... Right.  Anyway, it would be nice if I knew where some of their key employees lived, their schedules, daily patterns, that kind of thing.  It's only fair to warn you that you could end up being an accomplice to something."  "Ah, why would anybody wanna come after a harmless little lady like me, huh?  You got any names for me?"  "Not yet, but I'm working on it."

"Want me to go full time on this?"  "Do you have anything else going on?"  "Nah."  "Full time, then.  Do you want your usual fee or favors rendered?"  He winced at her joke about what kind of favors, and struck back with, "Do recall that I may have just saved your life.  Is this the thanks I get?... All right, the usual it is.  And listen, if you run into anything strange - my kind of strange, I mean - back off and don't put yourself at risk."

7)  "Bob, Alex.  I'm afraid I can't come in today... I have headaches like you wouldn't BELIEVE."  That at least isn't quite a lie, Alex thought glumly.

"Alex, can you manage to come in at all?  We've got a big new contract, very complex stuff, looks like it's right up your alley.  Very hush-hush.  Vu's got everything under control with your team, doesn't he?  You can be spared for a few weeks?  But listen, if you're not functional, stay in bed.  We've got other people who can handle it."

Alex was seized with a sudden very nasty suspicion.  "I suppose I can try to pull myself together.  Is it all right if I come in at noon?  A few more hours of sleep might be just the thing."

"Perfect!  Listen, remember you can take Tylenol and Advil at the same time, works great.  See you later!"

8)  "This is Van Helsing.  Get me Johnson."  "Van Helsing, good to hear from you!  I must say, you made quite the impression on Mr. Torrance."  "I intended to.  My courier is with N&R and is named Andy Matuczek.  He should be there at 8 sharp."

"Excellent.  By the way, Mr. Torrance was very impressed with your phone system. ... I'm afraid I forgot to tell him not to perform a trace on your call."  "That was most careless of you."  "I informed the day staff, but forgot that he wasn't there at the time.  But as I was saying, he found that you're calling from a Beijing line."  "My interests are very wide-ranging."  "Your previous call was from Bombay..."  "I travel a lot."  "How's Paris this time of year?"  "Balmy."  "As I was saying, he was quite impressed."

"He was more impressed with my phone system than with what I had to say about Legion?"  "I'd hardly say that.  He made some firm recommendations about new security measures to the board of directors, and we're taking this very seriously."  "What are you doing?"  "We're moving our chemical stocks, and those with the right expertise, off site.  I don't even know where they're going.  Only the board - who are also off-site - know that."  "It's a start.  You said Christophilous was a biochemist... How much did he know about the three compounds in question?"  "He was directly involved in the synthesis only of the third one, the narcotic."

"What about my login and password to your system?"  "You'll appreciate them, I think.  The login is 'Prometheus' and the password 'Shelley'."  "Johnson, I would never have suspected you of a sense of humor."

The irony, Alex thought as he hung up, that I have to give my enemies advice that will make it harder for ME to take them down later!

Flying swiftly to the Motel 6 in Shadow costume, he met Hal there in room 109.  There were two bulky packages there, about the size of large suitcases.  Hal had brought a laptop, and something that looked like an unnatural hybrid between another laptop and a supermarket scanner.  In fact, quite remarkably like a supermarket scanner...  [How does he DO that?!  Yes, I know... "Oh, never mind!" ]

"By the way, Hal, I've been meaning to ask... Do you have any clients besides me for the, ah, 'special' stuff?"  "Oh, sure."  With a sinking sensation, the Shadow asked, "How many?"  "Oh, half a dozen or so."  "Would one of them be a Maria Escolante, by any chance?"  "No... not that I can recall, anyway."  "That's something...  You don't sell people energy weapons do you?"  "No, of course not!"  "Powered armor?"  "Nah.  Though I did sell one guy an exoskeleton. ... What?  It wasn't _that_ much better than what you could get on the market."  "Do you know what he wanted it for?"  "No, why, is it important?"  The Shadow contained a sigh.  "We'll have to have a little chat about your clientele sometime.  For now, let's look at these cases."  "Sure!"

Running the first suitcase under the scanner, Hal quickly ascertained that it was safe to open and wasn't transmitting anything. Alex opened it and found sixteen metal oblongs in four neat rows of four, along with an envelope.  After Hal scanned it and found it to be harmless, Alex opened that too.  It tersely informed him of the screamers' specs and modes of function - they were guaranteed out to fifty feet, and had maximum effect within ten.  They could be set to go off with a timer, automatically in response to psychic energy, or in response to an included radio device.  It was signed, "Johnson".

Hal took one out and scanned it intensively, building up a detailed three-dimensional image on his laptop that he could rotate and zoom in on with suspicious speed.  (The Shadow suspected it hadn't been bought from Dell.)  Pretty soon he was examining circuit diagrams at lightning speed.  "This is really interesting stuff!  I never thought of doing this sort of thing...  Of course, it's not the way I would do it..."  "What is it?"  "Well, you know how I told you that you can't do psionics with machines?"  "Yes."  "Turns out that you can interfere with it with machines.  These babies will do the job."  "Do the specs match what the letter says?"  "Seems to."  "What effect will it have on normals?"  "Probably give a headache."  "What about on me?"  "A worse headache."

"Is there any way OmniMetal could track these things?"  "Not right now.  If triggered by radio, they could probably pick up on that.  And the squeal these things put out will be detectable too."  "From how far away?"  "Depends.  If they've got an 800 meter reflector, anywhere in the solar system.  If they've got a two-inch disk..."  his eyes glazed over as he calculated, then he said dreamily, "Actually, I could do some very interesting things with a two-inch disk..."

"Right.  Hal, can you whip up a detector to let me know if they are signalling these things?"  Hal sniffed - clearly, this task was beneath him.  "Easily."  "Could you make something that would shield me from the effect?"  "Hmmm.  And still let you use your powers?  Tricky, but yeah, with work I could do it.  There'd probably be side effects, though.  Y'see, these things match up to the brain's delta waves, so you just wanna produce some delta-2 waves only reverse the phase in the...  oh, never mind!"

"How long will they last?  I want to test one to see what it feels like."  "Hmm.  There doesn't seem to be an off-switch."  After some arcane manipulation of the image on the screen, he announced, "These things'll burn out in a minute or so, I'm afraid.  Oh, and the radio transmitter they gave you doesn't have batteries in it yet."  The Shadow asked ironically, "What kind do they take, triple-A?"  Hal opened the thing up and peered inside.  "Three double-A's, actually."  That left the Shadow a bit non-plussed.  "I'd not have expected it. Can you soup these things up to last longer?"  "...Maybe.  It'd take a lot of work."

The Shadow nodded thoughtfully.  "What about the gas?"  A scan revealed that the other case, and the envelope inside, were also safe.  There were twelve vials inside.  The letter basically said to smash one and let the gas do the rest.  Unconsciousness was expected within seconds, but only guaranteed within one minute.  The effective range was likewise guaranteed to extend to 30 feet, but there might be some effect further away.  Hal isolated the compounds in the vials... there were three of them.  ("Please don't tell me one of them is caffeine this time, OK?")  Together, they ascertained that one would provide gas effect - choking and tearing like tear gas;  another would disorient a person;  and the third was a narcotic that would put someone out for quite a long time.  Together, they made for quite the witches' brew.  "You've got some grenade shells back at the garage, right Hal?  Good.  I'd prefer that to walking around with a bunch of glass vials."

The Shadow frowned.  "You know, I'm almost disappointed that OmniMetal seems to have played straight with me.  It makes me nervous."  "Well, they can track these puppies if you use the radio transmitter, if it makes you feel any better."  "Hmph."

After making all the necessary arrangements, Alex stopped by his house to check messages and pick up some clothes.  The only message was from Jerry, "Taking some tourists on a trip... Dropped David off.  We'll have to talk about some things when I see you next."  There was a bit of an edge in Jerry's voice, and Alex could guess why - he was wondering if he and his wife needed to leave LA too.

Returning to the base, he found Carlos getting dressed to go out.  "That's right, you have classes today."  "Uh huh."  "Well, have a good day."  "Thanks Dad, you too!"  He said it with his usual cheery joking sarcasm, but when Alex gave him a sharp look, Carlos' back was to him as he put on a shirt.  "Gotta go, I'll see you later!"  He rushed out, not meeting Alex's eyes.  Alex sighed slightly - there was much more there than a simple joke, he felt sure.  [VERY daring of Carlos, if you ask me.  Goes to show how hard the conversation of the previous night hit.]

When he made it in to work (having to go _back_ to his house to pick up his car!) Bob greeted him and ushered him almost at once into a meeting with an assortment of other chemists and related personnel in the company.  (Other than Bob and another managerial type, Alex was the highest-ranking.)  "We have a major new contract, people.  Rather secretive... we've got a non-disclosure agreement for you to sign, and that's just for this meeting.  There'll be another if you sign on.  You can say we had a meeting, and that's it."  That caused some restive murmuring, given that of course they'd already signed non-disclosures to work at the company in the first place.

"Our client is doing animal testing of some very complex compounds, and they need this done as a rush job.  It's more important that it be done right than it be done fast, but they're paying a hefty bonus for fast.  If we can find a cheap way to make the stuff, there's a big bonus for that too."  "Wait a minute," someone protested.  "They know what they want... but they're not telling us how to make it?  We have to figure out the synthesis ourselves?  What kind of outfit is this?"  "A high-paying one.  They've mentioned, by the way, that they've farmed this work out to several of our competitors as well.  If we finish first we will be sitting pretty."

Alex asked, "What compounds do they want made?"  "Two quite complex ones.  The details are in your folder."  Alex leafed through his.  He was not too surprised to find they were the exact two (not counting the cocaine derivative) needed by Legion.  It just fits in with the pattern of this whole week, he thought glumly.

"Animal testing?"  he queried.  "To what end?  These things are a pretty bizarre combination."  "I don't know, Alex, and I'm not sure it matters, so long as they think it does."  "Bob, does it strike you that there might be something a bit, well, shady about all this?"  Bob hesitated.  "Well, I did think it a little odd that they sent this scrawny kid to work out the details..."  "Kid?"  "Well, OK, he's probably 20 or so.  Young, not very healthy-looking."  And if I wasn't sure before, I am now, Alex thought.  "But," Bob continued firmly, "I've done some checking on the company, and they're very much for real."

Several of the gathered people bowed out due to ethical concerns, others because they objected to taking so many hours away from their other projects, to say nothing of their families.  Bob appealed to Alex, "What about you?"

[Quite the session!  I am getting the impression that SuentisPo considers it his goal in life to make the Shadow's more complicated.   And things are getting very interesting indeed with Carlos.  I suspect things are gonna be hopping when David gets back.  Johnson continues to bug me.  (In more ways that one!   Maria is gonna be a headache well into the future, I'm guessing, and you just know that Hal's other clients are gonna cause trouble, if they aren't already causing it.  Finally, SP needs to learn to use different names for NPC's so we don't get hopelessly confused!  First two Carloses, now two Marias.  (Three, if you count Jennifer's mother, who usually goes by Mary.)   I may have to do an 'El Bandito' and bump her off just so I don't have to keep them straight! ]


----------



## Lela

Yeah, but then she'd be all bloody.  And a bloody Mary just isn't good luck.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Yeah, but then she'd be all bloody.  And a bloody Mary just isn't good luck.




I don't know.  I think I could get off Scot-free. 

But let's not lose our heads over it or anything...

Why yes, I have been diagnosed as a certifiable paronomasiac. Why do you ask?


----------



## The Shadow

[This was a short and somewhat muddled session.  I was feeling under the weather (and proceeded to get genuinely sick the next day), SP was tired...  We ended the session early by common consent, because we could tell that our gaming just plain wasn't clicking.  We also extended an experiment of letting SP roll for me... which only proved that I can roll poorly even when someone else does it for me!  Fear my mystical powers! ]

Alex thought for a moment, tapping his pen idly on the table.  The strategic possibilities are tempting, he said to himself... but face it, Alex, if you take the job you'll feel compelled to do it right, even if it is for Legion.  "No, Bob, I don't think so."  "Why not?"  "I don't care for the smell of this job... It's a little too weird.  Plus, I have too many other irons in the fire just now."  That at least is no lie, he thought.  Bob accepted that, though he was clearly disappointed.

While Bob was asking others, Alex used his waning mental powers (the drug producing his heightened awareness fading rapidly from his system) to lean on the ranking manager present, a Dr. Harris.  (Who he felt would be an easier nut to crack than Bob.)  He pushed a sense of nervousness, of uneasiness with the project, at the man, and thought he managed to make a connection.  At any rate, Harris began to fidget a bit.  Meanwhile, Bob had managed to get Wright - a highly skilled chemist with a reputation for ambition and expensive tastes - to agree to take on the challenge.

The chit-chat after the meeting was unusually acrimonious, with the staff splitting roughly into two camps.  One took the position that the whole thing was unethical - the chemicals in question having no realistic therapeutic value (the literature said that the client wanted to move to human testing after animals) and - as one noted neurochemistry expert pointed out - probably even being toxic to the brain.  Meanwhile the more bizarre details only added to the unwholesome flavor, hinting darkly at illegality.  The other camp said (inevitably with a shrug) that the company was in business to make chemicals;  if the stuff was dangerous it would never get approved for humans anyway.  As for animals, don't lab rats die here every day?  And if not us, someone else will make them - why not make the money ourselves?  Several knots of discussion began to ramp up into shouting matches.

Meanwhile Alex managed to extract from Bob the name of the "kid" (a "Mr. Montalban") and the company he worked for ("Cerebral Design") as well as one of the competitors that had also been approached ("BioGenics").  But then Harris drew Bob aside and began arguing with him earnestly in low tones.  Alex permitted himself a slight smile, and did his best to support the opposed camp, dropping little barbs about the weirdness of it all.  By the time people broke up to go back on the job, he had positioned himself with them - though the more fervent members regarded his "irons in the fire" comment as showing a certain lack of zeal.

Returning to his team's lab, he tried to immerse himself in the problem at hand, but was shortly confronted by one of the younger researchers.  "Dr. Brighton, what the heck happened in that meeting?!"  "I'm afraid I can't tell you."  "It's like World War III in the halls today! Can't you give us a hint, even?"  Alex considered briefly.  "The company has been offered a... controversial... project.  We had to sign a non-disclosure about it... I've already said too much."  The man's jaw dropped.  "That must be some project!  Well, thanks for bending the rules a bit."

After knocking off for the day, Alex paused, as he often did, in the animal testing section of the lab. He preferred to work with the beakers end of thing himself, but he found the rats curiously compelling on some days - inspiring morbidly bitter thoughts about society that he chose not to burden anyone else with.  He let his gaze rove over the cages full of sleeping, eating, mating, fighting rodents, all of them blithely unaware of their true status in the grand scheme of things.  As often before, he asked himself quietly if the Shadow's war meant anything more in the end than one rat fighting another, in a cage.  Only now I have to fight a rat who can be in many cages at once...  I'd better start evolving a pair of wire-cutters.

Still thinking dark thoughts, he stopped at home - no messages - and then went to the base.  Carlos was soundly asleep.  Alex sighed.  No sense sitting around brooding... perhaps I can check on the whole Twyla situation before I get sucked back into dealing with Legion.  He dressed quietly in his costume, saving the hat for last;  the dark avenger's sense of iron purpose and leashed fury came over him with quiet, reassuring strength.  The Shadow dismissed his moody Alex-thoughts as irrelevant and went out into the night.

He decided to look Ricky up - he went to the same high school as David and his friends, and was, though not popular, at any rate notorious.  If there were rumors floating around, he'd be one of the first to hear.  After some trial and error, he found the boy lounging about chatting outside a dance club.  He became visible for Ricky's eyes alone, then suppressed the impulse to roll his eyes when the boy started as if jolted by an electric shock and made the lamest of excuses to leave:  "I just realized I need to talk to someone."

Once they were alone in an alley, he noted drily, "Smooth."  The defensive reply came back, "Well, sor-ry!  You surprised me."  "I could tell."  Ricky quickly got over his chagrin and stuck out his chest.  "Anyway, what can I do for you, Shadow?"  "Heard anything interesting lately?"  "There's a buncha gang members dying lately.  Word is that the bodies are real pale... some people actually say it's a vampire."  "A vampire."  "Yeah, how stupid can you get, right?"  Then, plainly disturbed by the lack of immediate scorn, "Er, right?"  "Stranger things have happened... but I think the vampire hypothesis is premature."  "Huh?"  "I don't think it's a vampire."  "Oh.  Glad to hear it."

"Anything else interesting making the rounds?"  He proceeded to pump the lad as blatantly as he could without actually mentioning David's name... Ricky not being noted for subtlety or penetrating insight.  The end result was nothing, to his relief.  "What about you?  Staying out of trouble?"  Ricky shrugged. "No more'n usual."  That meant he'd been in a fight. Again.  "What happened this time?"  Defensively, "This guy was picking on a girl, I told him to knock it off, and he didn't.  So I slammed him up against a wall and punched him in the kidneys a couple times.  He decided he didn't want to push it."  At the Shadow's expression, Ricky said, exasperated, "You said to cut down on the violence, and I did!  He probably won't even piss blood!"  "Did you get suspended again for it?"  "Nah.  Off school property and after hours."

The Shadow seriously debated leaning on the boy again, but gave it up as a bad job.  And in any case, Ricky WAS doing better than he had been.  (He'd even given up drinking and smoking in response to his idol's disapproval.)  "Well... Keep your ears open.  I'm interested in any unusual news coming up in the next few weeks."  "You got it, Shadow!  Is that it?"  "That's it."  "See you around, then!"  The Shadow watched with amused chagrin as the boy swaggered off cockily, proud of being consulted by the cloaked crusader once more.

Flying back to the base, he caught a glimpse of something something improbably large climbing a tree in the yard of a house in an upper-scale neighborhood.  Dipping a bit lower, he couldn't make much out through the foliage except that it was really big and curiously ape-like in its movements.  He tried 'pinging' it... and got back that it was either a really smart animal or an abominably stupid person.  ... And also that there was a mind with mental powers nearby.  A suddenly alarmed mind.

The thing, whatever it was, was clambering over a limb and into a window... but then abruptly clambered back and down to the ground, loping off toward the psionic mind the Shadow had sensed.  Now that it was in the open, he got a good look at it... and had to take a second one before he believed it.  It was like a large gorilla... but with the leathery hide of a rhino... and with numerous spikes projecting outward from its torso.  It also wore an ordinary looking dog-collar around its neck, with studs and an incongruous heart-shaped charm hanging from it.  What on earth?!

The psionic mind proved to be a man in dark clothing and a ski mask, opening the back doors of a large van for the ape-thing to get inside.  Then he got in the driver's seat, revved the engine, and sped off.  The Shadow decided to give pursuit without giving any further sign of his presence;  perhaps the man would decide he was safe and get careless.

During this time, Carlos came online, saying cheerily, "Morning, sir!  What's up?"  "I'm not sure..."  "One of those nights, huh?  What is it this time?"  Upon being told, he asked incredulously, "You're not kidding?"  "No."  Then, only half-joking, "And you haven't been drinking?"  With a snort, "I don't drink, Carlos."  "I know.  It's just... wow."  "Yes."

The van pulled into a parking garage.  Rather than risking getting caught by the gate on his cycle, the Shadow dismounted and sent it up, entering on foot.  There he found the man, and a woman, working together to change the van's plates.  They clearly were quite practiced with the maneuver.   While they worked, Carlos managed to track down both plates - the old one belonging to a fleet of vehicles with the California Department of Wildlife, the second supposedly to a private person.  Then the two of them, plus the unnatural ape, got into a large car and sped off through a different exit.

The Shadow ran back to the cycle and got airborne, but lost the trail.  He tried a spiral search pattern, to no avail.  [Like I said, SP's dice-gift doesn't seem to work on my behalf. ]  Sighing, he said to Carlos, "It's a mark of how surreal this week has been that I'm almost relieved.  We don't need a distraction from Legion at this point."  "Too true, sir!  What now?"  "I'm heading in.  I have some calls to make."

Once greeted by Carlos and a fresh cup of coffee, he dialed Grace's number.  "Grace, Shadwell.  Any news?"  "None of note, I'm afraid."  He explained about the project he'd learned about at work, and she cursed tiredly. "You said your neighborhood was infested with FBI agents.  Are you on good terms with any of them?"  "You mean, can I get them to do what I want?  Yes, within reason."  "And do you know if the government does any work with our end of things, so to speak?"  "I have my suspicions, but no solid proof.  What are you thinking?"  "I'm thinking that involving the government may be just the thing to put a stop to Legion's shenanigans."

"I won't be able to get an investigation going on the chemistry project without something solid."  The dark avenger smiled without humor.  "I know.  That is why I'm considering carrying out OmniMetal's plan... only clumsily."  "What do you mean?"  "Suppose I plant the screamers and gas-bombs in the companies doing the work... but obviously enough that they'll be found.  Cerebral Design's project will be the only connection;  and when the police can't make head or tail out of the screamers, I suspect that elements in the government will start to get very intrigued."

"Hmm," Grace mused, "Not bad... but there's the risk of getting Legion's wind up.  At least for now we know it's in LA... what if it moves?"  "True.  But we can't allow it to get the chemicals, either.  Perhaps we can arrange a little surprise when it picks them up."  "It won't pick them up with all its bodies," she warned.  "Of course not.  But it has also occurred to me that a captured Legion-body could be extremely useful.  They're all one mind - and I suspect that could be as much a weakness as a strength.  At any rate, it's worth trying."  "True...  What's the next step?"  "I'm going to call OmniMetal and sound them out a bit."  "Do you want me listening in?"  "Certainly."

At the Shadow's cue, Carlos dialed OmniMetal and patched Grace's line through.  "This is Van Helsing.  Get me Torrance."  Shortly after, "Torrance speaking.  I must inform you that I have been instructed to apologize for attempting to trace your call."  "Big of you."  "I did not say I was apologizing, only that I had been instructed to do so."  "I noticed that."  "Now, why have you called?"

The Shadow said, "I have bad news."  He proceeded to explain about the synthesis project, which got a phlegmatic "Unfortunate," in response. The dark avenger responded, "Yes, very.  Tell me, does OmniMetal have any government involvement?"  "No."

Not mentioning the plan to plant the screamers in an obvious fashion, the sable sleuth coolly outlined his idea to ambush Legion as the chemicals were delivered.  "We are prepared to assist.  If you give us three hours' warning, we can have a strike force on location."  "I do hope they're armed with something better than tasers."  "I did not say a security detail, Mr. Van Helsing.  I said a strike force."  "...I see."

"Will that be all?"  "I did have one more question for you... tell me, are the screamer fields cumulative?  That is, if the fields overlap, do they have greater effect?"  "Let me check."  The sound of typing came through the receiver, then the disgusted reply, "I am not cleared for that information.  I will try to find out."  "Thank you."  "Is there anything more?"  "No."  "Good night, then."  Click.

Pleasant fellow, the Shadow mused, but was interrupted by Grace's incredulous "Strike force?!"  "Yes, that took me aback somewhat as well.  One wonders what they use them for.  Anyway, what do you think?"  They discussed plans for a while;  Grace pointed out some potential pitfalls, but had to admit the Shadow's idea was worth trying.  "Where are we supposed to keep a Legion-body, anyway?"  "Er.  Good point.  Your place or mine?"  She didn't bother to respond to the rather weak humor of that, so he asked, "Can you arrange something?"  "I'll work on it.  Where do you want it?"  "Not too far out of the city.  Other than that, I don't see how it matters."  "Got it.  I'd better go."  "Until next, Grace."

The Shadow stretched, then shook his head. "Well, Carlos, we would seem to have our work cut out for us."

[Like I said, it was a rather choppy session.  If it doesn't seem that way in writing, it's because I've mercifully condensed many meandering scenes and cut out a lot of dead wood.  SP was getting pretty monosyllabic and incoherent by the end, and I was feeling off my game as well.  I called a halt because I have a major bit of scenage in mind very shortly, and I didn't want to tackle it in the state we were in.]

[Also, I think SP needs to learn to do one adventure at a time and not pile it on all at once.  I mean, sheesh!  It's almost like Villain-of-the-Week club! ]


----------



## The Shadow

[Another short session.  I've been getting sicker instead of better, and I really wanted to get some sleep.  SP was busy, too.  On the other hand, I did want to get this scene played out.  It's been on my mind.  ... The Shadow had just said, "Well, Carlos, it looks like we have our work cut out for us."]

"No kidding, sir!  What's next on our plate?"  "In a few days, you and I are going hunting."  Carlos digested that for a long moment, then said, "For Legion?"  The Shadow gave him a bit of a look, and the boy flushed slightly.  "Right.  So you're going to lay a trap for it?"

"Yes.  I think our first priority will be to visit the places it's been seen.  If you sense it there, we'll take whatever measures suggest themselves.  If not..."  He sighed.  "I suppose I'll have to take Maria up on her offer of a drug shipment."  "Don't want to owe her any favors, huh?"  "Absolutely not. ... Though of course, she'd best know there are strenuous limits to the favors I am willing to perform in return."  Carlos nodded amiably in agreement.

"In any case..."  the sable sleuth levelled a finger at Carlos' chest and said sternly, "You are going to be wearing a bulletproof vest.  Since you have not worn one before, I want you to get used to moving in one before it becomes an issue."  "Yessir."  The young man got up and fetched a spare vest from storage and the Shadow helped him put it on.  Carlos started stretching and moving around, getting used to the feel of the thing.  The Shadow suggested, "Perhaps we should spar a bit."

Carlos looked dubious - and maybe a little nervous.  "Well... If you think it would help."  They'd never done anything like that before.  "I do."  The Shadow strode into the gym, onto the mat, Carlos trailing behind.  Sketching a bow to each other, they began.

Almost right away, Carlos fumbled, zigging when he should have zagged.  The Shadow's blow, which had been intended to stop with no more than a firm tap to the young man's side, connected quite solidly.  Even through the Kevlar, the boy had the wind expelled from him and he winced visibly.  The Shadow halted at once and looked at him, concerned.  "Maybe this isn't a good idea after all..."

When he had enough breath, Carlos gasped, "No, sir, it was my fault.  My sensei would not approve."  The Shadow hesitated, looking anywhere but Carlos.  With great intensity, he began, "I don't..."  but he let the words trail off as Carlos recovered.  "OK, sir, I'm ready."  They began again.

The Shadow quickly learned that Carlos was faster than he had suspected - perhaps faster than he had thought possible.  The boy was like smoke, eluding blows the Shadow was certain would land - maddeningly dodging at the last possible moment.  On the other hand, the cloaked crusader could easily fend off Carlos' less-practiced attacks as well.  In the end, it seemed clear that the Shadow could take Carlos down if they were serious - but that it would take quite a long time for his superior skill to tell.  Starting somewhat clumsily in the vest,  Carlos quickly got the hang of things to the Shadow's satisfaction.  (In fact, he was shocked that the lad kept on getting better.)

Carlos inadvertantly knocked the Shadow's hat off as Alex ducked his blow and attempted a sweep.  Alex did not bother to retrieve it.

When they were both panting, Carlos called a halt moments before Alex was about to do the same.  The boy put a hand lightly to his side, trying to hide his wince.  He started to take off the vest, and Alex moved behind him to help him with the buckles in the back.  Quietly, he asked, "Are you OK?"  "I'll have a bit of a bruise there, sir.  It'll be fine."  Alex gripped Carlos' shoulder for a long moment, then managed to say what he hadn't been able to finish before.  "I don't... want... to remind you of your uncle."

The boy froze, tense.  When his words came out, they were soft.  "You don't.  You're trying to help me.  He... only thought he was doing the right thing."  Which is probably far more credit than the man deserves, Alex thought, but he let it pass.  He slowly turned the young man around and took him by both shoulders.  With great intensity, he said, "Carlos, I have something important to say."  He received in return complete, undivided attention.

"In a few days, or perhaps even tomorrow night... as I said, we are going hunting.  And that means there is a measurable, though hopefully very small, chance that... one of us will not return."  He had to look away and pause for a moment before going on;  Carlos did not move a muscle, completely receptive.

"There are many things that have been going unsaid in the last eight months or so.  I learned...  when my wife died..."  Here Alex choked, but grated out the rest, "That there are things that one does not wish to leave unsaid."  At the mention of Alex's wife, Carlos, already motionless, froze - a subtle point, but a real one.

He did not breathe as Alex forced himself to look in his eyes and say quietly, "I love you."  And he remained stiff for a moment in shock as Alex hugged him tightly for the first time.

Finally, relaxing and returning the embrace fiercely (even through a layer of Kevlar), he said in a choked voice, "I love you too."  There followed a long silence;  Alex waited for Carlos to break it.  "I know you can't... be my... father.  But I have to tell you...  If I had a father - a real one, I mean - you're everything I'd want him to be."  "Thank you."

They parted.  Carlos couldn't meet Alex's eyes.  Alex said quietly, "I think I am going to take the rest of the night off."  Carlos nodded gratefully, took a deep breath, and said, "There's some stuff I should look up on the web. I suppose it can wait for later."  Alex nodded briskly.  "You can do that while I cook."  The young man smiled shyly and fled to the computer.

Alex followed him out, doffed the cloak and vest, and called as he went to the kitchen, "What would you like?"  "We did Oriental last time.  Maybe something American?"   Alex nodded in approval.  Best to keep it simple, he thought, and started whipping up a stew with what ingredients were to hand.

A sudden thought struck him.  "What would you like to do next Thursday for Thanksgiving?"  "I dunno... I hadn't really thought about it."  "Do you have any family traditions you'd like to continue?"  "...Not really.  My aunt and uncle thought of Thanksgiving as an Anglo thing."  His tone suggested that even if they'd had any, he'd just as soon forget them.  "Well, if you have no objections, I have a few traditions.  And, well, maybe we could create some."  "That sounds great, sir!"

Carlos called, "Oh, and sir, you remember I mentioned a site you should probably look at?"  [SP tells me Carlos said this to the Shadow last session, but I don't remember it.]  "Yes?"  "Is now a good time?"  "Very well."  Alex set the stew to simmer and walked over to join Carlos at the computer desk.

The two of them were all business as Carlos called up a typical homemade site devoted to the Shadow.  "This guy claims he's actually seen you.  Worse, he says he's seen the Shadowmobile.  No pictures, though, just eyeballs.  He saw you land, get off, and vanish.  Then the bike went up and he lost track of it."  [No, the Shadow doesn't fly around visibly.  SP says the guy probably was so focussed on the rising motorcycle that the Shadow's personal invisibility clicked back on for him.]  "Hmmm."  "Of course, as you can see, he has all sorts of crazy ideas about it - he thinks you're a gadgeteer in league with a corporation, your invisibility the product of a "distortion field"... still, his guesses are not too far from the mark in some ways."

"Yes... What kind of buzz is this generating?  What are people saying in his guestbook, and elsewhere?"  "Well, the 'vampire' and 'ghost' theorists of course dismiss him loudly as a nut."  That would be the pot calling the kettle black, Alex thought wryly.  Carlos continued, "I first encountered the site as a link on a derisive post on Mike's site, actually.  It hasn't been up very long."

Alex mulled it over.  "There's no immediate threat, of course.  I don't think I need to take any action now, and perhaps not ever.  Our best bet may be to drown his ideas in misinformation.  ... Perhaps we can play up the conspiracy angle.  There are already people out there who think the government is spying on people with black helicopters... black flying motorcycles shouldn't be too much of a stretch.  What he thought was a hat and cloak were really a high-tech helmet and armor."  "Gotcha, sir.  Actually, Mike has a username that goes in for that kind of thing.  Want me to do some plants?"  "I do, when you can manage it.  And make a note on the monthly calendar for us to reassess the situation."  "Will do."

Dinner was served shortly thereafter;  the two were companionably silent through the meal.  They played some cards desultorily afterward, with little of their usual banter.  Both seemed content just to be with each other, the tension of the things that had been said earlier winding down into an easy camaraderie.

Eventually Alex yawned and said, "I should sleep.  There's a long day ahead."  "Gotcha, sir.  Good night!"  "Good night, Carlos."  Was there a new undertone to the simple greetings, a new level of meaning?

Meanwhile, the Shadow's hat lay on the floor of the gym, forgotten.

[I have to say that I find it extremely telling that their first hug was while they were wearing armor.   Very moving scene, though.  I have the impression that the yuckiness I'm still feeling is affecting my writing for the worse, but maybe that's just me.]


----------



## The Shadow

These next couple posts are the last chunk of campaign data you'll get, barring unforeseeen developments.  (It's the last I have written, for one.)   So don't worry, be happy!  

-----------------------------------

The issue of David's HS friends will likely come up very soon in the Shadow's adventures (they're going to wonder where he is), so I thought I should put some mention of them here, and also sketch out a brief scene SP and I RP'd while we were still feeling out the campaign.

The gang David usually hangs out with is heavy into sports, but also fairly academically inclined.  They buck the "dumb jock" stereotype.  David is, in fact, the only one who isn't actually on a team.

The Brighton house is mildly favored as a hangout, in part because "Mr. B" is such a good cook and always willing to fit people in at the dinner table.  The house also has a more expansive yard than most of theirs.  And Alex basically treats teens as inexperienced adults, and thus gives them more respect than they usually get from the older generation.  This offsets his rather "flat" and quiet personality somewhat.  On the other hand, when they're in his house, they are firmly expected to abide by his rules - which includes no drinking and no cussing, and cleaning up any mess you make.

"Little Dave" has been David's best friend since junior high.  He's "little" only in comparison to "Big Dave", David Brighton.  (David is 6'3".  Alex is 6'1".  They're both very big men too, even apart from their height... and not much of it is fat.)  Little Dave is black, a fullback on the football team among other things, and very cheery and easy to get along with.  He's the clown of the group.  He's the one who started calling Alex "Mr. B".  There is no father in his family, and he seems to take a lot of responsibility on himself at home as "the man of the family".  His only career goal seems to be to play professional sports, which worries Alex, though he hasn't screwed himself up to say anything yet.

Miguel is the other core member.  He's the oldest in a large family, very responsible.  A wide receiver on the football team, he'd also like to play sports professionally, but is well aware of how unlikely that is, so he hits the books hard.  Alex approves of his attitude and hard work.

John is a big Norwegian kid from the Midwest.  He also is on the football team, and is probably the smartest of the group.  He is quiet and painfully shy - he's been mocked so much for being big that he does his best to melt into the background.  Alex really empathizes with him, for obvious reasons - reminds him of himself as a teen.  David is the one largely responsible for including John in the group, and stands up for him regularly at school.  John's also the youngest of the group, a sophomore.  (The two Daves are seniors, Miguel a junior, and I forget about the girls.)  [Shauna and Twyla are juniors, Mary a senior.]

Shauna is second-generation Chinese (Chinese father, American mother) and grew up in a fairly traditional family.  Soft-spoken and very respectful to her elders.  She has learned some martial arts (soft forms, mostly) and has recognized the signs of extensive training in Alex.  She's a gymnast, too.  She's by far the smallest of the group, only 5'3".

[Mary was not there. (In the scene to follow.)  Daughter of 2 classic yuppies, she is in track and has the classic lean runner's build. She is also the most sensative to Alex's moods and is slightly wary of him. She is a senior and closely rivals John for being the smartest in the group. One sign of her intelligence is that she won't date either Dave.   (This paragraph was written by SP, as I couldn't recall the details we'd worked out about her.)]

Twyla is David's current girlfriend.  (The one he was caught sleeping with in the old campaign was someone else - Kelly, I think her name was?  Anyway, her family has moved.)  She is the firebrand of the group - loud, at times obnoxious, often egging the boys on to do things against their better judgement.  She rubs Alex thoroughly the wrong way, but he does his best not to let it show - it seems clear that she and David are not really very compatible, and he figures the only thing that could keep them together long-term is if he expresses disapproval.   [Or, as SP maliciously points out, a baby...]

Now for the scene I mentioned.  You will see what I mean about it potentially being important, more so than we thought at the time.  Just consider, for example, how it will now look through Twyla's eyes...

--------------------------

Little Dave stuck his head in the kitchen just as Alex was considering what to fix for dinner.  "Hey, Mr. B!"  "Yes, David?"

[Alex, as you may have noticed, doesn't believe in diminutive nicknames.   The only reason he calls his boss "Bob" is that Bob basically ordered him to stop calling him "Robert".   Why, then, is he "Alex" rather than "Alexander" usually?  Because it's what other people call him, he's used to it.   Consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.  And as for "Mr. Castaneda", that's really more of an in-joke.]

"Are you like a kung fu master or ninja or somethin'?"  Quizzically, Alex responded, "No..."  "Well, are you like a martial artist?"  He made some shadow-boxing moves and aimless whining noises as sound effects.  "Why do you ask?"  "Shauna said you move like a warrior."  "Did she."  "Yeah.  So are you?"

A fey mood took hold of Alex.  What's the harm?  "I will let you decide for yourself."  "Huh?"  "Let's go out back."  "Cool!!"

Those members of the gang who were present went outside, eager for a spectacle.  He stood on the lawn, not particularly in a stance, and said to Little Dave, "Come on, try something.  All in fun."

The boy charged him with all the subtlety of, well, a fullback... and quickly found himself flat on his back.  "Ooof!  How'd you do that?!"  Alex permitted himself a slight smile.  "Try again and I'll show you."  "No thanks, I'll pass!  ... I wouldn't want to hurt you or anything!"  Alex tsked.  "You wouldn't happen to know the word 'sarcasm', would you?"  Innocently, "Why no, Mr. B!  Never heard it before in my life!"

[Something else significant about Alex - he remembers these little details.  At Christmas, Little Dave is going to get the gift of a dictionary - with the word "sarcasm" neatly highlighted and a marker at that page.  Yes, he has a weird sense of humor sometimes.]

Miguel announced, "My turn!" and approached Alex somewhat more warily, trying a few boxing moves on him... but he shortly joined Little Dave in a heap on the grass, laughing.

"Shauna?"  But she declined saying, "It would not be my place to spar with you, Dr. Brighton."  "As you wish."

Twyla then goaded David into trying, and Little Dave and Miguel added their voices to hers - wanting to spread the humiliation around, no doubt.  

Neither Alex nor David were entirely comfortable with the idea at first, but David warmed to it.  This match lasted considerably longer than the others - Alex was shocked at his son's raw strength.  The others began to send nervous glances at each other - they'd seen David lose his temper before and do some pretty impressive things.  But David was laughing, not angry at all.

Finally - age and treachery beating youth and speed every time, of course - Alex managed to pin his son to the ground, winning a good-natured surrender.  The others visibly relaxed.

"I trust your question is answered, David?"  (Speaking to Little Dave, of course.)  "Sure is, Mr. B!"  "Back to planning dinner, then.  I trust you've worked up an appetite!"  This brought a hearty round of agreement.

---------------------------

Now look at what Twyla's thought process is going to be.  "David can beat up six armed men.  His father can beat him..."  And also consider that David and Alex have unaccountably disappeared lately...

She should buy the Super-Leap power, with the Flaw, "Restricted - Only to Conclusions".


----------



## The Shadow

Almost forgot another point that will be worth noting for future adventures...  The bulky manila envelope that Jerry handed to David after he was comfortably ensconced somewhere well out of California.  It contains:

A new cell phone, with a Garrity-built scrambler.  (Guaranteed to be utterly untraceable for the first minute - cells are harder, of course.)  And instructions to destroy the old one if he has it on him.

A completely new identity, complete with driver's license, birth certificate, Social Security number, and passport.  Even bank accounts.  The cell is, of course, paid off in this name.

A legal instrument giving David durable power of attorney over the Brighton family finances.  The lad will certainly not lack for funds.  Alex can cancel this at any time just by calling his lawyer, of course.  ("Durable", a lawyer friend tells me, means that it remains in effect even if the person is unconscious or dead, not that it can't be easily ended.)  And the lawyer is NOT Lance Reston, also of course.

Details about said finances.  There are going to be some shocks in here for David... Dad never mentioned the Swiss bank account, for example.    And SP and I think that David really has little idea of how much Alex makes a year... His salary is well over six figures, but he socks most of it away, spending only 40 G's a year or so.  I can see David starting to wonder uneasily just where it all comes from. 

Finally, and most chillingly...

A copy of Alex's will.  The vast majority of the assets go directly to David, of course.  But there are bequests to a few charities... including, among others, the Clara Gutierrez Memorial Foundation, and a scholarship fund for kids from the inner city.  One of these, the biggest, is earmarked for Carlos, but his name is of course nowhere in Alex's will.  Anyway, there's certainly enough there for David to get curious about, if he's so inclined...

Besides the envelope, there's a bag packed full of clothes, with a variety of smaller survival stuff stashed in there too.  First aid kit, compass, that kind of thing.

Alex was never a Boy Scout, but he does believe in being prepared.  For anything.


----------



## The Shadow

And now, a Special Bonus Post!   This is the background of my M&M version of the Forbidden.  (The original player OK'd it, with a couple caveats.)  I wrote it up because it is conceivable that the Forbidden could make a cameo appearance or three, if SP, the player, and I ever manage to get together again.

The sheet is, like the others, in the "LA Under Shadow" thread.

I think you'll find that this background makes for some real eye-opening as to the nature of SP's campaign world...

--------------------------

For centuries, the world's history has included a hidden layer that never made it into the textbooks... and for good reason.  Any who discovered the truth either had a vested interest in keeping it hidden, or else had the good sense to keep quiet, or else were forcibly silenced.  The Council does not look kindly on meddlers save for themselves.

Governments, armies, churches, secret societies - all were but pawns in the elaborate games of the Council, as they jockeyed for position, for knowledge, for power.  For they alone (to their knowledge) had perfected the secrets of honing and tuning the psionic powers that lay dormant in the minds of so many.  They had learned to control the "aura", the mental field projected by all thinking beings - how to reach out with it to touch the minds and hearts of others... or to make it solid, tangible, and deadly.  The greatest among them - the Masters - could use it to manipulate their bodies' aging processes and live many lifetimes.

Yet though they saw themselves as above the concerns of the unwashed, blind mortals surrounding them, there were things that even the Council feared.  Among these were the Forbidden - so called because their most ancient lore warned in direst terms against ever training those rare people with unusual, reversed auras - auras that seemed to absorb life and light rather than projecting it.   Untrained, the effect was so minor as to be negligible, a curiosity, no more.  None knew what the threat of the Forbidden was, but one of their few ironclad laws forbade them from finding out... Until Peerless.

His chosen Council-name reflects the arrogance of the man.  In his lust for power over his fellow man, Peerless acknowledged no boundaries, not even the Council's most ancient laws.  It made him a dangerous man - but a foolish one.  For, hoping to create an assassin that none of his fellows could face, Peerless found, manipulated, and took on one of the Forbidden as an apprentice.  But in a routine training exercise, his catspaw's dark powers awoke and snuffed out his life quite accidentally - the life of one of the greatest Masters!

The others knew terror of one not of their own for the first time in centuries, perhaps longer.  A man capable of destroying one of them was an unendurable threat - yet they dared not face him themselves.  They sent apprentices and other agents to kill him, to no avail.  He drank up their power and then drank up their lives... then fled untraceably.  They still search for him frantically, the one they now call THE Forbidden - the only one with the knowledge to harm them.

When he solidifies his aura, those with eyes to see perceive him to be swallowed up in its glistening, impermeable blackness - blackness he can extend as probes to rend and tear, or to fasten like leeches in the aura of another, to drink deep of life.  Probes that can tear the auric constructs of Council-trained psychics to pieces.  He has not mastered the Council's techniques for altering the minds of others by aura-touch (and his reversed aura makes it difficult in any event) but he can manage some tricks with effort.

The Forbidden remembers little of his past - it is standard practice among the Council to mindwipe their apprentices to make them more loyal and dependent on their masters.  He is a large man, and skilled in fighting even without the formidable edge his powers give.  Yet he is a sensitive soul who loves to read the classics and walk in the mountains - one who seeks peace away from his fellow men.  He hates what he must do to survive with all his being, yet he cannot bring himself to die when he knows he is the only one who can disturb the Council's peace and distract them from their grip on the world.

And so, when the Hunger is on him, he goes to the nearest city and seeks those who prey on their fellow men.  There the hunters become the prey, as they give up their lives to fill his black, ragingly empty aura.  On one such foray, he met another, a kindred spirit in a way:  the Shadow.

The Shadow's blinding, throbbingly potent aura is usually hidden behind his thick mental shields, which is no doubt why he has never come to the attention of the Council.  He has attained a raw, untutored mastery over it that even some of the Masters might envy - though none would envy the curse of his homozygosity, which makes him unable to turn the flow of power off.

Attracted to the Shadow's grim sense of purpose (and, it must be confessed, to the soothing power the man unconsciously radiates), and then later out of friendship and loyalty, the Forbidden stayed in Los Angeles longer than was really wise.  (He did not burden his friend with the full knowledge of the Council, speaking only in general terms of his abilities and how he came by them.)  Yet it turned out for the best in the end, for he met Rose.

Rose was what the Council calls a "natural" - someone with a blindingly bright aura, yet no training to shape it.  She was like a life-battery, a sun shining in the night, and the attraction of opposites (positive and negative) spilled over into their emotions.  The Forbidden could take life from her - nay, receive it freely offered - without fear of harming her.  For the first time, he saw a way out of his cruel dilemma - a way to happiness and peace.

He stayed a little longer to help the Shadow rescue his son David and smash the evildoers who had kidnapped the boy.  Then he bade the Shadow a fond farewell and went with Rose into the Sierra Nevada.  What machinations the Council has sent after him, and how he has responded, are unknown.

But the Shadow's war goes on.

[Note that the character of the Forbidden is taken directly from a published short story, part of an award-winning anthology.  But it's not plagiarism, because the character was created by the author of the story.   Brief plug:  The story is "The Fix", in the anthology "The Lives of Ghosts and Other Stories" by Loren Cooper, my best friend.  It  won the Eppie for best e-book anthology of the year in 2001 (IIRC) and is available in paperback as well.  It's on Amazon along with other books of his, if you're interested...]

[Bizarre thought that I just now had:  Are the "Forbidden" and the "mindblind" one and the same thing?  Recall that the Forbidden's mental powers, such as they are, stem from direct, almost physical manipulation of auras, not from conventional telepathy...  In that case, the Forbidden's Mental Protection would be of merely Psionic origin.]


----------



## Lela

Hmmmm, what about David and Thanksgiving?  You could invite them both.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Hmmmm, what about David and Thanksgiving?  You could invite them both.




Both of who?

David and Twyla?  Not a very relaxing dinner. 

David and Carlos?  Perhaps even less relaxing, though in a nicer way.

David and Legion?!  Though I think that would be more of a case of a guest inviting it/them/self.


----------



## The Shadow

Alex was awakened in the night by a sudden gasp and movement from Carlos' cot.  Muzzily he asked, "Wha'?"  After a moment, the young man's voice responded from the dark, "I'm OK, sir.  Just a dream."  "All right..."  Alex hesitated, trying to find a way to wish him a good night without being inane, then just decided to let him get back to sleep.

I hadn't realized the full dimensions of Carlos' problem, he mused as he settled back down.  Now that he was spending most of his time at the base, he realized that Carlos' sleep time was very frequently interrupted - at least twice a night, even during the short time that their sleep cycles overlapped.  But what could be done about it?  Carlos was already taking an over-the-counter sleeping pill every other week or so, when his body simply couldn't go on without some extra rest.  The boy had an ex-junkie's exaggerated but justified fear of using any sort of mind-affecting drug, though, and Alex was reluctant to press him to use that option more often.  Perhaps I should introduce him to Grace, he thought;  perhaps she can help him get at the deeper reasons behind these nightmares.  Sleep reclaimed him before he continued the thought.

When he awoke, he performed his morning ablutions as usual.  (Not noticing the Shadow's hat still lying on the gym mat.)  Then he sat down at the computer desk to make a few calls, shooting another troubled glance at Carlos' disarrayed sleeping form as he did so.  Sisters of Mercy reported that Juan was still in serious condition in the ICU.  Hal reported that the gas grenades would be ready that evening.  "Is the radio detector done?"  "What?  Oh!  Right!  That.  Uh, it'll be done tonight too."  Alex had to smile - he'd suspected that Hal would zone out that trivial, "boring" task.

Struck by a sudden thought, he fired up the computer and logged onto OmniMetal's system as "Prometheus".  It's a mark of how busy I've been that I've forgotten to do the legwork on this, he chided himself.  Soon he immersed himself in the file system, skimming for now, downloading for later thorough perusal.

The group-mind project data was accessible to him, and Alex's trained eye told him it was either genuine or a brilliantly-prepared fake.  There had been three major rounds of tests, with different sets of subjects (none had been willing to repeat the experience).  The waiver forms were all neatly scanned into the system;  Alex noted that they were up to the standards of the industry, and better than some, even if they did deal with a subject as taboo as telepathy.  (He also made a mental note to do some checking on the names.)

The first test-meld lasted only a few minutes, and the participants were so shaken that they fled the room at once, not speaking to each other.  There were signs of increased psionic function during the existence of the group mind, however, and so more effort was focussed on the research.  It was decided that personality incompatibilities were to blame, so they screened the next set of participants more carefully, and also upped the dosage of the drugs involved somewhat, particularly the will-sapping one.  (Alex noted to his dismay that Christopholous had used THOUSANDS of times the recommended dosage on Legion, both with the will-sapper and the cocaine derivative.)

This second meld lasted a few minutes longer, but the aftereffects were also more extreme.  There were shouting and tears and accusations, and security had to be called.  Investigation showed that one of the participants was rather more of a loner than he had let on under questioning, and it was thought this was to blame for the failure of the experiment.

Rigorous precautions were taken in the third trial.  The participants were subjected to exhaustive psychological profiling before being approved, and the increased dosages were also used (though not increased further).  The group was certified to be as compatible, sane, and people-friendly as modern science could determine.  And when the effect lapsed after ten minutes or so, they were at each other's throats at once and had to be dragged apart.

Most of the participants in the three trials refused to talk about the experience at all.  Piecing things together, however, the realization came that the group-mind was simply too intimate a sharing for a sane human mind to contemplate comfortably - nobody could stand being known so well by another.  Ensuring greater compatibility only meant that they were better mirrors to each other, that they knew - and loathed - each other even more.  The project was discontinued at that point as a dead end.

Alex dug deeper, wondering if these drugs and methods had been tried in animals before humans.  They had, in rats, and later in dogs and chimpanzees.  The bizarre thing was that while the rats and chimps had certified the drugs safe for human trials, only the dogs had shown evidence of something more going on:  They would all stare as one in the same direction, wag their tails in unison, and generally behave as a single unit;  this was what had inspired the group-mind project in the first place.  The reasons why dogs showed an apparently psionic response while chimps did not was a mystery subject to continuing research.  Mention was made obliquely to a telepath on the OmniMetal payroll who claimed to be able to telepathically interact with canines, but not with other animals.  (She was unique, though;  no other telepaths known to the company could do the same.)

Are those "waiting" minds in the OmniMetal building maimed dogs, as Johnson implied, Alex wondered?  Or are they human after all, and this research an elaborate smokescreen?  One more thing to unravel... though putting dog brains in suitcases doesn't strike me as being terribly ethical either.

Turning to Christopholous' personnel file, Alex found little on a quick skim that he hadn't already known.  He did print out a color copy of the man's picture, though.

Now for a moment he'd been unaccountably putting off.  Taking the wireless phone from its cradle, he walked into the gym so Carlos wouldn't hear, and called David's new cell number.

"Izzat... Dad?"  Alex knew his son's sleep-fuzzed voice when he heard it. "Yes, David, it's me.  How are you?"  "Half asleep," the candid response came back.  "What time is it?"  "Seven thirty," Alex informed him.  Just like David to sleep in when there was no school in the morning...  "Are you OK?"  "Yeah.  It's really the back of beyond here, though..."  "Don't tell me where you are," Alex warned.  "Right.  Anyway, there's not much to do... is it all right if I go and buy some books and other entertainment?"  "That should be all right.  Just don't draw any attention to yourself."  "I won't.  When can I come home?"

"I'm hoping to have you back by Thanksgiving."  "That's a week and a half away!  Oh, you mean before then, not right then?"  "Yes."  "Well, OK," the boy replied in a resigned tone, then continued, "How are you doing?"  "Let's just say it's better to be bored than to be in my shoes just now."  "Great.  Things have gotten complicated?"  "You might say that.  I am not only dealing with a homicidal telepathic mass-mind, but a smart homicidal telepathic mass-mind.  It's actually hired my company to make something for it."

"But... you're a research chemist!"  "Yes."  "...It's probably better that I don't know, right?"  "Probably."  "Has anyone called for me?"  "Not yet, you've only missed one school day, remember."  "Oh... right.  Well, what are you going to tell them?"  "I've told your school we've had a family emergency and you had to leave on short notice."  "OK, I guess that'll work for just about anyone.  Reassure Twyla that I'm not running out on her or anything, OK?"  Alex replied flatly, "I'll be sure to speak with her."   Thankfully, David failed to notice the distinct lack of commitment to reassurance in that response.  "Good."

"Is there anything else, son?"  "Nah, I think that's it."  "I love you.  Be careful!"  "You too, Dad!"

After he hung up, Alex realized he hadn't explicitly asked after David's gunshot wound.  Shaking his head, he asked himself, "You trust HIS powers, when you can't wholly trust your own?"

Replacing the phone, he fired off an email asking Michael to meet him that night, then headed off to work.

Tensions there were not only still running high... they were running higher.  Lunchtime showed a workforce divided into enemy camps.  Mostly the two sides stuck to their own tables, but Alex managed to overhear a couple heated, if quiet, arguments.  One of which proved that somebody was leaking the substance of the project;  at any rate, people who shouldn't know anything about it were starting to.

Bob approached Alex later in the day to say he'd heard by word of mouth about Alex's own guarded comments about the whole thing... and to thank him, rather than reprimand him.  "You took the right approach - doing your bit for morale without revealing anything important.  I wish I could say everybody else was doing the same..."

The dissension even started to invade Alex's well-oiled team.  One of the researchers blew up at another passing on the latest juicy tidbit, saying he didn't want to hear about it;  Alex had to talk them both down.  Vu, for his part, took in the whole situation with his usual aplomb:  He sized up Alex's expression, then announced calmly, "You don't like this project.  And I trust your judgement.  I don't need to know anything more."  [Now there is a true friend!]

Alex felt rather worn down when he got home.  Suppressing one's emotions has its bright side at times, he thought sarcastically;  more people should try it.  There were two messages on his machine, both for David:  One from Little Dave, one from Mary.  Both wanted to know if he was OK and wished him well... Mary added there was a big test coming up in World History, so he'd better not miss too much class.  That made Alex grin mirthlessly despite himself.  "He'll just have to wait for his father to make sure there'll be a World Future, I guess."  Chuckling slightly, he dialed Little Dave's number.

"Hello, David."  "Oh hi, Mr. B!  I was just wondering about Big Dave, you know?  Is he OK?"  "Yes, I'm returning your call.  He's fine;  we just have had an emergency in our family and he had to take a trip on short notice."  "Oh.  Sorry to hear that.  Not the kind you want to talk about?"  "I'm afraid not."  "I know how that goes.  Hope it turns out OK.  When'll he be back?"  "Hopefully by Thanksgiving."  "Cool.  Oh, and uh, Mr. B?"  The boy sounded a bit uneasy.  "What is it, David?"  "Well, I just thought I'd let you and Dave know that there's some weird rumors going around about him."  Alex suppressed a sigh, and inquired, "Oh?"

"Well... I heard two freshmen saying today that he'd been shot in the chest, then got back up and fought the guy who'd shot him."  Alex put the right note of incredulity in his voice:  "David, I assure you, if my son had been shot, I would have heard about it!"  [SP:  "Oh, artfully done!" ]  That at least is the truth, he thought glumly as he continued, "Now who's spreading this nonsense around?"  [Not a lie either, even by implication.  David was shot in the gut. ]  The young man's voice evinced relief as he answered, "Yeah, of course it is, Mr. B., I just thought you should know."  "I thank you, David.  I'd appreciate it if you could nip this sort of talk in the bud if you should hear it again."  "Will do, Mr. B.!  Say hi to Dave for me!"  "I will,"  Alex promised and hung up.

Two possibilities, he thought grimly.  Twyla is wagging her tongue, or else somehow a survivor from one of David's fights has started a rumor that has somehow reached his school with his identity intact.  And which seems more likely?

He took a medicine bottle labelled as a headache remedy out of his pocket and deliberately swallowed a little white pill.  "Yes, I think it's time Twyla and I had our little chat."

It was a little strange, striding purposefully but invisibly down the street as Alex, not the Shadow.  Oh, he'd done it before plenty of times, but never "on duty" - never intending to go and confront someone.  It made him a little uneasy, but he forced the feeling down as he came to Twyla's address, sweeping it with his inner sight.

There was a party in progress;  not too loud, but with many adults getting somewhat dulled with alcohol.  Twyla's siblings were in their rooms, but she herself was not to be found.  Alex thought it over;  it was too early yet for her to be at any of the gang's usual hangouts.  Since they weren't at his house, most likely they'd be at Little Dave's or Shauna's.  No luck at the first location, but after some extensive walking his senses reported that she was at the latter one, along with Shauna, her mother, Mary, and Miguel.  He dipped quietly into the upper reaches of Twyla's mind.

It was the remains of a study session.  Miguel was being teased about cramming so hard.  (The lad took his schoolwork very seriously, a trait Alex approved of.)  He for his part was complaining humorously about being outnumbered by those of the female persuasion.  Alex waited patiently, not unused to stakeouts.  Eventually, Shauna's father came home and made small talk with the kids.  In response to a question, Miguel said, "Oh, Little Dave's got stuff to do tonight, and Big Dave hasn't been at school.  Nah, we haven't heard why."

Twyla's response pricked Alex's ears up.  She was genuinely worried about David, her mind running wildly along different scenarios...  Maybe that knife wound was worse than he'd let on?  Or he'd gotten into some kind of trouble?  Then came the more cinematic possibilities... he'd fled to protect his secret identity, crooks were after him, and so on.

Soon it came time to leave, and Twyla decided that she definitely wasn't about to go home while her parents' party (thought of with weary contempt) was going on.  She elected to head to a video arcade.  Alex followed silently, wrestling with how to approach her.  Now that he knew her basic position, he didn't want to scare her, at least right away.  But how is a grown man supposed to approach his teenage son's girlfriend on the street to "talk" without scaring her?  With a sigh, Alex returned home and dug up her cell number;  David had it written down.

She answered on the third ring.  "Hello?"  "Hello, Twyla.  This is Dr. Brighton.  David's father."  A pause. "Oh, hello.  Is he OK?  He hasn't been at school the last couple days..."  "Yes, he's fine.  We've had a family emergency and he had to leave on short notice.  He should be back by Thanksgiving."  With obvious relief, she said, "Oh, that's good!  Thanks for letting me know."  "You're welcome.  Actually, I wanted to ask you about something else, as well..."  "Yeah?"

"I heard from David - Little Dave, I mean - that there are people saying David - my son - was shot in the chest."  "He's been shot?!  Is he all right?!"  "Twyla!  I said nothing of the sort.  Believe me, if my son had been shot, I'd know!"  "Oh, that's a relief."  "I was just wondering if you'd heard anything of that sort."  Another pause. "No, I hadn't heard that."  "Ah.  Terrible thing, rumors.  Of course, they sometimes have a grain of truth to them.  After all, David was, in fact, hurt recently."

A long and very uncomfortable pause stretched out, until Alex broke it.  "Did you think I wouldn't notice the bandage?"  "Not every parent would notice," she replied quietly. "Perhaps not, but I did.  And I suppose you noticed that he wasn't wearing it the last time you saw him."  Puzzled by this comment, she said, "Ah, did you remove it?"  "There was no need.  The wound had healed of itself."  "...Oh."

"I understand you two had an argument that day."  Defensively, "People do that, you know..."  "I know what you were arguing about."  Another very long pause, this time.  "...How much do you know about it?"  "Everything."

When no reply came, Alex continued, "David is, shall we say... special."  "That's one word for it, I guess."  "And so I'm very concerned about the wrong sort of rumors going around.  You see, there are people who wouldn't take well to David's... specialness."  "I see what you mean," she replied slowly... then realized something. "I didn't start the rumor!"  Then, lamely, "I guess I did say to someone that I thought he COULD be shot and get back up, but I didn't say it had actually happened."  Soothingly, Alex told her, "I'm not accusing you of anything, Twyla.  I'm just asking you if you can help me and David in preventing these rumors from going around."

"Well, I certainly won't say anything else about him... but I don't know what I can do if I hear something from someone else except laugh at it."  "That will do quite nicely.  I appreciate your help, Twyla, and so will David when I tell him."  "Let him know I miss him, OK?"  "Of course."

Alex left the house feeling relieved.  One less thing to worry about;  it's a relief to reduce the number of things on my plate for once!

[SP's response after the whole Twyla conversation was a joking, "You _swine_!  Manipulating a poor, innocent girl that way..."  Personally, I don't see anything swinish about it, in that the full truth would likely hurt her as much as Alex and David.]

[One does see another side of Alex in this episode, though... one he shares with my other characters.  In addition to a chivalrous streak, they all have a way with weasel words and fast-talking.  Why yes, I am of Irish descent, why do you ask?  Blarney stone?  Never heard of it in my life... ]


----------



## Lela

David and Carlos.  I haden't read the plethora of posts after the mention of Thanksgiving when I posted.

Does Twyla know about the extent of damage done to the guys in the alley?


----------



## The Shadow

And with that, the campaign is now caught up to the present.  No more deluges of multiple posts all at once, you poor sods! 

But you're in luck!  Tuesday is our usual gaming night.  Depending on how insane my work-week is, I should have the next update posted sometime between Wednesday and Sunday...

P.S.  Lela, just what are these ENnies mentioned in your .sig?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> David and Carlos.  I haden't read the plethora of posts after the mention of Thanksgiving when I posted.




It would definitely make for a lively dinner, yes.  And, well, if combat solidifies their relationship as much as I suspect it might, Alex may feel honor-bound to include Carlos in family activities.  Which David won't like at all, and which could be hazardous to Alex's mental health...



> Does Twyla know about the extent of damage done to the guys in the alley?




Given that David himself didn't, I'd say no.  It was night, it was over quickly, and no doubt they beat a very hasty retreat.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Ba-da bump!


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Given that David himself didn't, I'd say no. It was night, it was over quickly, and no doubt they beat a very hasty retreat.



Would she have heard any rumors or gotten anything from the news?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Would she have heard any rumors or gotten anything from the news?




This I just don't know.  I'll ask SP when I get a chance.

Ran into a snag in the writeup of the Tuesday session... I need to get ahold of SP to refresh my memory about something important that I've got a mental block on.  I hope to have it posted by Sunday, or maybe Saturday evening.


----------



## The Shadow

Alex made it to the base a bit later than usual.  Going down the stairwell, he paused for an instant in panic when he realized the hat wasn't on the banister knob where it ought to be.  Descending a bit more, he saw it sitting on a table near the stairs.  Meanwhile, Carlos looked over his shoulder at him in relief and waved to show he was busy but glad Alex was there.  He seemed to be listening intently to the headset.

Alex slowly approached the table and looked at the hat;  its presence smote him almost like an accusation.  It was coming back to him now... It had gotten knocked off during his sparring match with Carlos and he'd forgotten about it afterward.  Carlos must have moved it here from the gym...  He picked it up but did not put it on.  Instead, he went over to the computer and rested a hand on Carlos' shoulder.

The young man looked up at him again with a smile, but immediately jumped into business.  "I had a strong feeling I should listen in on the police bands, sir, and I was right.  There's an officer missing... he reported he was checking out a drunk-and-disorderly, then didn't check back in when he was supposed to.  They've found his car - it's fine, hasn't been stripped, but he just isn't there.  They're sending in backup now."  Alex nodded.  "It sounds like something to check on;  it could even be Legion.  Are you coming with me?"

Carlos bit his lip in an agony of indecision.  "I don't know..."  "Then we'll follow your original hunch," Alex decided, "You'll stay here and keep listening."  "Yessir."  Alex went to the hangar with controlled haste.  Only then, glancing down at the hat in his hand, did he put it on.

Soon he was airborne.  The address Carlos gave him was outside his usual haunts, so it took him a bit of trial and error to find the cop cars.  Along the way, Carlos reported, "Uh oh, sir.  Now they've lost radio contact with the three cops who went in to check on the first one!"  The Shadow nodded grimly. "This is getting serious."

When he located the cars, he circled over them, straining his mental senses for anything unusual.  While he sensed no minds nearby (that couldn't be accounted for, anyway), he did sense, eerily enough, the ripples of telepathic activity - a sensation not unlike hearing a voice out of thin air.  "A taste of my own medicine," he muttered, as he tried to home in on those faint traces.  There were perhaps six or seven loci, and confusing to triangulate on because their traces were identical, producing strange interference patterns.

"Carlos, how far is my current location from the places Maria said Legion had been spotted in?"  "You're only about half a mile from the warehouse, sir."  "It figures.  And of course the gas grenades are still at Hal's place... at least I have the screamers with me."  "You think it's Legion, sir?"  "I'm all but positive.  Now let me think."

Yes, the traces were in that building, a few stories high.  Not on the ground floor, he thought.  He reported the address to Carlos and said, "Call in a tip about this address and the missing officers, Carlos."  "Yessir. Anonymous?"  "Of course."  "On it!"

The sable sleuth landed on the roof and got the case of psi-screamers out of the boot.  Working swiftly, he set five of them up in a quincunx pattern on the roof - one in the center, one about halfway between the center and each of the corners.  That should give me good, overlapping coverage of most of the building, he concluded.  Then he got back on the cycle and flew a comfortable distance away before activating the radio device.

He groaned involuntarily at the shrill telepathic shriek they put out.  Even at this distance, he had to grit his teeth against the sensation;  in THERE it must be horrendous!  Then he stared in disbelief as a man crashed through a window on the third floor and fell to his death.  The sound of a gunshot followed.

He sped toward the building, grinding his teeth against the strengthening psychic wail.  Flashing by the window, he tossed another activated screamer into the hole, getting a glimpse of large amounts of blood as he did so.

He had to psych himself up for the second pass;  he almost couldn't force himself to enter the screamer zone, and managed it only by shutting down his mental senses as much as he could.  This time he leapt gracefully from the cycle into the room, gun at the ready.  [Where are the Olympic judges when you need 'em? ]   There was a woman dead on the floor;  she had viciously knifed herself to death.  He recognized her as a Legion-body.  "Well, Johnson, they were 'distraught', all right," he muttered as he cautiously made his way to the door.  Hearing sounds through it, he hesitated, then took out the Portable Window.

Through it he saw three people in police uniforms bound hand and foot on the ground.  A couple of them were twitching, producing the sounds he had heard.  Ever cautious, the cloaked crusader decided to wait until the screamers burned themselves out, which they mercifully did a minute or so later.  His mental "ears" still ringing somewhat, the Shadow entered the room and took stock.  There was a corpse he hadn't been able to see through the Window, lying in a corner of the room;  a man who'd blown his own brains out.  The three cops were still mostly out;  flushed and with dilated pupils.  Their right arms were bared, no doubt for an application of the appropriate drugs.  Where is it getting them?! he wondered.

Whirling at a sudden noise behind him, the Shadow recognized another Legion-body entering the room through another door, and did not hesitate to shoot.  Taking the bullet in the chest, the man - a former Red Shiv, perhaps twenty years old - fell like a sack of potatoes.  Rushing forward, he did his best to stop the bleeding, instructing Carlos to call 911.  [SP:  "911 hates you, you know.  All those untraceable calls!"]  As he worked, he couldn't help but notice that Legion didn't seem to take good care of its bodies;  the man clearly hadn't bathed in some time, and his skin had an unhealthy pasty hue.  Once he was assured the thing wouldn't die on the spot, he tried cautiously slipping into its mind... only to find to his horror that it was instead "his" mind.  Not "its".

The man was not part of Legion any longer;  the screamers had done their work on him as well.  He had survived only by completely suppressing his memories of the time he'd spent as part of the monster - in fact, he had stumbled into the room in a state of shock and denial.  The man's last clear memory was of Christophilous in the crackhouse, offering him a new designer drug.  He had turned the man down, not liking the looks of him, but it clearly hadn't done him much good.

The Shadow knew a moment of panic and guilt that threatened to unhinge him.  He'd killed before, many times, but never before had he shot someone who hadn't manifestly and richly deserved it.  While no saint, this young man hadn't done anything worth being shot by the Shadow.  Legion had, certainly, but with respect to Legion this man - hardly more than a boy - could only be termed a victim.  He trembled all over, panting, as he struggled within himself for equilibrium.  (His words to David came back to haunt him as he shook:  "I am very deliberate in what I do.")  Gradually, ruthlessly, he forced the overwhelming feelings down beneath his walls and attended to business - who knew, after all, if the remaining Legion-bodies were still lurking about?  Getting to his feet, he attended to the cops, cutting them free of their bonds..

Two of them were clearly in the throes of drug-induced hallucinations, twitching uncontrollably, their minds full of confusing colors and noises.  The third, a woman, evinced a more disturbing pattern.  While still out, her mind trembled and shimmered with tentative psychic potential, plucking involuntarily at the Shadow's mindscreen.  He sighed.  This would bear watching.  He read off the badge numbers to Carlos, and learned that her name was Michelle Pickens.

Shortly thereafter, sirens began to scream as police cars and an ambulance pulled up.  The dark avenger decided to stick around and listen in on whatever conclusions they reached.  It didn't take long for a squad of heavily-armed cops to burst into the room.  One of them bawled into his walkie-talkie, "We have three officers down, repeat, three officers down!  They appear to be unhurt, but are unresponsive!"  while the others fanned out with weapons at the ready.  He proceeded to identify the three by name (in a brief slip, he called the woman "Shelly", then "Officer Pickens") and noted that the fourth missing officer was nowhere to be found.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to be cleared to enter the building.  They quickly rushed off the former Legion-member, and attended to the drugged officers.  Pickens was able to get up, rather woozily, and make her own way out.  Analysis of the crime scene continued... The Shadow groaned to himself when one of the cops said, "What the hell is this?" as he picked up the spent screamer he'd thrown in the window.  He'd forgotten about it completely...  then he had to grin as he realized that it wasn't _his_ problem.  It might be good for OmniMetal to be forced onto their collective toes.  He did send the cycle up higher, though, so it wouldn't accidentally get caught in any photos.

He stayed long enough to hear that the fourth cop's body had been found in a dumpster.  On the way out, the Shadow pricked up his ears when a hard-bitten detective said, "OK, who was Number 8?"  "Number 8, sir?"  "Yeah, there was an eighth person in the room.  Somebody shot Golden Boy there.  Somebody cut our people free.  Seems like he was on our side, or at least not on the others'.  So who was #8, and what does he want?"  With any luck, the sable sleuth thought, you'll never know.

Having heard enough, he slipped out of the building, then flew up to the roof to collect the other screamers.  "One is a curiosity;  six is a conspiracy.  I want OmniMetal on their toes;  not a subpoena asking for information about 'Van Helsing'."

Filling Carlos in on events, the boy's ever-practical mind produced the following highly relevant question:  "What now, sir?"

"Now, Carlos, I intend to visit Legion's other haunts, pressing this momentary advantage.  Losing four bodies has to at least hurt.  I want it confused;  I want to keep it off balance."

"I want to hit it _hard_."

[I knew instantly that shooting the former Legion-body would nail Alex right where he lived.  For once, SP was easier on him than I was.  I asked, "Are you telling me I just shot an innocent man?" and got a bemused, "Define 'innocent'." ]

[And does it worry anyone else that Legion seems to be systematically targeting cops for its next "acquisitions"...?]

[I hope the writing isn't too choppy. I wrote it in two widely-separated sections.]


----------



## Lela

The writing went fine.  I didn't notice any real hic ups.

Are the sceamers multi-use?  And they just disjoin Legion from an individual body, right?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> The writing went fine.  I didn't notice any real hic ups.
> 
> Are the sceamers multi-use?  And they just disjoin Legion from an individual body, right?




Thanks.  And the screamers are single-use only.  The Shadow has ten of them left in the case;  presumably he can get more from OmniMetal if need be.

I'm not sure what your other question is asking.


----------



## The Shadow

By the way, SP and I spent at least five minutes discussing whether Carlos would move the hat at all, and if so, where he would move it to. SP said, quite seriously, that Carlos himself probably spent at least a couple times that long thinking over the exact same questions... it's a very loaded action that can speak volumes about how he feels about Alex, the Shadow, and where he wants their relationship to go. 

SP insisted he wouldn't leave it on the floor, as that would be disrespectful. Although I'd wanted to do a scene with Alex picking it up, I eventually agreed. We both concurred that Carlos wouldn't put it on the banister knob, though. That would have been rather too familiar, and also have said that he was satisfied with the status quo. (Perhaps also that he saw the Shadow's work as paramount.) 

But he equally couldn't put it on his desk, or Alex's desk, or by the computer... none felt right. We eventually decided he'd put it in a neutral location near where it was supposed to be, but not quite there. I read it as a silent appeal to Alex: "I want to be part of your life." 

Alex's reaction was equally carefully thought-out, by me this time. The fact that he didn't put it on at once but instead went over and made an affectionate gesture to Carlos also speaks volumes. Yes, you are seeing Alex-the-man rebelling a bit against Alex-the-Shadow. 

We'll just have to see where it ends up...


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Yes, you are seeing Alex-the-man rebelling a bit against Alex-the Shadow.
> 
> We'll just have to see where it ends up...




Those moments remind me of the end of As Good As It Gets when the main character starts forgetting his obsessive compulsive habbits.  It's very touching.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Those moments remind me of the end of As Good As It Gets when the main character starts forgetting his obsessive compulsive habbits.  It's very touching.




Why thanks.  I haven't seen the movie, so it's hard to comment on any similarity... I have my doubts as to how heart-warming this is going to end up, though.   At any rate in the short term.

You see, I suspect the main character in the movie wasn't a threat to everyone around him if he lost emotional equilibrium...


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> You see, I suspect the main character in the movie wasn't a threat to everyone around him if he lost emotional equilibrium...




You'd have to ask the people around him but I wouldn't exactly say he was harmless.

Though, I admit, he never had the capacity to kill a third of the country.  If he had I think he might have done so though.  People are dirty, annoying, and stupid after all.


----------



## The Shadow

No game last night, unfortunately.  SP had some sort of crisis going on - I'm not sure what.  Hopefully we'll be able to make it up later this week.


----------



## The Shadow

This is just to inform my adoring fans (TM) that we did game last night, and there will be an update soon - hopefully tonight, possibly tomorrow.

I'll say this much:  SP proves his rat-bastardy all over again... as if further proof were needed.   And let me just say, I'm coming to love that term.   He likes it too.


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> This is just to inform my adoring fans (TM) that we did game last night, and there will be an update soon - hopefully tonight, possibly tomorrow.



YAY!



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> I'll say this much:  SP proves his rat-bastardy all over again... as if further proof were needed.



YAY!


----------



## The Shadow

While I bask in the glow of your approval, Lela, sometimes I do wonder just whose side you're on!


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> While I bask in the glow of your approval, Lela, sometimes I do wonder just whose side you're on!



 I thought that was obvious.  I'm on the side of the story!  And you're the one who said he was growing the love the term.


----------



## The Shadow

I said I liked the _term_, not the reality it represents.   As for SP, he wears it as a badge of pride...  Anyway, without further ado:

[Don't worry, Gentle Readers!  That faint whirring sound you hear is only my head spinning...]

The Shadow sped toward Hal's house.  "Call ahead and let him know I'm coming, Carlos."  "Will do."  "And Carlos... suit up.  Just in case."  That gained him an energetic "Yes sir!"  The Shadow noted with mild relief that the boy's tone was not so much eager as simply ready for anything.

As he landed in Hal's back yard, the inventor gave him an exasperated look.  "If you keep driving the cycle that way, you'll have to bring it in within a couple months to be fixed!"  "Don't worry, Garrity," the cloaked crusader said with mock cheerfulness, "I'll be sure to bring it in soon for a Lube/Oil/Filter."  As expected, that sent Hal into spluttering outrage.  "Oil!  There's not a drop of oil in that thing, I've got better methods than..."

The Shadow cut him off.  "Hal, are the grenades done?"  "Of course they're done," came the sulky reply, along with a muttered, "Oil!"  "And the detector?"  "Well of course, Shadow!  You didn't think I'd forget something like that, did you?!"  Hal replied with sheepish indignation -  a rather neat trick.  (After all, he'd had to be reminded once already...)  He handed over a sack of twelve grenades and the button-sized detector.  "By the way, I did a spectral analysis on the gas..."

"Yes?"  "It's unstable.  It'll decay soon."  "How soon is 'soon'?"  "About a month.  Call it three weeks to be safe.  Faster if exposed to sunlight or great heat."  "I'll bear that in mind, Hal, but I don't think it'll matter."  "Why not?"  The sable sleuth grinned at him mirthlessly.  "If I don't have things well on the road to being settled with Legion in the next week or so, I expect I will be dead."

Hal gaped at him, stunned to speechlessness.  The Shadow continued, "My work is dangerous, Hal.  You didn't think I do this sort of thing for my health, did you?"  "Well, yeah - I mean, no! - but..."  He was cut off with a gentle, "Goodbye, Hal," as the cycle lifted off at an unapproved speed.

On the way back to the base, Carlos suddenly said, "Sir!  There's another Legion-strike going on!"  "What's this?"  "Same MO - there's two cops missing.  Two more are nearby, and they're being told to sit tight until some heavy backup arrives."  "Where is it?"  He got an address about fifteen minutes away - and only a few minutes away from the flophouse that was another suspected Legion-lair.  "How long has this been going on?"  "These two failed to report in a little after the first guy did in the other place."  "Why didn't you tell me this before!"  Carlos replied, with only faintly hurt tones, "It wasn't going out over the band, sir.  This is the first I've heard of it."  "...Right.  Well done, Mr. Castaneda."  He could clearly picture the young man's relieved smile as he responded, "Thanks, sir."

It didn't take long to assess the situation - a run-down abandoned motel, a cop car with lights flashing in front of it.  Sure enough, the faint heat-shimmer of Legion-traces was emerging vaguely from the building.  Only one story tall, the dark avenger mused.  Two screamers should cover the whole thing.  He placed the devices on the roof, then picked a likely-looking window on the far side of the building from the cops.  The Shadow shut down his mental senses as much as he could, then pressed the stud that set the screamers off.

The hellish banshee wail of the things was as bad as he'd remembered, but he didn't let that stop him from lobbing a gas grenade through the window, hoping there'd be Legion-bodies within range.  He heard several distinct thuds, then, with a wince, a gunshot.  "Sir, the officers there are reporting gunfire."  "I know, Carlos.  I suspect it was another Legion suicide."  "Oh," the boy replied with evident mixed feelings that the Shadow shared.

It was hard to see inside with all the gas fumes, and he dared not get too close - even ten feet away from the broken window, the stuff was making him feel woozy.  He flew up to the roof and collected the screamers once they burned out.  Meanwhile several more cop cars approached, sirens blaring.  The heavily-armed officers who went in quickly came stumbling back out, yelling about gas.  It didn't take long for them to arrange for gas masks, while the Shadow stewed on the fact that he hadn't picked one up back at the base.  [SP and I decided that a full-face gas mask was too large to be justifiable as a Gadget on the Shadow's person.  A rebreather yes, but a gas mask no.]

Soon unconscious bodies were brought out - two of Legion's (both recognizable to the Shadow), and two cops.  Carlos informed him that there was a man dead inside of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head, and that the cops did show signs of being drugged even apart from the gas.  The Shadow positioned himself for an unobstructed view of one of the Legion-bodies - a former Red Shiv - and plunged deeply into the young man's unconscious mind.

The memories of the past few days were jumbled, confused, fragmentary.  The man clearly had not yet assimilated the bombardment of Legion-thoughts and Legion-memories into his own mind;  only traces of his own actions were available, but none of the motivations for or details of them.  The most immediate memory was of stirring together carefully-measured amounts of chemicals in preparation for the "experiment" on the police officers.  This was in a windowless room within a large building.  The Shadow tried to pick up memories of going in and out of the building, hoping for clues as to its location, but they were frustratingly vague - the man had been completely focussed on his goal, and simply hadn't paid attention to his surroundings.  Maybe Legion had, but he had not.

Going further back, the Shadow learned how Christophilous had gotten the fourteen people together in the crackhouse.  He had approached this young man, flashing a large wad of bills, and promising a yet-larger wad if he and his friends would bring as many people as they could to the house on short notice.  The kind of people didn't matter - druggies, street people, whatever.  The man had forced some at gunpoint;  others he had promised drugs to.  Once they were all assembled, Christophilous had frozen them all in their tracks.  Those who managed to resist somewhat were shot;  the rest were drugged.  (Juan Martinez was not present that night, that this fellow could remember, anyway.)

Finally, he searched for any sign of continuing contacts with Legion;  he found none, but did get the impression that the man would be quite vulnerable to later re-inclusion in the group-mind at a later date.

Dropping the mental contact, the Shadow went into the building;  the gas had dissipated.  There he quickly ascertained that there was only one corpse, and that one recognizable as an already-known Legion-body.  The gas grenade had, alas, already been picked up by the cops as evidence.  [SP:  "Good thing you wear gloves, eh?"]  With no further ado, he sped back to the base.

There he noted with disapproval that Carlos was only partly into his vest.  "Why aren't you ready to go?!" he demanded, and Carlos reacted with surprise. "I thought we were done for the night, so I didn't think I'd need it any more."  "On the contrary, we are going to hit Legion repeatedly tonight until there's nothing left to hit."  "OK, sir.  Sorry."  While the boy zipped himself up tight, the Shadow located gas masks and a couple bandoliers in storage, stringing grenades on them.  He gave three of them to Carlos, along with a gas mask and two of the eight remaining screamers.  "Remember, setting one of these off hurts - you probably more than me, given that you're more sensitive..."  "...but it hurts Legion even worse.  Got it."  "Now remember the rules - you stay out of danger unless I order it;  and if I tell you to scram, you SCRAM, no matter the situation.  Got it?"  Carlos winced, looking very unhappy, but responded with a reluctant, "Yes sir, I will."  "Good."

With that, the two of them flew to the crackhouse (the closest known Legion lair) and circled over it a few times.  "Anything, Carlos?"  Eyes closed, brow furrowed in thought, the young man responded, "Nothing recent, I think.  It feels... abandoned."  The Shadow nodded.  "We'll try the warehouse next, then.  The flophouse isn't big enough to account for the memory I tapped earlier."

Once there, Carlos was silent for a time, then said, "I'm not sure.  At first I thought there was nothing, but... It definitely doesn't feel like Legion did... It's strange."  "Good enough for me."  Landing on the roof, the cloaked crusader said, "You stay here.  If you get any funny feelings, let me know right away."  "I will, sir.  ... Be careful."  The Shadow flashed him a smile with more confidence than he felt:  "Always."

Moving warily, the Shadow encountered only darkness and silence... no, wait, there were some faint sounds coming from behind a door...  Something involving glass was being smashed.  And there was a light smell of smoke as well.  He slipped into the room as silently as possible, but the man happened to look up at just the wrong moment from the vials he was breaking.  (The fire was of papers in a wastebasket.)  He was one of the Legion-bodies, one of the homeless addicts the Red Shivs had collected.  (He looked to have been eating better now than he had then.)  "Oh, hi," the man said, and amiably raised his hands.

Oh, hi?!  The Shadow crept a little closer, his gun not wavering from the man's chest, and replied sarcastically, "What, no threats this time?"  "Nope, not really.  A thank-you, maybe."  "To whom?"  "You."  "...What for?"  "We're a lot more stable now."

The dark avenger considered that with a liberal helping of skepticism.  "Why would that be?"  "You got rid of Miguel, Tony, Roxanne, and the rest.  Oh, and Christophilous, of course  - the really important one.  We don't have twelve minds bouncing thoughts around in all different directions any more.  Makes things a lot more comfortable. ... Can I put my hands down?  My arms are getting tired."  "So as of an hour ago, you were scheming to suborn a bunch of cops, and now you expect me to believe that you're just one big happy family?!"  "Yeah, that's about right.  Our numbers finally got down a manageable level.  I mean, you don't see me intoning, 'We are Legion.  You are not Legion.  You will be Legion.' any more, do you?"  (His tone as he recited the words was one of light-hearted mockery, as if he were poking fun at himself.)  "Yes, you're quite the sparkling conversationalist."  "Gee, thanks." "It wasn't a compliment.  If things are all so hunky-dory, why do your former members suicide?"

The man looked surprised. "They do?  We thought you'd just killed them.  I have no idea why, I feel just fine."  "'I'?  You retain some individuality?"  The Legion-member chuckled. "Yes, of course.  Put it this way - I can say both 'I' and 'we'."  "Truthfully?"  "You really don't understand what it's like, do you?"  "No.  And I have no desire to."  "Right.  So how can you judge me?"  In glacial tones, the Shadow responded, "I'm perfectly content to judge your _actions_, thank you very much.  Speaking of which, what are your plans now?"

"Well, for right now I intend to destroy this chemistry apparatus and these notes.  After that... to be honest, we haven't decided yet.  We need some time to back off and think it all through."  "How do you feel about OmniMetal?"  "Well, let's see.  They were willing to employ a maniac like Christophilous, and thereby accidentally created a psychotic group-mind.  Speaking as a no-longer-psychotic group-mind, we're feeling very distrustful and a little vengeful."  "What do you plan to do against them?"  The man shrugged.  "Like I said, we haven't decided yet."

"How many of you are left?"  For the first time, the man frowned.  "Does that mean you intend to keep hunting us?"  With acidic mimicry, the Shadow responded, "I haven't decided yet."

He mulled things over, then went on, "Are you willing to provide a hostage against your good behavior?"  The man laughed as if the Shadow had just made a funny joke.  "Well, personally, I'm quite opposed to the idea, if you don't mind.  But I assume you'll shoot me if I don't cooperate?"  "I don't have to shoot you."  The Shadow pulled out a screamer and continued, "All I have to do is activate this device and you'll be cut off from the others.  Then, like the rest, you will attempt suicide."  To which the Legion-body responded with smiling, easy confidence, "I don't feel at all suicidal.  Things are different now."

The Shadow subvocalized into the commlink, "Carlos, are you getting any of this?"  The creeped-out reply came, "Yeah.  It's... _weird!_"  Somehow, that helped the Shadow come to an abrupt decision.  "You're coming with me."  The Legion-body looked a little hurt, as if the Shadow had disappointed him.  "This is kidnapping, you know."

The Shadow couldn't help it;  he laughed loud and long, while Legion looked yet more hurt.  "I thought you were supposed to be a good guy..."  "Don't _even_ try to guilt me when I'm the one holding the gun.  And you aren't exactly in a comfortable position for righteous indignation, either."  Now it was the man's turn to laugh.  Not at all defensively, more as if he were sharing a joke, he said, "_I_ haven't done anything, you know."  "You're certainly an accomplice, no matter how you slice it."  "Ah!  Got me!  But how would you prove it?  And anyway, I could sure argue I was an unwilling accomplice..."

"Save it.  We're leaving."  "Do you mind if I finish destroying this stuff first?"  The Shadow was too nonplussed, his mind racing through different scenarios, to object.  "Keep your hands where I can see them."  "Oh, sure, of course... Despite the fact that I'm unarmed - and hey, aren't I supposed to be dangerous because of my _telepathic_ abilities?"  That got only the gruff reply, "I haven't survived this long by taking unnecessary chances."  The man shrugged and complied with the order, seeming amused by the whole thing.  Soon the task was finished.  "What now?"

The Shadow moved behind him and said, "Put your hands behind your head."  "Ooh, just like all the cop shows!"  He made no resistance as his hands were cuffed behind his back, only said, "Aren't you gonna read me my rights?"  "You have the right to remain silent.  Starting now!"  Then, as he blindfolded the man and marched him outside, "Wait, what should I call you?"  "Call me Matt - it's my name!  And hey, are we going to your secret hideout?"  (This with all the enthusiasm of a little kid.)  "No.  Now be quiet."

Carlos had already descended to the ground, per silent orders.  The Shadow pulled him aside and said, "The bike won't carry three.  Will you be OK?"  His tone was one of concern - clearly willing to change plans if the answer was "No."  "You want me to go back to the base, sir?"  "Yes.  Will you be OK?"  Carlos considered the matter, then said, "Yeah.  I'd better not wear this, though."  With that he started shrugging out of the vest, then handed it over along with his grenades and screamers.  Then he visibly thought better of it, took one of the grenades back and stuffed it in his pocket.  Alex caught and held his eye meaningfully, then silently offered him a screamer back also.

Carlos nodded slowly and accepted it.  Alex gripped his shoulder tightly. "Stay safe."  "You too, sir!"  Meanwhile Matt called, "Hey, do you always take your time when kidnapping people?  It's cold out here!"  The Shadow ground his teeth and turned back to him, as Carlos loped off warily into the night.

"We're leaving now."  "On that cool flying bike of yours?  Neato!  Only, hey..." he said it just as the Shadow realized it himself, "how am I supposed to stay on?"  With grim effort, the Man of Mystery managed to tie the two of them together with Carlos' bandolier.  "You could just untie my hands, you know..."  "Shut up."

A short flight later, he found a miraculously unvandalized pay phone.  (Using it was an interesting struggle, but he managed.)  Grace's sleepy-fuzzed voice responded, "Hello?"  "I hope you've made all the arrangements."  "Who is this?"  "Your friend in black."  "Bla- Do you have any idea what time it is?!  It's nearly three AM!"  With patient, careful enunciation:  "I hope.  You have made.  All.  Of the arrangements."  Suddenly awake, she exclaimed, "You're kidding!!"  "No."  "OK, uh, take him here, that should be fine."  She gave an address in a fairly ritzy suburb.  "Got it.  Meet me there."  "I'll be there!"

It was a long flight, almost an hour.  Matt was fairly silent, save for once when he called, "Oh, Mr. Kidnapper Person!"  "What!"  "I've lost my blindfold.  Just thought you'd like to know."  Craning his neck around, he saw Matt's grinning face looking back at him.  Stopping to hover, the Shadow grimly tied his cloak completely around the man's head, which seemed to amuse Matt no end.

As soon as Grace was in sight, he "beamed" her the news telepathically.  There was no response, indeed a conspicuous display of a lack of response, until he landed.  Then she burst out verbally, "You have GOT to be kidding!!"  "I'm afraid not."  Together they hauled Matt into the house, then into a small windowless room.  Grace flipped a switch just outside the door, and Matt suddenly twitched as if there an itch he couldn't scratch.  "Man!  That feels weird!"  The Shadow felt it too, though much more dimly, and looked a question at Grace.  She replied, "Just a little something to make Funny Boy here harder to track down."  Matt informed her conversationally, "Did you know you're an accessory to kidnapping now?"

They removed Matt's "blindfold", restoring the Shadow's cloak.  "Can I get my hands undone too?" Matt asked a little plaintively.  "Not yet," the Shadow replied, as Grace dragged him out the door for a discussion.  Matt shrugged, then sat carefully down on a stool, starting to whistle ostentatiously to pass the time.  The cloaked crusader had to wince when he recognized the tune:   "Me and My Shadow".

As soon as the door was shut, Grace exploded, "Is it just me, or are things getting REALLY STRANGE?!"  "It's not just you. What on earth are we going to DO with him?!"  "I don't know!  I thought we'd have a murderous Legion-drone to work with, not Chuckles there!  I figured we'd try the screamer and see if it worked at all, but we already know the answer to that..."  "How long can we keep him here without too many questions being asked?"  "Forty-eight hours, tops."  Thinking a bit more, she went on, "There's really only three options, once we've got the information we need.  One:  We, uh, kill him."  She sounded rather conflicted about that, an emotion the Shadow shared.  "Two:  We let him go."  They were both at least as conflicted about that.  "Three:  We use the screamer and take things from there."  The Shadow concluded, "We just don't have enough information yet to decide;  we'll have to learn more."  "And in the meantime?"  "In the meantime, he's our honored guest."  That remark earned him a look that in a properly-constructed universe would have had him pushing up daisies.

He went on, "Just how are we going to learn what we need to know?  Are you going to probe him?"  "Are you out of your blessed MIND, darlin'?!  And if you try it, I'll slap you silly!"  "What, then?"  She sighed and thought it over.  "I suppose we can drug him and probe him then.  That should be marginally safer;  I was already thinking of trying it as a last resort for the old 'We-Are-Legion'."

The Shadow nodded.  "Very good, then.  Perhaps we can take a look at some of the former Legion-bodies in custody, too - that should be much safer. ... I'll take tomorrow off of work, and we can get started on our research."  She arched an elegant brow at him.  "Would that be the royal 'we' you're using, the editorial 'we', the schizophrenic 'we'... or the dictatorial 'we'?"

The Shadow suppressed a sigh.  "Permit me to rephrase myself.  I will take tomorrow off of work and then _I_ will begin research, hopefully with your willing and enthusiastic help."  She grinned at him impishly.  "Nicely grovelled.  Count me in!"

[SP sure is one for the sudden plot twist, isn't he?  (You should have heard him cackle!)  All my sundry thoughts, plans, and schemes for the future have been neatly obliterated - which was his intention, of course.  Is Matt telling the truth?  Even if he is, is Legion still too dangerous to be permitted to live?  Can Alex manage to kill a "mostly harmless" group-mind in cold blood?  In any event, what on earth can or should he tell OmniMetal?  After all, if Matt is on the level, Legion is now what they would consider an unqualified success...]

[None of those questions have facile answers.  To take just one example, if Matt is lying, there's a limit to how MUCH he's lying.  Something has plainly changed;  whatever else one could have said about Legion before, it sure didn't have much of a sense of humor!  And Matt felt different to Carlos, too.]


----------



## Lela

You're right.  That is true RBDMliness.

When did you get Christophilous?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> You're right.  That is true RBDMliness.




Mmmhmm.  Here's SP's own comment on the other board, once several people had expressed shock at the entry:



			
				SuentisPo said:
			
		

> I would like to add that this plot twist has been in the back of my mind since the second episode of Legion.
> 
> Seeing the responses so far has warmed the black little cinder I call a heart.






> When did you get Christophilous?




Moments after Legion was "born".  He was the "rabid dog", the "director" controlling the group mind.  The Shadow shot him, then waited to see what the rest would do... but it was too late, they'd imprinted on his psychotic thought-pattern.


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Moments after Legion was "born".  He was the "rabid dog", the "director" controlling the group mind.  The Shadow shot him, then waited to see what the rest would do... but it was too late, they'd imprinted on his psychotic thought-pattern.




Apparently they've lost the imprint.  Apparently.

I'd almost be tempted to tell OmniMetal about it just to hear their theories on the subject.  Almost.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Apparently they've lost the imprint.  Apparently.




Sigh.  And that's the whole issue, isn't it?

I'm reminded of something SP told me a few sessions back when I was mock-complaining about all of Alex's woes: "Don't worry, you will begin to see light at the end of the tunnel soon. Of course, you won't be sure whether it's an oncoming train or not..."



> I'd almost be tempted to tell OmniMetal about it just to hear their theories on the subject.  Almost.




Frankly, I think that OMI is talking out of their you-know-what on the whole subject.  They really have no clue what's going on with Legion;  remember, their original theory was that it would have fallen apart by now!


----------



## Lela

I was wondering about that too.  Seems that OMI claimed the whole group should have fractured.  Is it because the group was broken slowly?  Is it because you shut down or killed all the actual psychics?  Would it work with a larger population?  Can they still take in members?

That last question is the scary one.  And if actual psychics send them schitzoid, what would happen if they took in another by accident?  Worse, what if they took in another psycho?


----------



## ledded

Wow.  Now that's a concentration of story goodness just jackhammered into my skull.

I like this a lot, you have quite a few complex emotional issues and undercurrents going, things you don't often find in these story hours.

But, on the other hand, you still smack things.  Hard.

Keep up the good work, and I'll be checking this out.


----------



## ledded

*Yowsa*

Wow.  Now that's a concentration of story goodness just jackhammered into my skull.

I like this a lot, you have quite a few complex emotional issues and undercurrents going, things you don't often find in these story hours.

But, on the other hand, you still smack things.  Hard.

Keep up the good work, and I'll be checking this out.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> I was wondering about that too.  Seems that OMI claimed the whole group should have fractured.  Is it because the group was broken slowly?  Is it because you shut down or killed all the actual psychics?  Would it work with a larger population?




My own opinion is that OMI simply doesn't know what they're talking about.  Remember, Legion is a different animal from the things they'd created in their experiments - a "weblike network" as Johnson put it.  So, as the Shadow pointed out, doesn't that mean that their research may not - in fact, probably doesn't - hold up when it comes to Legion?



> Can they still take in members?




You mean in their "New and Improved" version?  I don't see why not;  though they don't seem to want to at the moment.



> That last question is the scary one.  And if actual psychics send them schitzoid, what would happen if they took in another by accident?  Worse, what if they took in another psycho?




I don't know that it has anything to do with including psis in the mind.  But including psychos is almost certainly a Bad Thing.


----------



## The Shadow

ledded said:
			
		

> Wow.  Now that's a concentration of story goodness just jackhammered into my skull.




I hope it didn't hurt too much.   Thanks!



> I like this a lot, you have quite a few complex emotional issues and undercurrents going, things you don't often find in these story hours.




Yes, Alex is probably the most complex character I've ever created.  The campaign easily has the most background material, too - at any rate, for a campaign I _play_ in, as opposed to GMing!



> But, on the other hand, you still smack things.  Hard.




I do try. 



> Keep up the good work, and I'll be checking this out.




Stop on by again, I love getting feedback!


----------



## The Shadow

I was playing around with the various options here, and put up the poll for the fun of it (and also because I'm honestly curious), but now I'm wondering how to get rid of it when the time comes...  Does anyone know?

All the "poll" options seem to have vanished now that it's up there.  And no, I didn't put an expiration date on it.


----------



## The Shadow

Alas, SP had a nasty bout of flu last night and wasn't up to gaming. He does have the evening free tonight, so if it turns out to be the 24 hour kind, we'll game then.


----------



## Lela

Illness sucks.  A lot.

Especially when it's taken over your mind and is turning you into a raving lunatic.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Illness sucks.  A lot.
> 
> Especially when it's taken over your mind and is turning you into a raving lunatic.




Yes, it does... But is this a comment on SuentisPo's sanity? 

If so, I wholeheartedly agree...


----------



## The Shadow

OK, I have bad news, good news, and better news:

Bad News:  SP is still sick.  No game as yet.

Good News:  We may still be able to make it up before next Tuesday.

Better News:  He plans to come down next Wednesday for another marathon Shadow gaming session!


----------



## Lela

Aw, then my reading material shouldn't be in danger.


----------



## The Shadow

Due to unforeseen developments, I'll be without access to the web for the next four weeks or so.  Don't worry, I _will_ be back, and I _will_ have some stories to post for you at that time.   It may even be that I'll be able to get them to SP for him to post on my behalf, if he's willing.

Until then, have a great month.  My apologies for any inconvenience.


----------



## Lela

HOLY CRAP!!!!!!  WHAT HAPPENED?

Really, I'll survive.  It'd be great if SP would put them up but I'm willing to wait.  I hope everything's okay though.


----------



## ledded

I look forward to your return.


----------



## The Shadow

Hey guys... Just stealing a few moments online to avoid keeping you in suspense.   By all means reply to what you see, but I probably won't be able to reply for another couple weeks.

----------------------------------------------------------

[To quote the inimitable Bugs Bunny:  "Of course you know this means war!"]

[And to quote the even more inimitable - and appropriate - Darkwing Duck:  "Let's get _dangerous!_"

[Trust me on this, Gentle Readers - the Shadow's life is not likely ever to be the same again.]

The Shadow sighed and nodded wearily, acknowledging both Grace's wit and her part in their little conspiracy.  "As I said, I think we should start with the former Legion-bodies in custody.  It shouldn't be hard to find out what hospitals they've been taken to... and of course I can get us in to any of them.  Certainly it will be safer than probing Matt directly - and it may give us clues of what to look for when we do."  "Agreed."  "How are you planning to soften Matt up for the probe?"  "I've got a bit of narcotic that will hopefully take his mind completely off matters at hand."  The Shadow nodded and added, "I've got some stuff that saps the will, makes someone more vulnerable to that kind of thing."  "Oh.  That'll be handy too."

"Where and when should we meet tomorrow?"  It was Grace's turn to sigh.  "Here, I suppose.  And we should probably start early."  (The Shadow gathered she wasn't much of an early riser.)  "Nine?"  "That'll do."

"What about Matt?  Should we untie him?"  She shrugged.  "Do you consider him much of a physical threat?"  "He doesn't frighten me much that way, no.  Still... do we _know_ that Legion doesn't include a martial artist in their number?  Anything they know, he knows."  "It's his mind that's the real problem.  He's not getting out of there without kicking the door down... and if he can do that, a pair of handcuffs won't make much of a difference, will they?"

"I don't know..."  The cloaked crusader examined the door critically for the first time.  Surprisingly, it was solid metal and secured with two heavy bolts;  it didn't look new.  He asked, "Is this house yours?"  "Nope."  "What kind of room _is_ that?"  "A meditation chamber."  "Those must be some meditations!"  "Must be," she agreed.

They went back inside.  The Shadow announced to Matt, "Feel the joy.  We're untying your hands."  Matt seemed more subdued than he had before. "Great.  What happens next?"  The cloaked crusader informed him candidly, "We're still working that out," as he removed the cuffs.  Matt rubbed his wrists and asked a bit sulkily, "So you're going to keep me locked up in here, huh?"  "For now, yes."  "Hmph."

As he and Grace went back out, the sable sleuth noted quietly, "You know what this will look like in a court of law."  She nodded soberly and started ticking off charges on her fingers:  "Kidnapping, wrongful restraint, chemical assault... Have I missed anything?  I'm sure a competent prosecutor can think of a few dozen more."  "And, of course, there isn't going to be any physical evidence tying him to the kidnapping of the police officers."  She nodded again.

"Grace... We are going to have to tread carefully here.  Do you know what worries me the most?"  Grace visibly braced herself.  "No, what?"  "What's stopping Legion from cutting a deal with OmniMetal?  After all, to all appearances it's now what they'd consider a success!"  She closed her eyes. "I really, really wish you hadn't made me imagine that."  "I don't like it either, but we have to take it into account.  Legion now knows what you look like.  It's got a good idea of what I look like - and it knows I'm the Shadow.  With OmniMetal's resources..."  He let the words trail off.  She concluded for him, "We'll have to avoid driving Legion into their arms, along with everything else."  "Precisely."

"How should we treat Matt until we know what's up?" Grace wondered aloud.  "Why, we make him right at home."  That smart remark earned him another dagger-loaded stare.  "Except for the locks on the door, of course," he amended.

Grace heaved a sigh.  "It's late," she noted, "We both need sleep - it's after four!"  "Yes.  I'll see you in the morning."  As he turned to go, Grace gave him a suddenly fey look, "Alex..."  "What?"  "Be careful.  I've got a really bad feeling about this whole situation."  The Shadow took a deep breath, let it out.  "Do you get 'hunches', Grace?"  "Sometimes, yes."  "And is this one of them?"  "Yes.  Something is very wrong - something we haven't figured out yet."  "I'll definitely bear that in mind."

With that he began the long flight back to the base.  When he was about halfway there, he was heartened by Carlos' announcement over the commlink, "Made it home, sir."  "Excellent, Carlos.  Any mishaps?"  "Nope, everything's fine."  "Good."

But to his surprise, Carlos was lounging about casually in the gym when he emerged from the hangar, rather than at his station by the computer.  "Hi, sir."  "Hello, Carlos... is something wrong?"  "No, everything's fine."  The Shadow eyed the young man carefully.  There was something subtly off about him... his posture?  his facial expression?  his tone of voice?  "What's going on, Carlos?  Anything to report?"  "No.  Are you OK, sir?  You seem, I don't know, tense."

Tense?!  With a rush, the Shadow realized what was different about Carlos - he was acting perfectly normal.  Too normal.  ...Elaborately normal?  This had been a highly unusual and stressful night - and Carlos' first night in the field to boot - yet he was taking everything perfectly in stride.  Carefully, he replied, "I guess I am a bit tense, Carlos.  It's been a difficult night.  Tell me, I've been wondering... why weren't you suited up when I came back earlier tonight?"  The boy screwed up his face as if trying to remember something that happened weeks ago.  "I don't know... I guess... I think I thought we weren't going to be going out again."  "I see.  Oh, and what did you do with the grenade and screamer you took with you on the way home?"  Again that visible strain to remember:  "Huh, that's funny, I can't seem to remem- oh, that's right, I put them on your desk.  I think."

Very concerned by now, the Shadow swept cautiously past Carlos into the next room and picked up the screamer off his desk.  With a start, he noticed a tiny flaw in its casing - a hairline crack that went all the way around.  It had been tampered with.  That tears it, Alex thought.  Without turning around, he asked quietly, "Carlos?"  "Yessir?"  "Why were you waiting for me in the gym when I came home?  You don't usually do that."  "Oh," the boy said brightly, "I was hoping you'd tell me what we'll be doing next about Legion.  You know, what the plan of attack is."  "Ah."

With a heavy heart, he turned and said in a quiet, firm, weary voice, "Carlos, I need you to trust me and do what I say.  Something very strange and dangerous is going on."  Carlos looked puzzled.  "Well, of course, sir.  What's wrong?"  Ignoring the question, Alex said, "I need you to turn around and place your hands against the wall."  The boy's jaw dropped.  "What?!  Why?!"  "Do it."

Moving with hesitant obedience, Carlos turned and leaned into his palms against the wall.  Alex put a firm hand on his back, pressing the boy's weight solidly into his braced arms... thereby ensuring that Carlos would not be able to dodge or move away without amply telegraphing his intent.  His other hand he rested, with a heavy heart, on his gun.  In a voice starting to quiver, Carlos asked, "What's going on, sir?"  "Carlos, I believe that your mind was tampered with on the way home."  "I don't remember anything like that..."  "How long did it take you to get here?"  "About an hour, maybe an hour and a half."  "It was almost two and a half hours, Carlos."  Into the silence that followed, Alex continued, "You are missing an hour of time. And you are acting very strange."  "You're acting pretty odd yourself, sir!"  "Be that as it may.  I have to know what has been done to you, Carlos. I have to probe you.  Do I have your permission?"

The boy shivered violently, all over.  "I don't know, sir.  I don't like it."  "I don't like it either, Carlos.  Do I have your permission?"  Carlos' muscles bunched and tensed, seemingly at random - Alex almost had the impression the boy was ready to fly apart, held together only by his skin. "I... I... don't know!"  In a soothing voice, Alex said, "Carlos, I love you.  I need you to trust me. This has to be done.  All right?"  In a voice raw with hysteria, Carlos half-shouted, "I DON'T KNOW!"

This is getting out of hand, Alex thought.  He let the Shadow command in stern tones, "Calm down, Carlos!  Be still."  Then, in his own voice he added, "I'm sorry," as he slipped into the boy's surface thoughts.  He got only a glimpse of raw-edged panic before Alex realized through his hand on Carlos' back that the boy was tensing to do something desperate. [Yes, that's right - an Intimidate check of **31** from an acknowledged authority figure didn't even start to faze him...]

Debating briefly on cold-cocking him, Alex made the heavy decision that his mental blast - unpleasant as it was - was less likely to do serious physical and psychological harm.  Hating himself for it, he unlocked his shields, letting his internal rage, sadness, anguish flood through into Carlos' mind.  The boy stiffened in shock, emitting a strangled cry, then went limp.  Alex caught him and lowered him gently to the ground, whispering, "I'm so sorry."  Meanwhile, the Shadow efficiently cuffed Carlos' hands behind his back.  Together they carried him over to the cot and began the probe.

What he found there drove Alex to his knees, and the Shadow completely out of his awareness.  Tears stung his eyes for the first time since Jennifer's death.  For a moment he wrestled grimly with his shields;  in the end he was victorious simply because there was no TIME to give in to breakdown, tempting though it might be.

Carlos' mind had been booby-trapped.  If Alex had probed him while he was awake to realize it, the boy would have been psychically lobotomized;  his body would have been a shell in a coma, his mind beyond reach - at any rate to Alex's skill - perhaps forever.  The sheer sadistic ingenuity of the mental construct lurking hungrily in the boy's mind appalled him;  he had no idea how to even begin unravelling the thing.

Forcing himself to the task at hand, Alex gingerly picked through Carlos' recent memories, on the alert for further surprises.  Only an iron act of will kept him from weeping; the young man (_my son_, his emotions said) had been severely traumatized;  he was not likely ever to remember the events of the last few days.  (Including, Alex realized with a lump in his throat, their mutual confession of love the day previous.)  There was no telling how much information had been gotten out of him, but undoubtedly a lot.  "Legion will _die_," he muttered to himself almost like a mantra.  "It will die in fear and..."  Then, to his shock, he realized something new.

The mental rapist _was not Legion_.  The signature was quite different from what he'd seen of it before.  It was familiar somehow, though - maddeningly so.  He'd dealt with this person before... who?!

...Christophilous?  No, not the same.  But a similar "footprint", a similar warped mentality.  Very similar, in fact...

Alex closed his eyes, thinking back to that brief instant he had touched Christophilous' mind while Legion was being obscenely "born".  Yes... the man was warped, psychotic, a mad dog, he... _He had been manipulated by the same person!_

With an emotion halfway between fear and awe Alex saw the shape of the evil before him.  Someone had quite purposefully driven Christophilous mad!  No doubt the man had contained the seeds of instability, but he began to doubt that they would ever have yielded such terrible fruit on their own.  Legion had been... _engineered._  To what end?!

For a moment, Alex cried out inwardly to the God he had never been able to bring himself to believe in:  Why?!  How can such a depth of wrong be?  But slowly, by degrees, he sank stunned back into the Shadow's iron awareness - though even the Man of Mystery was badly shaken by what had just been learned.

He rose, picked up the phone, dialed.  "Grace."  Her exhausted voice responded, "This better be good!"  "Your 'hunch' was right.  Carlos has been mind-reamed."  She cursed wearily, then came fully awake.  "You've got to get out of there!  Now!!"  Blinking, the Shadow realized she was right;  he was more affected by all this than he'd thought.  Though he doubted that even OmniMetal could penetrate Garrity's security, still there was nothing to prevent someone from waiting to nail him when he emerged.  "Where should we meet you?"  "Do you really want to say it over the phone?"  "...Right.  I'm coming over."  "I'll be ready."

With difficulty, the Shadow managed with Alex's help to gently manhandle Carlos' limp form onto the bike in front of him.  Alex held him close with one arm, an incipient lump still in his throat, while the Shadow flew the cycle.

For the second time that night, he joined minds with Grace in the telepathic sharing beyond words before even touching the ground.  Her face was grave when he landed;  she immediately laid a hand on Carlos' forehead.  Alex sensed her doing something, and joined his awareness to hers.  She gasped when she saw the construct, then her brows contracted in anger.  He could feel the waves of revulsion coming from her as she cursed foully under her breath.  "It'll have to wait for the morning.  I'm sorry, Alex, I know he's very dear to you;  I'm just too tired to tackle that thing right now.  If I tried, I'd probably kill him."  She did something else, then, and Alex could feel his son sink into a deeper level of unconsciousness.  "He'll be out for a good long time, now."

She led him into the house, then into a guest room.  Alex laid Carlos on the bed and uncuffed his hands, then rubbed his wrists.  He took off his shoes and got him into the bed; remembering bitterly the time he'd done this before - the time he'd first recognized Carlos as more than just an ally.  [In the short story "A Night Off".]  Grace, knowing his habits, wordlessly pulled a large comfortable chair up to the bed.  Alex sank into it gratefully and she let him be.  He drowsed lightly there, holding Carlos' hand.

The irony of it all consumed him.  He had sat up in the hospital, just like this, holding David's hand as he slept.  The animals had hurt his son to get at him... Beaten him, taken pliers to his knuckles.  (If not for David's healing abilities, his hands might have been crippled for life.)  How could he continue to live this way, if it led the people he loved so well into danger and pain?  Was it worth it?

But the Shadow, an almost-tangible faceless presence standing at his side, reminded him silently, _Is there a choice?_  Tears trickled silently down Alex's cheeks.  There wasn't.  He was committed now.  They would not stop until they were destroyed - nor could he simply live his life, knowing they were out there undestroyed.

At length he slept.  But his grip on Carlos' hand remained firm.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alex flew awake when Grace burst into the room around nine.  "Out," she commanded briskly.  "What?!"  "I'm going to start working on him.  OUT."  Alex cried out in protest, "Why!"  Her voice cut incisively through his distress: "You don't have the skill to help me, and your emotional involvement will distract me too much if you try to observe.  Now get out!"  Alex meekly obeyed, pacing helplessly up and down the hall... he hated the lack of control involved in that, but at the same time he didn't want to stop... he didn't want to find out what he would do if he did.

Finally, after an hour and a half of eternity, Grace emerged from the room, looking a bit haggard.  She nodded to him and told him what he was on edge to hear:  "He's OK.  I got it out of him."  Alex let out a pent-up sigh;  he felt empty, used up, when the air left him.  "How is he... otherwise?"  She took his hand and said quietly, "He's going to be very shaken up by all this.  He'll need time to heal before you can rely on him again;  and his powers are likely to be quite erratic.  How long that phase will last, I simply can't say yet."

Alex closed his eyes, nodded.  "How much memory has he lost?"  "The last thirty-six hours or so."  "Is there... any way of restoring them?"  She met his eyes with compassion;  clearly she knew which memories were on his mind.  "Enough so he'll know what happened during that time - yes.  In the full immediacy of having lived it himself... no.  I'm sorry, Alex."

"Who has DONE this to him, Grace?  At first I thought it had to be Legion, but..."  He shared his theory with her, and her brows contracted again.  "You're right," she said at last.  "The trace isn't like those of Legion you've shared with me.  And there IS something familiar about it, you're right about that too."  She shivered.  "Be glad you didn't fully understand that thing, Alex.  It's... ugly.  Brilliant, but appallingly ugly."  "Yes... Is it just me, or is there a weird mismatch between the technical prowess at work here and the psychological ineptitude of it all?  Carlos' act wouldn't have fooled a child, much less somebody who knew him well."

She nodded.  "I've been meaning to get to that.  This guy, whoever he is, is way too impressed with his own intelligence."  "Good.  It will make him easier to kill."  "...Right.  At any rate, he couldn't resist boasting to Carlos about how he'd tricked you."  She blinked, then said, "Which reminds me - you need to destroy that box the screamers are in right now."  "Eh?"  "NOW.  I won't have it in my house.  There's a locator circuit in one of the hinges."  Numbly, Alex fetched the box and disintegrated it (after removing the screamers) using a miniaturized version of Hal's infamous garbage disposal unit.  Garrity'll never hear the end of this, he thought bitterly, missing that little tracker.  _Garrity._

"Grace... My entire network has been compromised!  At least, I have to assume they are!  Including the man who supplies me with technological toys."  "It just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?  You'll have to call him."  

Alex nodded.  "I'll do that shortly.  For now... you were mentioning he's full of himself?"  "Yes, very.  Alex, he..."  She paused, studying him closely for a moment before continuing.  "He tried to break Carlos by showing him you were a mere mortal, capable of error.  Since Carlos already knew you were mortal, it didn't have much of an effect."  Alex, whose fists had clenched at the word "break", loosened them with a stern effort of will.  In the Shadow's mild, dangerous tones, he inquired, "How else did he try to 'break' him?  Did he use Carlos' own past against him?"  "No.  Just his relationship with you."  That's a relief, Alex thought.

She went on, "Apparently he was under the impression that you were pulling the whole cult of personality thing on Carlos."  Alex let loose a single bark of laughter at that, thinking of Carlos' cheerful impudence.  "If I were in the mood for humor, that would be very funny."  "Yes, well, he doesn't understand people nearly as well as he thinks he does.  He tried to convince Carlos that you're a dangerous megalomaniac with a god complex... not realizing that Carlos had seen all of your own doubts and struggles."

"It's all of a piece with the act he forced Carlos to play - acting 'normal' when the situation simply didn't call for 'normality'.  He did get one thing right, though."  At her inquisitive look he pointed out savagely, "I _am_ dangerous.  As he'll find out."  She nodded slowly, saying nothing.  "Who is he, Grace?  We both recognize him somehow.  How do we know him?"  "I don't know!  It's almost a pity you shared your theory with me, I'm not sure which are my own suspicions and which are simply in reaction to yours."

"Well, it has to be someone in OmniMetal.  Who else has a motive to look out for Legion?  Who else had access to the case?  Johnson?  Torrance?  Somebody else?  You should be able to guess better than me, Grace - you said you'd probed them for sincerity from your phone booth."  Grace thought it over, then her eyes flew wide and she paled visibly.  She exclaimed, "He _let_ me in!"  Then she began to curse the man's character and ancestry in highly unladylike fashion, up one side and down the other;  in another situation it might actually have been instructive.

"Who."  "Johnson!  He opened his shields and let me probe him, and I didn't even notice!  He's a telepath!"  "No.  He's a dead man, still walking around."  "He's played us like a HARP, Alex!  He's been using us from day one! ... Do you remember how we both said, 'Is he for real?!'  We should have _found out._" She shook her head in fury, then burst out - incongruously, after her language earlier - "Ooooh!  He makes me so MAD!"  In a voice gentle with malice, Alex responded, "'Mad' does not even begin to describe my feelings toward Johnson, Grace.  I do not want his presence fouling my planet any longer.  He is going to die.  No, excuse me, I misspoke.  He is going to die _ugly._."

"Careful, Alex.  We have to tread warily here - you said it yourself.  Remember, we still have Legion to think about."  "Grace, at this point, Legion is a side-issue."  When she stared at him, speechless, he continued, "It's very simple.  Johnson deliberately drove Christophilous over the edge.  He _created_ Legion.  Who knows, he may choose to do it again - just to find out what happens.  A man like that is too dangerous to be permitted to live.  Legion, even at its most psychotic, will only kill you because it hates you.  At worst, it'll make you join it.  Johnson's worse."

She paid him the compliment of considering his words carefully at length before responding.  At last she said, subdued, "You're right.  What do we do now?"  "You're asking me?"  "Alex, I'm very good at putting minds back together, among other things.  But I'm not a tactician, nor a strategist.  You are."  Alex nodded slowly, accepting that.  "I know what we need to do, Grace.  I just don't want to do it.  I... don't want to leave his side."  She nodded in her turn, still waiting for an answer to her question.

He sighed wearily.  "First I tip off my network to their danger.  Then we hit the hospitals, seeking any information that will help us know how to approach Legion.  If we're in luck, Matt's actually on the level - maybe we can even cut a deal.  If not... well, we'll decide what to do once we know."  She nodded.  "The phone's in the next room."

Alex dialed.  "Hal?  Shadwell.  Listen closely:  There's trouble, big trouble.  Dangerous people know you work with me, know what you can do.  You either need to head for someplace safe, or else fortify your house against attack.  Do you have any defenses built?"  "Well gee, Shadwell!  I, uh, never thought of it before."  "Start thinking about it - or else leave at once."  "Wow, uh, I'll see what I can do!"  "They'll likely be telepaths.  Do you have any defenses against that?"

Hal replied breezily (now that he was back in his element), "Oh, sure!  I sold a few hats for mind-defense a couple months back."  Alex's jaw dropped. "You what?!  To who?!"  "Well, gee, now that you ask I don't quite remember.  Why, is it important?"  "Hal!  I thought you didn't know how to block psionics!  You said the screamer technology came as a surprise!"  "Oh, it did!  See, I'd never thought of _beaming_ it before, that was a really neat idea! You just gotta adjust the frequency of the... Oh, never mind!"

Alex controlled his temper with difficulty.  "Hal... you'll remember about the danger you're in?  You'll get some defenses going?"  "Well, of course, I wouldn't forget about something like that.  Don't worry about me. ... You know, that screamer business is really pretty clever.  I think I see some ways to improve it, though..."  Alex sighed;  the man's hopeless.  "Goodbye, Hal."  "'Bye, Shadwell...  You've given me an idea for a new project..."

Alex hung up on him.  The Shadow at his side shook his head.

[You know, it's a little strange.  When I'm _playing_ Alex, I'm not really at all in touch with what's going on inside him;  I'm simply reacting to the events at hand.  It's only when I come back and try to write it up that suddenly I realize WHY he said what he said, and did what he did.  While I knew he was getting shaky mentally, I had no idea he was dissociating like this until I started writing about it.]

[So, Alex has had his first "psychotic break", as you can see - his first gentle little detachment from consensus reality.  You know, the part that scared me the most when I wrote about it is that he didn't even notice it was strange - it felt natural.  (Isn't that the essence of being crazy?)  Still, while he's teetering on the edge, he hasn't yet fallen over;  this is an episodic thing in response to extreme stress, not yet a permanent part of his mental furniture.  What worries me is that I don't think it will take much of a push at this point for him to end up in La-La Land.  SP and I have long since discussed where this could end up going, but I'll let you be surprised by it.   (For one thing, I'm not quite certain myself just which scenario will end up happening - if any.)]

[Discerning readers will have seen something like this coming for some time, no doubt.  If you didn't know, it is NEVER an accident whether I refer to my character as "Alex" or "the Shadow".  Ever;  it's always carefully thought out.  The last session was only the second time that I've called him "Alex" while he was "in uniform".  (When he asked Carlos if he'd be OK going back by himself, ironically enough.  And the first time was when he and Hal opened up Christophilous' suitcase - given the chemical reagent bottles, I figured Alex-the-chemist would respond.)  And notice that in this one, he's been suited up - hat and all - the whole time, and it just doesn't seem to matter any more.  He switches between "Alex" and "Shadow" freely in response to events.  That's another scary part, that may not have been wholly noticeable to anyone besides me.  And... hmm.  You know, I'm not even sure that he's been taking his psi-pills this last night... I'll have to discuss that with SP.]

[*grin* The one comfort I have is that I suspect Johnson will try to give Alex the push he needs, thinking he's being terribly clever...  Not realizing something very vital to his own welfare.]

[Alex, you see, has scruples.  You know, a conscience.  (He talks big about Johnson "dying ugly", but he's really just venting.)  But if the Shadow has any scruples, I haven't noticed them yet...]


----------



## The Shadow

This bit of character info on Carlos was originally going to be an email to SuentisPo, but I decided that it was likely of more general interest.  There are some minor spoilers here regarding the Shadow's latest adventure (the one following the capture of Matt), so read that first.

-------------------------------------------------

Thought you might be interested in some new character info about Carlos that has come up as I've pondered his current situation.

First, though, a question:  During his time at the base, has he ever been sick?  Sick to the point of being non-functional, I mean.

The reason I ask is that I don't think Carlos has any idea how to sit still and let somebody else take care of him.  It has rarely happened before;  and when it has happened, it's usually been a bad thing in the long run.  This is so ingrained in him that it'll probably be hard to shunt aside;  though it'll be easier if he and Alex have had this discussion before.

I'm getting a better picture of what Carlos' life was like in the Garcia household.  They weren't the bottom of the barrel;  there are family situations out there that are worse.  But they were bad, and especially to the "whoreson".

You see, Carlos' function in the family was to serve as the low man on the totem pole;  the one who wasn't loved, only tolerated.  ("Because after all, he's blood."  With the unspoken subtext of "Even if he is a bastard.")  If Dad is drunk and in a rage, you can usually manage to deflect his anger from you onto the whoreson.  If something gets broken, it's easy to put the blame on Carlos somehow.  "He's always doing things like that."

If nothing works and Dad does let you have it, you can take out your anger on Carlos up to a point (mostly verbally) and know that Mom and Dad won't intervene.

Is it any wonder he joined a gang?  Even apart from the sense of belonging it gave him, all of a sudden his cousins were scared of him.  He had a certain power.  Even his aunt and uncle (though this of course confirmed what they'd been saying about him all along) trod a little more warily around him, because they knew he could bring a gun home if he felt like it.  This doesn't mean he was no longer abused, just that it was rather less gratuitous.  Only when he, in whatever twisted sense, "deserved" it.  Yes, in his eyes as well as theirs;  he's been very slow in overcoming the belief that he deserves to get hurt when he screws up.  Being around Alex has been good for him that way, though he still gets very anxious when he makes mistakes.

He also never really had a consistent space of his own.  The cousins would always complain about having to share a room with him, so he got moved around a lot.  This is why his spot in the base - his cot, a wall to put his pictures on, a place to put his clothes, a desk of his own to sit at and put his books on - is so precious to him.  He really doesn't mind having that space open to view;  he's used to that... and anyway, what's wrong with being observed by somebody who cares about him?  That's the real novelty!  (I have a feeling he doesn't like being enclosed, anyway - there may have been a closet incident or two in his childhood.)

Anyway, being sick was not a good thing to be if you were the whoreson in the Garcia household.  It almost equated to proof of moral depravity.  If he was functional - and lucky - he'd just be ignored.  He'd get up and make something to eat (nobody else was going to do it for him), trying to be as inobvious as possible about coughing, sneezing, and so on.  If attention was drawn to the fact he was sick, he'd get the lecture about how he useless he was, good for nothing but bringing home germs.  (If other kids were sick too, somehow it would be his fault!)

If Carlos was sick enough that he wasn't able to take care of himself, his aunt would do it, under much protest.  But that was really bad, because it would raise the accusation that he was "lazy", a drag on the family's resources and time, and that they really ought to turn him out on the street.  If he weren't "blood" they would have done it long ago!  There were a couple ugly incidents with his uncle inflicting little cruelties on him while he lay there, asking him if he still felt "lazy".  Maybe if your arm is twisted a bit more, you'll stop faking and get up and make yourself useful, hm?

The result, of course, is that he would go to extreme lengths to get up and do whatever needed doing, no matter how he felt, or how ludicrous and unnecessary a sane person would see the effort.  And since he's reasonably healthy (though his lack of sleep no doubt takes a toll, true), I doubt this is an issue he's had much chance to get reassured about during his time at the base.  Perhaps not at all, or perhaps a little - but it's still an issue for him.

P.S.  The other thing you really didn't want to do in Carlos' shoes was cry.  This would draw down all sorts of unwelcome attention.  The fact that he burst into tears upon meeting the Shadow the second time shows that there was inner upheaval of an unprecedented kind going on.  You know, I just realized - one reason why their first meeting might have made such a huge impression is that the Shadow, bizarrely enough (from Alex's perspective) showed some sign of caring about him even then!  After all, he didn't actually hurt Carlos in any way (the fear that'd been laid on him would have led him to expect it - he wasn't exactly acting in a way his uncle would consider "manly"), and expressed some sort of interest in his welfare.  He even stated that Carlos could change for the better, even if he didn't seem to consider it likely.  This was a new idea for him.  (Plus, no doubt he had an indistinct precognitive idea of where their relationship would go.)

P.P.S.  Heh.  I just thought of a great line you could pull.  Grace has been in Carlos' mind now, and of course she's extremely psychologically astute.  If Carlos gets nervous about her helping him out, I could see her matter-of-factly informing him that she's a whore, so she's got no problem with him being a whoreson.   "We dregs of society should stick together, right?"  (This with deliberate irony, given her gracious manner and expensive house.)

P.P.P.S.  Heh, I feel like Gandalf.    I just realized that the whole dynamic with his cousins will influence how he relates with David, too.  Talk about insecurity;  he already knows what it's like to resent the "real" son.  And worse, he isn't even Alex's "blood".  His instinctive assumption will be that if David doesn't like him, Alex will "turn him out on the street".  This may lead to a bit of obsequiousness;  but on the other hand, if he's resigned to the possibility anyway, he might just cut loose and say what's on his mind.  (ESPECIALLY if David gets mad at Alex in front of him.  The sheer "ingratitude" and "childishness" of that, as he would see it, would outrage him.)

Finally, note that while Carlos never talks about it, he sometimes feels intensely guilty about the time he shot Alex.  He knows Alex doesn't hold it against him, but still - "I could've KILLED him!"  You can imagine that he takes his task of helping Alex get vested up VERY seriously.  I don't think Alex realizes that Carlos still dwells on this at times, but Grace probably does;  she may try to subtly maneuver that into the open.

P.P.P.P.S. Aaagh!  I keep coming up with further ideas after I think I've finished!   I'm wondering now how Carlos took the Shadow's interaction with Julio.  Consider the similarities.  Julio's a year older than Carlos is now, maybe less.  He's in a gang up to his eyeballs, he's hit with the biggest fear of his life, spilling his guts with abandon.  Yet the Shadow kicks him out of town for good.  Sure, Carlos knows the reasons why, even approves of them.  But...  the subconscious is rarely very rational.

----------------------------

SP answered my basic question the night after I wrote this.  He says yes, Carlos has been a bit sick a couple times, but Alex quickly figured out he was really sensitive about it.  We think that Alex's solution has been to simply announce that he could use a night off when it's clear that Carlos is the one who could use it.  Perhaps he's done a little prowling about in the base's neighborhood on his own without Carlos being aware of it on those nights.


----------



## The Shadow

Hey folks.  Sorry it's been so long getting the latest Shadow episode up... SP's been deathly ill, and I've been harried beyond belief in my job - I'm a tutor at a university, and finals week can get pretty hellish!  But now spring break is here, a blessed week-and-a-half of relaxation, and I thought it'd be fun to explain a bit about the Shadow's origins.  (Note that there's an oblique minor spoiler about the Shadow's latest adventure in here - the one right after the capture of Matt - so you might want to read that first.)

As I think I've said before, the Shadow was my very first superhero character.  I'd played D&D before, but that's it.  Nor even that extensively, as I had no regular group to play with.  I was introduced to Champions by the versatile SuentisPo, who I met my sophomore year in college - and though I tease him often, he's still bar none the best GM I've ever met, in any genre you care to name.  (Except horror.  Not because he's not good at it, but because he's SO good at it that people refuse to let him run it.  Well, that, and the unholy light that enters his eyes every time he suggests it...)  But superheroes are a favorite of his, and it didn't take long for him to convince me and Loren (a childhood friend of mine at the same university) to try it out.

I chose to emulate the "historical" Shadow for several reasons.  First, well, I'm just That Kind Of Guy.   When it comes to gaming, anyway, I'm devious, smooth-tongued, and sneaky - I'm not that way in real life, honest!  (While I love playing wizards because magic fascinates me, I do a great rogue.  In fact, my best D&D character of all time is a gnomish thief-illusionist named Thrimble... but that's for another thread sometime.)  I've been a big Superman fan since childhood, but I just couldn't see myself playing somebody like him...  A power set suited to my personality and habits was a must.

Second, I have fond memories of my Dad telling me about the radio stories he'd listened to as a kid.  He was especially fond of "The Shadow" - though I've since found that his memory deceived him in a number of details. (It's ironic that many of my readers are much bigger Shadow experts than I am myself!)  My Dad, for example, was the source for the "rare African herb" that gave the Shadow his power to cloud men's minds... an error that is by now so ingrained in the character that I keep it around even though I know it has no bearing on the radio hero.

Anyway, the Shadow has gone through a number of incarnations over the years... He's always been an Alex, but not this Alex, if you see what I mean.

Shadow I was thrown together with two other superheroes all unwitting in a short-lived campaign.  He produced his first immortal line in that first scene...  Bear in mind that he is the only one of the three with a backstory of crimefighting; the other two had either only recently decided to try it (the wizard) or had only recently come into his powers (the werewolf).

Picture this:  It's a dark alley late at night.  The Shadow is tailing a two-bit hood, hoping to get a lead as to his master's whereabouts.  He's visible;  I can't remember why, probably his mental invisibility required effort back then.  Anyway, the other two PC's happen to be in the same alley independently, looking for suspicious activity.

At that point, SP rolls several handfuls of dice for perception and Shadowing checks (as you can imagine, I've gotten ribbed a lot about the name of that skill over the years...  And yes, Alex always had a lot of it).  When the dust settles, he informs me of what the Shadow is cognizant of:

The hood seems blissfully unaware that he's being tailed.  PC #1, a scrawny little guy in a suit (the wizard) is rather ineptly attempting to tail the Shadow;  he doesn't seem to be aware that the hood is even there.  Meanwhile, PC #2, a burly guy in an overcoat (the werewolf) is rather ineptly attempting to tail the wizard.  He, for his part, doesn't seem aware of either the hood OR the Shadow.  Finally, the wizard, despite the werewolf's ineptitude, has no clue he's being followed himself.

The Shadow's response to this parade?  "What is this, Amateur Night?!"  (Followed shortly - after the howls of laughter died down - by the Shadow invisibly slamming the wizard up against a wall and demanding to know what the heck he thinks he's doing.)

It was also in this game that it was established that the Shadow was of a distinctly empirical bent;  he refused to believe in magic, insisting it had to be explicable somehow.  (This from a telepath!)  The wizard PC hadn't been able to come up with a codename for his character;  the Shadow dubbed him "Mr. Wizard" (after the old science show) and it stuck. 

Anyway, that campaign only lasted a couple adventures... but I enjoyed playing the Shadow so much that I recycled him shortly after in another game.  Shadow II was a sometime associate of a fairly conventional superhero group (he's not much of a joiner).  He didn't really fit in with that sort of setting, but I had fun anyway.  Major plotline:  A villain named Nighthawk, a thorn in the Shadow's side, proved to be his long-lost younger brother.   (Note that SP and I deliberately designed the current campaign with nostalgia in mind.  Many of the intriguing facets of previous Shadow games have been allowed for here - for example, this Alex has a long-lost (half-)brother as well, who might conceivably be up to mischief.)

It was also in this game that the Shadow encountered his trademark villain, his nemesis:  The mentalist known as Hexmaster.  He was considerably tougher on the mental plane than the Shadow;  it took all my wits (and the brawn of the rest of the group) to take him down.  He was a recurring villain, along with his two henchmen, Mutater and Leech.  (He had a third goon, a brick named Ogre, but he was never a real threat to an invisible mentalist.)  The Shadow was very leery of them both - Leech, a drainer, was absolutely fascinated by the Shadow's powers and wanted to steal them.  Mutater, for his part, with a little time and effort could shapeshift enough to spray choking clouds of uber-skunk musk around... being invisible doesn't help much against area attacks, I'm afraid.   It got to the point where the Shadow would turn invisible at the mere sight of either of them and start maneuvering... which prompted Leech, that creep, to say, "Dang!  Why's he so shy?!"   I fully anticipate that SP is saving these guys up for the current campaign once some of the current story arcs die down - and I'm both eager and terrified to see how he'll do them in gritty modern fashion, rather than over-the-top four-color.  (Think about it - a GM with SP's horrific bent could do some really nasty, scary scenes with a shapeshifter in particular. ... Er. I just realized.  That barbed ape-thing might just pass for Ogre...  Eep!)

Shadow III was in another short-lived but fun game.  Loren (who had played the werewolf against Shadow I) was playing a mystical master of dreams.  It was at this time that it was established that Alex was a scientist;  his disbelief in magic became a firm characteristic.  The two were quickly established as foils, arguing about this topic.  (This is a subtext to Alex's ribbing Hal about the "magic" phone that outsiders won't have picked up on.  You can bet that SP did!)

Shadow IV was, again, a member of a fairly standard group.  Hexmaster turned up again, but the big adversary (not exactly enemy) of the group was Gravitar, who was basically Magneto to our X-Men.  Well, him and the Purifiers, an anti-mutant group.  The Shadow developed a distinct distaste for their combat robots;  his invisibility wouldn't work on them.  Memorable scene:  We're trying to stop Gravitar and his gang from robbing a warehouse... Gravitar slams us all to the ground with his gravity powers and declaims, "Alas, the tragedy that my fellow mutants should oppose me, even when I try to rob the Purifiers!"

SP was a bit taken aback when the whole group said in near-unison, "This place belongs to the Purifiers?!  Well, why didn't you SAY so?!"    We did demand proof of his assertion, and his plans for what he wanted to do with the stuff he was stealing, but once we were satisfied, we merrily helped him rob the place.   Gravitar became a useful contact for the group thereafter (he turned out to be the British ambassador to the US), although we did often have to oppose him in earnest.  (I suspect, though I'm not sure, that this was where SP gained some key insights into what could be done with reluctant adversaries and friends whose interests don't always align with those the PC's.  At any rate, those insights later blossomed into one of his finest NPC's ever: Amazing Grace.)  Also on this occasion, the Shadow stole an energy pistol from the Purifiers, and was quite fond of using it thereafter - I think that touch of high-tech was what inspired me to create Hal Garrity later on.

At this point, the Shadow went on the back burner to simmer.  I started playing a new superhero character, the Phantom (no relation to that silly guy in purple) who proved to be my longest-running PC ever (and in one of SP's longest-running campaigns ever), and until recently I would have said he was my "best".  (Not counting an online character I played on a MUSH for seven years, a knight in Roger Zelazny's world of Amber - but that's not quite the same.)  Years later, most of the gaming group was dispersed, save for the three who had always been the central core:  Me, Loren, and SP.  And we still wanted to game, but the dynamics of the smaller group sometimes proved a challenge that stretched me and Loren as players, and SP as a GM.

Anyway, we played a couple fascinating duo campaigns - one involving the Phantom and his friend Erebus (alone, rather than with the rest of their "Shadow-Force" group).  I even had a couple short but very memorable solo campaigns with SP, that seriously stretched both our ingenuities.  (We learned that one can get a LOT more into character development in a solo setting.  There's no problem, after all, with one player getting all the attention!   But soon we were in the mood for something new.

We had fond memories of one of the last campaigns of the full group - a GURPS Psionics game in which SP had experimented with a gritty, "realistic" modern setting and found that he was scarily good at it.  (The group were psis on the run from the government, who wanted to control their powers.)  Furthermore, the "Dark Champions" supplement had just come out, and SP was all afire to try it out.

Well, thought I to myself thought I, who would make a better Dark Champions character than the Shadow?  He'd never really fit into a traditional four-color group anyway - too much of a loner, too much given to sneakiness and recon.  And so Shadow V was born.

He was a new creation from the ground up.  For the first time, I created a fully-fleshed backstory for him.  (I'd learned a lot - both about him, and about gaming - since the time he'd gone on the back burner.)  His wife Jennifer was detailed.  His career was fleshed out.  Perhaps most of all, I gave him a teenage son, David.  Loren - an award-winning author - chose to create a character based off of one of his own memorable short stories, "The Fix".  (Type "Loren Cooper" into Amazon and check him out - I promise you won't be disappointed.  If you think I write pretty well, I assure you that he's completely out of my league.)

That campaign - for some reason, we usually call it 'the Shadow game', or sometimes 'the Dark Champions game' - was pure magic.  One of the best I've ever played in.  The Shadow and the Forbidden shared pathos, grit, ruthlessness, humor, and in the end, an abiding warm friendship - two extreme loners who managed to forge a bond.  They complemented each other well as crimefighters, as well - the Forbidden is a truly frightening melee opponent, especially in a "realistic" world, while the Shadow can turn your brain to mush just by looking at you.  (And worse, you can't even SEE him looking at you. 

A lot of the power of the campaign flowed from Alex's sometimes-rocky relationship with David as well.  Perhaps it shouldn't have, but it came as a complete shock to me when SP revealed that David had inherited mutant powers - super-strength and regeneration, among other things.  (But, "David I" was not an instinctive fighter like David II is.)  There were some very painfully interesting scenes in which David got caught sleeping with his girlfriend (not Twyla - this girl, Wendy I think her name was, has since moved with her family out of LA).  Alex is rather straight-laced about that kind of thing.

Amazing Grace was a major factor in this game - and she IS amazing.  You haven't seen her in all her glory, yet.  And perhaps you won't any time soon, because the really interesting part was wondering what the hell she was up to, and whether she could really be trusted or not.  She was a character that you just couldn't help liking, even though you suspected you probably shouldn't.  She's courtly; she may be a prostitute, but she carries herself like a queen.  And she's just plain sweet!  She might poison your wine, but you'd enjoy her company while you drank it.  She's like that. 

The Shadow's first meeting with her was hilarious - to me, not to him.   He was investigating an organized crime ring, and suspected that she was involved somehow.  (He had no idea at this point that she was a telepath too.)  He's skulking about her house, and comes upon her typing away at her computer.  So he tries to slip into her mind... and she notices.

"Well well, who's there?"  SP rolled way too many dice of Mind Control, and it seized the Shadow hard.  (Her abilities work much better on men than on women.)  She gently extracted from him his codename and his purpose for being there, but didn't pry into anything else.  (That would be rude.)  Except for one thing.  "Since you're in my home uninvited, I think it's only fair that you take off your mask.  Don't you agree?"  Yes, she managed to force Alex to show his real face to her.  "Thank you.  It's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and do come again... though you can knock like a civilized person next time, all right?"

It was strangely inoffensive, because both I and the Shadow knew perfectly well that she could have done a lot worse to him.  She became an on-and-off contact for the Shadow and the Forbidden.  And to give you an idea of how inimitable she was, when a shapeshifter impersonated her, the two of them saw through the disguise right away.  The shifter had her physical form down, but just couldn't pull off her sense of style;  she was tawdry, overdone, rather than, well, graceful.  I think it's a supreme compliment to a GM, frankly, when your players can tell when one of your NPC's is being impersonated without any obvious clues!

Unfortunately, the campaign came to a crashing halt when SP made a fatal misstep - he dangled Rose in front of the Forbidden.  Alas, John had no other motive for fighting crime than his life-hunger.  We had a final climactic adventure in which David was kidnapped and tortured, which drove Alex into a killing frenzy.  (There was no mercy.  None.  N-o-n-e.  He is NOT a guy you want to make really mad, as Johnson is gonna find out.)  Grace was instrumental in locating him and helping us recover him;  and she sat up with him for hours in the hospital.  But in the end, John shook hands with Alex and wished him a good life, then fled with Rose into the Sierra Nevada.  He'd never once mentioned the Council;  that was all backstory.

SP and I did a scene between Alex and David over the whole Shadow 'night life' thing, but didn't have the heart to continue the game without the Forbidden.  The group moved on to other things... mostly we got consumed with work and the other tedia of real life.  (Except for SP, who has the good forture to live with four other gamers, the lucky dog!)  Occasionally we got together for a one-off, but that was it.

Fast forward several years.  My gaming starvation was reaching epic proportions.    (I'd given up MUSHing a couple years previous as it was just plain too addictive.)  D&D 3e came out and the three of us discussed it excitedly - it reawakened a lot of nostalgia for the old days.  (We'd given up on D&D out of contempt for the system, or rather the lack of a system.  d20 was something of a revelation.)  But none of us had time to do anything about it.  (The three of us did make a point of going out together to see the Shadow movie when it came out, though, for old times' sake.)

Then Loren discovered Mutants & Masterminds, and loaned the book to us.  We were in awe.  Champions the way it should have been from the beginning!  Simple, elegant, flexible, masterfully done.  We just had to do SOMETHING.  What?  Well, Loren ran one fun game of M&M, but hasn't had time since to continue it.

Finally, SP got a new cell phone account that gave him free minutes in the evening.  He offered me a solo game in the evening, one night a week.  I leapt at the chance.  We agreed we wanted to play M&M.  What setting?  We agreed further that we were getting really nostalgic for some of our old games.  SP:  "I'll give you a choice.  We can revive the Shadow game, or one of our old solo games."  Well, I just had to play the Shadow again.

Shadow VI proved remarkably easy to design in M&M.  Champions had always strained at handling mental invisibility;  it was doable, but it just never felt right.  With M&M, it was a breeze!  (And had the happy side effect of also easily expanding Alex's power to make other people and things invisible too, as well as letting anyone he wanted see through the illusion - which had been a problem in the old days.  We chalked this up to growing experience since the Forbidden left.)  But as I wrote up his background, I had the itching sense that I was missing a piece to the puzzle.  What made Alex tick?  Why was he the way he was?

It came to me in a flash of blinding insight.  I suddenly realized that Alex _was not in control of his powers._  Never had been.  He put up a good simulation of controlling them, but really he was only containing their raging power, thinning his shields selectively to let them rush out on someone else.  Why, though?   It was clear that this had been shaping his entire life since childhood - it explained why he was so stiff, so formal, so reserved.  Why should he be so out-of-control, though, when other telepaths like Grace were not?  Partly, no doubt, because he'd had a really hard life.  But that couldn't be the whole story.

The next insight was when I remembered how sickle-cell anemia works, as well as other genetic diseases like cystic fibrosis.  Having one sickle-cell gene is actually good for you;  that's why it persists in the population, otherwise it'd die out quickly.  It's having two that's deadly.  Thus I came to write the "Genetics of Psionics" - which also showed me that Alex had to be sitting on a raging volcano of power.  He had to be a really good and strong man, despite his obvious crotchets, to contain it without being destroyed by it.  That, and... Of course.  Jennifer must have been immune to the vibes that had alienated him from his peers.  What did that say about David?  And so on... by that point, Alex's father's powers (and their psychological effect on him) wrote themselves.  (SP's dictum that the new Shadow universe had only psi powers inborn helped here.)

The next blinding insight was that Alex had been changed by his time with the Forbidden.  He was no longer content to be a loner;  he wanted company.  Plus, the original game had taught me that having reliable information sources was a must.  The M&M "Minions" feat beckoned.  So did the "Sidekick" feat.

But the juices didn't really flow until I took those ideas and put them together with an idea for a character who'd been knocking around in my head for a long time.  A scrappy Mexican kid with a good heart, named Carlos.

Carlos was originally intended as a "sidekick" of sorts for a online character of mine, an elderly Dominican priest on EndlessMUSH with mystical powers.  Brother Jordan was merry, wise, insightful, fun to be around... and 800 years old, though he didn't tend to mention that much.   Anyway, Brother Jordan befriended a college student in the California university town the MUSH was centered on, and the player and I hit it off.  I'd already been thinking that Brother Jordan needed a foil, and the idea of Carlos was born... I suggested it to this other player, he really liked the idea (he turned out to be Brazilian in real life, and said he'd never actually played a Latino character and was looking forward to it), but unfortunately it never came off;  he had to leave the MUSH, which shortly thereafter fell apart.

The original Carlos was a homeless street rat of about twelve.  He had an innate gift for seeing to the heart of things, which was why he loved Brother Jordan on first sight.  (Jordan was a bulwark against the supernatural forces of evil.)  Suddenly I realized that gift could have an interesting interplay with a guy who could turn invisible.  And... that if I made him a few years older, I could introduce some really powerful dynamics of jealousy and insecurity with respect to David, as well as exploring just what "family" means to a guy who can read minds.  From there, the idea of him being a gang member was completely inevitable;  his story wrote itself.

Once I had that much, I produced the rest of the campaign material in a creative frenzy.  Isn't it great when stuff flows out of you like that?  I don't think I have EVER created so many interesting NPC's in so little time - and I wasn't even the GM!    I think I'm proudest of Hal Garrity - I must have really hit a nerve, because when I described him to SP, he instantly caught on to the bizarre ways the guy's mind works.  The way SP plays him is EXACTLY how I envisioned him from the beginning.  I'm also very proud of Maria Volanti, and I'm looking forward to seeing more of her.

SP also does an incredibly fine job with Carlos - the only exception being he (SP) knows no Spanish, and so doesn't pepper in a few words and phrases the way I did in "A Night Off".  Also we haven't really developed the banter angle as much as I would've liked, but heck - it's not like they haven't had PLENTY on their minds lately! 

The final crowning touches came in "A Night Off", which taught me a lot about Alex that I hadn't yet known.  I learned he likes to cook, and is good at it.  I learned that Alex's heart has unexpected depths of love, but that he's terrified of hurting the ones he loves.  And I learned how badly he needs boundaries between his Alex-life and his Shadow-life.  The hat on the banister knob became the symbol of his need to separate the two lives, and a warning of the consequences of mixing them.  I learned that the drug he uses is not really necessary, but purely psychosomatic - a crutch to let him believe that he's just an ordinary guy in his "real life".

The rest you know.  It's been quite a ride, hasn't it?


----------



## The Shadow

I was getting confused myself as to just which day was which, so I decided to write up an in-game calendar of Events Thus Far.  They are organized in terms of the filenames I've given the individual session logs.  *Note that there are major spoilers throughout this little list.*

Note that "days" here are considered to start and end at sunrise, given the Shadow's nocturnal schedule;  it would be just too strange to switch over to a new day at midnight, given that I often have no idea just where midnight falls.  Those sessions or part of sessions that occur during daylight hours are marked as such.

*Sometime in June, 2003*

*Night_Off*:  In which the Shadow (nom de guerre of Alex) and his sidekick Carlos are introduced to the Gentle Reader.

*Friday, November 14, 2003*

*NightOne*:  In which the Shadow seeks out black cars and reams the hapless Juan Martinez.
*NightOne_cont*:  In which the Shadow confronts and kills Carlos "El Bandito" Gomez.
*NightOne_end*:  In which Alex angsts about killing to Carlos, then David angsts about killing to Alex.

*Saturday, November 15*

*Wise_Master* (day):  In which Amazing Grace is consulted about black cars and David's training.
*Netrunning*:  In which Michael Barnes takes the Shadow on a hacking piggy-back ride.
*Bad_Juju*:  In which the Shadow pays a visit to the dire premises of OmniMetal Incorporated.
*Legion*:  In which a yet more dire threat emerges, at which the world may well tremble. David leaves the state.

*Sunday, November 16*

*Legion* (day):  In which Alex and Hal play with chemistry sets.
*Phone_Call* (day):  In which "Van Helsing" makes the acquaintance of Mr. Johnson, and Juan suffers an accident.
*Two_Down*:  In which the Shadow and Carlos have an unexpected encounter with Legion.
*The_Plot_Thickens*:  In which the Shadow "encourages" Julio to leave town, and is likewise "encouraged" not to oppose Maria Escolante.

*Monday, November 17*

*The_Plot_Thickens* (day):  In which the Shadow engages in sundry cloak-and-dagger activities, and Alex's day job gets interesting.
*Rue_Morgue*:  In which the Shadow consults with Ricky Montel, and encounters a nightmarish ape-thing.
*Heart_to_Heart*:  In which Alex and Carlos spar and confess their mutual love.

*Tuesday, November 18*

*Weasel_Words* (day):  In which researches are made, and Twyla is suitably manipulated.
*Screamin_Mad*:  In which OmniMetal's anti-psionic devices are put to good use.
*Kinder_Gentler*:  In which the Shadow is confounded by Legion's sense of humor.
*This_Means_War*:  In which Carlos is psychically victimized and Alex sets his foot on the primrose path toward lunacy.

*Wednesday, November 19*

*This_Means_War* (day):  In which Carlos is healed by Grace, vows of vengeance are taken, and plots are laid.


----------



## Lela

Wow, it hasn't even been a week.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

My sincerest congratulations are in order - this is one of the finest Story Hours I've yet read.

Listing the things I think are excellently done would take too long, so I'll only state that you're doing a wonderful job.

I have only two complaints, and they are related.  First, the emphasis on superscience is perhaps just a bit excessive.  Garrity is beginning to enter the realm of Star Trek technobabble, where any problem can be solved with the waving of hands and some random terminology.  If anything is possible, nothing is significant or meaningful any longer - I would respectfully suggest that Garrity's technological abilities be toned down.  Unlimited magic is rarely interesting, and disguising Merlin with devices isn't successful very often.  Secondly, the claim that psi cannot be reproduced by technology is simply ludicrous, particularly given Garrity's abilities in other matters.  Garrity is either grossly mistaken, or he's lying to Alex.


----------



## Lela

I admit, it is becoming a little less about the Shaddow and a little more about the technology.  We're seeing the Shadow's detective side though.

But, should Garrity continue, problems could develop.  The whole batman, _it's a jet, yes, but it's real_, thing is rather mysterious and the flavor the Shadow seems to be going for.  It doesn't draw attention away from the character or make his powers seem any less spectacular.

But, WotS, if reproducing psyonics with technology is so easy, let's see you do it!  Bah, you don't even understand how the nurvious system would have to interact with the qu. . ._Oh, Nevermind!_


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

It's not the abundance or presence of technology that bothers me.  It's the "technology can do anything, the explanation is irrelevant, it just works, accept it" attitude that has me concerned.

In a campaign where the characters, their motivations, their powers, and their effects on the world around them are so carefully and completely thought out, it is disturbing to see magic windows, flying motorcycles, untraceable phones and instachemistry together.  Any one of those things would be plausible in a superscience setting, but not all of them.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

Aw, nuts.  I killed the thread.

Shadow, if you're out there, I'd love to read more of your exploits.


----------



## Lela

He'll be back.  He's one of those trustworthy types that can't keep himself away from the keyboard.  Sure, it's OCD.  But that doesn't mean we can't profit off it.


----------



## The Shadow

And Now For The News: 

Bad News: Due to secondary infections, work craziness, household craziness, and general Real Life craziness, SP and I have not been able to game the last two Tuesdays. 

Worse News: It's not clear we'll be able to game this Tuesday either. 

Good News: SP hopes to be able to get a session sometime this coming week. 

Better News: My exile from the Net has now come to an end. 

Even Better News: SP did make it down a few weeks ago for an all-day gaming session, and I have it to post for you! And it's the longest session yet - three times the length of the average one - so you won't have missed much, in a sense. 

P.S.  Lela, you have no right to know me so well.


----------



## The Shadow

[Well, the bad news is that I got sick just as SP got well, plus there was other stuff going on, so we didn't get our regular session on Tuesday night.  On the other hand, the good news is that he DID finally manage to come down on Wednesday for a five-hour orgy of gaming.   I think you won't be disappointed... I wasn't!]

[Note one tiny retcon - SP and I decided that Alex called in to work while Grace was working on Carlos.  He's just too conscientious not to - and in fact, he was mortified that he was calling in late.]

[Finally, two little details to whet your appetite.  I've entitled this session 'Making Omelets' - make of that what you will.  It's also the first session in which SP has induced me to use up all my Hero Points before they recovered. ]

After hanging up on Garrity, Alex continued making phone calls.  First he tried Maria, getting her machine.  He left as explicit a message as he dared, then moved on to Harvey.  Despite it being his off hours, he also was out.  (His wife informed him that he was at the doctor for a complicated procedure and wouldn't be back until evening.)  Getting through to the Doc and Lance, he tersely informed them of their danger;  their responses were, as expected, gruff and gracious respectively.  Sisters of Mercy reported that Juan was now "stable", but still in the ICU.  Finally, he fired off an email to Mike telling him to disregard all messages from him and Carlos in the last twelve hours, discard all email drops, and set up a new one;  also to take anything on the web that could tie him to his real name and address off immediately.

Hesitating, he then decided on a final call.  Alex's heart fell when David didn't answer his cell, but he forced his voice to remain level as he left the message, "Things are heating up, son.  I'm probably going into danger today. ... I love you."

When he went back out to join Grace, his first question was:  "How long will Carlos sleep?"  "Another four to six hours."  "Good.  ... I want to be here when he wakes."  She nodded, but didn't reply.  "How... will he be, when he does wake?"  "Confused and disoriented."  "And physically?"  "Physically he's fine, except for being fatigued.  That's one reason why I put him out for so long."  Alex nodded. "Yes.  He doesn't get enough sleep."

Grace sent him a rather hostile glare.  "And why do you suppose that is!"  Alex blinked.  "His dreams interrupt his sleep so much..."  "NO, Alex.  Oh, I'm not saying the dreams aren't a factor.  But the primary reason that boy doesn't sleep enough is that he's trying to please you!"

Alex stared at her open-mouthed.  She continued at a high simmer, "You've got the constitution of a HORSE, Alex.  He doesn't!  He tries to keep up with you, not to let you down, and he just plain _can't._  Are you telling me you haven't noticed the amount of caffeine he goes through in a day?"  "What are you talking about?!"  "He inhales Coke like it's going out of style.  You haven't noticed all the cans?  He's an addict!"  "Grace, our schedules don't match!  He must recycle them when I'm not there!"  She considered that with the air of a judge weighing an extenuating factor.  "Well, maybe so.  Still, you could give him a break once in a while!"

Alex rested his face in one hand;  the Shadow for his part shot Grace a look laden with daggers.  Brokenly, he said, "What do you think I've been doing?  When I take time off, it's for his sake, not mine!"  Grace seemed a little startled, both by that information and by his reaction. "...Oh.  Well, it's a step in the right direction.  Still, you both could use a good deal more of it."  When he didn't respond, she changed the subject.  "Anyway... Shall we go?"

After spending a little while pulling himself together, Alex replied in subdued tones, "Not just yet.  Give me a play-by-play of what happened to Carlos.  I need to know how Johnson thinks."  She nodded.  "A few minutes after leaving you, he got a flash of danger, but there wasn't much he could do about it...  Johnson blasted him and he fell unconscious."  Alex cut in, "Did my blasting him later do him any further damage?"  Kindly now, "No, Alex.  The damage had already been done. ... Anyway, Johnson tried putting him in a dream world to manipulate him... a typical interrogation scene.  Bright lights, dark room, uncomfortable chair, that kind of thing.  However, Carlos kept seeing through it, so he gave up on that angle.  In reality, he turned out to be sitting next to Johnson in one of those black cars, unable to move.  Johnson gave up on subtlety and just wore him down until his shields broke."  Alex winced, but said nothing.  Grace continued, "Once he'd finished his work, he just drove Carlos most of the way back to the base, to save time.  He was under orders to call Johnson from a non-secure phone with information about your plans against Legion."

"What bothers me is this, Grace - how did he KNOW to be waiting for Carlos?  We know that he could track me, yes;  so that explains why he was in the area.  But I don't see how he could have been anticipating Carlos without getting the information either from me or from Legion."  She considered that.  "Possibly it was an opportunistic thing.  He observed the whole thing mentally and when Carlos started jogging away he saw a chance."  "Perhaps.  And why that elaborate construct?  What conceivable use was there in lobotomizing him?  Does he get a sadistic charge out of that kind of thing, or is it just psychological warfare?"  "I don't know, Alex.  I don't have a clear enough picture of Johnson's mind."

"If he HAD been lobotomized, would that have erased all information about Johnson?"  "Definitely!"  "Perhaps that's it, then.  Would... would he have ever recovered?"  "It's hard to say, Alex.  If it'd been you or me, certainly not - the construct turns the brain's own power against itself, and we're quite powerful.  YOU might even have been bleeding out of the ears!"  When he gave her an odd look, she said, "Yes, you're much stronger than me - you didn't know?  You just don't have my skill;  you didn't have the good fortune to grow up with a mother who knew what she was doing.  Anyway, Carlos' mind is significantly weaker than ours that way, so it's possible that with good care he might have come around eventually."  [OOC, SP informs me that with Grace's help Carlos would have made a full recovery, but it would have taken several weeks.  And note that the whole campaign isn't even a game-week old! ]

Alex sighed. "Interesting that he was saved by my reluctance to probe him against his will."  "Yes.  You were more willing to blast him into unconsciousness than to do that."  At his wince, Grace said seriously, "It's the right set of priorities, honestly.  Forcible probing is much more of a violation."  He returned a weary nod to that, and said, "Let's go.  Shall we drive or take my cycle?"  She giggled girlishly for no obvious reason and said, "The cycle, I suppose!"  [My best speculation is the image:  James Dean on a black Harley with his woman riding behind. ]

After they landed at the hospital the Shadow had heard the paramedics mention previously, Grace noted with vast amusement, "The engine doesn't rumble the way it's supposed to;  you should have your friend do something about that."  Alex gave her an odd look but did not respond as they entered the hospital.  As agreed, he let Grace's invisibility lapse at an opportune moment so she could approach the Admissions desk.  Of course the receptionist refused to give Grace any information, to which she responded with courteous understanding and a surreptitious telepathic scan.

_There's a John and Jane Doe under guard in the ICU as of last night,_ she sent, _It's almost certainly them.  Also there was a second John Doe who died of a gunshot wound to the chest._  Alex took that hard, hard enough to let the Shadow take over, but didn't let it show outwardly.  He vanished her again at a moment when nobody was looking, and they sought out the ICU.

It was a bit of a wait for someone to go through the doors;  they'd missed the lunch hour.  The Shadow waited with a patience born of many stakeouts, while Grace meditated.  Once in, there was no trouble finding the room numbers Grace had gotten from the receptionist's mind.  The windows were curtained.  Grace asked, _How are we going to get in without the guards noticing?_  The Shadow shot her a surprised glance. *You can't sense minds through a wall?* _You can?  Nice trick - don't be so surprised, I'm not the be-all and end-all of telepaths._ *Hmm.  Well, if you get a fix on them through my mind, will that be good enough?* _Should be.  You want me to do it, then?_ *Yes.  You're better at probing than I am.*

With that he swept the two rooms with his mindsight in turn;  at first latching onto the security guards before picking up the fainter traces of the unconscious patients.  Feeding what he saw to Grace through their link, he could feel her get to work.  Then, _OK, I think I've got everything I can.  There's not a lot to work with, they're both catatonic._

Turning to go, they were soon able to carry on the conversation verbally again.  "What did you get?"  "Not a whole lot;  their impressions of Legion are fragmentary."  "What I mainly need to know is, was there a change in Legion's personality last night after the first set of deaths?"  "Yes.  It's not easy to characterize, but there was a definite change."  "Hmm.  So Matt's story has a certain credibility - though we don't dare believe all of it yet."  "Yes...  By the way, both of them will be psis of some sort when they wake up."  Alex sighed.  "That's not entirely surprising.  One of the cops Legion worked on already is."  "...I don't think we'll feel the need to mention that part to OmniMetal."  "Definitely not!"

Once back at her place, Alex looked in on Carlos, who was still sleeping like a log.  Grace touched his shoulder lightly. "Alex... I owe you an apology."  Alex's face froze.  "What for?"  "I was much too harsh with you this morning.  I was furious with Johnson... and honestly, upset with Carlos... and I took it out on you because you were available."  He returned the stony question, "Did you say anything that was untrue?"

Grace sighed.  "All the facts were true... but I put them together into an accusation that was very unfair."  Alex did not acknowledge that, only stared off into space.  Finally he said, "I do need a reality check on a related topic, Grace.  An objective, outside assessment."  "Of what?"  His eyes found Carlos' face.  "Have I been using him?  Have I been letting the effectiveness he brings to my work blind me to his welfare?"

"I don't think so, Alex.  He's been using himself on your behalf, and trying to hide it from you.  I don't think he'd need to hide anything if you were willing to use him.  At worst, you may simply have let some clues slip because you had so much else on your mind."  Alex nodded, but did not speak.  She went on, "I do think you both could use a rest.  But honestly, I've thought that of you for _years_ now."  "Even when he does sleep, Grace... he doesn't sleep well.  The dreams eat him alive."  She nodded. "I know."  "Is there any way you can help him - get to the root of the problem?"

"Probably," Grace replied judiciously, "but I don't think he'll let me."  "What do you mean?"  "Think about it, Alex.  He hasn't even met me yet!  And already I know him far better than it's decent for a stranger to know anyone.  To really do justice to the underlying problems might take a couple weeks, and can you see him - or anyone - reposing that much trust in me, sight unseen, for that long?  I could force the issue, of course, but that'd just create a new trauma, which is hardly the point.  To really heal someone, they have to want to cooperate with you."

Alex sighed and nodded.  Then he said, "It's likely for the best if we both take a nap at this point."  She nodded. "You're expecting a long night, eh?"  "If all goes well."  He went and sat with Carlos again, holding his hand.  Grace let them be and sought her own bed.

A couple hours later, Carlos began to stir, awakening Alex from a light slumber.  When he opened his eyes, Alex said with a quiet, fierce sincerity, "Welcome back, Mr. Castaneda."  The boy smiled faintly at that, but said weakly, "Where am I?"  "Grace's house.  What's the last thing you remember?"  Carlos furrowed his brows in almost-comic effort to remember.  "I... finished my homework... and went to bed."  "On Monday?" "...Yeah." "It's Wednesday afternoon now, Carlos.  You've lost two days."

In that same groggy, weak voice, Carlos asked, "What... happened?  What'd I do wrong?"  That second question twisted Alex's guts, but he said firmly, "You didn't do anything wrong, Carlos.  If there's any blame to be parcelled out, it's mine, not yours.  You hear me?  It's my fault, not yours."  "What happened?"  "I took you out in the field after Legion.  We captured one of them.  The bike wouldn't carry all three of us, so I sent you home on foot.  OmniMetal snatched you."  "How'd they do it?  I must've done something wrong..."

Alex was about to reply when Grace came in and said firmly, "Carlos, it's time you got up and had something to eat."  Carlos looked at her, bewildered, but said, "Yes ma'am," and started to struggle to his feet.  Alex helped him up and supported him with an arm about his shoulders.  At the young man's whispered question, he whispered back, "Yes, that's Grace.  She's been helping you."

Once in the kitchen, Grace kept Carlos' mind occupied with small talk while Alex fixed a couple omelets.  The boy's groggy, out-of-it responses worried and unnerved him, but he tried not to let it show... losing himself as ever in cracking eggs just so, whipping in the ingredients, tilting the pan just right to let the egg run under the cooked spots and turn golden.  Once done, they were devoured with a reassuringly healthy appetite.  "Thank you, sir.  That's good... I'm hungrier than I thought."  Alex squeezed his shoulder hard and said, "You'll notice the absence of one special ingredient... I figured you've been hitting the mushrooms too hard lately as it is."  Carlos giggled a bit at that, and Alex started to relax.

After Carlos had made a much-needed trip to the bathroom, Grace put him back to bed.  "I've tapped his sleep center again;   I'm a big believer in the ability of the body and mind to heal themselves if given half a chance.  The only problem is that it does badly depress REM sleep... but in his case that's as much a blessing as anything else, poor kid."   Alex nodded wearily and quoted, "'Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care'... and I daresay his 'sleave' is a bit more 'ravelled' than most of late.  Tell me, Grace... There's something I've been wondering."

"Yes?"  "Do we have any allies against OmniMetal we can count on? That first night Legion turned up, I asked you to mobilize everyone you could... What, in fact, does that amount to?"  Grace sighed.  "I've had people on the lookout for Legion... but I hardly know anybody who has both power and the temperament and training of a warrior."  "Not even the 'wise old master'?"  "Oh, he's got the training all right, but I don't think he'll fight."  "He's a pacifist?"  "Not exactly.  But it'd take a lot of convincing."  "Anybody else?"

"I'm afraid we're it, Alex - and I'm no warrior myself.  I mean, I know a girl who is the most powerful telekinetic I've ever heard of... she could probably cause a localized earthquake.  But she faints at the sight of blood, and would have to ask her parents before doing anything.  And I know a young man with the heart of a hero, but no experience in fighting, and only some fairly weak electrokinesis."  Alex's ears almost visibly grew points. "_Electro_kinesis, you say."  "He's not very strong... what about it?"  "He only needs to be strong enough to mess around with OmniMetal's junction box, Grace.  All too many of their little tricks depend on the power grid."  She blinked and thought about that, then grinned slightly. "Now see, this is why I keep you around."  Alex took a bow.

"You know, Alex, you've proven remarkably good at gathering young men with interesting powers around yourself.  Between David and Carlos and this Mike..."  Alex replied defensively, "I hardly went looking for them!"  "Well, true.  You only sired David..."  That got the immediate cold response, "I did NOT merely 'sire' David.  I have _fathered_ him."  "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."  "Accepted. ... Are you ready to tackle Matt?"  "Ready as I'll ever be."

With that they flew back to the other house.  Alex paused in front of the door to the meditation room.  "Does this place belong to the 'wise old master'?"  "No... why?"  "Who else would need a meditation chamber like that?"  "Well, me, for one;  I've thought about putting one in myself.  And you will too, once you learn how to meditate."  At his questioning look, she said, "Oh, I admit I wouldn't need the locks on the door.  But it certainly is a relief to shut out all the mental noise and let one's hair down."

They went in;  Alex noticed this time how 'quiet' in fact it really was;  oddly so.  But he was soon distracted by Matt, who was plainly a nervous wreck.  "Are you letting me out now?!"  "Soon."  "Good!  I'm not enjoying solitary!"  Grace interposed, "We've brought you some food, Matt.  Let's eat, then we have some questions for you... and then we'll see about the rest."  She set out some Brie and apples;  Matt picked at it and complained that the Brie was too rich until finally she gave him some plainer cheese.  "Can I go to the bathroom now?" he asked plaintively.

The Shadow was very dubious, but Grace took his hand and said "Of course," while sending through the physical contact, _Giving him a taste of freedom will make him all that much more eager to get out for good._ *Maybe so, but what will he tell Legion in the meantime?* _What can he say that'll do us any harm?  Anything he knows about his location he must already have told them._  He yielded to her judgment;  the minute Matt stepped out of the door, his face relaxed and he looked at ease.  Once he'd done his business and had been escorted back into the meditation room, though, he instantly became jittery again. "Okay!  What do you want?!"

Alex put warm, soothing sincerity into his voice.  "Matt, we need you to try to see things from our point of view.  We saw you - Legion, I mean - up until about twenty-four hours ago as bent on world conquest... or at any rate conquest of LA."  Matt broke in, "It doesn't work like that!  We couldn't possibly handle more than about twenty minds - forty at the outside!"  "So you say.  Even so, though, with the _right_ twenty to forty minds, you could accomplish quite a bit."  "Okay, okay, maybe we could.  What about it?"  "We'd really like to believe you when you say you've all had a change of heart, Matt.  We really would.  But under the circumstances we need proof.  For all we know, you've just gotten better at tricking us and hiding your homicidal tendencies.  After all, just last night you were kidnapping police officers!"

"Just tell me what you want!"  "We want to probe you and see for ourselves what the truth is."  "Fine, whatever, do it!  But you won't get down to the group level - not while I'm in HERE."  "That'll have to do for now.  We'll see about what to do next afterward."  "Groovy.  Just get started, already!"  Grace looked at Alex;  he shrugged.  She turned back to Matt and concentrated for a time.  After a few minutes, she reached out and took Alex's hand again.  *Why do you keep sending through touch like this?* _I've found that when I do, other people don't pick up on the vibes. Anyway... he's clean.  He believes everything he's told us;  if it's a lie, he's been thoroughly programmed with it._  They pondered that for a few moments, while Matt looked ready to climb the walls.

Suddenly their reverie was interrupted by the doorbell.  Alex and Grace looked at each other.  *Are you expecting anyone?* _No._  "Pardon us for a moment, Matt," Alex said, and the two of them left.  The Shadow drew his gun, while Grace went to answer the door.

Abruptly she was blown backward with titanic force into the wall - but oddly, did not hit with a loud thump, more as if she'd stopped short just before impact somehow.  She was choking slightly, however, clearly unable to speak.  A woman in Red Shiv colors came in the door and fixed her eyes on the Shadow, her hand still raised in Grace's direction.  "Drop it or we kill her!"

The Shadow was tempted to write Grace off as a casualty of war and start shooting, but Alex wouldn't let him - and it wasn't really good tactics anyway.  Alex dropped the gun, and Legion let Grace slide to the floor in response.  The five of them filed into the room:  Three men and two women.  Three of them (two of the men, and the telekinetic woman) were Hispanic and wore red gang colors;  the other woman was Anglo and evidently an ex-junkie;  there was also a moderately well-dressed black man.  In unison they demanded, "Where is Matt?"

Defeated, Alex gestured to the metal door.  The telekinetic woman unlatched the bolts from afar, and Matt came walking out.  The six of them visibly relaxed when he did so.  Matt told Alex with a strangely apologetic smugness, "You really shouldn't have let me out, you know.  It let the others pinpoint my location."  Then his face was wiped clean of expression as Legion all-but-palpably communed with each other.

The woman who appeared to be acting as the leader turned to Alex.  "Several of us want to kill you, but Matt and another of us have argued against it.  You can't even imagine what it was like for us, having one of us isolated like that... it was as if a knife were stuck in your shoulder, and you couldn't take it out."  Alex retorted, "Am I supposed to apologize?  You are the ones who were suborning cops only a few hours ago!  And whatever else I may have done, I'm not the homicidal nut-job YOU were yesterday!"

The black man responded, "That is why we have decided not to kill you.  We have only just recently managed, most fortunately, to throw off the lingering influence of Christophilous."  In unison they agreed fervently, "Yes."  The man resumed, "He is still with us, in a sense.  But he is no longer the dominant factor."  The woman in red picked up the thread then, "But if you continue trying to hunt us, we will kill you if we can.  If we cannot, we will find and kill Carlos, your son, and Grace."  Grace, looking pale, moved over to join Alex and took his hand.

"How do you know about my son!"  One of the men (who matched Bob's description of 'Montalban') responded, "When you blasted us that first night, one of the emotions was fear.  It was not a personal fear for yourself;  it had a distinctly paternal flavor to it.  We did not know for certain it referred to a son rather than a daughter, but that was the majority opinion."  At Alex's expression, he continued, "Do not worry, we do not think anyone but us could read you that way.  Our capabilities are... unique."  The woman who hadn't yet spoken said, "And no, we haven't yet found him.  Nor will we try further, unless you give us cause."  ['Jumped the gun', did I, SP? ]

Matt said - it was clear that the Legion-mind was speaking through him - "We are leaving now.  Do not attempt to follow us.  We wish no further contact with you.  As Matt has told you, we no longer seek to add anyone else to our unity;  our stability is fragile enough as it is."  Alex let the Shadow curve his lips into a predatory smile.  "I have some information that might just change your mind."  Legion paused in the act of trooping out.  "We are listening."

"Someone in OmniMetal deliberately drove Christophilous mad, for no other end than creating you."  They turned back toward him as a unit.  "That interests us very much.  While we cannot wholly regret our 'birth', it was a birth amidst blood and pain.  We are not proud of the things Christophilous' madness drove us to do."  "So are you willing to work with me to strike at OmniMetal?"

The man who hadn't yet spoken asked sharply, "Work with you?  Or for you?  It occurs to us that we have no particular reason to trust you.  It is quite in character with what we have seen of you thus far to use us as cannon-fodder against OmniMetal, then pick up the pieces."  "I have even less reason to trust you, if it comes to that.  But OmniMetal is bigger than either of us, and needs to go down."

They considered that.  One of them offered, "Very well.  Tell us your son's full name as our insurance, and we will be satisfied."  "Not a chance!  And anyway, what are you offering in return?!"  "It would seem we are at an impasse."  Alex growled in frustration, "Fine!  If a first gesture of trust has to be made, I'll make it! ... I'll open my shields and let you probe me, in certain specific areas.  Then Grace will check to make sure you behaved yourself while you were in my mind."  Legion pondered that, communing together, then Montalban said, "We agree.  Shall we begin?"  Grace said, "Hold on.  I need to make a phone call first."   Legion did not object.

She moved to the phone, dialed (carefully hiding the number), then said, "Hi, it's me.  We've got a situation here.  I'll be calling back within half an hour with either good news or bad news.  If it's bad news, or if you don't hear from me, put the emergency plan we talked about into action."  Then she moved back to Alex, taking his hand again - and giving it a surreptitious squeeze.  "Ready."

Alex threw his shields down as far as he could - an exercise he rarely performed, and never before in a position of weakness.  The Legion-mind plunged into his like a spear... rather than the echo-chamber of voices he'd experienced before, this was a single towering demand that filled his whole mind and compelled a truthful answer:

*WHAT IS YOUR POSITION REGARDING US?* _If everything you have told me is true, then I no longer seek to hunt you down.  I am willing to take you on your merits._

*DO YOU PLAN TO EXPEND US AGAINST OMNIMETAL?* _No. I seek allies against OmniMetal._

The intolerable demand was gone as suddenly as it had arrived.  Alex waited patiently while Grace probed him thoroughly, then relaxed when she announced with relief, "You're clean."

Alex told Legion, "I'm surprised you didn't want to know if I was telling the truth about your former members suiciding rather than being killed en masse by me."  The black man said, "Irrelevant."  Then he stepped forward and stated, "I, in a real sense, _am_ Legion.  When Christophilous died, his role passed to me."  He then stepped back again and the telekinetic interposed herself between him and Alex... but even so, Alex was touched despite himself.  They had no obligation under our deal to show me their underbelly... and it hardly seems worth it to lie when they could have killed Grace and mind-screwed me to a fare-thee-well.

Legion continued (passing sentences and phrases to each other like a game of keep-away), "We mean no offense, but we did not wish to remain in contact with you any longer than absolutely necessary.  We find your mind to be exceedingly disharmonious with ours;  we would not find you to be a suitable addition to us at all."  "I thought you weren't intending to add anyone new!"  "That is true - at any rate, not until we have mastered the art of stable harmony and decided what we wish to do with ourselves, and quite probably not even then;  the greater our number, the more difficult things are for us.  But there are some people to whom we would say, 'No, thank you,' and others we would run away from screaming.  You are among the latter."

Alex said sardonically, "I don't recall offering."  Matt grinned and said, "Right - you don't see us running away screaming, do you?"  "Is there some reason why you are standing around insulting me?"  "We are simply trying to impress upon you that we do not wish further telepathic contact with you.  Do not attempt to speak to us in that way without a very good reason."  "Consider me duly impressed.  Shall we get down to business?"  "Indeed.  What information do you have?"

Alex explained what he had found out about OmniMetal from the beginning, though saying little of his methods.  Legion pondered.  "We believe it most likely that the man who calls himself 'Johnson' is in fact Richard Jones, the vice president of R&D.  If so, that would make 'Torrance' his assistant Jeffrey Thomas.  Mr. Thomas formerly worked in military intelligence."  "I definitely got the impression of military training from him."  "Yes.  That was one factor in our assessment.  But primarily, Jones was Christophilous' superior in the chain of command."  "How many vice presidents are there?"  "Four."  "Who is the president?"  "August Barraca.  For what it is worth, we consider it likely that much of the hierarchy, including the president, have been kept in the dark about the more dubious details of Jones' experiments."  "We'll see.  What _is_ the Overmind Project, anyway?"  They replied, "You are looking at it - or at any rate, the part of it entrusted to OmniMetal. We do not know what may be going on elsewhere."

Then Legion announced, "We are hungry.  Is there food here?"  Grace gestured to the kitchen.  "In there."  They all filed in together, and a bizarrely domestic scene ensued, with Legion fixing sandwiches and other simple eatables in assembly-line fashion.  They displayed a distinct preference for bland food.  One of them explained to Grace and Alex, "One of the problems in having Matt isolated from us was that it threw our biorhythms off.  We all tend to get hungry at the same time."  Alex commented wryly, "That must cause some problems at the bathroom door later."  Several of the Legion-members grimaced;  Montalban said tactfully, "We find there's a line, yes. ... Fortunately our bodies digest food at slightly different rates, or we'd need six toilets in the same house."

They sat down to eat.  Afterward, the central director bowed his head on his chest, and the others began to act more individual.  During the conversation, they let several details about their roles slip;  Alex suspected purposefully, to build trust.  The woman in red was the "primary telekinetic focus", as well as the main tactical thinker of the group;  apparently Legion had developed telekinesis spontaneously as their numbers had decreased - "though perhaps that is a coincidence, and it was growing gradually before - we do not know".  Montalban was the "primary telepathic focus", and the Shadow's senses told him that the man was also something of a subprocessor;  at any rate the telepathic vibes from him were more pronounced while the director was "resting", or whatever it was he was doing.  Matt was the diplomat and people-person of the group - which, Alex sent wryly to Grace, explained a lot about Legion's winning personality.

When they were satisfied, they relaxed and the telekinetic asked, "What are your plans?"  "I was thinking of feeding Torrance a load of misinformation for Johnson's benefit, then grabbing him when he got off work.  I'm not sure how far into Johnson's plans he is;  he might conceivably make a good ally on the inside."  "We are not sure.  We wonder if Johnson and Torrance have been playing a version of 'good cop, bad cop' with you - giving you two different personality styles to work with and see which one you seemed to prefer."  "...Possible, yes.  But if Torrance turns out not to be useful, at any rate reaming him will give us valuable information we don't yet have."

"True.  Your plan has merit.  Perhaps we should be the ones to do it.  We believe we are better at telepathic probing than you are."  "True, but if you do it, he'll never trust us and a possible opportunity will be lost.  Let me do the talking, and maybe he'll be willing to come around."  They considered that.  "We agree.  We can back you up if things go wrong."  "Yes - I can cloak you all in invisibility if you are close enough to me."  "...That is very interesting.  What do you intend to tell Torrance?"  "I'm still considering that.  I'm afraid we destroyed the tracker on the box of screamers prematurely;  they likely know that we know about it."  [Alex was too stunned to think clearly last session - he went along with Grace's fearful reaction without thinking it through.]

Between the eight of them, they came up with a convincing story that took all the details into account.  "Now we just have to wait for Torrance to come on duty.  I don't want to talk to Johnson."  "We agree.  ... Pardon us, but there is something we must ask."  "Yes?"

The six of them looked pointedly at the hand-holding going on between Alex and Grace.  Matt, the diplomat, spoke.  "We do not wish to pry about the nature of your relationship, but we need to know if there are dynamics we must be aware of in battle."  Alex fought between annoyance and amusement at their misinterpretation;  he said, "You needn't worry about that," just as Grace said, "I don't intend to be in any battles."

Matt then grinned and said in his own irreverent voice, "But the burning question is, is there hanky-panky going on?"  Alex jerked his hand out of Grace's as if he'd received a shock, while Grace looked bemused.  Meanwhile Matt was visibly seized hold of by the Legion-mind and the white woman said, "We hope you will forgive Matt.  He uses humor as a defense mechanism."  Alex growled, "He clearly has a lot to defend!"  "Yes. ... He dreams of being a comedian."  Alex recovered his wry sense of humor:  "At least he'll always be guaranteed of five people in the audience clapping, I suppose."  "We said he dreams of it.  We did not say we had any intention of _letting_ him become a comedian.  There is only so much humiliation we are prepared to take."

Matt was "released" then, and talk turned to less-charged matters. After a few minutes, Matt came over and sat next to Alex.  "Hey man, I'm sorry.  I, uh, didn't mean to offend you."  Alex told him coldly, "My wife is dead, Matt."  "Ouch!  Me and my big mouth."  Then his eyes went wide and he asked nervously, "Uh, we didn't do it, did we?  She didn't die recently?"  Alex stared at him.  "No."  "Whew!"  Alex continued to stare at him, and Matt got out while the getting was good.

Five o'clock rolled around;  they decided to wait another half-hour or so, so it wouldn't look like they'd simply been waiting for Johnson to leave.  Then Alex spoke quietly into the commlink:  "Panel on."  A neutral voice responded, "Working."  "Command mode.  Voice test:  'Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country.'"  "Verified."  Legion looked on with interest;  Alex told them, "This is to ensure the call will be untraceable, as they'll expect.  I'm afraid you won't be able to hear his half of the conversation."  "We can enhance our hearing when we choose to;  that is how we discovered Carlos' name.  We will likely get most of it."  "Hmm.  Very well, I suppose...  Panel, dial hotline," and he gave OmniMetal's number.

"OmniMetal Incorporated, how may I help you?"  "This is Van Helsing for Mr. Torrance."  "One moment."  Torrance's voice, as neutral and business-like as ever, "Good evening, Van Helsing.  We have not heard from you recently."  "I've been occupied with Legion.  I have had three encounters with them."  "Go on."  "They have been kidnapping police officers and trying to join them to their group."  "That... is most unfortunate."  "It is, but I do not think they have yet succeeded.  I have foiled them twice."  "Yes, our records show two screamer discharges yesterday, the first bigger than the second.  Were they effective?"  "Very."  Alex went on to give a terse and mostly-truthful account of his tangles with Legion at the office building and the hotel while Torrance took notes and asked probing questions as ever.

"So, to sum up, you believe there were about six of them left after the second encounter?"  "There were exactly six.  I have not yet told you of our third meeting."  "Please continue."  "They mind-reamed an associate of mine, and left him with a very sophisticated construct in his mind that rendered him a vegetable when I tried to probe him.  I am very upset about this.  But I did not find out about it until after they had ambushed me in a location I had thought secure. Worse, they seem to have developed telekinesis.  One of them snatched the box of screamers away from me from a distance before I could use one."  "This is very bad."  "Yes.  ... I managed to shoot two of them, including the telekinetic, as I made my escape.  I believe I am alive now only because the remaining four began fighting each other... but they have since rejoined and work in tandem once more."

"Let me see if I have this straight, Van Helsing.  You are saying that the Legion mind fell apart, then managed to revive itself?"  "That is correct."  Torrance sighed;  one of the few signs of emotion he'd heard from the man. "This is most serious.  Are you in a safe location now?"  "I believe so, yes.  I would have called sooner, but I have been on the run."  "Yes.  I will pass your information on to my superiors immediately.  Call again in half an hour, and I will inform you of what we can do."  "I will."

Alex hung up.  "That seemed to go down well enough."   They chit-chatted a while; at half an hour on the dot he called back.

Torrance picked up immediately.  "Thank you for being prompt, Van Helsing.  I have managed to convince my superiors of the extreme gravity of the situation.  Tell me, can you hold out in your current location for another twelve hours or so?"  "I think so, yes."  "If things get too hot, we are prepared to offer you space to stay here in our office building for a day or two.  I am aware you do not find the location congenial, but the offer is there."  Torrance's voice sounded almost friendly for once as he said that.  "Thank you, but I believe I am safer staying put for now."

"At any rate," Torrance continued, "we expect to have a trained team of telepaths on location within twelve hours.  They will have more screamers, and other equipment in addition."  "How will I meet up with them?"  "I am sorry, Van Helsing, but the matter is now out of your hands.  Our people are the best.  We appreciate the work you have done, but all you need do now is wait until things are resolved."  "...I see.  You are quite sure they are up to the task?"  "I am afraid I am not authorized to tell you much about them.  Suffice to say that we are confident in their abilities.  Is there anything more to be said?"  "Not at this time, though I will be very interested in coming developments."  "I understand.  Feel free to call this number, and we will tell you what we can."  "I will do so."  "Good night, then."  Click.

Alex and Grace grilled Legion on Johnson, Torrance, and other matters for a while;  Alex learned in particular that the OMI building had a set of emergency backup generators underground.  Legion was also able to confirm the truth of those parts of the research Johnson had released that Christophilous had been privy to.  Plans were laid;  it was decided that the logistics of keeping Legion within invisibility range while the Shadow prowled about on his cycle were too problematic;  instead, they, Grace, and Carlos would remove to a location not too remote from OMI, available as backup in case of need.  (Grace suggested, with vast amusement, a house of ill repute known to her:  "Who would think to look for Legion there?")  Alex would remain in telepathic contact with Grace to coordinate plans.

The Shadow circled around the OmniMetal building restlessly;  it didn't take him too long to locate Torrance's car, which Legion had described.  He settled down into hours of patient waiting.  Around midnight, Grace told him, _Carlos woke up;  I've tapped his sleep center again, for the last time._  Alex asked anxiously, *How is he?* while the Shadow listened with alert curiosity.  _More coherent this time around. He asked about you several times._ *Grace... Take care of him, will you?*  He did not bother to elaborate on the reasons and conditions behind his request;  Grace understood.  _Of course._

Finally, after a long wait, Torrance came walking out his car... but to the Shadow's dismay, he was accompanied by someone else.  Someone who fit Legion's description of Jones/Johnson all too well...   Well, hopefully Thomas/Torrance would drop him off somewhere.  As the two approached, the dark avenger's trigger finger tightened on his gun when a beeping came from Jones' pocket... but he relaxed slightly when the man pulled out a pager, glanced at it, and said humorously, "No rest for the weary;  I'll have to call in when I get home."

They got in the car;  Johnson opened up a suitcase on his lap.  The Shadow was just beginning to worry when he died a sudden and painful death;  a horrible telepathic screech - like the screamers only a hundred times worse, Hell's version of the Last Trump - excised him from existence as Alex's mind reeled.

He retained sufficient presence of mind to peg a gas grenade neatly through Jones' window, but was dismayed to see Thomas emerge from the driver's side door wearing a gas mask... and carrying a disturbingly high-tech-looking gun.  Alex did not hesitate to shoot;  Thomas returned fire with crackling blue bolts of lightning.  But Alex did not truly know fear, even with the Shadow gone, until Jones entered his mind.  _Nice throw!  Too bad for you there's a counter-agent to the gas._  The man began relentlessly searching in Alex's mind for his name - and Alex realized with a cold start that his shields were gone as if they had never been.

Sometimes discretion is the only part of valor, he thought as he roared the bike away as fast as it would go, weaving around obstacles to try to shake Jones' line of sight.  He cried out to Grace, but of course the connection was gone.  Surely they can't have made me... normal... that easily!  Surely it can't last!  Jones told him smugly, _You won't have time to find out._  He kicked at the man's presence futilely - or was it futilely?  Yes, a tiny amount of his strength was returning.  Not enough, though.  Not nearly enough.

He spoke desperately into the commlink, still driving at maximum speed away from Jones.  "Dial hotline..."  He gave the panel the number of Grace's location while trying his best to shield it from Jones' attention.  The phone was picked up instantly.  "Hello?!"  "Trouble. Jones and Thomas are onto me.  They've hit me with some sort of super-screamer."  Grace contained her reaction, and just said, "Right!  We're on it."  She hung up immediately, no doubt heading to a car with Legion.

Jones gave a triumphant cry:  _Hey, Alex, nice to meetcha!_  Alex responded with a wordless cry of rage and hate, driving his mind into Jones' like a spear.  _Whoof!  Not ba-_ the man started to say when Alex managed to shut down the connection with vicious pleasure.

It was only a temporary respite, though - he could feel Jones' mind probing about, trying to find him again.  He activated his still-returning invisibility and evaded as best he could.  A tense battle of cat-and-mouse ensued;  Jones would sweep his probe about systematically, sometimes passing over Alex's unseen form, sometimes lurching back to try to establish contact.  He failed twice, then shouted _Gotcha!_ ... only to shout again in pain at Alex's strengthening mental thunderbolt.  The connection lapsed, and Alex knew the man had to be on the brink of unconsciousness.

Even with the Shadow gone, Alex was not a man given to hesitation.  He immediately wheeled the bike around and sped like an an arrow back toward OmniMetal's parking lot.  Thomas was expecting him, and shot at him twice - from his motions it seemed apparent that the gun was seeing him on its own.  (He would sweep it back and forth, then suddenly fire when it came to a halt.)  His second shot connected obliquely with the bike, which sputtered a bit as blue sparks played here and there over its frame.

Alex returned fire, and Thomas took refuge under the car.  That position made his own shooting angle difficult, but Alex's nearly impossible.  Meanwhile, Alex could feel Jones starting to take mental stock of the situation, ranging tentatively outward from the car.  With cold calculation no doubt born of the Shadow's habits, Alex saw immediately what he had to do:  Setting the bike on a ramming course toward the passenger side of the car's roof, he leapt off it moments before impact.

There came a satisfyingly loud CRUNCH, but Alex was in no position to appreciate it properly.  Laying there dazed on the ground, he could do nothing for several long moments but catalogue a series of bruises, contusions, aches, pains, and other grievances that his body quite resented.  But grim necessity drove him to his feet as soon as he had collected his wits.

At that time he noticed Thomas likewise woozily getting to his feet on the other side of the car, and snapped off a shot without thinking twice.  The man went down, hit in the arm.  Alex sped around the car invisibly;  Thomas was down on one knee, bringing his weapon up in one hand, a metal canister in his other.  Alex placed his gun to the back of the man's head and said coldly, "Drop it or die."

Jeffrey Thomas said not a word, only clenched his hand on the canister, which emitted a beep.  Alex cratered the man's head without compunction, then staggered back from the cloud of noxious gas pouring out of the canister.  For a few moments he was back on the ground heaving;  when he got back up, not much the worse for wear, he said quietly, "Not much of a trade, Torrance:  The contents of my stomach for the contents of your skull."  With that he went to the driver's side door to check on Jones;  the passenger side was well and truly caved in.

The man looked at him, gasping painfully, his eyes bright.  "Well... you've won. ... Both my lungs... are pierced."  Alex felt no joy, only a vast weariness.  "Why, Jones?  Why all this?"  The man whispered, "Overmind," almost as if invoking his god.  Then, more strongly, he said, "It's... our only hope.  Our projections say... that the human race... won't last another twenty years."  "Bullsh*t!  We've made it this far!"  "I believe... the projections... They're for real."  "Why?"  "I read... the minds... of the people... who did them!  ... They believe. ... Could they be wrong? ... Deceived? ... Possible. ... But you can't... doubt everything. ... Everything... I could verify... checked out."

"What about Christophilous?  How does that square with selfless service to humanity?"  Jones grimaced.  "Had to be... a nut.  We found... a sane man... just couldn't do it. ... And its gotta be done... Overmind Project... is the only way."  "And Carlos?  What justified such extreme measures?"  "Breaking you... The only reason... We needed you... to pare Legion down... not kill it."

Alex sighed.  "Jones... I have to know.  Are they really dogs?"  Jones made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a rattle.  "All the things... you coulda asked... and you 'have to know'... that one!  ... Yes, they're dogs... All the research... I gave you is real. ... We found... a telepathic dog. ... Just one... Vat-cloned it... made lots of 'em. ... Too bad... about the dog-lady...  She didn't... like the clones.  ... I don't blame her... She complained... to the wrong people, though. ...  She died."  At Alex's expression, Jones said, "No, Alex... not a pretty job. ... Gotta be done. ... Like the man said... can't make an omelet... without breaking eggs."

Alex said quietly, "Richard, if it's any comfort to that rancid little pustule you call a conscience, Carlos is going to be OK."  With a weary sigh, Jones said, "Since I've lost... that's nice to know... I guess.  ... If I'd won... it wouldn't'a mattered."  "You filthy, amoral BASTARD!"

Jones gazed at him with luminous eyes only half-looking upon this world.  Softly, he asked, "Tell me... _hero_... what makes a man... a hero?"  Alex spoke with total conviction:  "What makes a man a hero is opposing bastards like you."  Jones smiled oddly.  Then he quoted quietly amidst many gasps:

"How much easier life would be!  If only there were evil men out there, insidiously plotting evil deeds, and all we had to do was separate them out from the rest of us and destroy them.  But the line between good and evil runs through every human heart, and who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

The words hit Alex like a hammer blow, tearing at his deepest fears and doubts, but he showed no outward sign of his struggle.  Finally, he said, "I certainly haven't seen you destroy a piece of yours."  Jones chuckled again, then said, "Thanks... for reminding me."  He reached for his suitcase;  Alex lunged to stop him, but was too late.  The man hit a button, and a crackling sound came from within.  "Now... you won't figure out... our little tricks."  Alex sighed.  "How did you know I was here, anyway?"  "My pager... picks up... your bike somehow. ... Don't know how. ... Doesn't matter."

Alex shrugged off the trivia.  "Who do you report to, Jones?  Who's behind Project Overmind?"  Jones smiled faintly.  "That part... you don't get."  "Oh, no," Alex said softly, "I beg to differ."  His mind lanced into the dying man's without mercy.  When Jones realized what he was doing, he deliberately wrenched himself against the metal impaling him and began to fade fast.

He did get a name before Richard Jones left this world:  Spherlos.  A Greek.  Living somewhere on the Mediterranean.  That was all.

Shortly afterward, Grace and Legion sped up in a car.  Grace looked at him anxiously;  Alex returned her gaze with infinite weariness and said quietly, "Film at eleven.  It's over. This part, anyway."  She nodded hesitantly.

Legion's telekinetic focus asked dispassionately, "Do you wish to recover your motorcycle?"  "...Yes." She gestured, and with a grinding of metal the thing tore away and moved over to him, hovering there.  Legion's unnamed male unit said, "We must leave at once.  Is there anything more to do here?"  "Yes.  One moment."  He pulled Jones' suitcase and pager out of the car, then recovered the gun from Thomas;  possibly Garrity could do something with them.  Then he played the green rays of Hal's little disintegrator over the car and Thomas' corpse until there was nothing left but bad memories.

"I should probably put this stuff somewhere safe - who knows if there's a tracker on it or not?"  Grace suggested practically, "Put it at the top of a radio tower;  it should be fine there for a couple days."  "I doubt the bike still works..."  He tried it;  to his surprise, it did, if with the occasional hiccup.  [SP rolled a natural 20 on its Damage save. The car, and Jones and Thomas, were of course not so lucky.]

Alex quickly explained what he'd learned.  Legion conferred, then Matt told him in his Legion-voice, "We intend to leave Los Angeles at once.  A screamer as powerful as the one you describe would destroy us;  and we do not care for the sound of this team of telepaths that may be arriving - if Thomas did not lie about that."  Alex nodded.  "I'll give you a number you can contact me at if you need anything."  Grace handed him pen and paper;  he wrote down the number of Nightshade Enterprises and handed it to Matt.  Matt passed it without even looking at it to Legion's central director;  the black man glanced at it, committing it to memory, then handed it back.

With that the others sped away while Alex strapped Jones' suitcase to the bike.  He was about to mount and fly off when he realized something was missing... His hat must have blown off when he jumped off the bike.

He found it lying on the ground several yards away from the former car - a little more dusty and battered than it had been.  He looked at it with mixed feelings for a time, then picked it up and brushed it off.  Placing it on his head, he whispered, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

_...the line between good and evil runs through every human heart..._

"The Shadow knows."

[The quote is from 'The Gulag Archipelago' by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.  I came across it again in my reading about a month ago, and instantly knew that those words had the power, in the right circumstances, to break Alex like a dry twig.  I let SP in on this, and he said he'd take it under advisement.]

[Fortunately or unfortunately, the circumstances weren't quite right.  Still, I feel quite sure those words will haunt Alex for some time, and may even prove to be something of a time bomb, Johnson's Revenge.]

[Oh, and if you're wondering about the current state of Alex's mental health, all I can tell you is that I'm wondering as well.   Something very profound happened here.  I can tell you that he is no longer on the brink of needing the nice young men in the clean white coats.  More than this, deponent knoweth not - and is curious to find out.   I do think I can say that the last little bit at the end can have several different spins put on it, and that even Alex may not be sure just which one he intended.]

[But if I'd ever had any doubts about Alex's grit - as distinctly opposed to the Shadow's - let's just say that they have been thoroughly dispelled.  I was almost shocked speechless when he decided to ram the car, but it was so perfectly the right thing to do that I had to do it.]


----------



## The Shadow

I forgot to mention that SP has confirmed that the first major story arc has been concluded.  He calls it "Wheels Within Wheels" for the obvious reasons. 

So, now I get experience points, lots of 'em.   No idea what to spend them on yet.

Wrath of the Swarm, I'll get to your comments sometime today or tomorrow.  I already shared them with SP;  suffice to say for now that we agree with some of what you say, and we'll have to agree to disagree on the rest.


----------



## The Shadow

Wrath of the Swarm said:
			
		

> My sincerest congratulations are in order - this is one of the finest Story Hours I've yet read.




Thanks!  Glad you're enjoying it.



> Listing the things I think are excellently done would take too long, so I'll only state that you're doing a wonderful job.




Awww, don't be shy.  Feel free to tell me all the things I do excellently. 



> I have only two complaints, and they are related.  First, the emphasis on superscience is perhaps just a bit excessive.  Garrity is beginning to enter the realm of Star Trek technobabble, where any problem can be solved with the waving of hands and some random terminology.  If anything is possible, nothing is significant or meaningful any longer - I would respectfully suggest that Garrity's technological abilities be toned down.  Unlimited magic is rarely interesting, and disguising Merlin with devices isn't successful very often.




SP and I heartily agree that there are dramatic dangers in the Shadow leaning too heavily on technology.  I wanted him to have a bit of an exotic edge (especially in cases where his powers were not very useful) but not to have it overshadow him (pardon the pun .

This is why I bought him a very small Gadget pool (he could in theory buy weapons and armor with it, but they'd be considerably weaker than his mundane gun and vest), and why I further hamstrung it with unreliability.  Every time after the first that a given gadget is used, SP rolls a die to see if it actually works.  You'll note that the Shaolin device fizzled out catastrophically during the fight with Legion.   You can't generally go out and buy batteries for Garrity-tech at the store, and he's the only one who can fix them!

What's more, defining a Gadget in M&M always requires a Hero Point, which are a highly limited and valuable resource - very useful in combat, among other things.  I am vividly aware that every time Alex pulls out a Gadget, I am sacrificing combat effectiveness later.

Even with all that, it would seem that there is some feeling that things are a bit much.  No doubt in part because OmniMetal (not Hal) supplied some useful gimmicks this time around.  I suspect that source has now thoroughly dried up.   But we'll definitely take the matter under advisement.

However, we also think you're confusing Alex's jokes with Alex's real attitude, and further confusing Alex's attitude with OUR attitude.  It is by no means true that Hal can do anything, or that he is "Merlin".  SP has ruled out several proposed gadgets and capabilities, and he hasn't always told me why - it's his campaign world, after all.

Alex jokes about Hal's "magic" precisely because he knows it ISN'T magic - and because it gets under Hal's skin.  There is also an in-joke involved here;  the various incarnations of the Shadow, as I mentioned in the post on his RL origins this page, have always been rabidly empirical and anti-magic.  It's entirely possible that the ribbing going on between SP and me in those scenes are going over other people's heads.

Finally, while Hal does at times veer slightly into Treknobabble, I think maybe you misinterpret.  His problem is that he is so far beyond the state of the art that there are no words or concepts in English to express the way his stuff works.   So he fumbles around trying to say SOMETHING, and then has to give up.  Hence the "Oh, never mind!"  This is quite unlike Geordi, whose writers just make up new (supposedly well-known and reproducible) capabilities on the spot whenever it's convenient.



> Secondly, the claim that psi cannot be reproduced by technology is simply ludicrous, particularly given Garrity's abilities in other matters.  Garrity is either grossly mistaken, or he's lying to Alex.






> In a campaign where the characters, their motivations, their powers, and their effects on the world around them are so carefully and completely thought out, it is disturbing to see magic windows, flying motorcycles, untraceable phones and instachemistry together. Any one of those things would be plausible in a superscience setting, but not all of them.




You seem to have some very rigid views on what "superscience" and "psionics" are, and what they are capable of.  Suffice to say that we do not share these views.  And that we regard it as a bit unusual, to say no more, for someone to call our coherent, consistent treatment of a fictional topic "ludicrous".  And heck, maybe Hal IS grossly mistaken.  We've never claimed or implied he's omniscient; in fact, he's been mistaken several times in the campaign already.

I personally find it a bit amusing that you don't list the two gadgets that really are impossible under current physics (the disintegrator and the phasing device) and instead list those that are all well within the projected capabilities of current technologies in the next few decades:  handheld devices not unlike the Portable Window (only much more specialized and not as miniaturized, true - but on the other hand they're ranged) already exist; I myself can guess how an untraceable phone would work, though the technology to build it isn't quite here yet;  and there are people feverishly working right now on projects that they hope will make "instachemistry" possible before too long.  The flying motorcycle is admittedly far more speculative, but even antigravity isn't nearly as taboo a topic as it used to be, and I've seen scientific papers in reputable journals on gravity shielding.  (I have degrees in chemistry and physics, and SP in math and a minor in computer science.  Loren has 'em in English and engineering physics.  Yes, he's schizoid. 

Finally, we'd just like to point out that, although scarcely four-color, this is still a comic-book campaign, and that Hal is pretty darn toned down compared to comic geniuses like Reed Richards, Lex Luthor, or Forge.


----------



## The Shadow

Hmm, where'd all my Adoring Fans (TM) go?   It's pretty silent.

Or are you just all still reading that mammoth update post?


----------



## Lela

Sorry to vanish on you Shadow.  As I mentioned, it's just Finals hitting me.  I'll bounce back in about two weeks (yes, _next week _is only the week _before_ Finals).

I gotta say I'm both impressed and worried by you're intense personal seperation from Alex and the Shaddow.  You seem to have become those character(s) so deeply that it's a little scary.

Part of why I find you fascinating, actually.  You've really inspired me to think a lot more about my characters than I ever have before.  One, in a way, is even based somewhat off The Shaddow.  Kinda a dark Batman/Shaddow/actual criminal thing going on.

In any case, I'm glad to have you back.  It's continues to be one of the most inspiring reads I've ever experienced.  Rock on.

And, oh, let me just mention,



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"
> 
> _...the line between good and evil runs through every human heart...
> 
> _"The Shadow knows."



Gorgious line.  Perfect.


----------



## Hellzon

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Hmm, where'd all my Adoring Fans (TM) go?   It's pretty silent.
> 
> Or are you just all still reading that mammoth update post?



 No no, I'm still here.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Sorry to vanish on you Shadow.  As I mentioned, it's just Finals hitting me.  I'll bounce back in about two weeks (yes, _next week _is only the week _before_ Finals).




I know how it is - I tutor desperate college students in the weeks leading up to finals. 



> I gotta say I'm both impressed and worried by you're intense personal seperation from Alex and the Shaddow.  You seem to have become those character(s) so deeply that it's a little scary.




I'm not sure exactly what you mean ("personal separation"?), or why it's scary?

I do get into my characters, no question.  Once when arguing with SP about experience points after an intense Champions game, SP finally said, "That's it!  I refuse to carry on an argument with the Phantom!"    We still laugh about this, and he was right;  I was still in "Phantom-mode" as the game ended, and he's a good deal more assertive than I generally am in real life.  (Mild-mannered Clark Kent, that's me! 

But there isn't a one of my characters that isn't a reflection of me in some way, in whatever distorted funhouse mirror;  if they weren't, I wouldn't be able to play them.  I do not become other than what I in some sense already am, even if in a magnified and twisted way, and through the lens of capabilities I don't actually have.

I don't see this as scary, I see it as good acting - getting into the role.  I did some acting in high school, and was moderately good at it.

But if it's any comfort to you, these writeups are definitely "dressed up" from what they are when actually played.  There's plenty of OOC chatter between me and SP - joking around, teasing, reminiscing about our mutual past, cursing in awed tones (generally me, during "big" scary scenes like Legion's birth), and so on.

I also add a lot of touches to the writeups that never happened during the game.  For example, I deliberately added the bit about Alex fixing omelets for Carlos after it was all over - I was inspired by Johnson's omelet proverb, and thought it would make some great foreshadowing and also supply me with a neat title.

If you're curious about what Alex reflects in me, I suspect it's that I was very much an outsider and a loner in high school.  I felt very misunderstood and put upon, and not without reason;  I was intensely shy, reserved, and guarded.  I have largely outgrown this, but I suspect Alex is a reflection of that aspect of me, amplified, supported, and explained by his out-of-control telepathy.

On the other hand, I'm unmarried, far happier than Alex, practice a vibrant faith (I'm Catholic;  Alex is at best an agnostic on his more dreamy days), and couldn't fight my way out of a wet paper bag.   Plus I'm a slob, and he's a neatnik's neatnik.



> Part of why I find you fascinating, actually.  You've really inspired me to think a lot more about my characters than I ever have before.  One, in a way, is even based somewhat off The Shaddow.  Kinda a dark Batman/Shaddow/actual criminal thing going on.




Wow.  Thanks - imitation really is the sincerest form of flattery. 

I find that every minute spent putting thought into one's characters (and campaign worlds) pays off in-game by a factor of ten, if not more.  Of course it can be overdone - you can spend so much time thinking (especially about campaign worlds...) that one never gets around to playing. 



> In any case, I'm glad to have you back.  It's continues to be one of the most inspiring reads I've ever experienced.  Rock on.




Consider me on-rocked.   And I'm glad to BE back.



> Gorgious line.  Perfect.




Thanks.  I'm very proud of that line.  It's another bit that I added to the writeup that never actually got gamed.

P.S.  Hellzon - glad to meet you.   Feel free to comment;  I'm something of a feedback whore.


----------



## Lela

I just thought it interesting how deep you get into your characters.   They become real and definitally have their own lives.  It's not something I normally see.


----------



## The Shadow

Got an email from SP apologizing for not contacting me before now... turns out he's been quite sick.  AGAIN.  I'm starting to worry about that lad.

He says he's going to try to call me Sunday, if he's up to it.  We'll see.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> I just thought it interesting how deep you get into your characters.   They become real and definitally have their own lives.  It's not something I normally see.




I love that kind of thing.   It's a large part of what I game for.  Playing cardboard cutouts just isn't fun;  I want them to live and breathe.

It's an awesome moment when you're playing a character and suddenly you realize they're about to do something quite off-the-wall, even stupid, that you would never do yourself.  The ride gets wilder at that point, and its essential to give them their head, so to speak.

One of the great turnarounds in my gaming career was when I took the plunge in this way.  I'd gamed for years up to that point, and I was a good gamer in the sense that I created backstories, separated IC knowledge from OOC knowledge, and didn't need to always "win".  But in a fundamental sense, my characters were just extensions of myself.

I vividly recall the moment when this changed.  I was playing in a fantasy world the group had created together, based on the question, "What would Europe be like in the fourteenth century if magic had always existed and been a potent force? (And if certain fantasy races had always been running around too?)"

My character was David (no significance of the name re: the Shadow's son that I know of), a Cabalistic mage from Spain.  Young, idealistic, very devout.  He'd been deeply tainted with an ancient, warped elven magic and was becoming no longer quite human.  This horrified him even more than you might expect, because it raised the question, "Am I still a Jew?"

Anyway, on a fey night there was much magic in the air, and the two Irish (and part-elven) members of the group were slipping tangibly into faerie roles - going atavistic, if you will.   David likewise felt himself slipping into that alien frame of mind, his whole body responding to it - and reacted with instinctive revulsion.

We were using a home-brewed magic system, in which you could "push" a spell to more and more power, but with worse and worse consequences if you screwed up.  David crafted a spell to oppose and destroy the elvish influence in the air and pushed it... and pushed it... and pushed it... and pushed it.

As I was sitting there rolling dice, I KNEW, I knew completely, that it was utterly stupid to push the spell that far.  He was bound to fail, nothing would come of it, and SP would hammer us with it.  I knew the smart thing to do was to cut my losses and move on.  But David insisted - I don't know how else to put it.  It was more important to him to push that spell than to go on living.  So I let him.

Yes, the spell failed catastrophically.  Yes, SP screwed us over with it royally.  (Impromptu planar travel, anyone?   Yes, it was one of the most glorious, exhilarating, magical scenes I've ever played in.

I've never looked back.


----------



## The Shadow

Double post, sorry.  It's weird how this site's speed can turn around on a dime.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

The Shadow said:
			
		

> You seem to have some very rigid views on what "superscience" and "psionics" are, and what they are capable of.  Suffice to say that we do not share these views.  And that we regard it as a bit unusual, to say no more, for someone to call our coherent, consistent treatment of a fictional topic "ludicrous".  And heck, maybe Hal IS grossly mistaken.  We've never claimed or implied he's omniscient; in fact, he's been mistaken several times in the campaign already.



  Psionics, at worst, probably only requires new physics.  I can swallow it for the sake of the story.  I can accept superscience that involves new physics, but not when it requires throwing current physics completely out the window.  Psionics that can't be reproduced mechanically, disintegration devices - they go against too much of what we know.



> I personally find it a bit amusing that you don't list the two gadgets that really are impossible under current physics (the disintegrator and the phasing device) and instead list those that are all well within the projected capabilities of current technologies in the next few decades:  handheld devices not unlike the Portable Window (only much more specialized and not as miniaturized, true - but on the other hand they're ranged) already exist; I myself can guess how an untraceable phone would work, though the technology to build it isn't quite here yet;  and there are people feverishly working right now on projects that they hope will make "instachemistry" possible before too long.  The flying motorcycle is admittedly far more speculative, but even antigravity isn't nearly as taboo a topic as it used to be, and I've seen scientific papers in reputable journals on gravity shielding.  (I have degrees in chemistry and physics, and SP in math and a minor in computer science.  Loren has 'em in English and engineering physics.  Yes, he's schizoid.



  There are certainly devices that can "look through" walls, but not with visible light.  The device you described simply doesn't seem plausible.  A very sensitive infrared scanner might have been believable, or even weak x-ray scanners, but not magic X-ray specs.  Gravity shielding is even more of a problem, particularly since the Caverite paradox rears its ugly head.



> Finally, we'd just like to point out that, although scarcely four-color, this is still a comic-book campaign, and that Hal is pretty darn toned down compared to comic geniuses like Reed Richards, Lex Luthor, or Forge.



  Please don't get me started.  I've always preferred the stories where I have a good sense of what is and isn't possible - so the differences become meaningful.  If anything can happen, nothing that happens particularly matters.  If you can just pull out a disintegration device and eliminate most evidence of a car crash (!!!), there's less sense of consequences.

At least you haven't tried to insert time travel.  If you did that, I would probably go mad.


----------



## The Shadow

I fail to see what is so objectionable or "tossing out old physics" about psionics that can't be reproduced mechanically.

In our view for purposes of this game, "psionics" is the result of an immaterial mind and a material brain operating in tandem.  Technology can boost or even block the brain's contribution, but can't even touch the mind's contribution.  There's no "ghost in the machine", if you'll pardon the pun. 

Speaking as a physicist, I don't see how physics could even begin to tackle the question of an immaterial mind.  But since respected physicists and mathematicians like Wigner, Neumann, Eccles, and Penrose have proposed such a thing to account for quantum mechanics (among other things), it's hardly "ludicrous".  You are free to disagree, but I see no need to mock - the more so since this is fiction.

Who said the Portable Window uses visible light?  Not me.  Since it involves the Blindsight feat, presumably it doesn't give true color information.

I'm sorry you don't like the way SP and I approach comic-book superscience, but honestly this seems to be a matter of taste.  I love hard SF, and I love learning about real science, but I don't see the need to game that way all the time.

P.S.  As for time travel, that too is a major issue generating papers lately.   But not your typical SF time travel, to be sure;  the only kind that current physics MAY support is the "inevitable" kind.  ie, you went back in time because, in fact, you already did.  Also, you can't go back in time beyond the creation of your time machine.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

Is there a discussion thread for this game?  I'd prefer not to mess up this one further than I already have.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> I fail to see what is so objectionable or "tossing out old physics" about psionics that can't be reproduced mechanically.
> 
> In our view for purposes of this game, "psionics" is the result of an immaterial mind and a material brain operating in tandem.  Technology can boost or even block the brain's contribution, but can't even touch the mind's contribution.  There's no "ghost in the machine", if you'll pardon the pun.
> 
> Speaking as a physicist, I don't see how physics could even begin to tackle the question of an immaterial mind.  But since respected physicists and mathematicians like Wigner, Neumann, Eccles, and Penrose have proposed such a thing to account for quantum mechanics (among other things), it's hardly "ludicrous".  You are free to disagree, but I see no need to mock - the more so since this is fiction.



  Have you ever read Penrose's works on the subject?  I have - and they aren't pretty.  The man is a genius, but he's a genius who's fixated on a remarkably poor argument and can't be pried away from it.  And relating quantum mechanics and cognitive functions is poor reasoning, at best.  (Speaking as a former physics student who became a cognitive psychologist - I do _not_ take kindly to attempts to bypass logical restrictions on the nature of human thought, which is really what those people are trying to do.)

Postulating immaterial things is all likelihood isn't even conceptually coherent - if we accept the premise, information theory forces us to acknowledge that the model is indistinguishable from one in which material things simply have certain properties.  Then the question of why the interactions in question haven't been detected in physics yet arises.  Not to mention the problem of how this hypothetical mind manages to become linked with the biological computer of the brain...  well, let's just say that things get messy very, very quickly.



> Who said the Portable Window uses visible light?  Not me.  Since it involves the Blindsight feat, presumably it doesn't give true color information.



Blindsight is usually interpreted as involving vibration and air currents, at least with humans.  In D&D settings, it doesn't permit people to sense through walls.  Eh, it's your game.



> I love hard SF, and I love learning about real science, but I don't see the need to game that way all the time.



  Who said anything about _real_ science?  But even fictional science has certain limits.  Violate those limits, and it's just technomagic, and implausible technomagic at that.

I'm picky enough to have tried to work out how FTL works in _Joss Whedon's Firefly_... so things like Portable Windows and Disintegrators make me itch.


----------



## The Shadow

Wrath of the Swarm said:
			
		

> Is there a discussion thread for this game?  I'd prefer not to mess up this one further than I already have.




No, and I propose that we just agree to disagree and leave it be.

My original draft of this post included a rebuttal to some of your (rather remarkable, in my view) philosophical statements, but I've deleted that portion.  Honestly, I don't feel the need to justify a game out to that level.  It is a game set in a fictional world, and we treat it coherently and consistently, which is all that need be asked of fiction.

(Do you argue with D&D campaigns for using the "Trap the Soul" spell, by the way?  I made no assertion that immaterial minds exist in reality.  I readily admit that I in fact do believe in the soul in real life - though not in full-blown Cartesian dualistic fashion - but that is not at issue here.  I asserted only that we have adopted that view for purposes of the game.  I confess I did unwisely try to "justify" the idea somewhat from real life, but I have come to my senses;  this is a game.)

I do not think we have done anything worthy of being called "ludicrous", and I feel quite irked that you are tossing around that kind of insulting phrase.  If you feel that strongly (again, about a fictional story set in a fictional world in the context of a game), well, nobody is forcing you to read further.



> Blindsight is usually interpreted as involving vibration and air currents, at least with humans.  In D&D settings, it doesn't permit people to sense through walls.  Eh, it's your game.




Blindsight and Penetration Vision.  I said it _included_ Blindsight.  I didn't say that was the entirety of it.  Also, if you didn't notice, I don't happen to be playing D&D.  Blindsight in M&M includes ANY method of sensing in a mode equivalent to (colorblind) vision within a certain range.  Sonar, radar, "cosmic awareness", whatever.  I suggest you consult the rules of the relevant system before you make dismissive comments.



> I'm picky enough to have tried to work out how FTL works in _Joss Whedon's Firefly_... so things like Portable Windows and Disintegrators make me itch.




I am not that picky, except maybe in certain moods.  So I suggest we stop discussing this.  I really do not find it very interesting or even relevant to the story I'm writing.  I don't come to ENWorld to discuss this sort of topic.  And honestly, just where are the strict, well-defined limits you crave in fantasy magic?

To the extent you see *dramatic* dangers, I agree caution is needed.  But to the extent that your (rather specialized) taste rebels against the world SP and I play in, I think we've said about all that needs to be said.  We like it, and other people appear to also.  You are free not to like it.  Enough said.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

The Shadow said:
			
		

> And honestly, just where are the strict, well-defined limits you crave in fantasy magic?



  I take it you've never read any Ursula K. LeGuin, or Diane Duane, or even Terry Pratchett?  Good fantasy magic always has its limits.  Even D&D, which places almost no limits on what magic can accomplish (and suffers from that freedom, IMO) has guidelines for determining the power of spells at certain levels.

Now, fantasy in which any arbitrary thing can happen is rather like roleplaying when the GM changes the rules on the fly to make the game match his vision.  It's very interesting - to the GM.  Or like episodes of _Star Trek_ where the problem is solved with some button-pushing and technobabble.

I suppose we'll simply have to disagree.  The story will suffer as a consequence, but it's yours to do with as you please.


----------



## Lela

> I suppose we'll simply have to disagree. The story will suffer as a consequence, but it's yours to do with as you please.



Realizing that we're letting this die, I still want to say I haven't seen any suffering story around this thread.  In fact, it seems to be having a grand old time.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

Lela said:
			
		

> Realizing that we're letting this die, I still want to say I haven't seen any suffering story around this thread.  In fact, it seems to be having a grand old time.




[shrugs]  I'm as sensitive to the technological/thaumaturgical aspects of science fiction and fantasy as most people are to character development and behavior.  To me, the former are beginning to overshadow the latter in this story.  Presumably others' opinions will vary.


----------



## The Shadow

Wrath of the Swarm said:
			
		

> I take it you've never read any Ursula K. LeGuin, or Diane Duane, or even Terry Pratchett?  Good fantasy magic always has its limits.  Even D&D, which places almost no limits on what magic can accomplish (and suffers from that freedom, IMO) has guidelines for determining the power of spells at certain levels.
> 
> Now, fantasy in which any arbitrary thing can happen is rather like roleplaying when the GM changes the rules on the fly to make the game match his vision.  It's very interesting - to the GM.  Or like episodes of _Star Trek_ where the problem is solved with some button-pushing and technobabble.




Wrath of the Swarm, I find you to be a very frustrating conversationalist.  You put words in my mouth, fight straw men, make uncalled-for dismissive comments, and ignore most of the points I make.  And may I just ask that if you find this Story Hour so uninteresting and arbitrary, why you praised it so highly in the first place?

I find it astonishing that you allow to fantasy magic the right you do not allow to us - the right to create its own rules (and stick to them).  SP's campaign world somehow is not OK, because it transgresses against real-life science (you have denied this, I realize, but you harp on it constantly regardless) but LeGuin's magic (yes, I've read all three authors) is OK because it's internally self-consistent.

We think our treatment of Hal is internally self-consistent.  What makes you think you even KNOW what limits there are on his powers?  Has SP, the GM, sat down and explained to you just what limits he has set and where?  He hasn't even done that with me!

And heck, Hal in practice has AT LEAST the same limits that you argue D&D magic does, because the Shadow can never use more than two ranks of an M&M power in a gadget!  (The Shadow himself is PL 12, which means he can have up to twelve ranks in any power.  Two ranks is a pittance in M&M terms - equivalent in most powers to casting 0-level spells, or maybe 1st level.)

I am through discussing this matter with you.  I do not intend to respond to any further posts on it from you, because I find you to be rude and interaction with you unpleasant.  Good day.


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

Put words in your mouth?  I don't believe I've done that.

What I found interesting was the development of the characters' motivations and the complexity and consistency of their personalities.  The comic-book science was tolerable up until the last few updates.

I'm sorry I've offended you.


----------



## The Shadow

Wrath of the Swarm said:
			
		

> I'm sorry I've offended you.




I accept your apology.  And I likewise apologize for using excessive heat in a thread on a game.

I think we both could probably stand to step back and take more time in our replying.  Lives do not hinge upon anything posted here.


----------



## Lela

Not real lives anyway.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Not real lives anyway.




Heh.  True, Alex does have a tendency to rack up a body count, doesn't he?

Though I think that he's going to be a lot more reluctant to use deadly force in the near future.  I could be wrong, though;  he's surprised me before.


----------



## The Shadow

You know, I've got a fantasy campaign mapped out in broad strokes (originally 3.0 D&D, but I've been thinking of switching it over to M&M) that I don't know when I'm EVER going to have time to do anything with, if ever.

Just so it doesn't go to waste, I thought I'd post it here - a gazetteer of sorts, a discussion of the main religion (with many digressions), a short piece on time-keeping, and a short-short story illustrating one of the more interesting cultures.

Would that interest people, and if so, what board would it be appropriate to post it on?


----------



## Wrath of the Swarm

You could even write it up as an ongoing story and put it in Story Hour.  That forum isn't just for accounts of actual campaigns, after all.

Barring that, probably General RPG Discussion.


----------



## Lela

Both those should work fine.  If the Mods think it should go somewhere else, they'll just move it.  But from what you've said, both should be fine.

Hey, WoS didn't there used to be a People and Places forum around here?


----------



## The Shadow

And here's a link to...

"The World of Terrima"

In other news, hopefully SP will be well enough to game tonight or tomorrow night, which means that HOPEFULLY there will be an update before too freakin' long!


----------



## The Shadow

SIGH! 

Our repeatedly rescheduled game for tonight has been cancelled. AGAIN. SP is really sick, on meds that knock him out. 

Keep him in your thoughts/prayers/whatever it is you do.


----------



## GreyShadow

Get better soon SP.


----------



## Lela

I've done that recently (you know, apperently it's a bad thing when eyes get infected.  Who knew?).  Definitally not fun.

Wishing good health on you SP.  We believe in you.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> I've done that recently (you know, apperently it's a bad thing when eyes get infected.  Who knew?).  Definitally not fun.




Yeek, you and me both.  Except with me it's not an infection but an apparently inexplicable inflammation.  (Quote from doctor:  "It's just one of those things." 

Back in September when it first happened, I was scared I was going blind.



> Wishing good health on you SP.  We believe in you.




The good news is that he's finally sick enough to take time off of work and get some REST.  Maybe now he will actually recover, poor guy.  (He went and made the mistake of becoming indispensable at his job.)

Of course, he's always been sickly.  I told him once years ago, "You have every disease known to man, except hypochondria!"  Later, our friend Loren (the player of the Forbidden) modified this to, "He has every disease known to man INCLUDING hypochondria."


----------



## Lela

Yep, it happens. They blame mine on some kind of bug bite (that I never noticed) which then got infected with the wrong bacteria. "Just one of those things."

Anyway Shaddow, how bored are you? I recall you mentioning something about how you enjoy creating Calender systems. Looking for something new?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Anyway Shaddow, how bored are you? I recall you mentioning something about how you enjoy creating Calender systems. Looking for something new?




I LOVE creating calendar systems!  What do you want or need?


----------



## Lela

It may get a tad complicated, as there are two suns and one moon.  One sun is very bright (10% brighter than ours) and only came into being two years ago.  That's also the time when, essentially, another (very small) material plane crashed into this one, with most of the associated natural disasters you might expect.

The other sun isn't all that bright and not very warm.  It's been around since, as far as anyone knows, the beginning of time.

The challange is that they don't exactly go across the sky together and days tend to blend together somewhat.

This is the first time I've done this so let me know what else you need.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> It may get a tad complicated, as there are two suns and one moon.  One sun is very bright (10% brighter than ours) and only came into being two years ago.  That's also the time when, essentially, another (very small) material plane crashed into this one, with most of the associated natural disasters you might expect.
> 
> The other sun isn't all that bright and not very warm.  It's been around since, as far as anyone knows, the beginning of time.
> 
> The challange is that they don't exactly go across the sky together and days tend to blend together somewhat.
> 
> This is the first time I've done this so let me know what else you need.




I need to know quite a bit, but I'll email you so as not to clutter this thread.


----------



## The Shadow

OK, good news, bad news, and more good news.  Plus news that may be very good or very bad, depending on your point of view.

Good News:  SP is mostly over his sickness, which turned out to be, in the words of his doctor, "a very serious lung infection", though it wasn't pneumonia.

Bad News:  He has so much to catch up with from being off his feet for a week that he can't game right now.

More Good News:  He has sworn a blood oath that we will game Sunday night.  And presumably also next Tuesday night.

Ambiguous News:  He said the creative juices really flowed during his enforced off-time, and that he now knows much more about what the upcoming story arc will be like.  Accompanying this statement with a chilling laugh.  You be the judge.


----------



## Lela

I'll judge now and respond with my customary


YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Only with more !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'s


----------



## The Shadow

[Well, Gentle Readers, we didn't get our session on Sunday, all vows to the contrary... SP's hard drive chose that day to suddenly fry itself, just as he was preparing to back it up.  (There are times of late when I've wondered if a higher power has it in for this game.)  He lost quite a bit of notes and character sheets relating to this game.]

[Nonetheless, we soldiered on and got our first session in SIX weeks Tuesday night.  It was fluffy and fairly short;  we were both tired and had long days on the morrow.  But hey, an update is an update, right?    So, without further ado

Alex managed to plant Jones' suitcase and other hot tech at the top of a radio tower the way Grace had suggested, but the experience was enough to alarm him about the state of the bike's health - the engine clearly was laboring to climb, making whining noises that definitely were not in the specs.  "Getting this stuff down again may be interesting," he muttered to himself.

He made his way to Grace's house as agreed.  He took it slow and easy, but even so arrived before her.  He put the time to good use checking out a chilling thought he'd just had;  but to his relief the base's comm panel reported neutrally that Carlos had not added any guests to the system, nor had anyone attempted entry.  Eventually Grace drove up, with Carlos dead to the world in the passenger seat.

"Hi darlin'," she said wearily, her accent back in place.  "Give me a hand with Carlos, will you?"  Alex opened the door and gathered the boy's pajama-clad form into his arms with ease.  "Did you have any trouble at the other end?"  "No, Legion carried him for me. ... They've left, by the way."  "I expected as much."

Alex carried Carlos inside and put him back to bed, taking up his seat by his side once more.  Grace pulled up a chair and sat with him.  After a time he asked her, "How long will he need to... well, be himself again?"  Grace sighed.  "It's hard to say at this point, Alex.  A few days, at the very least.  Possibly weeks."  "But not months?"  "I doubt it.  Two months at the outside.  He's a strong young man."  "Of course he is," Alex replied bitterly.  "He's had to be, just to survive."  She nodded, saying nothing.

"How long are you willing to put him up?  I need to check out the base to make sure it's safe."  "I'll be around until Wednesday - I have Thanksgiving plans elsewhere.  He's welcome to stay until then, if need be."  "Thank you."  "Don't mention it."

Alex stared moodily into Carlos' sleeping face.  Finally, he said, "Grace..."  She looked startled at the tension in his voice. "What?"  "How am I going to tell David about him?  How do I tell him without hurting him?"  Grace's eyes widened as the situation dawned on her.  "Oh my."  "Yes."  She thought about it.  "Well, how long have you been 'hiding' Carlos from him?"  "I wasn't explicitly hiding _him_, it was more that I don't talk about the Shadow with him at all."  "Yes, but how long?"  "Eight months or so."

She went on, "And how long have you realized that Carlos was more to you than an associate?"  Alex thought it over, then replied, "...A few days."  Grace nodded. "Make that fact very clear to David.  It's not like you have been keeping this relationship a secret from him for a long time."  "How can I even broach the subject without hurting him?"  She responded bluntly, "You can't.  But pain is a part of growing up;  he'll survive.  ... To be sure, some ways of bringing it up are more hurtful than others.  I don't recommend starting with, 'Oh, by the way, David, the Shadow has a surrogate son.'"  Alex winced.  "What do you suggest?"  "The truth, with enough of a cushion that you don't add shock to the mix.  Reaffirm his own place in your life.  More than that, I can't really tell you."

Alex sighed. "It helps, thank you.  How long should I wait on breaking the news?"  "I'd tell him when he gets back.  But I'd wait until Carlos is more stable - at least a week or two - before introducing them.  It won't happen by Thanksgiving, I'm afraid."  At his nod, she went on, "The wait will give David time to get used to the idea.  With any luck, you'll be able to keep them from each others' throats."  "'Each other'?  I can see why David would be upset, but why would Carlos be?"  She shrugged one of her patented languid models.  "Unless David has changed since the last time I knew him, he has some personality traits that will drive Carlos crazy."  "Oh."

After another moody interval, he asked quietly, "Did Jones do anything to him that you didn't tell me?"  She responded quietly, "Not really.  I spared you some of the little details, but you know everything important.  Johnson... was a monster."  Alex shot her a piercing glance.  "Was he?"  "All right.  To be more precise, Johnson's behavior was monstrous."  He nodded. "That... and a number of other things... is troubling me a good deal."  She arched a brow curiously at him, but he told her, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."  "All right."  They chatted a while about inconsequentials;  after a time Alex said, "I should make a few calls."  "Be my guest."

He tried Harvey first, and got him this time.  "Harvey, it's Shadwell."  "Well, Mr. Shadwell, good to hear from you!  It's been a while."  The exaggerated good cheer suggested that Harvey's wife was listening.  "I called yesterday to let you know that I'd had a security breach, but it seems to be mostly taken care of now."  "That's good to hear!"  "I also wanted to know anything you can tell me about the cop-kidnappings over the last couple days."  "Yes, I've heard of those;  but I'm afraid I don't know much.  I've been kinda out of the loop the last few days."  Alex asked, concerned, "Yes, your wife said you were having some sort of procedure done.  Are you OK?"  "Well, I've been off my feet for a bit, but the doc says I should be right as rain in a week or so."  "That's good to hear.  I'll be in touch."  He wished Harvey good health and hung up.  After shooting off an email to Mike arranging a meeting at nine (at the Shadow's "home" computer, to assure him the message was authentic) Alex decided to give David another try.

The phone was answered on the first ring.  "Hello??"  "Hello son...  I survived."  David managed to hide most of his relief: "Well, I figured as much, given that you're talking to me.  What's the situation like now?"  "Much improved.  I need a little time to investigate and verify that everything is as it seems, but right now it looks like you'll be able to come home this weekend."  "Cool!  That's good to know.  Do you want me to make the arrangements and everything?"  "It can't hurt."  "Um.  It's the weekend before Thanksgiving.  That'll make it harder, won't it?"  "...Good point, yes it will.  It may not be possible to get a plane;  you may have to take the bus."  The short silence that followed was distinctly unenthusiastic.  "Well, I guess.  But maybe I can take the bus into town where there's a train station and do things that way?  I don't want to take a bus that far."  "I leave it in your hands, David."  "Should I work it all out today?"  "Give me a day to check everything out first.  I'll call you tomorrow morning."  "Got it."

"Where were you yesterday, by the way? I couldn't reach you."  This time the short pause was a little squirmy.  "Uh, well, I... There wasn't much in the way of good reading material around here..."  Alex, knowing his son, inquired coolly, "Yes?"  "...And I saw a couple cool-looking games..."  "Go on."  "...I bought a laptop yesterday to play them on.  I didn't take the cell with me, sorry."  "Hmm.  How much did you spend?"  David named a figure that, while definitely not bargain-basement, was also not extravagant.  "I see."  Before David could interject something defensive, Alex continued, "And what do you plan to do with this laptop?"  "Bring it home and use it."

Alex nodded and feigned surprise:  "Well, what do you know!  Christmas came early this year!"  "Ow!  Well, I guess that's fair."  "There is one condition, though."  Warily, "What?"  Alex activated his Parental Command Voice and spake, "There Will Be no pornography kept on that computer."  "Yes sir," David sulked back at him.  (They'd had a major blowup the year before about David viewing Internet porn on the family computer.  After a few months of tightly-restricted access - and paying the ISP bills - he seemed to have broken the habit.)

"Is there anything else, David?"  "No, I think that's everything."  "All right.  I'll call you tomorrow.  I love you, son."  "Yeah, Dad.  Take care!"

When Alex entered the bedroom again and took up his seat, Grace asked him, "Aren't you going in to work today?"  "I'll go in later.  I don't want him to wake up here by himself."  Grace started to look very indignant, but he cut her off ruthlessly.  "It has nothing to do with you, Grace, or whether I trust you or not.  It has everything to do with me, and him, and the fact that I love him, and that I want to be here when he wakes up."  Her face softened, despite his brusque tone.  "All right, Alex.  I understand."  "How much longer should he sleep?"  "Another hour or so.  I'll leave the two of you alone for a bit."  She suited actions to words, and Alex wrestled for a time with all comers in the ring of his mind.

He was busy throttling a big bruiser of a worry when Carlos stirred and his grip tightened on Alex's hand.  Round, set, match.  Alex squeezed back.  The boy's eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling before asking in that strangely distant, groggy voice, "Where am I?"  "Grace's house, Carlos.  You don't remember?"  "Oh... Right.  It's the same place."  "Yes.  How are you feeling?"  "Weird, sir.  And my head hurts."  "I'm just glad you're in one piece."  "Do you need me at the computer tonight?"  (This said in ludicrous contrast with the feebleness of his tone and the limpness of his posture.)  Alex told him firmly, "No, Carlos."  "OK... I guess I'm not quite up to it yet.  But don't worry, in a couple days I'll be good as ever and back on the job!"

Alex's tone firmed enough to scratch diamond. "No, Carlos.  You won't be."  He paused just long enough for the thought to register, then continued before the shock and panic hit. "I have an assignment for you."  Carlos' relief was palpable.  "Sure, sir!  What is it?"  Alex poked him in the chest.  "You are ordered to get completely well before working again.  That means getting plenty of rest and taking care of yourself."

The ghost of a smile haunted Carlos' lips for a moment, and with a trace of his old humor he said, "Yeah yeah, I get it.  And if I don't... you'll _know._"  Alex grinned at him.  "Don't I always?  It's part of the job description."  They chuckled together for a moment, then Alex noted briskly, "We have some very important things to talk about.  Do you want to get into it now, or would you rather have a shower and some breakfast first?"  "Definitely breakfast."  "That can be arranged.  Do you need a hand?"  "No sir, I can get up."  With a couple tries, he managed, shakily.  "What would you like to eat?"  "Lots!  ... And painkillers.  My head is starting to really hurt."  "All right."

Alex was leaving when Carlos looked down at himself and realized something.  With an edge in his voice that Alex didn't fully understand, he asked, "Where are my clothes?!"  "In the dresser, I imagine.  I grabbed a few of your clothes on the way here, but I'm not sure just where Grace put them."  "...Oh."  "Is everything OK?"  "Yeah."  The boy headed into the bathroom, and was still splashing water on his face and staring at himself blearily in the mirror when Alex brought him bottles of Grace's Tylenol and Advil.  Carlos accepted them gratefully and promptly swallowed two of each.  He did seem to be in considerable pain;  at any rate it was there to see on his face.

Going back into the kitchen, Alex designed a breakfast for double occupants and constructed it with a large fraction of Grace's eatables.  Carlos wandered in, freshened up but still pajama-clad, and proceeded to inhale it all.  "Ahhh.  That' s much better, sir."  "Good.  Are you ready to discuss the important stuff now?"  "Sure."  "Excellent. Stand up."

Carlos obeyed, looking puzzled.  Then he froze in shock when Alex hugged him tightly and said with fierce intensity, "I love you."  Carlos returned the embrace gently, hesitantly, almost as if afraid it might not be real;  he mumbled something that might have been, "I love you too," against Alex's chest.  They stood that way for a long time, then parted.  Carlos was visibly struggling with a whole gamut of emotions, while Alex was overcome with deja vu.  Alex told him gently, "This was actually the second time.  You don't remember the first one."  The boy's face twisted and he looked away for a long moment.

When he looked back, Alex met his eyes and told him quietly, "The man who hurt you is dead.  His name was Richard Jones."  Carlos nodded, saying nothing.  "He had a lot to answer for."  Carlos nodded again and closed his eyes.  Alex squeezed his shoulder.  After a time he added, "Torrance is dead too."  Carlos managed a weak chuckle. "Sounds like it was quite a night."  "Yes.  It was."

"What about Legion?  Are they really good guys now?"  "I don't know that I'd go that far, but they are allies, yes.  And they certainly aren't a rampaging monster any more."  "So who's the big bad guy now?"  "In the short run, nobody I know of at this time.  In the long run, probably the Overmind Project."  "We've got a bit of a breather then."  "It would seem so, though I need to make sure that Jones didn't leave behind any information that can hurt us."

A bit plaintively, "When can I work with you again, sir?"  "When you're well, Carlos.  We're not sure just how long that will take, but it will happen."  "I feel like I could be up to it again soon..."  "Were you 'up to it' all the time even before all this?"  "What do you mean, sir?"

Alex sighed.  He hadn't meant to bring it up just yet, but... "Carlos, have you been hiding things from me?"  The boy blinked and repeated, "What do you mean, sir?"  "Just what I said."  "I... I don't think so, sir...  Why do you ask?"  "How much caffeine do you drink in a day to keep up your schedule?"  "Well, some.  I drink some pop."  "How much is 'some'?"  "Oh, you know, a couple bottles."  "How big of bottles, Carlos?"  Carlos made a vague gesture that might encompass anything from twenty ounces to two liters.  "You know, sir.  Bottles."  "I don't recall seeing any of these bottles."  "Well, I recycle them, you know."  Though ostensibly calm, Carlos was starting to look increasingly flustered.  "You drink coffee too?"  "Yeah... a couple cups in the morning, to wake up."  His voice was starting to crack.

Grace, who had started to come in during these last few sentences, made some urgent 'back off' gestures to Alex from behind Carlos' back, looking alarmed.  But Alex had already figured it out for himself, and said soothingly to the now-visibly nerve-wracked young man, "I'm not angry with you, Carlos, and I think you do a very good job.  It's just that I love you, and I want you stay healthy.  We'll talk about it later, OK?"  Carlos nodded shakily. "OK, sir."

Grace then made a point of coming in audibly for Carlos' benefit.  "Carlos, it's time we checked out how you're doing inside."  Carlos immediately looked anxiously over to Alex for permission or perhaps reassurance.  Alex nodded firmly, and the boy moved toward her docilely.  She gestured to the next room and teased, "Come along, Mr. Castaneda!"  That caused Carlos to send another bewildered look Alex's way, imploring him with the unasked question, _Did you tell her...?_  Grace laughed and said, "Now, Carlos.  I'm your doctor - the doctor of your mind.  I pick up these little things."  Alex told him quietly, "She was the only one I knew of who could help you, Carlos.  We nearly lost you."  Carlos nodded numbly and went along with Grace, visibly shaken.

While they were busy, Alex got ready for work to steady his own nerves.  Then he waited impassively, as opposed to patiently.  After an interminable interval, Grace came back in, a bewildered and upset-looking Carlos trailing behind.  "We've made a good start.  Carlos, the Shadow needs to go to work now, so now's the time to say goodbye."  (She used the same patient, bright tone on him that people use with little children and pets.)

The young man stood there for a moment, unsure, then stuck out his hand hesitantly.  "Goodbye, sir.  Have a good day."  Alex shook his hand firmly.  "Thanks son, you too!"  He got only a glimpse of the shocked pleasure blossoming on Carlos' face as he turned away, smiling slightly to himself.

Then Grace had to go and spoil it.  "I'll be right back, Carlos, I need to lock the door after the Shadow."  She followed him to the door and touched his arm, sending, _It's worse than I thought.  He's badly wounded._  Alex sighed, slumping. *He will heal?* _Yes._ *How long?* _It's still hard to say.  But I'm more inclined to 'weeks' now, rather than 'days'._  Alex nodded.  _I should get back to him, or he'll get suspicious and fret._ *Thank you for all your work, Grace.*

With that, he made his way to work under a cloud.  "Another day in the adventures of Superman," he muttered bitterly.  "Defender of truth, justice, and the American way."

[The last thing Carlos would have remembered saying to Alex was his 'joke', "Thanks Dad, you too!", so that little moment near the end was quite deliberately planned by both me and Alex.]

[Funny how long this game turned out in writing.  It was a fairly packed session.  I find that RP-heavy sessions are like that, while combat - though it takes time to resolve in-game - ends up more compact in written form.]

[Anyway, SP says that barring further acts of God, he'll call for further gaming on either Thursday or Sunday to make up for the long hiatus.  Possibly even both, though I'm not to count on that.  So you may be getting more updates quite soon, imagine that.]


----------



## thatdarncat

hey, did I get here before anyone else replied? COOL!

Great read, great characters and VERY interesting story.


----------



## The Shadow

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> hey, did I get here before anyone else replied? COOL!
> 
> Great read, great characters and VERY interesting story.




Thanks much, you darn cat you.   Always glad to meet a new reader.  Stop on by again!

And sheesh, what is it with kittens?  On this board, there's someone with a kitten in a dryer.  On the M&M board, there's a guy who keeps talking about his Orbital Kitten Impeller.


----------



## GreyShadow

Great stuff!  

I take it that the Shadow will be buying a dog in the next installment?


----------



## Lela

Congrats Thatdarncat, with e-mail notification down I've been rather EN-impared whilst starting my new classes (holy crap, how can 6 block credits be this hard?).

Shadow, way to hold onto Carlos.  Don't let those sons of motherless billy goats take anything that special away from you.

Speaking of which, I am curious, any idea of what kind of damage Grace has found?  Memory and emotion certainly but is there any additional detail you found/figured out?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Shadow, way to hold onto Carlos.  Don't let those sons of motherless billy goats take anything that special away from you.




Heh.  Anything that tries will be left with Alex-sized holes in it.  Or, well, lots of small round holes caused by bullets, that works too.



> Speaking of which, I am curious, any idea of what kind of damage Grace has found?  Memory and emotion certainly but is there any additional detail you found/figured out?




There seems to be some physical damage as well - hence the headaches.  Sounds to me like the equivalent of a mini-stroke;  SP says that's about right.

By the way, you guys will appreciate this:

I scolded SP for telling me I'd "jumped the gun" in sending David away from Legion, when all along Legion was searching for him.  His response?

"Hey, I honestly think that Alex was too paranoid at that point. ... It just so happens he was right, that's all."   

P.S.  GreyShadow, why would Alex need a dog?  To keep off the rabid attack-kittens?


----------



## Lela

Dog's are emotionally healthy.  And loud.  Very loud.  Personally I recomend a cat.  Whether or not you'll live longer, I don't know.  But, assuming a good cat, you'll live quieter.

Actually, maybe a cat would be good for Carlos.  Alex might get one at the hideout for that purpose.  Of course, it may help Alex too, but I doubt he'd get one for himself.

Dang, I must have glossed over the Legion looking for him bit.  That's okay, I tend to hold chunks of stories together (usually two or three updates large) and go back to it based on the feeling I remember.

Still, I agree with SP.  Alex/Shadow (which one was he at that point?) was being too paranoid.  Then agian, if they're really out to get you, are you still paraniod?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Dog's are emotionally healthy.  And loud.  Very loud.  Personally I recomend a cat.  Whether or not you'll live longer, I don't know.  But, assuming a good cat, you'll live quieter.




I love dogs, personally.  Plus I'm terribly allergic to cats.  Naturally, they want to be all over me.

I like 'em OK, but dang.  They've cornered the market on "uppity", y'know? 



> Actually, maybe a cat would be good for Carlos.  Alex might get one at the hideout for that purpose.  Of course, it may help Alex too, but I doubt he'd get one for himself.




I've never thought about Alex's attitude toward pets. Hmm.  I suspect any pet at the base would be adopted by Carlos, though.




> Still, I agree with SP.  Alex/Shadow (which one was he at that point?) was being too paranoid.  Then agian, if they're really out to get you, are you still paraniod?




At that point he was in Shadow-mode but being unusually Alex-like.   It's because David was involved, no doubt.

A big part of Alex's problem right now is that he can't retreat into the Shadow persona - it's just plain gone.  (Reminds me a lot of the end of Fight Club, actually.)  I think that's why he's pushing for the meeting between David and Carlos.

Anyway, I still don't think it was too paranoid.  The vision haunting him at that point was "Night of the Living Legion" - the nightmare exponential growth scenario.  Like a zombie movie where the zombies aren't slow or stupid, all think together, and have unknown psychic powers.

By the time you confirm something like that is happening, it's too late.


----------



## Lela

Totally agree.  Still, I wouldn't be surprised if Alex had paranoid legally added as his middle name.

Shrug, Alex just seems very concerned about Carlos (and rightly so).  Plus he has been stepping out of his traditional self of late.  He may combine the two and try to do something to enhance the boy's recovery.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Totally agree.  Still, I wouldn't be surprised if Alex had paranoid legally added as his middle name.




No.  If he did that, They would get suspicious.   

One of my favorite lines in the whole campaign thus far is Hal Garrity saying, "It depends.  How paranoid are you? ... Never mind, I forgot."



> Shrug, Alex just seems very concerned about Carlos (and rightly so).  Plus he has been stepping out of his traditional self of late.  He may combine the two and try to do something to enhance the boy's recovery.




Alex is a very caring guy at heart.  He just has a lot of trouble showing it.  He is terribly afraid - and not wholly without basis - that if he gives his emotions free rein, he'll end up hurting the people he loves.

Johnson was trying to break him, and nearly succeeded.  Carlos being mentally extinguished would have been bad enough.  Carlos being mentally extinguished *by Alex* would have been a masterpiece of sadism.  It was his own extreme reaction to what NEARLY happened that has freed Alex up to admit how he feels toward the kid.

P.S.  No game Thursday or Sunday.  Family and work craziness on SP's end, as usual.  He has pledged to make Tuesday evenings sacrosanct from now on, though.


----------



## The Shadow

[You know how sometimes you get an idea in your head and the only way to exorcise it is to write it down?  Well, even if you don't, I do.  (He said with a loopy, manic grin. ]

[Think of this as a fragment of a "What If?" story set in the Shadow's universe.]

Dear Journal:

I keep trying to write about Dad's work as the Shadow, because I think it's important to get the story straight.  But it just won't go.  I'm too close to him.

I'm sitting here at the computer in the base, like I have so many times for so many months, and the memories just won't quit.  Him smiling that half-smile at me as he comes down the stairs;  whipping that cloak around his shoulders, joking in that understated way he had.  Though I had no name for him for a long time but "Shadow" and "sir", I thought of him, deep down, as "Dad" from the first.  I just didn't want to admit it to myself.  His work - even though I was in it up to my eyeballs - just doesn't register as important as that.

Start with the basics, I guess.

I'm Carlos.  I'm alive, sane, off drugs, and out of jail because Dr. Alexander Brighton - the Shadow - cared enough to scare me off the road to Hell and then take me in and give me his love and trust.  I'm everything I am because of him... Dang.  There I go again.  Take two:

I'm Carlos.  I'm a fairly ordinary guy, except I dream the future and the past, I can dodge bullets, and I fight crime in a costume for a living.  OK, so I'm not that ordinary a guy, but it beats boredom, right?  Sure.

I'm the Shadow, trying my best to follow in the footsteps of the greatest man who... Gotta watch that.  Well, to be more precise, I'm half of the Shadow.  The other half is my brother Dave.  He's over there right now, limbering up and pulling on a black turtleneck.  He usually fills in on the weekend, when he's got time away from his classes.  He can't dodge bullets, but he can punch holes in brick walls if he gets mad enough.  I try not to make him upset.

Not that he'd do that to me or anything.  Though our relationship started out really rough, Dad's death - dammit, Dad, why'd you have to go and die nobly, huh? Couldn't you have been selfish just for once? - pulled us together.  We're really close-

"Whatcha writing, Runt?" he calls over to me.  "Story of my life, Freak."  "Huh. Didn't know you'd gotten a day job writing for the soaps."

Can't you feel the brotherly love?  No, really, we're close.  We trust our lives to each other routinely, and it doesn't get much closer than that.

...Back.  Dave needed me to tighten up the back of his vest.  Now he's putting on the nightvision goggles and testing Mr. Garrity's distortion field - flickering in and out of visibility.  "All systems go."  "Testing, one two three," I say into the commlink.  "Loud and clear, Runt.  Wish me luck."  "Luck!"

I should probably stop writing for now.  Dave can generally take care of himself - that punching-holes-in-brick-walls thing - but that's not to say he might not need a hand on short notice.  I'm here to support him, just as he's here to support me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carlos saved the file and shut down Word, then pulled up his usual collection of crime-fighting windows:  Gang database, master map, state criminal records...

*You do have a bit of a tendency to wax melodramatic, you know.*  Carlos' eyes swam a bit, and he whispered, "I know, Dad."

"What's that, Runt?" David's voice came tinnily through the commlink.  "Nothing, Dave.  Pay attention to the bad guys."

[Don't worry, I have no plans for Alex to buy the farm in the near or distant future.  But if he ever does, this could be an interesting seed for a follow-on campaign.]

[Assuming the campaign hasn't changed totally beyond recognition by that point, which knowing SP, it will have. ]

[Though I didn't manage to fit it into the writeup, in this continuity Michael Barnes has become a disembodied cybernetic "ghost" (probably in the same incident that killed Alex) and there is a small but fervent "Church of the Ascendant".  Let's just say that the passing of a telepath of Alex's caliber under "difficult" conditions did not go unnoticed...]


----------



## The Shadow

[Well, in the comedy of errors I've been coming to expect, we didn't get our game on Tuesday because SP had a totally unexpected household crisis.  But he made it up to me Saturday night, so I am well satisfied.  I call this one, "Headache Remedies".  And I've only just realized I can give titles to each individual entry;  I may just have to go back and put them in.]

Alex walked into a work environment that made the Cuban missile crisis look tame.  The halls were a silent battlefield, with openly hostile glares being exchanged between members of rival factions.  They were three now - those for Legion's project, those against it, and those vehemently insisting they wanted to hear nothing about it.  By lunchtime even Alex's stiff upper lip was starting to droop.  The atmosphere was simply poisonous.  Alex dreaded what would happen when the news hit that the project would never be paid for...  Bob's reputation would likely take a heavy blow, and Wright's team would be livid.

Lunch was worse.  In his absence from work, he had evidently been pigeonholed as a fencesitter between the "opposed" and "uninvolved" camps.  His level, steely gaze discouraged anyone from actually attempting to sound him out, but speculation was plainly rife.  He noticed a quietly vicious exchange between two of his own team members out of the corner of his eye, and resolved to quash things before they reached the level of open mutiny.  He was considering his options when something brushed against his mental shields and shocked him out his reverie.

What was...?  Who?  It had been an inexpert, clumsy thing;  and there seemed to be more than one locus.  Alex opened his mind and scanned cautiously outward... only to realize, stunned, that no less than eight people in the room were projecting their emotions telempathically, seemingly at random.  They did not seem to realize what they were doing - they reminded him, rather uncomfortably, of himself as an adolescent.

He couldn't make out who they all were, so he made an excuse and walked across the room, carefully noting the identities of the projectors.  All eight were members of Wright's ten-man team working on Legion's chemicals.  That tears it, he thought.  But how are they getting exposed?!  Professional chemists assuredly don't sample their own work!

At any rate, the cause of the company's morale problem was solved.  Now that he'd lowered his shields, Alex saw clearly that the entire building was blanketed in a miasma of irritation, hostility, and ill will.  It was a feedback effect long familiar to him - negative emotion on his part spawning similar emotions in others, which worsened his own mood, and so on.  The question was what to do about it... He could probably suppress the activity of any one of them without much trouble, but eight at a time?  And perhaps two more?  (Wright himself and another team member were not present.)  Impossible.  Alex sighed.  He didn't need this on top of OmniMetal.

Nothing to be done about it just yet, though;  first things first. After lunch, he called a team meeting.  Once everyone was assembled and had put on a suitable simulation of friendly attention, he told them tersely, "I won't take up much of your time.  I am aware that there is a project elsewhere in the company that is highly controversial and stirring up strong emotions amongst the staff.  You are entitled to whatever feelings about it you may have, but I must remind you that we have a job to do here in this lab whose merits stand or fall on their own.  We are here to help people with cancer, and I will not tolerate that work being compromised by projects none of us here are are actually involved in.  Are there any questions?"  There were none, and Alex felt that he had actually gotten through to them.  [Natural 20's on Diplomacy are nice.]

They literally got a break later in the day - a sudden insight which promised to save the team at least a week and a half of work.  They couldn't accomplish anything more until a test came back from toxicology, so they knocked off early in a celebratory mood, much to Alex's relief.  He proposed to Vu, "Care to join me for tea, Dat?"  Vu smiled - he'd seemed scarcely affected by the office politics, unflappable as ever - and replied in his precise English, "Certainly, Alex.  It is a special day."   They stopped off at a nearby coffee shop and ordered a cup of tea apiece.  [Neither of them drinks alcohol, so they're hardly going to hit a bar. ]

After some initial chit-chat about Thanksgiving plans and other things, Alex remarked, "Work was ... difficult... today."  Dat grimaced faintly.  "Indeed.  I have never seen things so hostile.  I cannot understand what is causing it."  "How long has it been like this?"  "It has been especially bad the last couple days that you have been gone."

Alex weighed things carefully, then set down his teacup.  "I think I know the cause."  Vu blinked,  "Really?  What?"  "...Let's take a walk."  Looking even more puzzled, Vu said, "All right."  They settled their bill and went outside;  Alex swallowed one of the little "headache" pills from the bottle in his pocket, but said nothing until he'd found a secluded bench in a park.  By that time Dat's curiosity was undisguised.

"Dat, I... haven't been sick the last couple days.  I told Bob I had terrible headaches, but I'm afraid that was only metaphorically true.  I dislike lying more than I have to."  Dat nodded slowly, not interrupting.  Alex sighed.  "I suppose it's easier if I just show you.  Give me a moment."  He paused for a long minute, letting the drug's loosening feeling spread through his system... then reached out to his friend's mind.  *There's more to me than meets the eye.*

Vu stared at him for a long moment, then said with great formality, "Dr. Brighton, would you object if I placed my hand on your throat while you repeat that?  I thought I heard you speak to me without moving your lips, and I must be assured you are not employing ventriloquism."  "All right, Dat, if you like."  When these precautions were taken, he sent again, *As I said, there's more to me than meets the eye.  I am speaking to you via mental telepathy.*

Dat sat still and impassive for almost a minute, staring at him fixedly.  Then he said, "Either you employ discretion, or else you cannot read minds.  I have been thinking at you single-mindedly for some time now."  "I can read minds," Alex told him, "I just dislike doing so without good cause.  I consider it rude."  "As I said:  Discretion."  He thought a while longer, then said with firm decision, "I think I am not going to mention this to my wife."  "Thank you."

"Am I right in guessing that you have been having... difficulties of a telepathic nature lately and that is why you have sent David away?"  Now it was Alex's turn to stare. "How on earth did you know about that?!"  Dat struck a pose of inscrutable Oriental wisdom, then spoiled it by grinning.  "My oldest is a good friend of the mother of David's friend Mary."  "Your spy network is unparalleled," Alex told him drily.  Dat waved off the praise modestly.  "I got lucky."

Then he went on, "I also conclude that the telepathic situation, whatever it was, is now mostly resolved... but that you fear the company project is related.  The chemicals we are making are related to your 'headache medicine', aren't they?"  Alex gaped at him openmouthed.  When he was able to speak, the only thing he could think of to say was, "Amazing, Holmes!"  Dat grinned again. "Come, Alex, it's obvious.  You sent David away because you thought he might be in danger;  you had a father's natural concern.  If things hadn't been mostly resolved, you would already have contacted my wife to let her know that David would not be present at our Thanksgiving dinner;  you are too conscientious not to.  And there had to be a reason why you took a pill on the way here;  you admitted that you were not really having headache problems.  Finally, I do not think you would be telling me this at all if there were not some relationship to the project and the company's problems."  Alex shook his head.  "Your powers of deduction are most impressive."

Dat acknowledged the compliment with a seated bow, then asked, "Do you need the pills to use your... abilities?"  "They get me in the mood, so to speak. ... And you were wrong in only one particular.  I am _positive_ that the company project is related."  "Ah.  Very well.  What will we do?"  With that simple question he placed himself at Alex' disposal with a sincerity and trust that humbled him.  Alex felt his eyes threatening to mist up, and fought for his wonted rigid control before responding.  "Several of our competitors have been offered the same project.  Do you have any contacts you could sound out to discover if they are having similar problems?  I am on good terms with only a few myself."  Dat thought a moment, then said, "Of course," and rattled off a list of names.  "Do you wish me to begin making discreet inquiries?"  "Please."  "I will begin tonight."

"Thank you. ... There is also the puzzle of how our people are being exposed."  He explained what he knew of the problem, though of course not mentioning Legion or the Shadow.  "What is the half-life of these drugs?" Vu wanted to know.  "Six hours for the one, perhaps twelve for the other."  "Then clearly the exposure is not accidental.  It is unthinkable that people in our labs could be unwittingly exposed to a neurotoxin several days in a row."  Alex grimaced;  he should have thought of that himself.  Dat went on, "You say that you have not verified exposure of Wright and one other member of his team.  Until we have more information, we should regard them as our first suspects."  Alex nodded.  "It is time for me to read a few minds, it would seem."

He was about to take his leave and get started, but found himself curiously reluctant, the burdens of the last days and weeks suddenly seeming to crash down upon him..  Suddenly unable to meet his friend's eyes, he said, "Dat, I..."  Alex swallowed, his heart starting to race.  "I've done things I am not proud of."  Dat nodded slowly.  After a time, he asked, "Have you been working for the greater good?"  "I... never thought of it that way before.  I don't know."

"Have you acted out of the desire for self-aggrandizement?"  Alex thought it over.  "...No."  "Have you acted out of greed?"  This one was much easier.  "No."  "Have you acted out of anger?"  Alex winced.  "Sometimes."  "You would be wise to cleanse your soul of that anger, my friend.  But to the extent you have acted for the greater good and not for your own pride or self-advantage, not out of anger or hatred, you have done well.  What more could be asked of you?"

Alex bit his lip.  "I thought... if anyone knew the things I've done, they..."  He couldn't finish the sentence, but Dat understood.  With eyes full of compassion, he said, "My friend, you forget that my hand has also been raised against my fellow man."  He paused while Alex remembered with a start that Vu had been in the South Vietnamese army as a young man, and "re-educated" after the fall of Saigon.  Then he shrugged and went on, "It would be pointless to compare our pasts and try to decide whose hands have been stained a deeper shade of red;  the very impulse to do so is only a blacker form of pride.  Only know that I do not judge you.  The important thing is to let go of the illusion of the past, and live..." "...in the illusion of the now?" Alex concluded ironically.  Dat smiled. "Just so."

Alex took a deep breath, let it out.  It came more easily than any breath he'd taken in a long time, he thought.  "Thank you, Dat."  "You are welcome, my friend.  I will see you tomorrow."  "Yes."

Alex moved invisibly back to his employer's parking lot.  Wright's car was already gone, as was that of the other team member he intended to investigate;  but a couple other members of the team were still straggling out.  He dipped into the mind of one of them that he knew slightly, a Debbie Mortenson.  Her will was strong, but still somewhat weakened by the drug;  he had no real difficulty.  She certainly had no idea she'd been drugged;  her only impression of the last few days was that everyone was being unreasonable and needlessly irritating.  It was just so obvious that the project was a plum for the company;  why couldn't the others see that?  The work was annoying, too;  Wright was a demanding person to work for, and he'd left early in a huff after getting apparently contradictory results from the same test three times in a row.

Alex probed gently for any accidents, spills, suspicious happenings.  There were none.  Then he tried for shared food or lunches;  none.  Shared water?  Bingo.  They had a common water cooler in the lab, and Debbie had noticed that the old canister of water had been replaced a couple days ago although it was only three-quarters empty;  she didn't know why or by whom, but it hadn't seemed important.  Alex let her go, resolving to fry bigger fish on the morrow.  Returning home, he got dressed in his costume (having dropped it off there on his way to work) and made his way to the base by a more-than-usually circuitous route.

Once there, he went over the surrounding block with a fine-toothed comb, looking for snipers, suspicious loiterers, or anything else out of the ordinary;  he found nothing.  I could spend the whole night looking for bombs, cameras, or other things, he realized with frustration, and still I wouldn't be sure there weren't any.  And I don't HAVE all night.  He sighed, and settled for checking the entrance to the building and the area near the stairwell for tripwires, hidden sensors, and the like.  When as satisfied as he could be, he stepped through the fake wall and went down the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief.  It was safe in here, at least...  Though the absence of the hat on the banister knob did give him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Immediately he moved to gingerly pick up the tampered screamer he'd left on his desk.  No telling if, or what, it was transmitting or receiving;  though at least it didn't set off the little radio detector Garrity had given him.  What to do with the thing... He fetched a mailing box and sealed it up, not bothering with a return address.  He seriously considered for a moment sending it to Maria Escolante - the idea of sowing further confusion among his enemies causing a warm glow in his heart.  But he eventually decided against it...  He didn't particularly want Maria to have screamer technology.  After some thought he addressed the box to a police precinct not far from Harvey's favored haunts;  the cops already had a screamer so another shouldn't matter, and might intrigue them greatly.

That done, he decided to call the other Maria (Volanti) before sending the thing off;  it'd been sitting here a couple days, a few more minutes wouldn't hurt.  "Maria.  It's your friend in black again."  "Ah.  Good to hear from ya."  "What have you learned?"  "There's a big shakeup going on.  One of their VP's just got canned, and they're bringing in a team of auditors."  "So that's the official line, is it?  Was his name Richard Jones, by any chance?"  "Got it in one.  The official line leaves something to be desired?"  "I suppose you could say he got the big pink slip from the sky..."  "...Oh."  "I want you to stay away from these auditors.  I suspect that's a cover for a team of telepaths coming in."  "That'll make it harder - I can hardly be asking people a lot of questions that they'll also be asking a lot of questions."  "Right.  Well, it's unfortunate, but that's how it has to be."  "You're the boss - and it makes sense, too."  "Until they arrive, though, I want you to find out as much as you can about these three people," and he gave three names that Legion had mentioned as possible co-conspirators with Jones.  "I'll see what I can scare up, but this whole auditor business will make things difficult."  "Do what you can, I'll be in touch.  Oh - and what are your Thanksgiving plans?"  "Gonna go to my sister's place in San Diego.  Sorry, you'll have to wait another year for a proper Italian Thanksgiving."  "I wouldn't miss it," Alex assured her, silently regretting the fact that he and Carlos wouldn't have the dinner partner he'd hoped for.  After trading a couple more barbed pleasantries, he hung up.

Glancing at the clock, Alex realized he only had an hour before Mike was due to show up;  he'd better move fast, as he didn't want to mail the screamer from a location too close to the base.  Jogging to a moderately distant post office, he reflected ruefully that he'd never thought he'd miss the bike so much after only using it a few weeks.  And it was strangely lonely out on the street without Carlos in his ear, too... He rapidly squelched that line of thought.

Mike showed up in the base computer shortly after he made it back in the door.  *Hello Michael.  I am glad you got my message.* _Hey boss - yeah, thanks for the warning._ *You suffered no ill effects from your brush with the 'thing' in OMIG's computer last time?* _Nah,_ the lad replied with his cocksure attitude intact, _Carlos told me about it in time._ *Was it a person or a machine?* _Person, I think.  I don't see how anyone could make a machine that felt like that._

*All right.  Are you ready to do some more hunting in the same areas?  I'll be with you this time.* _Umm... Sure. Why not?_  Alex stretched out on Carlos' cot, just as he had the last time.  Soon the connection was established - it seemed easier this time.  *Let's go.*  Mike flashed them into OmniMetal's mainframe without delay, aided by the still-functioning "Prometheus" login.  _There's a sysad online, boss.  I don't think he's noticed us._  Alex 'nodded' and told him, *We're looking for the files of 'Richard Jones'...*  Mike found them easily and downloaded them into the base computer.  Meanwhile Alex felt them scanned by a psychic presence, but decided that there was no reason to start doubting his invisibility. 

*Now look for 'Jeffrey Thomas'.* _On it, boss... Uh oh._ *What?* _These files are garbage, Shadow.  Somebody slipped up and didn't change one of the timestamps correctly.  They've been replaced with fakes._  Alex pondered, then told him, *Download them anyway.  It'll be good to know what they WANT us to know... and they may go on to think us fooled by it.* _OK, done.  What now?_  Another scan passed over their position;  Alex decided tensely to let that one slide too.

*Now we look for the files of these three people...*  He passed on Legion's information again.  After a short interval, _Got it.  This stuff looks like the real thing._ *Good.  How do you feel about retrieving some emails?* _I dunno, Shadow.  That sysadmin is doing stuff in a related area.  You want me to try?_ *Yes.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.* _You're the boss... aw, crap!_  The connection was broken at the speed of thought and Alex's mind reeled as he tried to follow the boy's twists and turns through the Net.

*What happened?* _That sysad set us up - tried to lay a trap for us.  He's _good.  *Has he succeeded in tracing us?* _Let me check... Nah.  He saw through a couple layers of my tricks, but not all._  The boy flashed a mental grin at him and gloated smugly, _I said he was good, not that he was the best._  Alex refrained from rolling his eyes.  *How do you feel about heading for the parent company's computer again?*

Mike mulled that over.  _I dunno, boss.  If we do it, we'd better do it _now._  Otherwise, they might be ready for us, and that wouldn't be good.  That sysad could be on the horn to them right now._ *Not worth the risk, then, you think?* _I don't feel good about it, boss.  Let's wait._  That reaction from the ragingly impetuous teen decided Alex. *Good enough, then.  Come by my computer at the same time the next few nights, will you?  I may have need of your services.* _Sure thing.  See you tomorrow!_ *Until next, Michael.*

There was enough data in the files to keep Alex occupied for hours;  he selected one of the people, a middle manager who was the highest-ranking of the three, and did some rapid skimming.  He quickly convinced himself that the man knew of Legion, and of other "interesting" projects.  Good enough.  He also had an address.

"I believe a visit is in order - and quickly, before OmniMetal organizes."

[Looks like things will be going back into hot water next session - which will be on Tuesday, SP's life permitting.]

[Events continue to take me by surprise.  I felt sure that Alex was headed for a breakdown of titanic proportions (which would have had some very interesting consequences), but it now looks as if Dat may be able to head that off single-handedly.  I was VERY impressed with him;  everybody should have a friend like that.  And boy, SP made quite the string of Int checks for him, didn't he? ]


----------



## Lela

The Shaddow said:
			
		

> [I was VERY impressed with him; everybody should have a friend like that.]



Don't you mean a friend like Dat?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Don't you mean a friend like Dat?




Oh, that's BAAAAD!

...But his name is actually pronounced "dot", unfortunately for the pun. 

Incidentally, he's named after a Vietnamese seminarian I met several years ago.  Really nice, very deep guy.  Not at all Buddhist, unlike this version, though.


----------



## The Shadow

*Good Guys Finish Last*

Alex quickly checked the addresses of the three men from OmniMetal on the master map.  Unfortunately, the highest ranking - and the one who seemed to know the most - lived in a distant suburb.  It would take all night to get there and back on foot, and even by car it would take unacceptably long.  He was a middle manager in R&D.  The next, a man who had been peripherally involved in supervising Christophilous' work (a "dotted line boss" in Dilbert terms) was closer, but it'd still be a long haul.  The third, the chief of security, had only a mailing address given.

He did a quick skim of the second man's files;  he also seemed to know something.  It'd have to do, as time was of the essence.  After a little thought, he put the more distinctive bits of his costume in a briefcase, and put his work clothes back on.  Then he called a cab, asking it to arrive a goodly number of blocks away from the base.  He'd save a great deal of time that way.

Unfortunately late-night traffic was worse than usual, and the ride took over half an hour.  (Still much shorter than he could have gotten there on foot, at least.)  On the way, though, Alex realized with a guilty start that he hadn't stopped by Grace's house, or even called.  Was Carlos OK?  Was he getting worried about him?  Surely he wasn't up, fretting...  A variety of images flitted through Alex's imagination.

Then they settled down on Carlos' soundly slumbering form in bed.  I'm worrying too much, he thought.  He'll understand.  Just then he was tackled from "behind" by a powerful mind bent on immobilizing him.  _Oh.  It's you._  It was Grace.

*What the-  Grace, what are you doing?!* _I might ask you the same thing._ *I'm not doing anything!* _I assure you that you're doing _something._  I don't sense an uninvited mental trace in my guest room every day of the week._  Alex "looked" back at Carlos. It _was_ quite a realistic and stable vision compared to mere imagination. I'm really seeing him, he realized with a sense of awe.

Grace picked up on it.  _I didn't know you could do that._ *Neither did I!* _Well, well.  Life is full of surprises._ *How did this happen?!* _If I had to guess, it might be your exposure to that super-screamer._ *...Might be, I suppose.*  He dismissed the puzzle in favor of more important matters:  *How is Carlos?*

_Doing better,_ she replied judiciously.  _A little better than I'd expected, not so well as I'd hoped previously.  We're still looking at weeks, but I think we might end up counting them on one hand instead of two._ *I'm sorry I haven't been by,* Alex sent contritely. *Things have been heating up.  Carlos wasn't worried, was he?* _He asked about you a number of times.  I'll leave a note that you, ah, contacted me;  that'll make him feel better._  Alex picked up on the imperfectly-hidden wry thought that it would also make Alex feel better, but he didn't mind;  she was right.  *Thank you, Grace.*

_You'd best sign off now;  you undoubtedly have things to do, and I need my sleep._  Sheepishly, *I, uh, don't know how.*  Her laughter bounced brightly down the aether at him, a lovely thing.  _Here you go, O mighty hero._  She applied a pressure of sorts against his presence, and abruptly Alex opened his eyes and found himself back in the cab.  "Here you are, Mack," the cabbie told him.  Alex paid the man in a whirling absence of mind, but quickly returned to business.

Once the cab was gone, he faded out of sight and dressed in his blacks, then secreted the briefcase a block or two from his quarry's home.  That taken care of, he spent a few minutes trying to "get into character" as the Shadow, then cased the joint.

A moderately upscale house with a decent-sized back yard, there were four minds within:  two sleeping, two together in what was probably the living room.  The Shadow frowned;  he'd have to be careful or things could get messy.  The spare key was noplace obvious, and there was an alarm sticker in the window.  A locked sliding glass door connected the master bedroom to the yard, but the dark avenger found a better option - a window left open in the same room for ventilation.

He felt distinctly uncomfortable climbing through it, and as he moved cautiously into the hall the feeling grew until it could not be ignored.  Alex retreated back toward the bed, heart pounding.  What's wrong with me, he thought.  I've done this plenty of times!

After pondering a while, though, Alex realized that he hadn't.  Not like this;  not quite like this.  But he knew who had.

He remembered another house, upscale but not posh, in a nice neighborhood.

One child, asleep in peaceful innocence, not two.

Another woman, the most beautiful and precious in the world.

The husband hadn't been home.  He'd been working late.  (Fool that he was!)

And now that husband was the one crawling through windows to disrupt people's lives.  Perhaps even to end them.

Divided between frustration and agony, Alex realized he couldn't do it.  He could tell a gang leader to leave town or die, and carry out the threat, even in front of the man's woman if he had to.  But this man, whatever he was, wasn't Julio;  and his wife assuredly no doxy.  Did he, like Jones, believe in what he did?  Did he understand the full ramifications?  (Does that really matter?)  He could confront the man alone - on the way to work, perhaps.

But this he couldn't do.  ('The line between good and evil...'  The words flitted through his mind unbidden.)  He _couldn't._  His whole being trembled in protest - he felt physically ill.  If David's life was on the line, or Carlos', then yes, he could.  But it wasn't;  it was only the world.

Alex felt heavy as lead as he climbed back out the window and over the fence, then trudged over to retrieve his briefcase on the way to... where?  Does it matter?

...Yes, he thought, it does.  The fact I've been checked doesn't mean I have to give up.   There's no time to try the other OmniMetal people, but there's still Wright to think about.  He lives not far from here...  He carefully did not think to himself that the man also had no family.

Soon Alex had stolen his way into the gated community his co-worker lived in.  This house was also fairly expensive, but the security was of an entirely different order.  Alex was appalled;  he'd never seen a private home with TWO alarm systems before.  The man had one solely for his bedroom, another for the rest of his house - the panel was visibly different through the window.  "Well well, Wright.  Why does your head rest so uneasy?  Do you have something to hide, perhaps?"

He slipped into the man's sleeping mind - always a difficult task unless the person was dreaming.  Fortunately, it was not too difficult to latch onto a memorized, commonly used sequence of numbers like the alarm code.

Alex managed to open an improperly-latched window in the kitchen, using a length of wire to short the sash to the frame.  Sure enough, the alarm remained quiet.  Then he made his way to the bedroom.  There was no panel on the outside;  apparently the one on the inside was the only one.  "Not even I am THAT paranoid," he muttered under his breath as he considered his options.

Gambling on quick action, he opened the door and moved to the panel at once to enter the kill code.  The alarm went dead before it had whooped twice;  probably that meant the company would regard it as a fluke.  Unfortunately, Wright did stir, cursing;  and the Shadow marvelled further at the man's paranoia as dim red lights went on at the corners of the room, designed not to interfere with night vision.

Alex ran on a curving route to the bed, as the man was raising a strange-looking gun as well as fumbling for a cell phone.  Soon he had his own pistol to the man's head.  "Drop it.  Both of them."  Wright froze, dropping the phone at once and saying, "Do you, uh, mind if I put the gun down slowly?"  "By all means."  The man did so gingerly, trembling.  "I don't keep much money in the house, but you're welcome to it..."  Alex kept his voice low and steady, so as not to be recognized:  "I don't want your money."  "Wh-what do you want, then?"

The Shadow slipped into the man's surface thoughts.  Terror was uppermost, as was the desire to tell the maniac with the gun whatever was likely to keep him calm.  Rage and helplessness lurked not far beneath.  The sable sleuth asked grimly, "I want to know why you've been poisoning the people at your company."  Wright's outrage broke partly through his fear:  "What?!  I have no idea what you're talking about!"

The sable sleuth's heart lurched as he realized the man was telling the truth as he knew it, and he cursed himself under his breath.  Assumptions will be the death of you yet, Alex!  "Someone has been adding the chemicals you've been making to the water cooler.  I want to know why."  "I don't know anything about it!  And I haven't even succeeded in making the stuff!"  The man's frustration was real;  the problem was driving him nuts.

"What kind of gun is that?" the Shadow asked coldly.  "It-  It's of my own design.  A squirtgun, you might say."  "And what does it squirt?"  "Chemicals.  Not lethal ones!  Honest!  It's, uh, well, you probably wouldn't understand if I told you..."  (Alex shook his head inwardly; the guy could remain arrogant and annoying even under these conditions.)  "You might call it a kind of super-mace."  "I see.  Good night."  With that a blast of raw emotion turned Wright's lights out, and Alex dipped further into the man's mind to erase the memory of their conversation.  He replaced the phone and the gun where they had been, then made his way out - setting the alarms behind him.

It was a long silent walk back to the base.  "What a disaster of a night," he said to himself as he trudged, defeated, down the stairs and slammed his hat down on the banister knob.  Undressing wearily, he sought sleep on his cot, only to find it troubled and uncertain.

In the morning, his first priority was to make an important call.  Dialing OmniMetal's number, he said tersely to the secretary, "Van Helsing for Mr. Johnson."  [SP: "Cute."]  A moment of consternation followed, then, "Ah, I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Johnson is not available.  He's, ah, not in today."  "All right.  Is Mr. Torrance available?"  "...No, I'm afraid he's in the same location as Mr. Johnson."  That would be Hell, Alex thought to himself wryly.  "Is there anyone I can speak with, then?"  "Let me ask.  Please hold?"

After an interval, she returned and said, "Mr. Van Helsing?  You're to discuss your business with Ms. Barbara Nearman now.  I'm afraid she's in a meeting at the moment.  If you give me your number, she'll return your call as soon as possible."  "That's quite all right," Alex told her drily.  "I will call again this evening.  "I'll let her know.  She should be here until six.  Thank you for calling!"

The next call was more pleasant;  David picked up on the third ring.  "Dad?"  "Yes, David, it's me."  "How are things going?  Should I come on home?"  "I've... just had a very difficult night.  I didn't learn what I'd hoped to."  "Umm.  Probably I shouldn't ask about it right now, huh?"  "Probably not."  "Well, do you want me to hold off on tickets and everything?"  Alex mulled it over.  "The primary threat I sent you away from is taken care of..."  "But there's something secondary still going on?"  "Yes. ...  Come home, son.  I think it's for the best."  "You bet!  I'll start on it today! I'll call you when everything's worked out."  "All right, David.  Take care!"  "You too, Dad!  Love you!"

Work was tense as usual, but slow - the toxicology report his team needed wasn't due until Monday.  Alex spent his time catching up on paperwork, and made some discreet inquiries... All of Wright's team was present except for the other suspect - Jay Warren, a man Alex had barely met.  He'd made an excuse and said he'd be in that afternoon.

Alex asked Vu into his office and he quietly shared what he had learned, though not how he had learned it.  Dat remarked, "So Wright is not guilty.  Odd, I think I wanted him to be."  Alex nodded in agreement.  Dat went on to report that none of the other companies he'd checked were having any problems.  Then he continued, "Alex, we need to warn people about the water."  "If we do that, our suspect may well realize that something is up.  We could lose him."  "My friend, now that we know that and how people are being exposed to mind-affecting chemicals, I think we have a moral obligation not to let them be exposed further."

Alex sighed.  At times moral obligations were awfully inconvenient.  "You're right, of course.  But how, Dat?  They're going to want to know how I know, and I can hardly tell them I learned it with telepathy!"  "I know, but... Well, are there any physical symptoms we could report?"  They thought it over, and mutually came to the conclusion that Wright's team had noticeably bloodshot eyes.   "Do you think he'll listen to us?"  Vu considered.  "I've never liked the man, but he's an honest scientist.  I don't think he'll be able to ignore something like that."  "Which of us should break the news?"  "Probably you.  He'll probably take it better from another project head."

Alex nodded;  it was true.  Wright was a touchy sort - though a gifted chemist, he'd never gotten his doctorate, and was sensitive about it.  He made his way to the man's lab and sought him out.  "Mr. Wright."  "Brighton," Wright returned shortly - refusing as ever to add the "Doctor".  "What do you want."  "I thought I would bring to your attention something that I and several others have noticed.  The members of your team seem to have uniformly bloodshot eyes, and there is concern you might have some sort of release in your lab."  "My lab's fine!  You're imagining things."  "Then several people are imagining things independently."

The man sighed. "All right, already!  We'll check it out. But we won't feel the need to notify the safety officer, okay?"  Alex stood his ground:  "You know the rules as well as I do, Wright."  Wright rolled his eyes up to the heavens and said, "Fine!  We'll check it out, and if it's true, then we'll notify people.  Okay?" "Agreed."

Wright assembled his team and checked them out.  At first he seemed ready to explode, then he took a deep breath and let it out.  "I guess you were right, Brighton.  We'll have to pass this on up."  Alex went with him to Bob, and soon that whole wing of the building was evacuated while those certified to do so went in with protective suits on to check everything out in detail.

The result was that work in the rest of the building slowed to a crawl.  Amidst all the downtime, Alex tried experimenting with his new ESP ability, but didn't make much headway.  Most of the time he felt sure he was just imagining things, though he did get one flash of Carlos looking up startled and saying, "Sir?" that seemed genuine.  It had faded as quickly as it had begun, however.

The workplace was alive with rumors over the shutdown, of course;  apprehension and speculation were running high, but in a way it was a nice change from the political ferment of the previous days.  While walking past Bob's office, Alex overheard him chewing out Wright (who was projecting sullen anger):  "Your ass is on the line here!  Get Warren's ass IN here, or your ass OUT!"  Around three, things had gotten so bollixed up that the Powers That Be told everyone not involved in cleanup to go home for the weekend.

Alex took care of some errands he'd been letting slide over the last week, then headed to Grace's house to see Carlos.

So many things are changing, he thought.  Too many to understand.   "If only the Shadow DID know..."

[From Alex's point of view, this session was almost a complete debacle.  From mine, it was at least an _interesting_ debacle.  I learned things about him I hadn't previously known - and no, the ESP wasn't one of them, I paid for it fair and square. ]

[His reluctance - actually, his inability - to confront the guy in front of his family came as a surprise.  It was understandable after I'd thought it over, but at the time it was kinda freaky.  I suspect that experience was another notch on the internal Tenso-O-Meter, though...  I don't know how much longer Alex's psyche can take acting as the Shadow without BEING the Shadow.]

[By the way, the campaign has now reached it's official one-game-week anniversary.   SP says that unless I go in certain directions in the next session, he'll fast-forward things a bit.  We'll do a scene of Thanksgiving, then probably move to mid-December.]


----------



## Lela

It was a character growth session.  And I liked it.

Any idea why my heart jumped when at this:



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> Most of the time he felt sure he was just imagining things, though he did get one flash of Carlos looking up startled and saying, "Sir?" that seemed genuine.



I saw a cinimatic of that flash through my own head.

Have you decided to put aside the calender?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> It was a character growth session.  And I liked it.




So did I, though I think we're due for some action soon. 



> Any idea why my heart jumped when at this:




Not really, except that it was certainly interesting.



> Have you decided to put aside the calender?




No, definitely not put it aside.  But we're going to fast-forward over some relatively dead time.  I still plan on keeping close track of in-game time, don't worry.

I suspect what SP is watching to see is if I get seriously embroiled with OmniMetal.  He's making things hot enough that it might be the best course to let things cool off before making my move.  But if he thinks I'm gonna forget them, he can think again.


----------



## Lela

Meant the Pelor/Listreth calender you were helping me with. 


I think I relate to Carlos far more than I relate to The Shadow.  Not to say I don't know the Shadow well (though we don't spend time together).  Just that Carlos is easier for me to connect with.


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Meant the Pelor/Listreth calender you were helping me with.




Whoopsie!  What with work heating up (finals week approacheth) and getting involved in an online M&M game, I completely forgot!  Sorry about that, I'll get back to you sometime this week about it. 

The online game is a lot of fun, but unfortunately you won't be seeing a Story Hour on it any time soon - the GM is playtesting material he hopes to publish as an M&M Superlink product.  (Superlink being M&M's equivalent of the OGL license.)

I'll mention this much:  The game is called "Chain Gang", and features supervillains who've been let out of prison with friendly little neutralizing collars and ordered to hunt down other supers for a secretive government agency...  My character is a lot of fun.  Completely NUTS.



> I think I relate to Carlos far more than I relate to The Shadow.  Not to say I don't know the Shadow well (though we don't spend time together).  Just that Carlos is easier for me to connect with.




Interesting.  Yeah, Alex is definitely a bit of a cold fish.  Given that he lives in my head and I live in his (if that makes any sense  I do empathize with him quite strongly, though.  I hope he is "alive" to the reader, as well.

Carlos is a very sympathetic character to me too;  I wanted him to be.  But I'm not inside his head in the same way, because he's an NPC.  I am dreading some of the plot hooks SP can and probably will pull on the poor kid, though.  He's got lots of baggage.  (To name just one, suppose he gets fingered for the gang shootings he did a few years and a lifetime ago?)


----------



## Lela

Faithful (and not so faithful) readers, the Shadow poped a poll relating to this thread here.


----------



## The Shadow

This started out as a physical description of the major characters, but as usual with me I ended up branching out into characterization a bit. 

----------------------------------------------------

I just realized that I've never really described the major characters in the story hour, save a little for Carlos.  I'm not all that visual a person, but still, it's worth correcting.

Alex is 6'1" and has a large, imposing frame to go with it;  he is definitely not most people's image of a scientist.  He tends to hunch a little and minimize his presence, though, a habit he picked up in adolescence.  He has dark brown hair and slate-grey eyes that can get colder than any winter in LA ever managed, though his usual expression is one of neutral interest.  Alex walks with an enviable poise and no wasted motion;  the mark of a highly-trained fighter.  His voice is a rich baritone, resonant and commanding attention.  It seems a little incongruous coming from the mousy image he projects.

The Shadow, on the other hand, gives the impression of being a coiled spring, ready for action at a moment's notice.  Even before his mind's powers are unleashed, he exudes danger - anyone on the street can tell at a glance that here is a man not to be trifled with.  He uses his cloak to good dramatic effect, and it and the vest make him seem even larger than he really is.

Alex dresses fairly conservatively;  he usually wears an understated suit and tie to work, and when he gets home just takes off the tie and jacket.

David has recently overtopped his father but his height seems to be stabilizing at 6'3".  He is, if anything, even more powerfully built than Alex;  his musculature is obvious and well-defined, but he doesn't have a bodybuilder's sculpted look.  (Having no body fat is not metabolically efficient, and his body is nothing if not efficent.)  David has an unruly mop of brown hair (a lighter shade than his dad's), and soulful brown eyes he inherited from his mother.  The boy has an easy confidence often mistaken for arrogance.  David's moods are more unpredictable even than the average teen's;  often the smallest thing can set off gloom, or rage, or hot tears - the more so if he's been trying to hold it in for a while.

It is his anger that is most frightening, however - he projects a primal, razor-sharp readiness for physical confrontation that is quite unnerving to most people.  (One reason why the coaches at his high school have stopped bugging him to join up is that he has a reputation for not being a "team player" - he's lost his temper before and injured people.  The only reason he hasn't gotten in serious trouble is that so far, they've always clearly started it.)

Despite the fact that he's not on a sports team, David is pretty solidly slotted into the "jock" role at his high school.  His grades are decent but lackluster, nothing like John's or Mary's or even Miguel's.  (Alex has managed to resign himself to this, and doesn't nag overmuch.)  While not one of the pretty people, he is fairly popular, the more so since he hangs with Little Dave, a much-loved clown and athlete of no little prowess himself.  David himself is respected by many and feared by a few, and he doesn't seem to mind either reaction much.

David is not at all adverse to showing off his muscular frame to the girls, so he often wears muscle shirts and the like.  He has inherited a touch of his father's tastes, however;  if he's going to be dressier than workout clothes, he's going to dress neatly, not loud.  (Jennifer's good taste in clothes has rubbed off on both her men.)  Nor has he ever been much inclined toward hair-dying, piercings, tattoos and the like - probably because he knows full well there'd be no fun shock-value from his dad.  (Most likely reaction to a brightly-colored mohawk:  "Hello son.  You got a haircut, I see."   And also, truth be told, David wants his dad's respect and approval badly, though like most teens he'd slit his wrists before admitting it.  Losing his mom at a tender age has only heightened this natural need.

Alex is of Scotch-German descent, and Jennifer was from a mostly-German, partly-Nordic Midwestern family.  Alex weathers southern California reasonably well;  David is fairer than his dad but tans up nicely, with little in the way of burning.  (More of that ultra-efficient metabolism.)

I've already described Carlos, but here's a recap, with a few extras.  He's 5'6 (and sensitive about it) and skinny, though he's been filling out since getting regular meals and daily workouts at the base.  He's got straight jet-black hair, and eyes so dark they're almost black too;  his features are noticeably mestizo (Indian) and his skin tone matches.  (Yet another source of friction with the Garcias, who pride themselves on being of Spanish descent.  To say nothing of the Gypsy connection!)

Though unfailingly polite and eager-to-please around Alex and other "decent folks", Carlos has not lost his streetwise edge.  He can blend in on the street effortlessly;  or, if he prefers, he can project enough dangerous, swaggering "bad-dudeness" to cause most to give him a wide berth.  Doing the latter actually embarrasses him, though of course he doesn't let this show;  he'd feel very uncomfortable playing that part around somebody he liked and respected.  He maintains some contacts from the old days, though they're mainly useful only in and around Lions territory, which he doesn't care to visit often.

As mentioned before, Carlos has an appalling collection of scars and welts on his body, especially on his back, sides, and forearms.  Most are courtesy of his uncle, some are presents from the Lions and a rival gang, and a few are self-inflicted.  He is very self-conscious and ashamed about these, which is one reason why he always wears long-sleeved shirts when going out.  (It's a mark of how comfortable he is around Alex that he doesn't feel the need to do that at home.)

Carlos takes great pride in his appearance when he goes out, making a point of dressing neatly and well.  (And he goes through hair gel like it's going out of style.   To hear him talk, he's the last of the great Latin lovers, but in point of fact he doesn't really date much - too busy, he says, but it's at least as much that life is emotionally complicated enough lately. (He also no longer believes in having sex before marriage, which some of his dates have found quite sweet, and others quite naive.)  Any given month, he's liable to be all swoony over the latest Latina pop sensation;  he's got posters of any number of 'em on the wall at the base.

In short, Carlos is an uneasy combination of adult and child - far uneasier than most guys his age.  He is hardened, competent, and utterly reliable, on the one hand.  On the other, though he would never admit it even to himself, he's also trying to pack as much concentrated childhood into his time at the base as possible.  (In his heart of hearts, he feels it's just plain too good to last.  Eventually some cosmic sense of justice will notice he's having it too good and punish him.)  Around Alex he is a little boy trying to please his dad - but a little boy sophisticated enough not to whine or seek negative attention.  He will please Alex by being the mature, reliable, inobtrusive helper that the Shadow (he thinks) wants and needs;  in return he soaks up approval and affection, and basks in "irresponsibility" in the sense that he doesn't have to be thinking ahead to his next meal, his next bit of shelter, and how he's going to avoid or minimize his next beating.  (Carlos has never really made longer-term plans before.  He fully expected to die young, as so many gangbangers do.)

The recent ratcheting-up of their relationship is both the unimaginable coming-true of a dream so wild he'd never even dared to think it aloud to himself, and a terrifying, perilous abyss to him.  It promises change, and change is terrifying when things are already better than he'd ever hoped for.  And he can't help but feel a certain terror that he'll screw it up somehow - he'll do something wrong and Alex will hate him and it'll be all over.  If there's more emotional involvement there's also lots more ways to get hurt - and to hurt Alex too, without even half-trying.  (He's much more willing to get hurt than to dish it out to someone he loves.)

This is yet another reason why he'll be so exasperated with David - David treats as his casual birthright something that to Carlos is El Dorado.  It will INFURIATE Carlos that David can feel free to sass his dad and *not have to be afraid that their relationship will end*.  (Not that Carlos feels even the slightest desire to sass Alex, you understand, but it's the principle of the thing.   The SECURITY of it.)  David will always be Alex's son, no matter what happens, but Carlos is, he fears, treading on thin ice every step of the way.


----------



## The Shadow

*Bolt From The Blue*

[Note that there is a new campaign post just before this one.]

Alex stopped at home on the way to Grace's to check his messages.  Sure enough, there were two from David:  One to say he'd taken the bus into a nearby large town but hadn't managed to get a ticket for that day and would call later with further news;  and a second to say that he'd be arriving by train Sunday morning.  It'll be so good to have him home again! he thought.

Once at Grace's house, she drew him aside for an update before he checked in on Carlos.  "He's doing a little better, but he's still disoriented and easily confused, and he finds it very frustrating.  Don't give him anything to worry about, or do anything too emotionally heavy right now."  Alex nodded submissively.  "How long until he can start working with me again?  That will probably be the best thing for him."  "You're probably right."  She thought it over, then continued, "Thanksgiving is a convenient milestone to work with.  After that, let him get back to _light_ duty - computer stuff and so on.  Nothing too strenuous.  I'll leave it to your judgement when he's ready for anything more.  Don't rely on his powers until around Christmas."  Alex chuckled drily.  "I've never relied on them."  "Well, don't expect anything, put it that way."

"I'm guessing he's been very 'helpful' around here?"  Grace rolled her eyes.  "You have no idea.  Well, you probably do.  I've had to assign him some simple chores so he doesn't feel the need to do everything that strikes his eye.  Anything too complicated, he can't manage to concentrate on, and he ends up getting upset."  "What about working out?  I imagine he's getting anxious about getting out of shape."  "Right again, darlin'.  I let him do some light calisthenics, so long as he's supervised.  Otherwise he forgets what he's done already and keeps going.  I don't want him to wear himself out."  "I thought you said he was physically fine?"  "Yes, but he sleeps a good deal;  he's still recuperating."  "You said he could stay until Wednesday.  Do you want him to stay until then?"  She replied, "He should stay at least through the weekend;  I want to re-evaluate where he's at by that point."  Alex nodded.  "Good enough.  May I see him now?"  "Be my guest.  Be warned that he'll probably try to convince you he's just fine."

Alex couldn't help but smile when he found the boy doing some illicit unsupervised sit-ups in his bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.  (He noted with mild surprise that Carlos was already comfortable enough around Grace to let his arms show.)  Carlos' face lit up at the sight of him, and he grinned when Alex sat on the floor next to him and joked, "Take a break - that's an order."  "Yessir!  ...Eighteen, nineteen, twenty!  Done."  Sitting up a twenty-first time and clasping his arms about his knees, he tensed slightly when Alex put an arm around him, but seemed pleased and leaned into it a bit.  After a moment, Alex asked him, "How are you doing?"

"Well... _I_ think I'm OK."  "Grace doesn't agree?"  "Well, you know, sir.  I like her a lot, but she worries too much.  She's so..."  "Overprotective?"  "Yeah!"  Alex told him gently, "Well, Carlos, I'm asking you to put up with it for a little while.  Because whether you feel like it or not, you need some protecting right now."  The boy ducked his head to his chest and said quietly, "Yes, sir."  Though the request was plainly unwelcome, there was no mutiny in his tone.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop by yesterday," Alex told him gently.  "It's okay, sir.  I know how it goes.  Crime waits for no man, right?"  With a smile, "Just so.  How are your headaches?"  "Getting better.  I don't need as many painkillers as I did before."  "That's good."  "Uh huh."  They chatted a while about inconsequentials, valuing the time more for the company than the information.  Finally Alex asked him, "Anything you want to ask me?"  "Yeah!" came the eager response.  "What's going on with the bad guys?"  Alex thought for a moment, then said carefully, "I staked out some bad guys last night, but didn't learn what I'd hoped to."  Carlos nodded at this uninformative reply and kind of sank into himself, looking downcast.  Alex wordlessly clasped him a little closer in response.

Grace chose that moment to come in and start chatting lightly with the two of them with her usual preternatural awareness.  After a time, she mentioned that the Shadow probably had to be going, and Alex took the hint.  He got up and whispered to Carlos, "I've missed you."  Carlos nodded glumly, looking away.  Alex patted his shoulder and awkwardly took his leave.

Stopping by the base to get suited up, he made his way purposefully to the OmniMetal building.  On the way, he had the comm panel dial their number, since it was after five.  "Van Helsing for Ms. Nearman."  His call got passed through a variety of flunkies;  Alex got tired of repeating himself.  Finally, "This is Barbara Nearman.  What can I do for you, Mr. Van Helsing?"  "I was hoping Mr. Johnson could tell me about Legion's status."  "I see. ... I regret to inform you that Mr. Johnson has... passed away, quite unexpectedly."  The Shadow shot her the razor-sharp inquiry, "How did he die?  Did Legion do it?"  "That matter is still under investigation, I'm afraid.  Tell me, Mr. Van Helsing... How exactly do you know of Legion?"

"How do I _know_ of it?!  I'm the one who informed your company of its existence!"  "I see.  And did Mr. Johnson issue you any... supplies?  We are missing some that would have been very useful against it."  Wheels turned rapidly in the Shadow's mind as he considered the ramifications of that question. "Screamers, you mean."  "Exactly."  "Yes, he gave me a box of sixteen."  "Ah.  And did he also issue you a box of JQX gas?"  "If that's a knockout gas, then yes, he did."  "Ah.  Do you still have them?"  "The gas, yes.  The screamers, no - Legion managed to take them from me."

"I see.  Tell me, Mr. Van Helsing, are you, ah, subcontracting with us through Mr. Johnson?"  "No, I would have to describe my involvement with OmniMetal as more... impromptu."  "I understand.  I just wanted to make sure you had not been promised payment."  "Mr. Johnson did not keep good records?  How sloppy of him."  "Not exactly.  We have reason to believe that Mr. Johnson recorded his data in... a nonstandard protocol.  We are currently trying to figure out just what protocol he was using."  Now it was the Shadow's turn to say, "I see."  So the bastard kept secrets in code even from his own company, eh?

After a moment, he asked, "What can you tell me of Legion's current status, Ms. Nearman?"  "Very little, Mr. Van Helsing.  You must understand, responsibility for the Legion affair left my hands earlier today when a team of investigators arrived.  Their leader, a Mr. Hashimoto, is very eager to speak with you."  "Is he available now?"  "I'm afraid not.  Can you call tomorrow morning between eight and ten?"  "Yes."  "Very well, I'll tell him to expect you.  And Mr. Van Helsing... please be advised that it is Mr. Hashimoto's intention to close down your role in the investigation."  "Understood.  And welcomed.  It has been... difficult."  "Yes.  Is there anything more?"  "No."  "In that case, I will wish you a good evening."  "And you."

By that time he'd reached OmniMetal's parking lot.  He spent a good while going over the parking lot and its environs with a fine-toothed comb.  Sure enough, he spotted a ringer - a woman doing landscaping rather inexpertly, and watching the lot a little too intently.  After continued searching, he concluded there were no others.  How to distract her while he kidnapped one of her fellow employees...  He picked up a rock and weighed it in his hand.

Eventually one of the Shadow's targets came out and went to his car - the head of security.  The cloaked crusader "shadowed" him to his car, then decided to attach a little tracking device to its bumper.  (The thing only had a range of about a mile, but hopefully it would help narrow down the guy's address.)  The comm panel reported the car's position to him every thirty seconds until it was out of range.  He shrugged;  he had bigger fish to fry.

Not much later, the Shadow got the nibble he was waiting for.  The middle manager - the target who seemed to know the most - came out into the lot and clicked his beeper at an expensive car.  The dark avenger lobbed his invisible rock at a car several rows down, and its alarm started wailing.  With that diversion going on, he promptly "vanished" both his target and the man's car (letting the guy see through the illusion so he wouldn't notice).  With any luck, when the ringer looked back in this direction, she'd notice nothing untoward.  He was just turning back toward his target, gun at the ready to give an unpleasant surprise, when he got one himself - he heard a low humming sound and felt a sudden flash of heat on his back - even through the Kevlar!

The Shadow dove for cover, weaving wildly between cars - hopefully his invisibility would reassert itself upon the agent he'd somehow missed.  No more shots were fired at him, but he did not count himself safe;  he left the lot on a route circuitous enough to give a snake lumbago, making for a randomly selected point so as to throw no suspicion toward his real neighborhood.  When he felt a little safer, he checked his back;  there was a neat round hole in his cloak, about an inch wide, and a similar patch on the back of his vest was still a bit warm.  He shook his head in disbelief.  "Doesn't anybody use bullets any more?!"  At least it hadn't really hurt him.

He was just about ready to start heading home for real when his luck began to turn... he heard the beeping of his little tracker over the commlink, and the panel started reporting position information again.  Somehow he'd managed to stumble back within its range.  [Natural 20's are nice, aren't they?]

He ghosted into the parking garage of a large apartment building, and soon located his target's car.  He recovered the tracker - no sense in leaving evidence behind - and made careful note of the address.  Should I hit him now?  He pondered.  Nah.  Things were a little too hot at the moment;  better to let barking dogs lie until they fell asleep.

Alex made his way back to his usual haunts, deciding to spend the night getting his finger back on his community's pulse.  OmniMetal could wait for now.  And I'm sure that Mr. Hashimoto and I will have an interesting talk on the morrow.

[This was a fairly short one, as SP was beat and, as always when he's tired, rambled excessively.   It'll depend somewhat on how the phone call goes next session, but I suspect that Alex will decide to let things cool off with OmniMetal before trying a hit again.  In that case, we'll probably advance time to mid-December, pausing briefly on important events along the way, like David's return and Thanksgiving.  I've also considered writing another short-short to cover that kind of thing, if SP approves.]

[It will DEFINITELY be a relief to get Carlos back on the job, and to get the bike repaired.  Believe me.  Alex and I had forgotten how nerve-wracking the life of a solo vigilante can be.]


----------



## Lela

Thanksgiving is definitally something I'm looking forward too.

What hit you?  Some kind of laser?  You sure you aren't being tracked by something?


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Thanksgiving is definitally something I'm looking forward too.




Me too!



> What hit you?  Some kind of laser?




I guess so.  Certainly we've seen that OmniMetal has ultratech weaponry - like the electric-discharge gun Torrance used.



> You sure you aren't being tracked by something?




Sheesh, you're more paranoid even than I am!  It's scary!   I suppose I'm not, but tracking seems like a bit of overkill.  If it hadn't been for the vest, that shot coulda REALLY hurt.


----------



## The Shadow

Hey guys. I've been thinking of writing up a Dramatis Personae for this game, as the number of characters (to say nothing of aliases!) to keep track of just keeps growing! 

I thought I'd ask before I started what sort of format people would like to see? For example, would it be better to sort by first name or last name? (For some characters only the first name is known, and for others only the last name, so it's a little awkward either way.) What sort of information would you like to see collated? Should aliases be given separate entries? Stuff like that. 

P.S. SP plans to come down for another marathon session next Wednesday.

P.P.S.  Lela, I haven't yet had enough time at my disposal to work on the calendar.  However, finals week will be over on Friday, and then I should have time.  Sorry for the delay.


----------



## Lela

Sorting by first name or last name doesn't matter much to me.  Neither really makes a big difference.  I'd recomend listing any alieses under the main entry for a given individual.



			
				The Shadow said:
			
		

> P.P.S.  Lela, I haven't yet had enough time at my disposal to work on the calendar.  However, finals week will be over on Friday, and then I should have time.  Sorry for the delay.




You're the one helping me.  Take your time.


----------



## The Shadow

Once More With The News! 

Bad News: SP is almost as insomniac as Carlos lately (job-related stress, probably - he's thinking of quitting) and was too tired to game Tuesday night. 

Good News: He did make it down Wednesday for another marathon session! 

It's taking a while to write up, though, so be patient. (I'm having to fill in a lot of the details, as SP tends to gloss over scenes a bit when he's tired.) 

Lots of interesting stuff went down; this session takes us up to the day before Thanksgiving, and the return of both David and Carlos.


----------



## Arkhandus

As Zoidberg said in Futurama, after devouring the last anchovies in the universe......  _"Mmmmoooorrrrreeee........!"_

(yes, I have nothing useful to contribute at the moment)


----------



## The Shadow

Alex returned to the Shadow's usual haunts, renewing auld acquaitance in his own inimitable fashion. He quickly ascertained that the Red Shivs had been having a busy week... A number of bodies had turned up - reports ranging from three to a dozen - near the border with "Green Dragon" territory. (The Dragons being a gang that was about as peacefully inclined toward the Shivs as two gangs can possibly be - lots of posturing, little violence.) Speculation was divided between a new gang war (coming at a very bad time for the Shivs) or yet another phase in the leadership struggle, perhaps with blame being deliberately thrown elsewhere. 

As for the struggle in question, the word had gotten around that Julio had left town in a hurry; it was generally conceded that he'd been badly frightened by somebody, but nobody could agree on who - whether Maria, Mario, some other Red Shiv, Lady V, the vampires running around town, or maybe even the Shadow. The cloaked crusader might've been higher on the list, but he hadn't been seen - or at any rate experienced - in the last few days. (Several of his usual informants were surprised to see him - some pleasantly so, others not so pleasantly...) Mario was still in the running, but Maria was starting to be openly favored - while many scoffed at the idea of a woman leading the Shivs, there were a couple whispered rumors about her having a fearsome "edge"... bracelets around her wrists that apparently gave her great strength. Supposedly she'd accounted for several of her rivals personally and graphically. (The Shadow also noted, intrigued, that some said he and she had had it out in one fashion or another.) Even so, the smart money thus far - with Mario still eluding her - was that the Shivs were due to splinter into factions and tear themselves apart. 

In other news, no black cars had been spotted in the last few days, but this was not yet cause for comment, inasmuch as they hadn't ever been an everyday sight. 

Among others, Alex located Ricky in an arcade / teen watering hole. Approaching the lad a little more warily than the last time, he cleared his throat for the boy's benefit just after he'd won a tough game of foosball. This time Ricky didn't start too badly when he caught sight of the Shadow. He did seem puzzled why nobody else could see his hero, but managed to handle things with a degree of aplomb. He sauntered off to buy a soda, then sat at a table and apparently people-watched lazily while talking to the Shadow out of the side of his mouth. 

"Hey Shadow, glad to see you're still around." "Yes, the rumors of my disappearance have been greatly exaggerated." The joke was plainly lost on Ricky, who nodded and said, "Yeah. Did you really meet with Maria - you know, that Red Shiv chick?" "We talked," the Shadow told him noncommittally, then asked, "What all have you been hearing?" Ricky put the death toll at six, and passed on his analysis that the rumble had been an "inter-gang" struggle among the Red Shivs. "That's 'intra-gang', Ricky." "Is it? OK. Anyway, I think they were fighting with each other over who'll run the gang." "Anything else going on?" "Nah, nothin' interesting." "Staying out of trouble?" "Yeah yeah," the boy told him with apparent sincerity - though of course, Alex thought to himself wryly, it's only been a few days. 

Taking his leave, Alex decided to check up on Julio next. To his surprise, there was a mind in the man's house - late teens, maybe 20, male. It didn't match Julio's trace, however. Has he left a surprise for me, I wonder? The Shadow rang the doorbell. When no answer came, he rang again. Abruptly he heard a noise behind him and whirled - only to find his erstwhile target sneaking up on his position with a gun out. [SP and I both forgot how difficult a trick this would be while Alex was using his mindsight. Ah well.] 

Between the use of telempathic fear and invisible martial arts, the dark avenger quickly had a terrified and disarmed young man shoved up face-first against the wall of the house. A quick telepathic scan on the youngster revealed to the Shadow's chagrin that he was the legitimate lessor of the property, having bought out Julio's lease at a terrific price. [SP: "From his mind, you find that you've just brutalized an innocent man." Me: "Nobody who points a gun at me is wholly 'innocent'." ] He'd been ultra-wary because he knew how troubled a neighborhood it was, but he had only the most minimal of connections with the Shivs - the obligatory contacts to keep a guy his age from being hassled overmuch. Alex let the whimpering kid go with an ironic, "Have a good evening, sir." 

The rest of the night was quiet, with little in the way of opportunities for superheroics. The Shadow scared off a few muggers and queered a drug deal or three, but nothing heavy. On the way back to the base, he found himself wondering just how Julio was doing... and managed to shock himself by slipping with accidental ease into the man's mind! What the-?! 

Julio was asleep, so there wasn't much he could learn from him. But Alex got the distinct impression that the man was hundreds of miles away, with many thousands of minds between them. It's always taken a huge push before! How can it be so easy?! Suddenly Alex remembered how easy it had been to go out on the Net with Mike this last time, as opposed to the time before. And he remembered half-consciously stopping himself from touching David's mind when he'd called him last, and when he'd listened to David's messages. It had been a subliminal thing, scarcely registered, but it came back to him with a start now. [I'd actually rolled for it on one of those occasions, but a 2 didn't cut it.] 

Alex groaned. That ultra-screamer must have really knocked my telepathy out of whack - or maybe into whack! Am I going to have to stop myself from reading the minds of everyone I happen to think about?! He got ready for bed, troubled, but quickly fell into sleep's embrace. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Rising early, Alex performed his customary ablutions then made a few calls. 

1) "Maria, Maria, Maria." The erstwhile gang leader's sleepy voice responded, "This had better be worth it!" Evidently she wasn't any more of an early riser than Grace; Alex wondered wryly if it was a trait common to the world's oldest profession. "You told me a 'few' bodies." "Who is this?!" "We had a little chat a few days ago at gunpoint." "Oh. You." "Yes. Me." "It was only six." (Alex mentally gave Ricky points for perspicacity and/or luck.) "Too many, true," she continued, "but the fight got out of control. The more so for my not being there to give orders." "Too many more, and the cops are going to get really interested." "What do you care?" she flung back at him, and Alex conceded to himself that she had a point there. "But in the remote event that you do, there's probably going to be two or three more incidents on that scale." 

Alex changed the subject. "You'll be happy to know that Legion has been... taken care of." "Has it." "Yes," Alex told her with irony heavy as lead, "the world is safe for drug trafficking once more." "Hey, it's a living." "I seem to have done you a favor." "Imagine that. I'm all tingly. What do you want?" "You recall our dear friends in the black cars?" "Don't worry, I've already planned to charge them street value and then some, just because they annoy me." "I had something else in mind." "Oh...?" "I am very curious to find out if and when they start buying again." "Aha. Well, that can be arranged." They proceeded to arrange it. 

2) Calling the other Maria, Alex got only her machine. He left a rather vague message asking her to call back. 

3) "Van Helsing for Mr. Hashimoto." "One moment, sir..." Soon, a resonant, unaccented voice responded. "Mr. Van Helsing, a pleasure to speak with you at last. I think we will save much time by omitting the pleasantries and getting down to the matter at hand." "I quite agree." "You seem to have certain... abilities... that Mr. Johnson thought valuable against this Legion." "It would seem so." 

[I have had great difficulty reconstructing this conversation; verbal fencing is hard to hold in the memory, I find. Suffice to say that Hashimoto claimed never to have heard of the Overmind Project, and seemed completely sincere. (I made a darn good Sense Motive on him, too.) He also claimed to be unaware of Johnson's illegal activities, and said he understood now why I seemed so untrusting.  He tried to maneuver Alex into admitting he'd been working against OmniMetal, but Alex stonewalled him quite thoroughly. He wanted me to call once more on Monday after he'd looked into a few things; Alex tried, but never got him. On one occasion, in fact, he encountered a rather transparent ploy to keep him on the line (ie, "Mr. Hashimoto just stepped out - oh, there he is, let me ask him to speak with you, can you hold? ... He can't speak with you right now, but can you wait just a couple minutes?" and so on and so forth) so his call could be traced - much good that'd do them! ] 

4) "Hal, it's Shadwell again." "Hi, Mr. Shadwell!" "Have you had any trouble?" "Naw, things've been real quiet." "Did you get any defenses up?" "Oh, I figured something out, don't worry about me!" "...Right. Well, I was wondering if you'd mind bringing your scanning equipment into the city today. I'm worried the base might be bugged - and I have some stuff that you'll have lots of fun analyzing, I'm sure." "Well, gee, Sha- er, Mr. Shadwell, I'm sure willing to help you out, but y'know, I've got a couple lawnmowers ahead of you, and it just wouldn't be right to do your stuff first..." Alex contained himself and said gently, "I understand, Hal. How long does a lawnmower usually take you - a half hour? An hour?" "Well, it depends. Give me a call at eleven - with any luck I'll be free then." "All right." "And could you remind me just how to get to your base again? I seem to have forgotten where it is..." "That's because I erased your memory of it, Hal. Remember?" "Oh! Right. I guess I forgot I forgot." Alex promised to call again at 11 and give him directions if he was available. 

5) "Good morning, Grace." "Ah, Mr. Shadwell, what a surprise!" Alex snorted. "Anything I should know?" "Not especially." "Carlos seemed upset yesterday when I left. I have my own ideas as to why, but I wanted to hear yours first." "Hmm. Well, I think he feels out of the loop with your work." "That was my thought also. I thought, with your approval, that I might bring something by he could help me with and feel part of things again." "What is it?" "I've, ah, acquired a number of files from OmniMetal's computer. Somebody needs to comb through them for the interesting bits and collate them; it's tedious work but not over-taxing, I think." "Yes, that should be fine. I won't want him to spend too much time at it, but that's easy to enforce. Bring it on by." "I was also thinking of spending the afternoon with him - if that's OK." "Of course, Alex. He'll like that." 

So Alex copied the files onto a stack of floppies and headed over to Grace's place. Carlos looked up from the remains of his breakfast and beamed at him. "Hi, sir!" "Hello to you too," Alex replied as he snagged a chair. Once Carlos had finished his meal, washed up, and sat back down, Alex mentioned gently with his customary bluntness, "You seemed a little sad yesterday when I left." 

The young man found the wood grain in the table suddenly very interesting. "Well... I... just miss working with you, sir. I mean, I know my assignment right now is to work on getting better and all, but..." he swallowed, then continued nervously, "I... guess I feel like I'm not pulling my own weight." Alex told him quietly, "Carlos, what happened wasn't your fault." Carlos shifted uneasily. "I should've sensed something coming." "You did. There wasn't anything you could do about it." The boy slumped in his chair. "I should've... done something." "How much has Grace told you about what happened?" "A little." "You were mind-blasted, Carlos. There's no way to dodge that. And you fought him to the best of your ability, I knew that even before Grace told me. There's no shame in what happened." "I guess, but..." 

"But nothing. Carlos, there's no shame in getting hurt unavoidably. And there's no shame in having to recuperate a while from it. It's okay." He squeezed Carlos' shoulder to emphasize his words; Carlos nodded glumly, looking perhaps a little mollified. "And I've brought something with me that you can help me with too. Grace says it's OK." That brought the lad's head up with an eager expression. "You bet, sir! What is it?" Alex showed him the disks. "Michael and I recovered some files from OmniMetal's computers. These disks are from Johnson's and Torrance's accounts... but they're fakes. I want to know what they want us to know. And these hold files from people associated with them. They're probably genuine. I want you to separate the wheat from the chaff and prepare a summary for me." Carlos looked more and more eager - this was something very like his usual job. "On it, sir!" He scooped up the disks and made a beeline for Grace's computer in the next room. 

Alex laughed. "Whoa there, Mr. Castaneda! We're going to spend today having a little fun together, it'll wait!" "I know sir, I just want to get a quick idea of what we're dealing with..." He inserted a couple disks in turn, skimming rapidly through a few files to get acquainted with the format; Alex humored him. Finally Carlos powered down the computer, looking almost like his old self. "OK, it looks like it'll be pretty straightforward. I'll have it for you soon!" "I expect you to follow Grace's instructions on how much time you can spend at it," Alex warned him. "Yessir, I promise." 

Grace entered, asking humorously, "Somebody taking my name in vain?" She looked Carlos over carefully and seemed cautiously pleased at the change in his demeanor. "We're just discussing our plans for the afternoon," Alex told her. "And what are they?" "I was thinking we'd take a walk, then if Garrity can join us, Carlos will help me load up the bike for him and recover the stuff I left in the radio tower too." He looked to Carlos for his approval and got an emphatic, beaming nod. Grace considered, then nodded. "Sounds good. Have fun, boys!" 

Alex called Hal, who cheerfully informed him the lawnmowers were done. Reminding him to bring his truck and scanning equipment, Alex headed out with Carlos. The walk was low-key, the conversation light but easy. Carlos was plainly glad to get out of the house, the more so at Alex's side. He seemed a little ambivalent about displays of affection out in public, but Alex reminded himself wryly that that was no surprise in any teenager - David not least. (And he quickly packaged up the whole set of feelings raised by thinking of David while with Carlos, and set them aside.) 

Returning, they played a game or two of cards before Hal drove up. The three of them went out back to manhandle the bike onto the truck... Carlos' jaw dropped when he saw the condition it was in (he hadn't heard any details about Alex's fight) and Garrity nearly suffered apoplexy on the spot. "What have you DONE?!" he cried, as if Alex had mortally wounded one of his children. "It's... it's... a disaster! The frame's ruined, the motivator's all bent out of shape, the altimeter's useless, even..." (here he opened a panel) "even the gyros are all out of alignment! ... Well," he added reflectively, "I guess they're not really gyros, more like - oh, NEVER MIND! What did you DO, ram the thing into a car?!" 

"Yes," Alex replied economically, which brought Hal to a teeth-clicking halt and caused Carlos' eyes to bug out. Garrity digested that, red-faced, for several long seconds before finally bursting out, "WHY?!" "It worked," Alex told him coolly. Hal threw up his hands and stalked back to the truck... then turned around and stalked back sheepishly when he realized they still needed to carry the thing. After that he seemed to forgive Alex, at any rate when distracted with more interesting things. 

After covering the bike with a tarp, they drove out to the base, invisibly the last couple blocks. After Alex spent several long minutes restoring his memories, Hal got out a couple small handheld devices and waved them vaguely at the building. After an interminable period of interpreting the results, he announced, "The place's clean. There's nothing electronic that doesn't belong." "Are you sure, Garrity? You missed the tracker last time. Try again?" "I'm telling you, Shadow, I've just compared every scrap of metal in that building to every scrap of metal that was in there when I was here the last time. There's nothing that can't be accounted for, unless somebody's found a way to build a transmitter entirely out of plastic." "Could you build a transmitter out of plastic?" "No." "...Good enough for me, I guess. But don't they make superconductors out of ceramic these days?" "Yes, but they act enough like metals that I could pick up on them. Plus, I'll guarantee there's nothing transmitting." "...All right, I feel a little better now." 

With that they drove out to the radio tower, which caused Garrity to go all red in the face again. "You left the stuff up THERE?! And I suppose you're going to use the bike to get it down." "Well... yes." Hal took a deep breath, let it out. "Straight up and straight down! No lateral movement! Take it slow and easy!" "All right, Hal, don't worry." In the back of the truck, Alex threw off the tarp and carefully stood the bike up - making it and himself invisible, of course. He carefully eased it upward; the whining noises and the juddering movements were more pronounced than the last time. 

At the top of the tower, Jones' suitcase and pager and Thomas' lightning gun were... missing. "Damn," he swore under his breath - then froze when Carlos said nervously through the commlink, "Sir! Something's... wrong!" "What is it, Carlos? Talk to me." "I don't know! I just know something's wrong!" Alex looked around rapidly, but saw nothing untoward. He carefully lowered the bike back to the ground. "You still feeling uneasy, Carlos?" "Yessir!" The boy sounded very nervous, with perhaps a faint note of hysteria. "Don't worry, Carlos. Hal, any thoughts?" "Take me up with you," the inventor abruptly decided. "I've got an idea." 

Waving his debugging wand around, Garrity quickly zeroed in on a small camera fixed on the spot the OmniMetal materiel had been secreted. "Are we on Candid Camera right now, Hal?" "No, it's not transmitting. Probably it's waiting on a radio squirt." "Can you convince it to have seen no evil, as it were?" "I think so..." Hal jiggered with it a while, then set it back in its place almost regretfully - plainly he was tempted to make off with the thing and study it in lieu of the wonders the Shadow had told him about. "There. That should do it." Alex remained slightly wary, though, until he asked, "Carlos? How are you feeling?" After a long silence, the young man replied, "It's gone, sir. Things are back to normal." Only then did he relax. 

Carlos didn't, though. He was noticeably jittery on the drive back to Grace's, but responded gratefully to Alex's wordless arm about his shoulders as they got out of the truck. Grace took one look at the boy and quickly claimed him, swooping him off for a thorough checkup. Meanwhile Alex turned to Garrity. "I need to tuck your memories away again, Hal. And... Do you mind if I do a search on your other clientele? I don't mind saying that I've been very concerned by some of things you've told me about making for other people." "Well, gee, Shadow. I can't stop you, I guess, but it just doesn't seem right. I'm an honest businessman, y'know, and I don't see why I should reveal my work for other customers any more than I reveal yours to them. That make sense?" Alex sighed. "Yes, Hal, I suppose it does. And of course I'd never do anything like that against your will." He wiped the inventor's memories of the base again, and saw him off. 

Re-entering the house, his inner sight reported that Grace was bundling Carlos off to bed. Returning to meet him, she told Alex calmly, "He's been set back. He stretched himself way too much." Alex replied defensively, "I didn't anticipate any trouble," but she told him, "I'm not assigning blame, Alex, only stating the fact. He tried too hard to use his powers and it has set back his recovery somewhat." With a sigh, Alex asked, "How long?" "I'll know in a couple days." 

With that, Alex returned home, a bit discouraged, to spruce the place up a bit for David's return. He found a couple boxes that his son had shipped home (from somewhere in Arizona, he tried not to notice) - the infamous laptop and a rather expensive thermal sleeping bag. What on earth did he need that for?! He sighed and put it out of his mind, getting the fixings ready for two of David's favorite foods - beef stew and homemade bread. He had a feeling it would be best for David to be in as good a mood as possible... 

--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The next morning, he was at the train station a good hour early, waiting impassively. Finally the train pulled up (a little late), and soon David's beloved form emerged with a backpack and the satchel Alex had packed for him. The backpack provided only a mild obstacle to the crushing hug Alex immediately enfolded him in. "Welcome home, son." David took it with somewhat better grace than usual in public, managing to pat his father's back awkwardly. "Thanks, Dad." 

Once home, David inhaled the home-cooked meal with even more enthusiasm than usual - "I've really missed your cooking!!" Alex gathered that the boy had survived on fast food and his own feeble attempts at the culinary arts. It transpired that Jerry had left him in a cabin in the mountains of eastern Arizona. "I needed the sleeping bag because the heater had stopped working. It's COLD up there! I figured I'd get more use out of the bag than a space heater once I got home." Alex nodded. "Should be handy next time we go camping." David went on to complain, good-naturedly enough, about the extreme boredom the wide-open spaces engendered. 

Once David had called all his friends and exchanged the latest, the two of them spent a companionable day figuring out how to network up his new laptop to the family connection. Once it was all ready and working, Alex reminded him, "Letting you have this computer in your room is a gesture of trust on my part, son. Don't disappoint me." "I won't, Dad." "What's the condition?" David sighed. "No porn." "Right." With that, they had dinner, another heavy meal that sent David into raptures. "Did I mention that I REALLY missed your cooking?!" 

After a little more commiseration about the lonely place of exile, Alex steeled himself, then asked, "Do you have any questions for me?" David looked a little nervous. "Uh, yeah. ... Dad... where did all that money come from?! There was over HALF A MILLION DOLLARS you dumped in my lap!" Alex blinked, not expecting that one. "David, where did you think it came from? How much do you think I make a year?" "I dunno - forty thousand, maybe fifty?" His father couldn't help but laugh. "David, I made more than that right out of grad school, and I've been working at my company for years! I'm a lead now, too." "Well, how much, then?" "I make over six figures," Alex told him drily, and David's jaw dropped. "You didn't know? How much did you think this house cost, anyway?" The boy named a figure half that of the actual value, and Alex set him straight on that one too. 

David shook his head. "We don't live like we're rich." Alex shrugged. "No, we don't, which is why there's a good deal of money saved up. There's plenty of people richer, I assure you. ... Surely you didn't think I'd obtained the money dishonestly or even illegally, did you?" David snorted. "A straight arrow like you?! ... Well, except for the beating-up-criminals bit, I guess. Nah. I just... didn't know what to think. It was a little hard not to spend it - the laptop seemed like nothing. Why'd you hand it all over to me like that?" 

Alex told him quite seriously, "Because I wasn't sure I would survive. You found the will?" The boy nodded uncomfortably, and changed the subject - asking a number of intelligent questions about the power of attorney and just what it had implied. (Alex informed him that his lawyer had cancelled it the previous night.) 

"Dad... Just why did you send me away? Are you gonna do that everytime the Shadow gets into trouble?" The question was just a little belligerent and piqued, as if to complain about being treated like a defenseless child. "This wasn't your average 'trouble', son. I told you - it was a homicidal telepathic group mind." "Yeah, but I can take care of myself..." "I think my actions were reasonable under the circumstances, David. I was afraid southern California was about to be overrun." "...What do you mean?" "Seen any zombie movies lately?" his father asked him harshly. "Huh?! ... You mean... it could SPREAD?!" "I told you it was contagious. You didn't understand what I meant?" "Wow. I, uh, guess not." Grudgingly, he added almost inaudibly, "Iguessitwasagoodideaafterall." 

Alex chalked that up as the moral equivalent of an apology (parents of teens having to settle for what victories they can get) and conceded magnanimously, "It turned out not to be able to spread that far, but I didn't know that at the time I contacted Jerry." David nodded, still a bit overawed. After a moment, he asked, "So is it dead now?" "No, not exactly. But the remaining members got over their antisocial behavior and even helped me out against yet another threat." "...Oh." 

Alex took a deep breath, screwed up his courage to the sticking point, then exhaled slowly. "David, there's... something else important we need to talk about." "Yeah?" "It's... about the Shadow." David looked a little uneasy - they'd rarely talked directly about the Shadow. "Okay..." "For the last eight months or so..." He abandoned that tack and tried another, "The Shadow has a number of people who work with him - informants and the like. Some of them work with him - with me, I mean - more closely than others. I, that is, there's, ah, one of them..." David stared at him. "You're dating!" He sounded as if he couldn't decide whether to be intrigued, outraged, or amused. 

Alex's train of thought was not merely derailed; it plunged off the tracks into a flooding river with many sharp rocks. "What?!" "You're dating, aren't you?" "No!" "You're acting just like a friend of mine said his dad acted when he told him he was dating again after he broke up with his mom..." "David, I AM NOT DATING. All right?!" "Okay, fine, sheesh. What is it, then?" 

For a moment Alex had to reroute the tracks of his brain. "...Right. I, well, as I said, for the last eight months or so I've been, well, getting closer to..." "You ARE dating!" "David, will you STOP THAT?!" "Well, you are, aren't you?!" "NO!" "What is it, then?!" 

Yet a third time, Alex began, clinging desperately to the facts. "For the last eight months the Shadow has had an assistant... a young man who has worked with him closely. I've come to rely on him more and more as time has gone by. During this latest trouble... he was badly hurt. Almost killed. I... when it happened... I realized... that he was... part of my family." 

David stared at him in mute astonishment for almost a full minute. Then he asked in a flat, dead voice, "How long has this been going on." "About three days. Before that, he was my comrade, my ally, even my friend... but I didn't see him as my son until then." David looked slightly - very slightly - mollified by that. "All right," he said. "How old is he?" "Eighteen." 

"Is he your son," David asked cuttingly, "or the Shadow's?" Alex had to pause to think that one over, wanting to give an honest answer. Finally he said, "Mine. To the extent there's a distinction... the Shadow doesn't think that way." David's voice became a lash, seeking to wound. "Are you sure the Shadow didn't want a son to replace me?" The jealousy and anger were there now, green and red and throbbing. "David! It isn't like that! I've never seen him as replacing you! How could he - how could anyone?!" "I don't know, Dad! How could they!" Alex put all his passion and sincerity into his voice: "They couldn't, David. I love you. With all my heart." 

David weighed that for a long time, then announced, "I'm going for a walk. Alone." Alex nodded. "All right." He waited tensely for his son's return; it took several hours. When he did, he was holding a hand to his side, his shirt bloody and torn. "I need a Band-Aid." Alex pursed his lips, holding in all the remonstrances that came to mind, and simply went and fetched a Band-Aid. It was all that was needed; David's wound had already mostly closed. 

Once that was taken care of, Alex finally allowed himself to ask, "How many were there?" "Three. No guns, don't worry, just knives. Muggers." "...Were you looking for trouble?" "Not consciously," David replied honestly, "But in retrospect, yeah, I probably was - it was a really bad part of town and I knew it. ... I felt a lot better after I'd beaten them up." "Are they still alive?" David snorted. "Yeah, I was real careful. Dead guys don't moan and groan." 

After a short silence, David said, "I want to meet him." It was clear who he meant. "You will. But not just yet; he's still recuperating. He suffered the equivalent of a stroke." The boy accepted that with something approximating good grace. "All right. How long?" "A couple weeks or so. Grace is helping him, and he's coming right along." David's brows contracted; he was clearly not pleased by Grace's involvement. 

After some more thought, he continued firmly, "I want to meet him alone." "I'm not sure that's a good idea, David..." "You can introduce us, Dad. But I need to see what he's like when you're not around." "...We'll see." David got all cutting again, "Why shouldn't two brothers be able to have a heart-to-heart, after all?" Alex took a deep breath, struggling for control. When he found it, he said quietly, "The fact that he's my son does not necessarily make him your brother, David. That will be up to you, and to him. I will force nothing on you; this is my doing, not yours." 

That statement seemed to actually rock David back a bit. He considered. "Are you gonna adopt him?" "He's legally an adult. He doesn't need a guardian; so no." The boy pondered and said, almost as if to himself, "Grandpa Frank would be pissed if he knew you'd basically adopted another son yet we weren't brothers..." Alex, alarmed, stated, "Grandpa Frank doesn't need to know anything about this." "Yeah yeah, I know. I'm just thinking out loud. ... I'll reserve judgement until I meet him. That's all I can say for now." "Do you want to know anything more about him?" "No. Not until we meet. That'd make it a lot harder to reserve judgement." "Very well." 

Alex came to a sudden, blazingly intuitive decision. Quietly, he asked, "I've never talked with you about your other grandfather, have I? My father, Philip? Did your mother ever mention him?" David blinked, startled by the change of subject. "Not really. Just that he died a year or two after I was born." "I'm not surprised. She hated him nearly as much as I did." His son absorbed that, startled, then asked, "Why?" 

"Because he was an arrogant, petty, miserable excuse for a human being." David replied with his father's heavy irony, "You don't need to hide your feelings, Dad, say what you really think. ... Mom felt that way too?" "Yes. She hated it whenever people mistreated me, and he mistreated me notably and often. Also, he offended her deeply once; the details aren't important. ... I'll show you his will someday. You'll understand a little more then." David listened, mute. 

Alex sighed. "He was a mind controller, David. I didn't know it at the time - and neither did he, I think - but I recognize the signs now. He was very used to getting his way, and easily wounded whenever he didn't." The words tumbled out of him as if a dam had burst. "He was a salesman who could sell nearly anything to nearly anyone. He divided the world into three types of people, he told me once - Salesmen, Suckers, and A$$holes." "What's the difference?" "Salesmen are those who can convince others they need things; Suckers are the marks who will fall for a good enough pitch; and A$$holes are those who manifest sales-resistance. Guess which category your mother and I fell into?" "...A$$holes, I guess." "Right." 

"...Do you have any brothers and sisters, Dad?" Alex snorted - not quite a laugh. "Yes. One full brother, and seven half-siblings that I know of. I'm not really in touch with them, but your Aunt Alicia did come out for the wedding and the funeral, and a couple other visits. You might remember her from when you were little; she's the only one I've ever been remotely close to. Well... Except my brother, but I haven't seen him since I was seven." Real grief entered Alex's voice. "Our parting was painful. I haven't thought of Rich in years." David was plainly stunned by all this - a new dimension of the family tree was opening up before him, and he'd never seen his dad this way either. "You mean I've got all these aunts and uncles - probably even a boatload of cousins - and I never knew?!" "Yes." "...Why are you telling me this? Why now?" 

Alex's voice rose almost to a shout of pain. "David... Do you think I don't KNOW I haven't been an ideal father to you?!" David paled at his father's emotion, clearly having no idea how to answer a question so dangerously barbed. He finally settled on, "Go on." "I am aware... that I am not the open... fun-loving... affectionate father you've wanted and perhaps needed. I've done... what I can do. I've been shaped, both by my upbringing and my abilities, to be what I am today." "You think you're unique in that?!" "Doubtless not. But... my abilities are a little beyond the average, I think you'll admit." "That's what I mean," David said, pointing to himself, "You think you're unique?!" Alex sighed. "No, I suppose not." 

They stood together in silence, facing each other. Finally David announced, "I'm going to bed." Alex nodded, reaching out hesitantly, but his son's stiff posture did not welcome his touch. He let his hands drop, looking downward, as David moved past him to his room. 

------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When David returned from his early-morning jog, he announced tersely that he'd likely be staying out late with the gang studying. Alex nodded quietly. After breakfast, the boy loped off without a word. Alex suppressed a sigh. 

At least work was a little more pleasant it had been. There was a tremendous uproar going on, but that was an improvement over the backbiting that had dominated the previous week. Summoned to a meeting of higher-ups by Bob's boss Dr. Harris, he found Wright's team there, looking highly irate - but with Wright himself, and Bob, conspicuously missing. Harris economically related the fact that Bob had "decided" to take a period of administrative leave, and that Mr. Wright had likewise "decided" to tender his resignation. There was a warrant out for Jay Warren's arrest, for chemical assault among other things, and any employee seeing him was to report it to the police at once. 

A Babel of questions ensued; Harris was fairly tight-lipped, but did reveal the poisoning of the water cooler, which set Wright's team angrily muttering about a class-action suit - against Warren, or at any rate that's what they said in the presence of their superiors. They were also outraged by Harris' taut admission that the company initiating the project apparently did not exist, and never had existed. (Alex gathered that Bob was on paid leave until the company decided if he was a dupe or an accomplice.) 

When a moment of temporary silence finally emerged, Alex managed to get the question in edgewise, "Mr. Wright was not implicated in Mr. Warren's, ah, irregular activities, was he? Why, then, did he, ah, feel moved to resign?" "That's confidential of course, Dr. Brighton, but I can say that Mr. Wright felt that he was no longer able to interact in a productive way with his superiors." Translating from the bureaucratese, Alex decided that Wright must have pushed one too many buttons - and that the company was covering its nether regions. Too bad, he thought, though I can't say I'm sorry to see him go. 

Lunch was a buzzing hive of rumors, but far less poisonous than before - nobody was projecting their emotions more than verbally, for one thing. Harris made a site-wide announcement in the afternoon, giving a carefully-abridged version of the whole affair designed to make Warren the scapegoat for all the hostilities of the past week. The company water supply had been contaminated, he said, and it wasn't yet certain just how much of it had been. All water canisters were being replaced, and all water coolers being thoroughly flushed out and cleaned - and replaced, if and where necessary. He urged everyone movingly not to hold their co-workers responsible for the angry words and actions of the past week; some no doubt were affected by the contaminants, and the others influenced by the actions of those who were. (Basically true, Alex thought, but artfully done all the same.) He also announced a company picnic for the week following Thanksgiving, with details to be announced Monday. Alex, old hand that he was, confidently predicted that it would feature many tedious "team-building" activities. Probably not a bad idea, either - for once. 

Returning home, he had a message from David that confirmed he'd be out late studying for his make-up test in World History. Giving Grace a call, he found that she thought it best for Carlos to stay with her right up to Wednesday. "And I suggest that you take the whole Thanksgiving weekend off too - tell him he can use the time to catch up on his schoolwork, it's the simple truth. I don't want him to be overwhelmed with that while also trying to get back into his job." "Understood. How is he doing?" He could easily picture Grace's wry smirk as she said, "He's been a perfect little angel. Working on that computer stuff is proving to be a great carrot. I let him put a couple hours in on that, and also wear himself out in a workout, so he was well-satisfied and sleeps the sleep of the just." "I'm glad to hear that. ... I... told David about him last night." "Oh? How'd it go?" "I'm being punished." "Cold shoulder, eh?" "The whole nine yards, silent treatment and all." "He'll come around, don't worry. I'm a little relieved that he didn't work out his frustrations physically, actually." 

"He did, on some muggers." Again he could picture her smile. "He takes after you, you know." Stiffly, "I hardly think I go out looking for a fight to calm my nerves." "Well, no. But if he's going to pick a fight, he's going to pick a heroic one. Beating on people who beat on other people." "...I suppose. Tell Carlos I called, all right?" "Of course, Alex. Have a good evening." 

Alex put the phone down and sighed. Then, after some extensive thought, he fetched a dolly from the garage, loaded it in his car, and did some shopping. Eventually he rolled an invisible crate into the base and carefully down the stairs and performed "Some Assembly Required" before things were arranged to his satisfaction. Only then did he go out as the Shadow. 

Once again it was a fairly quiet night, mostly spent reminding people he still existed and terrorizing a few petty thieves. He tried calling Maria Volanti, but got her machine again, which caused him to frown a bit in worry. He'd long since made it a policy never to worry too much about Maria until at least a week had passed or solid evidence arose to justify it, however. 

Returning home, he reinstated his custom of looking in on David. The boy was a lanky tangle of limbs and sheets; awkward, ridiculous, and infinitely precious. "I love you," he whispered, and went to bed. It was good to have him home, silent treatment or no. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Tuesday and Wednesday were more of the same, though David started to look increasingly harried. His excuse of needing to study for hours on end proved to be more true than he'd bargained for; Alex hoped his intensive work would take his mind from family troubles. Little Dave's mother (a notorious busybody) called to chat about how hard the gang was working to help David, which led to remonstrances about how he really ought to have had David take his schoolwork with him, and also some not-so-subtle probes as to just what the "family emergency" was all about. Alex used one of his stock responses - a contrite "You're absolutely right!" which shut her up somewhat - and stonewalled the gossipmongering with his usual aplomb. Eat your heart out, Bruce Wayne, he thought sarcastically. Nobody beats Alex Brighton with the ladies. 

Wednesday evening, though... That was a special time, and Alex met it with slight trepidation. He drove out to Grace's and received from her a mostly-healthy and entirely-eager Carlos. Physically he's better than ever, emotionally he's pretty much back to normal, but mentally he's still a bit fragile. Try not to give his powers a workout; like I said before, take the weekend off if at all possible. Oh, and I'd like to check him out again next Monday. I will, and I'll send him by, he promised. Thank you so much for all you've done, Grace. I can never repay you. With that she shook Carlos' hand fondly and turned him loose. 

The two looked at each other. "Good to have you back, Mr. Castaneda." "Yessir! It's good to BE back." Alex drove them close to the base's neighborhood, though not so close that his car was likely to be in grave danger. They shared a long, silent, companionable walk under the twilit sky. Only when they entered the lobby did Alex turn to him with open arms and say fervently, "Welcome home, son." Carlos flung himself into the embrace warmly and rested there for a time; then they stepped through Garrity's fake wall and went down the stairs. 

Only then did Carlos catch sight of the new element in the decor, an audible gasp escaping him. His cot was gone. 

In its place was a brand-new bed with crisp new sheets. (Its frame of solid oak, none of that cheap veneer stuff - Alex perferring things built to last.) Carlos moved toward it slowly, moving like a man in a trance; he ran his hand over the wood, then patted the mattress as if assuring himself it was really there and not a mirage or a dream. 

Alex followed, gripping his shoulder from behind. With quiet intensity, he said, "You're here to stay." Carlos nodded, swallowing hard and turning bodily away from Alex, his head bowed - evidently unwilling to let an overwhelming flood of emotion be seen. When he had recovered a degree of self-possession, he said in a slightly quivering voice, "I've, uh, been working on those files you gave me, sir." "I know." Carlos gave a very preliminary report on what he'd found, still not looking Alex in the face, clearly using the business at hand to steady his nerves. 

Alex nodded gravely as the recital was finished, although it hadn't really told him much. "Thank you, Carlos." "Glad to do it, sir." With that the boy sat down on the bed as if he didn't think he'd be able to stand much longer. Alex sat next to him. Silence reigned for a while. 

"There are going to be a few changes in the way we do things around here," Alex told him. Carlos nodded, unsurprised. "I want you to go cold-turkey off of caffeine for a while. And I really need for you to be very frank with me about how tired you are. I can't make good strategic decisions unless I know the facts of your status, Carlos. So if you are tired, especially if it is enough to affect your work, I need you to tell me that. All right?" "Yessir." "And you and I are going to design a workout plan for you to follow." He smiled and continued, "Don't worry, I'm not as protective as Grace! But I don't want you working to the point where I find you snoring on the bench press any more, either. It isn't really healthy, you know." 

The "protective" joke broke the ice. Carlos grinned and visibly relaxed. "All right, sir, you got it." "Finally, I'm going to take the entire Thanksgiving weekend off, all the way to Monday. You can use that time to catch up on your GED classes." "Thanks, I'll need it." He looked quite relieved. 

"I think we'll take most of tonight off too," Alex continued, "but there's one or two things I could stand to check out first. Do you care to back me up?" "Absolutely, sir!" Carlos eagerly lunged to the computer and fired it up, fiddling with his commlink. 

Alex smiled to himself as he put on his vest and cloak, his hand pausing on his hat. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Castaneda," he repeated. "It's good to BE back, sir!" 

On the way up the stairs, planning out some very low-impact patrols he could do that wouldn't bring Carlos' precognition into play, he said, "Oh, and one more thing." "Yeah?" the young man's voice rang tinnily and comfortingly into his ear. 

Out the lobby now, and onto the street. "You're to let me win a hand or two of poker tonight." "Pssh! I think that's what they call an immoral order, sir!" 

Arguing good-naturedly about the morality of fleecing and being fleeced, Alex strode off into the night, his shadow looming menacingly behind him. 

[Up until the last second, I had no idea if Alex was going to be able to tell David about Carlos or not. There were two basic scenarios - this one, where he managed, and another in which he rationalized a completely different story - and I wasn't sure which one was going to play out. Either would have been interesting; and now that I know, I think I see ways to incorporate the more evil bits of the other one into this one. ] 

[A loooong and very RP-heavy session, as you can see. Great fun! And I think I see the outlines of what SP has planned for the next arc. Which will, of course, prove to be wrong, but at least it gives a sop to my plot spider-sense. ] 

--------------------------------------------- 

[This session was mostly written up, save for the note on the conversation with Hashimoto, a week ago. I had waited to post mostly so I could talk with SP to jog my memory about it.] 

[Events have since transpired that have caused me to post it as-is, however. Please see my next post.]


----------



## The Shadow

[Please note that there is a Shadow session - the final one - posted just before this.]

My friends,

I've reached a moment of decision in my life over the last couple weeks.   Far-reaching changes are taking place;  and one of them is that I can no longer continue this game.

I'd like to leave it at that, but I do feel that I owe my loyal readers an explanation.

It'll be easiest if I describe something that happened several years ago.  I was a devoted MUSHer, having played a character on an Amber-themed MUSH (ie, text-based RP environment) for the previous seven years.  A little too devoted.  It got to the point where that game was eating up too much of my time and thoughts, and interfering with my daily life.  But more than that... I came to realize that playing that character was keeping alive in me traits that I didn't like.  All of my characters are images of some facet of my own personality;  and playing him was giving one facet entirely too much exercise.

I fought shy of admitting it for some time.  But when I finally came face to face with it, after a lot of heartache, I killed the character off and had him deleted so that I could never start him up again.  It was hard.  Very hard.  But experience showed that it was the right thing to do;  many things in my life started going right again shortly afterward.

Well... today I came to the same realization about Alex.  And once again, I've fought shy of admitting it for a matter of weeks.  I think it's the suggestions for further developments of campaign support that finally brought it to the surface where I had to look at it.

I'm spending too much time, effort, and thought on this game, pure and simple.  And playing Alex has ceased to be good for me, much as I enjoy it.  He is a good and strong but very flawed man (much like my MUSH character was, but in a totally different way);  and just as before I find that playing out his flaws magnifies flaws in me that I cannot tolerate being magnified.

I'm not the kind of guy to do things by halves.  I don't think cutting back will help.  I just have to stop.  God knows, I'll miss the guy - and Carlos (who is also a mirror of me in a great many ways, I'm very fond of him), and David, and the rest of the gang.  But he's not good for me any more.  I'll treasure the memory of him, but I just can't continue to play him.  (And the same, I regret to say, goes for my character Paratwa in MDSnowman's Chain Gang game.)

What I really regret about this is the effect it has on you guys.  I never intended to string anyone along;  I fully intended to mine the rich potential of this game for years.  But it's not to be.  I ask you to forgive me.  Feel free to use the world, and the character, in whatever way you choose provided that SuentisPo goes along with it.

I debated today whether it was best to make a clean break or to wind things down in a couple adventures, and regretfully decided that the former is best.  I tried things the other way on the MUSH, and it only made things much harder for me and the people I played with.  The campaign has reached an interlude point in any case;  this is how I'd like to remember it.

I very much hope to continue the relationships I've formed with people on this board and ENWorld - notably Ronin, Mitchell, Lela, and PsychoBlonde.  I'll probably stay away from the boards for a while as I bring my life into order (my decision about the Shadow is only part of a wide-ranging series of life-decisions I've been making today), but that doesn't reflect at all on the good company.

Please feel welcome to contact me by email or on AIM if you wish;  I'm putting the information in my profile.  I will enjoy talking with you.  But do understand that my mind on this matter is made up.


----------



## The Shadow

One thing more.  If you haven't read the posts above, please do that first.

----------------------------------------

I thought I'd mention some of the things I was hoping to see happen in the game in the future, just for those with "'satiable curtiosities".  

Evidence was mounting that Maria had been kidnapped. Alex was planning to assault OmniMetal with as many people he could dredge up - Legion too, if it was willing. He'd been planning to wait for the heat to die down, but once he confirmed Maria was missing things woulda gone into overdrive. 

I honestly have no idea how the meeting between Carlos and David would have gone, except that it probably wouldn't have been pleasant.  Pity we won't find out - SP, care to comment? 

I've long known how Alex's death scene would have gone, if he'd ever gotten to the point of dying. His emotional instability would have raged out of control, "zapping" everyone around him (quite possibly with a WIDE range), but then he would have pulled himself together and basically undergone apotheosis. 

Mental energies would flow over into the physical, with thunder crashing over Los Angeles as the outline of a man was seen - at any rate by those who were minimally sensitive - against the clouds, laughing. With a flicker of his mind he would have resolved whatever problems were remaining - most likely the Overmind Project - perhaps drawing Legion and other telepaths into a momentary gestalt to draw on their power as well. 

Then the people of the city would have heard him say joyfully, "THERE ARE NO MORE SHADOWS!" (Those he loved would have gotten more personalized messages in addition.) 

And with that, Alex Brighton would have been gone, save that his hand would rest upon the city all the rest of that night - a night of peace, for once. No shootings, no robberies, no drug deals; lovers reconciling, people walking out and enjoying the night. He'd give LA a night of the peace he'd always desired and never achieved himself. 

And, just possibly, he would have left a piece of himself in Carlos to help him over the rough road ahead. 

P.S. Yes, I did design, have SP approve, and buy a feat that would let me get away with all that.  I called it "Swan Song". Basically it gives a player author-control for a scene when his character dies or otherwise basically becomes an NPC.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Although I'm sad to see this story go, I'm priviledged to have been a fan from the very beginning (although posting for it far more frequently on the M&M boards). This has been one of the best "story hour" type serials I've ever seen. Thanks, Shadow, for illuminating some of the dark places in Los Angeles, and in your/his mind.


----------



## GreyShadow

Thanks for the story Shadow.

It is a great one!


----------



## The Shadow

Thanks, guys.  I appreciate it.  And I'm sad to see this game go, but honestly my dominant emotion when posting about the end was relief.  I don't think there could be a surer sign that quitting was for the best.

Thanks for some great times and for all your feedback!


----------



## GreyShadow

I don't suppose there is any chance of more of the What If? story?


----------



## Lela

I have to say that this has been one of the most amazing displays of RPing I've ever seen.  Every time I sat down, I found the Shadow to be the most thought out and realistic characters I'd ever seen.  More real than anything Sep ever wrote, by far.

This may be the first time I'll ever really miss a Story Hour.  And I've read a lot of them.  I'll look for you on AIM and via e-mail.


----------



## thatdarncat

I'm sorry to see this storyhour go :S

Please do me a favour and drop a post here if you start a new game up and decide to get a storyhour going for that one


----------



## Arkhandus

Yeah, sorry to see ya go Shadow, it was a good story with great roleplaying. *thumbs up*

Maybe try playing a character that isn't a facet of yourself so you don't get worried when you really get into the game? 

Or maybe you should start playing Everquest or Shadowbane or something instead, so you can be all cool and detached.... :^D  Someday I'll get around to actually installing my copy of Shadowbane, someday....probably the same day I get a new job and can afford the subscription.


----------



## SuentisPo

Hello all, 

I'm Suentis Po, the GM of the Shadow game, and a new poster to EN world.  I suppose it is rather ironic that my first post would consist of the closing of a campaign.

Like the rest of you, I will miss the Shadow campaign; it has been extremely fun and well worth the effort I put into it. 

The Shadow requested that I post a few comments on the planned future of the game: 

David and Carlos would have problems the second time they met (the first time they would be on their best behavior); the Shadow/Alex's behavior would be crucial to how the acted in the future. (Isn't sibling rivalry fun?) 

Maria was kidnapped by the 'troubleshooters'- that was the next planned episode. This would be the close of the Omni-Metal arc- I wasn't planning on having any threads for the Shadow to follow back. She had been spotted by a telepath and grabbed, they were trying to program her mind and running into her fierce willpower. I mistakenly told the Shadow that this arc was over, I forgot about her when I did- mea culpa. 

The next arc after that was going to be 'The Return(?) of Hexmaster'. For those of you who don't know him, he was a homozygous telepath who had coped with his immense telepathic powers by going insane. He fought the Shadow in an earlier version and is, in some way, a dark reflection of him- a what might have been. 

Hexmaster would have had the two psis and mutated ape that the Shadow chased off before as allies- yes, this was planned out that far back. The twin psis had vastly different powers: 1 was an empath that could also do a minor bio-drain, and the other was a powerful biokinetic, able to boost her strength, stamina and fleshcraft others- including a gorilla they stole from the zoo (the 'monster' before- controlled by the boy). These 3 were an homage to both the earlier Hexmaster's minions (a trio called Leech, Mutator and Ogre) and the Wonder Twins of the old Superfriends cartoon (I couldn't resist  

After that, my plans were a bit more nebulous. I was planning on having one more story arc, then go back to Omni-Metal (or to be precise, The Overmind Project). I would have introduced the problem of the undecided story arc during the Hexmaster arc- a big possibility was Maria Escalante and the Red Shivs. The Shadow was going to regret letting her rebuild- she was planning on having a cadre of high-tech goons- none of them could take her on, but they would be able to wrest control from the police quite nicely. This was where the extra profits she made from the drug sales were going to go. 

Somewhere in there, I was going to have Dr. Wright (as he would insist on being called) and his threat to seed a dangerous variation on the Legion process all over the city- that was the other contender for the big story arc, as it would tie back into the Overmind Project. Jay Warren was toast. Wright was planning on 'testing' the compound on him as payback. If I didn't make it a huge story arc, just a one-shot, it would be the start of the Overmind Project storyline. 

The last possibility for a story arc would have been Alex's disassociation from his Shadow and the problems that would cause. I hadn't decided on what to do with that (or even if I was going to do it at all). 'Dr. Wright' might be a huge problem for the Shadow in this case- he wouldn't know why Wright was doing what he did, thus preventing him from anticipating his next moves. The PC said he was thinking about doing this anyway, it was just how much energy I was planning on putting in it.

If there was any plans in my head for a death scene for the Shadow, it would have been at the end of the Overmind saga, ironically, they might have gotten a start on what they wanted, just as they were defeated. 

Thinking on that, Maria and the Red Shivs might have been a great nemesis for the Shadow's successors (as seen in the short he posted). Alex left a mess and the boys work together to clean it up. 

Just a few thoughts on the possible futures of the game.

Suentis Po


A couple of after thoughts 

Grace would have been very important to the boys after Alex died. In an odd way, she would be the 'mother figure' for the two of them. I'm sure they would have appreciated the information and insights she could provide. 

No, Hal was not directly responsible for Maria's toys. They are the work of a telepathic thief- he steals ideas from the hyper-intelligent and markets them as his own. He has 3 genii he 'skims', Hal was just one of them. (The head pieces were from Hal, though) 

At the time this went to press, I didn't have any ideas for/about Mike (or anyone else). In the months to years of game time, I'm sure I could have come up with something.  

If any of these ideas interest anyone, they are free to use them. I'd like to be notified, so I can see my work through another's eyes.


----------



## The Shadow

Hey everybody,

I find I've been getting mildly nostalgic for the Shadow game lately.  I have no intention of starting it back up, but I thought I'd exorcise onto paper some potential scenes that have stuck with me ever since the game ended.  Thought you guys might like to see the results.

These are fragments, really, and some of them may be inconsistent with each other.  Some even date from an earlier period of the game, and were obviated by later developments.  But hey, it's Shadow-stuff.   With some commentary by me.

-----------------------------------

What Dreams May Come

Alex was awakened from his cot at the base by Carlos screaming in horror.  Rushing over to the boy's cot he found Carlos shaking violently in panic.  The young man looked up at him with frantic apology, "Sorry, sir!  I, uh," he gulped, "had a dream."

Alex nodded gravely.  "I had a dream too."  Carlos glanced at him, startled.  "You did?"  Alex nodded, then quoted from the Shadow movie deadpan:  "I dreamed I tore all the skin off my face and was somebody else underneath."

Carlos stared at him as if he'd grown another head, then burst into peals of infectiously helpless laughter;  Alex joined him, and they both laughed until they all but cried.  (And if Carlos' laughter started out with an edge of hysteria, Alex was pleased to note it had faded by the time they wound down to light giggles.)

Carlos made a huge effort to compose himself, then attempted to return Margo Lane's line with the appropriate gravity:  "You... have issues."  The effect was somewhat spoiled by his dissolving into giggles again by the end, though, and he lost it completely when Alex nodded and gave Cranston's response with an earnest expression:  "I'm aware of that."

[I kept waiting and waiting to use this one in-game, but the chance never came, darnit! ]

------------------------------------

[This is what I planned to do if Ricky ever did anything blindingly stupid again - putting his life at risk.  It woulda been fun - that kid got on my nerves at times. ]

Object Lesson

The Shadow slammed Ricky against the wall of the alley.  Snatching the hat - nearly the copy of his own - from the boy's head, he used it to thwack him repeatedly about the head and shoulders to emphasize his words.  "You (THWACK!) stupid (THWACK!) little (THWACK!) idiot!!! (THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!)"  "I'm sorry, Shadow," Ricky snivelled, "I didn't mean..."  "I don't care what you meant! (More THWACKS!)  You could have gotten yourself KILLED!  Dead!  Deceased!  Do you understand me?!"  "I..."  "Shut up!  Let me think."  He absently tore Ricky's hat apart before the lad's widened eyes.

Regaining a bit of composure, he finally said, "I suppose an object lesson is in order.  I tried beating some realities of life through your thick skull the last time, but it evidently didn't work.  In fact, you thought it was ... COOL."  He spat the word as if it were a vile insult.  "I guess I'll just have to come up with something definitely 'uncool' this time, won't I."  "I-"  "WON'T I?!"  "Yessir!"  The Shadow's lips curved in a disturbingly creative smile.  "I have it."  "Wh-what?"

"Richard, your black-wearing privileges are revoked."  "Huh?!"  "From now on, you will wear nice, bright, *happy* colors."  Ricky flinched at the venom in the word "happy".  "If I ever catch you wearing anything black again, you're going to go home without it, if you have to end up going home naked.  Understood?"  "I-" "UNDERSTOOD?!"  "Yessir!"  "Now tell me, do you think that's COOL?"  "Nosir!"  "Good."  He released the boy, letting him slide along the wall back to his feet.  "Well?"

Ricky gulped.  "Uh, well what, Shadow?"  "That ridiculous trenchcoat has to go, don't you agree?"  "Oh.  Right."  He shrugged out of it, looking ready to cry, and the Shadow methodically slashed it up with a knife.  He pointed to the tattoo of the Shadow movie logo on Ricky's right biceps, "Oh, and I never want to see that thing again.  You'd better wear shirts with sleeves long enough to cover it from now on."  "Yes, Shadow."

"I'll let you keep your jeans.  This time.  But the boots and shirt have to go too."  "But..."  "DO IT!"  Ricky complied.  "Now."  The Shadow offered him a piece of a chalk.  Ricky accepted it meekly.  "What's this for?"  "I'll bring you some new clothes to go home in.  IF you have written, 'I will not stupidly put my life in danger ever again," two hundred times on the walls of this alley by the time I return."  "Okay...  Uh, Shadow?"  "What!"  "Uh, how do you spell 'stupidly'?"

The Shadow nearly exploded at him, but had a suitable revenge later.  Ricky looked ready to cry when he saw the bright yellow shirt with Tweety-Bird on it (two sizes too small) that the Shadow brought him a few hours later...

----------------------------------------

[After I was dragooned into seeing Kill Bill 2, I couldn't help but picture the 'Wise Old Master' as Mai Pei - though SP tells me this is a mere slander, that the WOP is a much nicer guy than that.  Still, this scene wouldn't let me go.]

Wise Old Master

_*Remind me again why I'm not supposed to kill him.*_ _He's helping your son learn how not to kill people by accident?_ _*That's rapidly becoming insufficient to prevent me from killing him on purpose, Grace.*_ _His methods are harsh, yes, but..._

*But unnecessary!  I don't expect anyone can learn to fight without picking up bruises, but this is out of line!*  He fumed down at David's sleeping form, the boy's livid, recently-broken arm healing almost before his eyes.  _...I was going to say, "But effective."  I don't like it any more than you do, Alex, but we can't have David leaving a trail of bodies everywhere he goes, can we?  He wouldn't do this to someone who couldn't heal the way David does._

*Effective or not, I'm tempted to add a body to the trail myself.  He may be a deadly martial artist, but I'll wager he can't catch bullets.* _You might be surprised..._

-----------------------------------------

[I had originally intended to develop Alex's relationship with Carlos very slowly.  I expected them to go on never quite coming out and saying how they felt, preferring to leave the heavy stuff tacit.  Of course, events in the game ended up forcing things to a new level, but this scene, which dates to quite an early period, is still compelling to me.]

[I had also originally intended for Alex to gently force Carlos out of the nest once he graduated - and while the whole mind-rape business and the subsequent "adoption" did complicate that quite a bit, something *like* this would probably have happened anyway.]

Graduation Day

Alex smiled slightly to himself at the eager bustle going on behind Carlos' dressing screen.  The boy's eyes had bugged out at the suit Alex had bought him - he'd never had clothes like that before.  But today was his "graduation" from the GED program, and Alex had wanted to make a special day of it.  It would help cushion the blow for later... but Alex forced that unpleasant thought from his mind.

A frustrated noise came from the screen, then Carlos emerged with his collar awry, holding out the new tie as if it were a poisonous snake.  "How on earth are you supposed to tie this thing, sir?!"  Alex chuckled.  "Here, I'll show you."

Slowly looping the tie up and around so that Carlos could see how, Alex was struck, not entirely comfortably, by the memory of doing the same thing for David.  He's special to me, he admitted to himself.  Carlos seemed to have a similar vibe from it  all;  at any rate, he wouldn't meet Alex's eyes but looked pleased as punch.

Finally getting the thing suitably arranged, Alex handed him his jacket, then went through the ritual of inspecting him ostentatiously, brushing off imaginary dust here and there.  "You clean up nicely," he said mock-grudgingly.  Carlos grinned at him, then rushed over to the mirror. Alex followed, resting his hands on the boy's shoulders from behind.

The lad did cut a fine figure, no doubt about it.  Carlos emitted a subdued "Wow" at his own reflection. Alex smiled, then tried one of the lines from the Shadow movie on him:  "Where did you get that tie?"

Rather than returning Lamont Cranston's response ("Brooks Brothers!") though, Carlos looked down at his feet.  Then, lifting his chin, he met Alex's eyes squarely in the mirror.

"My dad gave it to me," he whispered.

Alex opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  He forced the whirling thoughts and emotions out his mind, though, as Carlos had hunched his shoulders as if under a heavy burden.  Not knowing what to say, he just turned the boy around and embraced him.  Carlos hugged him back for a long time;  when they parted, neither knew what to say.

Alex cleared his throat.  "Well.  Ready to go knock 'em dead?"  "Yessir!"

Later, sitting on a metal folding chair, Alex clapped until his hands hurt as Carlos received his certificate, grinning from ear to ear, while "Pomp and Circumstance" played tinnily from a recording.  He was the only one who had come to see Carlos, of course;  and that was one more than many of the other graduates had.  But clearly Carlos' own favorite moment came when Alex shook his hand after and told him, "You've worked hard.  I'm proud of you."

Out at dinner afterward, Carlos was still glowing lightly as he devoured a steak.  When they'd finished, Alex told him softly, "I have another gift for you."  "Sir!  You don't have to..." "I know.  But I want to."  "Well... Okay.  What is it?"

For reply, Alex picked up a napkin, took out a pen, and carefully signed his name on it, handing it over.  "What... what is it, sir?"  "My name, Carlos.  Alexander Brighton."  The boy's face drained of color, but before he could say anything, Alex went on gently, relentlessly, "I'm going to sign it again on a check for your college education.  Or, if you prefer, as a co-signature on a loan to start a business of your own."

Carlos looked almost ready to cry.  "You... don't want me working with you any more."  "Of course I do, Carlos!" Alex told him intensely.  "You've been invaluable."  "Then... why!"  "Because, Carlos, while your time at the base has been good for you - a time of healing, of knitting together - it simply isn't healthy for you in the long term."  "Can't I decide that for myself, sir?!"

"Carlos," Alex told him gently, "you aren't exactly objective about it."  When no reply came, Alex went on, "This is too small a life for you, Carlos.  You're going to want a career of your own at some point, won't you?  A family?  How are you going to have those things if you're spending your nights helping me?"  "Sir, I'm happy with you!"  "I know, Carlos.  I know.  But you can't spend your life, well, in my shadow, indefinitely.  There comes a time in a young man's life when he has to strike out on his own."

Carlos plainly did not know what to say.  Alex said quietly, "I can't be your father, you know."  Carlos looked down at his plate, a tear trickling down his cheek. "I know, sir.  I've known it the whole time."  "It's not for the reason you think."  The boy looked up, startled.  "Huh?"  "It's not because I don't *want* to, you know."  Silence.  Alex told him softly, "It's because you don't need a father at this point in your life.  You're a man, Carlos.  You've been able to fend for yourself for years.  You needed a time of pulling yourself together, of learning to love yourself.  You've had it.  And now's the time to go out and make your way."  Alex grinned.  "After the streets, I think you'll find the 'real world' quite tame."

The young man essayed a weak smile in response.  "Can... Can I come visit sometime?"  Alex snorted.  "I will be personally offended if you don't visit now and then.  Particularly on the holidays."  He paused, then said emphatically, "You're like family.  And... I love you."

Carlos' eyes widened at the words, and he did start shedding tears then - happy ones, Alex was relieved to note.

[Like I said, this scene came to me just about in whole cloth early on.  It was an eerie moment for me when SP had Carlos say in their big scene, "I know you can't be my father."  He'd never heard of my ideas for this one.  Of course it wouldn't really have happened this way, given later events, but I still like it.]

------------------------------------

[Here's something I had in mind for Juan Martinez, before it became clear that he wasn't going to be waking up any time soon.]

Juan for the Home Team

The Shadow slipped past the guards into the hospital room - invisibly, of course.  Drifting over to Juan's bed, he spread invisibility over the boy's sleeping form, before shaking his shoulder gently.

"Wha- Oh sh*t!"  "Hush, Juan.  I'm here to talk.  Nobody can hear us right now."  "Wh-what do you want??"  "As I said.  To talk."

Juan began to recover his composure.  "What about?"  The dark avenger gestured about the hospital room.  "I never intended for this to happen to you.  I misjudged your reaction.  So I've done what I could to make it right."  He smiled, not an entirely pleasant smile, but close.  "I hope you enjoyed the flowers."  Juan took that in, then responded sardonically.  "Yeah, they've really brightened my day."  "Glad to hear it."

"Is that it?  You're real sorry you got my head busted?"  "Watch it, punk.  I decide how much I feel guilty about what happened.  Not you.  I seem to recall that your own stupidity was involved too."  "Yeah, well, I don't quite remember.  Head injury, right?"  He gave it up when he clearly saw the Shadow wasn't buying any.  "Fine.  What do you want?"

The Shadow folded his arms.  "Have you given any thought to what happens *after* you get out of here?"  Juan paled.  "Some."  "Let me spell it out for you.  You ran from the Red Shivs, and in doing so violated your parole.  There's cops outside that door, and they're not exactly overflowing with sympathy.  You're gonna do time... and I think your brothers with the knives will do their best to make sure it's hard time.  Short, though, if you see what I mean."

Juan winced, but flung back, "Yeah, what's it to you?"  "I might have another option for you, if you're willing to cooperate."  Warily, "What?"  "I can get you a lawyer better than any you've had wet dreams about.  And I can protect you from the Shivs.  There is, of course, a price."  Juan sneered, "I didn't think you'd help an hermano out of the milk of human kindness!  What is it?"

"You're going off drugs, and you're going legit.  I can give you a good job if you prefer that to flipping burgers."  Juan looked puzzled.  "That's it?"  "That's it.  Though if you ever betray me, or violate our agreement, you'll wish very earnestly you hadn't."  "...All right, sounds good."

Wheels were plainly turning behind the lad's eyes, as he angled for what he could get out of this.  They abruptly froze to a halt when the Shadow said, "I'll have to read your mind, of course, to make sure you're sincere."  Frantic, animal fear.  "Madre de Dios, no!  Please!  I can't!"  "Juan..."  "I CAN'T!  Oh please, Shadow, I want to, but I just can't!"  He began whimpering in Spanish, the very picture of a hurt little boy, and a wet stain started spreading on the bedsheet.  Reading the young man's surface thoughts, the Shadow found to his chagrin that he wasn't faking.  He really was that terrified.

Shaking him slightly, he said, "All right, Juan!  Relax!"  Clearly shamed, Juan looked away.  "Sorry," he muttered.  "It just... scares me."  "So I see.  I'll let it go, for now at least.  Do we have a deal?"  He extended a gloved hand.  Juan grasped it.  "Yeah.  Deal.  It's better'n what I'll get from the Shivs or the court."

The Shadow rose to his feet.  "There's one more thing."  "Yeah?"  The Man of Mystery slowly pulled the bandanna from his lower face while Juan's eyes widened.  "You've seen my face.  I think you know what that means."  The boy nodded, awed and scared, as the Shadow tied the bandanna to his arm.  "Wh-what's that for?"  The Shadow looked down at him with an unpleasant smile.  "That's your colors.  You're part of MY gang now!"  And with that, he was gone.

[That last bit was pure theatrics, of course.  Juan didn't see Alex's *real* face, just an illusion.  Great fun, though!]

[If Juan had kept his nose clean for a few months, Alex would've entrusted him with more and more.  He might even have ended up replacing Carlos once Carlos' "Graduation Day" came to pass.  On the other hand, if he'd tried messing with the Shadow, he would have gotten the scare of his young life, at the very least.]

----------------------------------------

[I had always wanted to bring the Forbidden back into the game, but it just never worked out.  Here's one way I proposed to do it - though the end is my own fanciful guess as to events, just because it woulda been cool.]

Forbidden Fruit

Alex sighed.  Their first meeting had gone so well - both of them on their best behavior.  Why was this one such a disaster?

David and Carlos were shouting at each other, the epithets getting fouler by the moment - Carlos even resorting to Spanish as his creativity in English was getting exhausted.  Presently David shoved him, and that was it for Alex - that turn of events could only end one way, given David's strength.

Both young men turned to him in shock as he brought his palm down on the table like a thunderclap.  "ENOUGH!"  David recovered first - enough to roll his eyes and mouth the predicted words along with Alex:  "We're going camping."  He had indeed experienced more than one camping trip with Alex meant to end a family difficulty.  It had usually worked, too - this was to be his first with a new brother, however.

Carlos had never left the city in his life.  He couldn't help but gasp eagerly, open-mouthed, as the mountains came into view.  David rolled his eyes in worldly fashion at the newbie.  He got in a few smart comments at Carlos' inept attempts to pitch a tent later, but was quelled by his father's cold stare.

He was still sulking when Dad gave the obligatory man-to-man talk to them over the campfire that night.  But dammit, why does it always have to WORK?!  How does he DO it?!

Carlos abruptly interrupted - a highly uncharacteristic way for him to treat his hero, David thought sardonically - and said "Sir!  There's something out there."  Alex paused, concentrating, then said, "You're right."  He got to his feet, poised - David now knew, after a few lessons - for combat.  Carlos faded to his side, looking surprisingly dangerous, and David moved to Dad's other side, not to be outdone.  "What is it?"

A glitteringly angular black form approached, the campfire seeming to shrink back from it as it drank in the light.  Alex said with surprised incipient joy, "John!!  Is that you?!"  David smiled too.  "It's Forby!"  But Carlos said warningly, "Sir...!"

Probes uncoiled menacingly from the black aura before them like black icicles, humming with power, and a harsh voice grated, "Go away, Alex."  Then it leapt toward them, plainly ready to kill.

[My theory:  Rose has been kidnapped by the Council and the Forbidden is half-mad with the Hunger.  NOT a pleasant situation to deal with!  Given that he doesn't really WANT to kill anybody, though, I suspect that he wouldn't put up much resistance on the mental plane.]

------------------------------------


[This one dates, of course, from the period when Juan Martinez ended up in the hospital.  This one and the next one mirror one direction I might have taken Alex as he became increasingly unhinged.  SP and I discussed it repeatedly, though I didn't let him in on these particular scenes.  This would have happened shortly after Alex had his climactic battle with Johnson and Torrance.]

Hats Off to the Shadow

The cloaked crusader frowned as he entered the alley.  It'd been a rough week.  He'd been troubled much more than usual by dreams, nightmares really, of violence and vengeance and betrayal.  It'd been interfering with his sleep.  Now Juan Martinez had escaped from the hospital... and in tracking him, Alex found he'd been leaving a disturbingly bloody trail behind him.  But now...

"End of the line, Juan," he said as he cocked his pistol.  The young man in the hospital gown looked up from the man he'd just knifed, and Alex' heart froze within him - Juan's tan features were slack, drool running from the corner of his lips... his eyes staring sightlessly into space.  He was plainly still a coma patient...  though a coma patient holding a bloody knife in his hand.

Then, yet more horrifyingly, those slack lips shaped themselves into a lopsided smile, and those eyes tracked his invisible form easily.  "Juan's not in right now.  But I'm glad to see you, Brighton.  I've been expecting you."  "WHO ARE YOU?!"  "Now Alex," the not-boy chided him gently, "You know perfectly well who I am."  And with that, he faded from sight.

Alex fired several shots reflexively at the space the young man had just occupied, but they ricocheted off the walls of the alley.  "Don't worry, Brighton," that horrible voice went on, "We'll be seeing a lot of each other.  Oh!  And I almost forgot."

A hand snaked out from behind him and snatched the hat from his head.  "You have something that belongs to me."

[Yes... Once the Shadow personality got "killed", I saw it as becoming increasingly crazy, increasingly separated from Alex, manifesting in his dreams and astral-projecting.  Finally it latched onto Juan Martinez's effectively empty form and used it.  Ugly, ugly, ugly.]

--------------------------------------

[But that was only one scenario.  Here's another.]

Good Times Are Here Again

Alex walked slowly over to the hat where it lay on the mat.  He'd accidentally left it there when he and Carlos had sparred and... well.

His heart constricted in his chest as its lonely presence there on the floor smote him almost like an accusation.  He was letting his feelings interfere with his work, he knew.  That wasn't good... was it?

Alex wrestled within himself for a time, then deliberately turned his back on the hat.  "No!" he gasped.  "You don't own me."  His hands started to shake, then his whole frame... and abruptly he folded to the floor in a convulsion.   "Sir!!" Carlos shouted, and ran to him.  "Are you OK?!"

When no response came, and Alex's helpless flopping showed no sign of abating, Carlos ran to the phone and started frantically dialing Grace's number.  Totally unexpectedly [yes, despite his Danger Sense and all the rest] a hand clamped itself on his shoulder and spun him about as a cold voice inquired, "Who are you calling."

Carlos shouted in surprise, then relaxed slightly as he saw Alex standing there... with the hat on.  "I, uh, was worried about you, sir.  I'm glad you're okay?"  "Who.  Were.  You calling."  "Amazing Grace, sir.  I was worried."  "There's no need to call her, Carlos.  I'm fine.  You won't do that again.  Will you?"  "Of... of course not, sir."  "Good.  We don't need to involve others in our business.  Speaking of which, we have matters to attend to, don't we?"  "Y-yessir."

Lamont laughed soundlessly to himself as he mounted the stairs.  If only he could explain to Burbank that he'd been reincarnated as a Chicano street tough and see the look on his face!  And Margo - an expensive hooker!  (Though as much of a looker as ever, to be sure!)  She'd laugh herself silly if she could hear her own present accent.  What's next, will Moe Shrevnitz turn out to be a WASP investment banker or something?

But of course he himself had to be different, had to be out of the ordinary.  Of course that ridiculous milksop Brighton wasn't HIS new incarnation.  No, Shiwan Khan must have bound his soul into the hat somehow.  He'd worked with the pathetic tool he'd been given, but it felt good to be back in the driver's seat.  Khan was probably still out there somewhere... How to find him?  This new world was frustratingly large!

Maybe Doc Savage was still hanging on somewhere?  He'd know, if anyone did...

[This version is at least as unhinged as the previous one, but of course rather less dangerous... Unless confronted with the truth.  And who knows - SP hinted once or twice that in this world, there may actually have been something to the old Shadow stories.  Was there really a Shiwan Khan out there to find?]

-----------------------------------------

[But either way, eventually Alex's and the Shadow's respective noses would have been rubbed in their predicament, and they would have had a big confrontration.  Probably orchestrated by Grace.  I don't think even she would have expected what would happen next, though, when all the gloves were off...]

Rat Race

There was no one but the rats to see when the shadow crept under the door of the lab.  The lab run during daylight by the meticulous Dr. Alexander Brighton.  ...The shadow of a man wearing a hat and a cloak.

The shadow crept along the floor, rising up and solidifying into the shape of that man.  A cold smile curved his lips.  "What's that, Brighton?  You don't understand why we came here?  I have something to show you."  He moved over to the rat cages.  "These rodents are your metaphor for your society, aren't they?  The society you keep trying to 'save' from itself.  As if you could, with your pathetic scruples and fatal weakness."

Alex forced his own words through his lips:  "I was strong enough to keep you from killing Grace."  "That meddling bitch!  We were doing fine!  Or I was, anyway!"  "Some of us beg to differ."  The Shadow recovered its composure.  "Yes, well.  Maybe you'll change your mind.  It's time you saw the truth."  "What truth?"

The Shadow pointed to the rats.  "Like I said - your metaphor for society.  Not bad, actually.  But it's lacking a certain something.  Let me show you the truth about what you're trying to save."  It clenched its fist, its face screwing up in concentration and hatred.

The rats went wild, lunging at each other, chittering maniacally.  Some flung themselves at the cage walls, trying desperately to escape, while others attacked their fellows with a savagery never seen in nature.  Fur flew, and blood sprayed as the little rodents tore each other limb from limb.  Soon the only sounds were a few faint whimperings as the few survivors bled to death.  "Do you see, Brighton?! DO YOU SEE?!  THAT'S your f*ucking society!  THAT'S what you're trying to 'save'!"  "No!"  "All you can do is take out the predators before they take you out!"

"And how are you different from a predator?!"  The Shadow's lips curved in a smile.  "Oh, I'm a predator all right.  But my prey is the other predators. That's the difference."  "You just like the challenge!"  "There is that," it admitted, "but mainly I'm just trying to carve out a space to survive in.  So that David and others like him don't have to be predators."

"Then I guess you're trying to save society too, hm?"  "Nothing so noble!  Just the - very few - people I give a sh*t about."  "Like Grace?" Alex inquired maliciously.  "Bastard!  I couldn't let her destroy everything!"  "Destroy YOU, you mean!"  "Yes!"

"Well," Alex finally said, "I guess we do agree on one thing."  "Oh?"  "Yes. Some predators need to be taken down."  And with that, the man convulsed as his own hands flew to his throat. "Damn you, Brighton!" the Shadow gasped as he - they - rolled about on the floor, knocking glassware to the floor with a crash.

[And where things would have gone from there, I just don't know.  I feel quite sure that it wouldn't have ended here, though.  The end was something quite different...]

-------------------------------------------

Once Alex got put back together again, I expected him to continue adventuring, but more circumspectly, and with more respect for human life.  Here's a little scene I imagined happening after a truly knock-down-drag-out take-no-prisoners brawl with the Overmind Project, or maybe the Council.  I don't have enough to write it up, but I can describe it.

To set the scene, the Shadow, Grace, Carlos, and maybe even David have finally been cornered by more force - both physical and psionic - than they can deal with.  Finally, in a desperation move, Alex does the only thing he can think of - he unites his mind with Grace more deeply than ever before and pours all of his immense power through her, letting her shape it with her incredible skill.  The result is victory snatched from the jaws of defeat, to everyone's relief.

Afterward, they're all detoxing with a stiff drink - tea for Alex, of course!  - at Grace's place, when Alex announces, "There's only one question I still have."  Everyone looks at him.  He walks over to Grace and goes down on one knee.  She looks at him blankly.  "What are you doin' on the floor, darlin'?"

"Miss Sullivan, it would give me great pleasure if you would consent to have me as your husband."  As she stared at him, he said quietly, "Will you marry me?"

Talk about your bombshells!  I'll bet the look on her face would be priceless.   SP speculates that she might well have said yes - Grace could only marry a telepath of at least her own caliber, and Alex is one of the very, very few who fills the bill.  See, my theory - and SP concurs - is that when you do telepathic gestalt with someone, you come away from it either loving that person with an undying love, or hating their guts for life.  You just plain know them too damn well to stay neutral.

Of course it's an incredible step for Alex.  Where things would have gone from there, I honestly have no idea at all.  But it would sure have been interesting, no matter what!

There remains only the end:

-------------------------------------------

When Shadows Fall

"NO!!!"  Carlos cried as the shot caught the Shadow in the throat.  His own pistol blazed at the Overmind agents, taking down two before he ran out of bullets.  Then, knowing the end was near, he just sat down next to Alex and cried as they approached.

Unable to speak, his dad's mental voice, so familiar, rang in his head:  *Carlos, run.  Scram!  I won't have you die here too!* "Nothing doing, s- Dad!  I won't leave you!"  *Go!*  The first shot rang out then, silencing Alex's mental voice, and Carlos prepared himself for the end:  "Padre Nuestro, que esta' en cielo..."  But neither he nor the Overminders expected what came next.

Towering waves of raw emotion poured out from Alex's dying form.  White-hot rage, plunging depths of despair, canyon upon crevasse of anguish and grief... relieved only slightly here and there by the flowers of tenderness and love growing in crannies of the rock.  These and more poured through Carlos and the gunmen... and through the minds of most of the populace of southern California.  Psychic sensitives turned their numbed senses toward Los Angeles the world 'round, so potent was the outpouring of a uniquely telempathic life.

Miles away, the Forbidden raised his head from his book.  "Ah, Alex.  I'm so sorry."  He wept.

Grace punched the wall, breaking a nail, dammit.  "Why'd you have to go and get yourself killed, you son of a- Oh, Alex!"  She also wept.

Legion cocked its collective heads toward the west, and communed on what this might portend.

Hexmaster smiled with an almost childlike joy of discovery.  "So THIS is what it is to die!"

Those less aware of psychic nuance responded the only way they could - drinking themselves into oblivion, or picking fights, or otherwise acting on the emotions they received.  The Overmind agents started shooting each other, while Carlos wept on, oblivious.

The heavens themselves responded, psychic energy bleeding over to the physical realm, with sheet lightning flaring from one horizon to the other, and thunder booming out of a clear sky.  The light picked out in the smog the form of a man, a man wrestling with a dark shapeless form.

Finally the emotions changed - a surge of triumph and joy and peace, as harmony was achieved for the first time.  Millions laughed and wept for joy, and many were sensitive enough to hear the celestial figure's final joyous words:  "THERE ARE NO MORE SHADOWS!"

That was not quite the end, however.  Alex had a few messages still to deliver.

The Overmind agents heard a friendly voice say, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me," as they were plunged into sleep.  When they woke, hours later, they would find their psionic powers to have been forever excised.  Their memories were riffled through in an irresistible fashion and their contacts in the Project fingered.

Legion heard, "Care to help me, friend?"  They responded willingly to a mind that was now their ideal of harmony, rather than the ragingly divided mentality they'd rejected before.  Spreading out through them, Alex added dozens of willing psionic minds temporarily to their union, and used that power to strike surgically at the Overmind Project around the globe.

The Council scrambled to erect their own defenses against this terrifying threat... which only served to draw attention to themselves.  Alex told them nicely, "Best behave.  A lot of us know about you now!"  The Masters began hatching plots immediately with great urgency, knowing their cover was finally blown.

That bit of unpleasantness taken care of, he could finally turn his attention to the important things - the people he loved.

David awoke from a sound sleep. "Dad?!"  His father bent over his bed and ruffled his hair.  "Yes, son.  I'm going now.  Be kind to Carlos...  And know that I've always loved you, even when I couldn't show it the way I wanted to."  "Dad, what's..."  "I'm going to be with your mom, Dave.  But I'm always with you."  Alex kissed his forehead, and vanished, leaving the startled David unsure what to do next. "Aw sh*t!"

A dozen or so other messages were left:  "I love you, Grace."  "Thank you for your friendship, Dat."  "Sorry about the shirt, Ricky. Hang in there."  "So long, Frank.  I know you'll do right by David... and my other son."  "We had some good times, John.  I wish you peace."  Soon only one was left.

"Carlos..."  That voice was the only one that could rouse the young man from his misery.  "D-Dad?!"  "Yes, son.  It's me."  And there he was, standing there, although Carlos was sitting next to his corpse.  "But... What...?"  "Shhh.  Don't worry.  It's OK.  I don't have long to talk."  "Are you..."  "'Fraid so.  But I'm not gone, you know.  Not really."  "How can I go on without you, Dad?!"  Alex smiled.  "It's easy.  You just keep on, like you always have.  You'll have plenty to do - and you won't be alone.  Like I said, I'll be watching... and you've got family to take care of you now too.  Be good to Dave, will you?"  Carlos swallowed.  "I love you, Dad."  "I love you too, Carlos.  I'm just sorry I didn't say it from day one."  They embraced, and he was gone.

Alex made one more stop before the Great Beyond.  He looked down upon the tortured soul of Hexmaster - almost a twin to his own in power, but broken by it, half-formed, hardly a human individual at all.  Gently, he said, "Care to come with?" Hexmaster smiled beatifically.  "Sure, Alex, why not?"  His heart stopped quietly, and they went on hand in hand.  Alex Brighton was no more.

But his hand rested on his city all that night and all the next day.  Los Angeles saw a night without killing, without hurting, without hating, for the first time in anyone's memory.  Lovers reconciled, children played in the streets, gang members rethought their priorities... it was good.  It didn't last, of course.  The killings, the hurtings, and the hatings returned soon enough - but those who did those things knew, perhaps for the first time, that they didn't really have to.

And a week later Carlos received his father's final gift:  A letter from his uncle, begging for forgiveness.

_The line between good and evil runs through every human heart - and who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?_

--Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, _The Gulag Archipelago_


----------



## The Shadow

Double post, sorry.


----------



## GreyShadow

Thanks for the New Year gift.


----------



## Hellzon

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Double post, sorry.



Nah, we can't get too much of the Shadow.


----------



## The Shadow

Hellzon said:
			
		

> Nah, we can't get too much of the Shadow.




Awwww.  I'm touched, guys!

And yer welcome!


----------



## The Shadow

Drat!  Wouldn't you know, when I sat down to exorcise all of those scenes, I managed to forget one!  And now that the others are fixed on paper, it's been nagging at me too.   So here you go.  This one's from very early on, though I never got the chance to use it, with David gone so much.  They didn't get the chance to really argue.

You see, Alex *never gets mad* with his son.  It's part of his mental discipline.  The more upset David gets, the calmer and more reasonable Alex generally gets.  Naturally, this drives David NUTS!  He can never get a rise out of the old man.

-----------------

The Power of Sharing

Alex gazed with outward calm on his red-faced son.  When a gap occurred in the boy's tirade, he inquired, "Are you ready to discuss it now?"  "NO!  I'm not 'ready to f*cking DISCUSS it!'  And that's another thing!"  "Language, David," Alex reminded him, but that mild remonstrance did nothing to blunt the onrush of angry words:  "You're like a statue!  I never know what you want!  You just STAND there and act all Mr. Spock and high and mighty!"  Here he mimicked Alex's voice nastily, "'I would prefer that you not play next to cliffs, David.'  'I do not think that shooting yourself in the head is a good idea, David.'  'Please pass the salt, David.'"  The tone of all three sentences was much the same.

"I do not intend to cause you distress, son."  "YOU'RE DOING IT RIGHT NOW!"  "Doing what?"  "That!"  Alex just looked at him, his face growing more impassive and calm as his inner turmoil increased.  "Being like that!" David huffed on, striving to retain his momentum.  "All... I don't know!  Like you don't even CARE!"

That really hurt.  Alex closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out.  David's voice took on a nervous tinge as he saw that, but it didn't stop him from twisting the knife:  "DO you even care?"

Carefully, Alex said, "Of course I do, David."  "Well, it wouldn't hurt to be a little more obvious about it!"  A slight quaver entered Alex's voice as he felt his mental shields starting to buckle.  "If I understand you correctly, you are saying you would like me to share my feelings with you more often and more vividly.  Is that what you mean?" The boy plainly realized he'd gone too far and tried to backtrack a bit.  "Um, yeah!  I guess that is what I mean."

Alex, eyes still closed, murmured, "All right.  If you insist."  His shields slipped out of his grasp then, and all of his anguish, grief, and rage whipsawed into his son like an onrushing train.

David's eyes went round with agony and terror at the torrent of emotional hurt.  Raising his hands as if trying to defend himself from a multitude of foes, he crumpled to the ground, whimpering, then finally passed out.

Alex's fists clenched until his palms bled as he struggled to get things back under control.  Slowly, slowly, slowly, he thrust the raging storm of power back behind the steep walls he'd built for it.  Very gradually he let his hands relax.  Only then did he open his eyes.

His movements were swift and efficient, as ever.  He gathered David up, carried him to the couch and covered him.  He set about a few other tasks.

When the boy awoke, moaning, his limp hand clenched tightly on his father's.  Yes, there he was, sitting next to the couch, holding his hand.

Alex offered him a cup of hot tea impassively.  David accepted it feebly and sipped.  Finally Alex spoke:

"Those are my feelings, David.  Would you like me to share them with you more often?"

-----------------

David's the type to get angry quickly but to get over it quickly too.  He doesn't hold grudges.  When he IS angry, though, his hormones just plain take over.  (Literally.  His strength skyrockets, as does his fighting ability, speed, and so forth.)  I see their infrequent but very nasty arguments as David constantly jabbing a little harder, trying to get some reaction out of Alex, some sort of tangible reassurance that Alex really loves him, rather than just feeling dutiful toward him.  That jabbing finally culminates in this.

I think it would have had a huge impact on their subsequent relationship.  Finally, David would have a gut feeling for just what his father goes through - why he is the way he is.  And I suspect that the emotional barrage might have included some overtones that would have told him how much Alex really cares, too.  I don't think he'd hold it against his dad - he knows darn good and well he was asking for it.

Don't judge him too harshly.  I feel almost certain that the first words out of his mouth after that last line would have been a heartfelt, "I'm sorry."  But only SP can say for sure.  (I feel pretty sure about the rest, because we discussed the dynamic of their relationship a number of times in detail.)


----------



## Steverooo

*Fare Well, Shadow!*

WOW!  If Mr. Cooper writes better than you, then I definitely need to get one of his books!  I _thought_ that I wrote well...  (Is he any relation to James Fennimore Cooper?)

Sorry to see the game end!  Maybe Shadow VII (circa 2040 or so) could be a descendant of David & Carlos' intermarried kids.  Maybe by then, the TT gene problems have been resolved, and the new version won't have the personality problems that Alex had?

It seems obvious, to me, that "The Shadow" is a psychic construct bound to the hat.  Any TT Telepath with the hat would be influenced to become "The Shadow".  Thus, like SP typed, there really pI]is[/I] something to those old "legends"!

Wah!  "When Shadows Fall" made me Boo-Hoo (you beast)!    

I didn't have the trouble with the Ultra-Tech some had...  I don't find Atomic Phasers (which align the orbits of electrons within molecules, so that one physical object can pass through another) impossible, nor unreasonable.  Terribly complex, maybe, but not impossible.

I do have to disagree that machines can't do psionics, though...  The neurons of the brain can be replicated by electronics, and have been since circa 1960.  The only reason that computer brains haven't been built is the price...  As nanotech advances, and prices come down, the possibility grows!  By 2040, Garrity's grandson will probably have figured out how to do it.  Now all the machine needs is a soul... and, of course, Michael is still around, looking for a way to survive!  If he's already a ghost in the machine, he might as well inhabit the new computer brain, with his hacking abilities...

Of course, what he'll be like in 35 years (and all that spent dodging power outages on the 'net) is anybody's guess!  He may have a few issues of his own!  One of the new Shadow's first adventures may be trying to disconnect the "malfunctioning" computer brain from the 'net, without killing power, as "The Shadow Knows" that "It's Alive!"    

Feel free to use any of that that strikes your fancy.  Or not!  In any case, I've enjoyed your story.  Best wishes for your personal life!


----------



## The Shadow

Steverooo said:
			
		

> WOW!  If Mr. Cooper writes better than you, then I definitely need to get one of his books!  I _thought_ that I wrote well...  (Is he any relation to James Fennimore Cooper?)




Not that I know of, but he writes at least as well as if he were.   Aside from an award-winning collection of  SF and fantasy short stories ("The Lives of Ghosts"), and more short stories in an anthology with other writers ("Flights of Mind") he has three fantasy novels published, and more slated to be.  "Gates of Sleep", "A Slow and Silent Stream", and "A Separate Power".  (The first has a near-future SF edge to it too.)

The really scary part is, good as those books are, they're his early work.   He's working on getting a New York publisher (wider distribution) for his later stuff...



> Sorry to see the game end!  Maybe Shadow VII (circa 2040 or so) could be a descendant of David & Carlos' intermarried kids.  Maybe by then, the TT gene problems have been resolved, and the new version won't have the personality problems that Alex had?




I have no idea if their kids would be inclined to intermarry.  But Grace's training would probably help more than anything in dealing with a new generation of TT kids.



> It seems obvious, to me, that "The Shadow" is a psychic construct bound to the hat.  Any TT Telepath with the hat would be influenced to become "The Shadow".  Thus, like SP typed, there really pI]is[/I] something to those old "legends"!




Maybe.  If so, I guarantee it wasn't like that before Alex.  "The Shadow" persona was all his own doing.  The "Lamont Cranston" persona (if it had come to pass) would have been yet one more elaborate way for Alex to reassure himself that he's REALLY just a regular guy in his secret ID.



> Wah!  "When Shadows Fall" made me Boo-Hoo (you beast)!




Thank you.  That means I moved you, which is what I was trying for.



> I didn't have the trouble with the Ultra-Tech some had...  I don't find Atomic Phasers (which align the orbits of electrons within molecules, so that one physical object can pass through another) impossible, nor unreasonable.  Terribly complex, maybe, but not impossible.




My degree's in physics, and as far as I can see it IS quite impossible.  But hey, it's a game, and fiction to boot. 



> I do have to disagree that machines can't do psionics, though...  The neurons of the brain can be replicated by electronics, and have been since circa 1960.  The only reason that computer brains haven't been built is the price...  As nanotech advances, and prices come down, the possibility grows!




You're making a philosophical assumption there, that neurons are the whole story.  For the purposes of the game, SP and I agreed that they were not - that a "soul", as you put it below, is necessary.



> By 2040, Garrity's grandson will probably have figured out how to do it.




Garrity... reproducing?!  The mind boggles. 

Then again, if someone mentions cloning to him, he might try it just to work out all the bugs... Now THERE'S a scary thought...



> Now all the machine needs is a soul... and, of course, Michael is still around, looking for a way to survive!  If he's already a ghost in the machine, he might as well inhabit the new computer brain, with his hacking abilities...




Cool idea.  Might be very interesting.



> Feel free to use any of that that strikes your fancy.  Or not!  In any case, I've enjoyed your story.  Best wishes for your personal life!




Thanks!  And yes, things are going much better now.  I don't regret doing Alex in... though SP and I have gotten to the point of tossing around ideas for another game by now.  Don't know what will come of it, if anything.


----------



## Lela

Well, nice to know that my attachment to this Story Hour hasn't lessened for lack of, well, the Story Hour.  That probably means a few things about my psychie, good and bad, but I'm not self-anylizing today.

Brilliant work, by the way, on those shorts.  That, of course, isn't new for you.  But it's still brillant.

Still, it's like rekindling an addiction.  I want more.  I can handle it though.  Mostly.  Okay, I admit it, I have a problem.  But screw the other 11 steps.  Let's fead the beast!

Personally, I kinda disagree with you on how David would react to the tide of emotion.  I see it more as a loss of belief in the father.  Not on the early teenage level where you start to realize your parents don't know everything; deeper than that.  On that level when you really see your father for who he is.  Not perfect, not able to handle everything that comes his way; just a man.  

I think he'd withdraw from Alex for a while to come to terms with it.  After that, I'd expect a level of respect and comradery between the two.  Both consider each other a man--literally and figurtively.

Naturally, that's from an outsider.  It just reminded me of what that happened between my dad.


So, what are your thoughts on the new campaign?  Care to share your ideas?


[Edit: Oh, and where you still interested in that calender we were putting together?  Either way is fine with me.]


----------



## The Shadow

Lela said:
			
		

> Well, nice to know that my attachment to this Story Hour hasn't lessened for lack of, well, the Story Hour.  That probably means a few things about my psychie, good and bad, but I'm not self-anylizing today.




As SP would say, "Yes... Tell ze good doktor all about it!" 



> Brilliant work, by the way, on those shorts.




Thanks!



> Still, it's like rekindling an addiction.  I want more.  I can handle it though.  Mostly.  Okay, I admit it, I have a problem.  But screw the other 11 steps.  Let's fead the beast!




We'll see.  Though SP and I have tossed ideas around, none has yet gelled.



> Personally, I kinda disagree with you on how David would react to the tide of emotion.  I see it more as a loss of belief in the father.  Not on the early teenage level where you start to realize your parents don't know everything; deeper than that.  On that level when you really see your father for who he is.  Not perfect, not able to handle everything that comes his way; just a man.




You could be right.  SP said he thought the characterization of David was a bit off in that one too.  (He hasn't yet elaborated on just what he thought was off;  I'll ask when I talk to him next.)

However, do realize that I was mainly just getting rid of a persistent scene in my mind, one that had dated from before the campaign even started.  It wasn't so much intended to reflect David as he later turned out to be.  Doubtless it would have gone differently if SP had actually been playing him.  (And the same goes for the other scenes involving NPC's.)



> I think he'd withdraw from Alex for a while to come to terms with it.  After that, I'd expect a level of respect and comradery between the two.  Both consider each other a man--literally and figurtively.




*nod*  A real possibility.  SP and I had long ago discussed, also, what would happen when David goes off to college and takes some psych classes - he'd probably have an "oh crap!" moment and start realizing his dad wasn't quite, well, normal. .  (Possibly, in the zeal of "medical student syndrome", he might even think Alex was completely off the deep end, but that would be an overreaction.)

One has to take into account too, though, that David lost his mom at a tender age, and therefore leans on his dad - despite their clashes - more than most teens would.  Though of course he'd die rather than admit it, he really wants his father to be proud of him.



> So, what are your thoughts on the new campaign?  Care to share your ideas?




Like I said, nothing has yet gelled.  We've been tossing around possibilities.  Probably the new campaign will be more light-hearted.

But I do have one nagging idea for a game to be set in the same world as the Shadow's adventures, though quite possibly not in LA.  Starring a rebellious apprentice of the Council.  Unfortunately, that one wouldn't be likely to be light-hearted at all...

EDIT:  Another possibility is a fantasy game (using M&M), set in my homebrew world of Terrima.



> [Edit: Oh, and where you still interested in that calender we were putting together?  Either way is fine with me.]




Ack!  I totally forgot about that!  When I quit the game, I pretty much got away from gaming-stuff entirely for months and months.  If you still want it, I'll give it a shot - just be warned that I'm really busy lately.

I don't think I still have your emails about it, either.  Could you resend?


----------



## Lela

The Shadow said:
			
		

> Ack! I totally forgot about that! When I quit the game, I pretty much got away from gaming-stuff entirely for months and months. If you still want it, I'll give it a shot - just be warned that I'm really busy lately.
> 
> I don't think I still have your emails about it, either. Could you resend?




Found most of the e-mails and sent them off.  There's a good amount of info there, so take your time.  The last one I sent out also has a better e-mail address that'll help me keep all this organized.

Thanks Shadow,


----------



## The Shadow

Hey guys, just letting you know that I'm involved in a new Star Wars d20 game with SP and my brother.  I'll be putting up a new Story Hour thread for it once we manage to get a second session in.   (SP's been struggling with stress, sickness, and computer troubles lately - what else is new?  No new session the last couple weeks.)

The game's set in the Old Republic.  The first session was basically just a fun dungeon crawl to familiarize us with the system.  (Neither I nor my brother had played it before.)  But SP ended it with a HUGE bang!  You know how he likes surprises. 

The campaign idea I mentioned above, about an escaped Council apprentice, I ultimately decided against.  It's just really too dark for what I want to play right now.  But I'll post the story I wrote to start it off here, if you like.  It's set in the Shadow's universe, so it should suit.

P.S.  Lela, haven't managed to work in the calendar stuff yet.  This summer looks to be disturbingly slow, though, so we'll see.


----------



## Lela

Yes, please go ahead and post the story.  I'm ready for another fix.


----------



## The Shadow

[Here you go, Lela.  Enjoy.]

I was on the way home from a bad job.  Really bad.  Can't write about it yet.

I paused to study my reflection in a store window.  Big, check.  Black, check again.  Haunted dark eyes - best not to think about that.  Dressed well, but understated.  (_He_ wouldn't have it any other way.)  A scar along one cheek.  Gotta be a story behind that.

Wish I knew what it was.

Sounds of a commotion, a scuffle, in the alley.  I went to check it out.  A little honest clean trouble wouldn't hurt anybody, much.  Take my mind off the job.

A drug deal gone sour, looked like.  The guns were coming out.  I hate drug dealers.

"Leave him alone," I growled.  "Stay out of this, a$$hole," one of them yelled at me without looking.  For one thing, they're stupid.  I advanced.  "My name isn't A$$hole," I informed him friendly-like.  "I think you have me confused with your girlfriend."

That made him mad enough to shoot me.  The bullet zinged harmlessly off my aura, but his eyes didn't really go wide until my probe caught him by the throat and picked him up off the ground.  "Ready to play nice now?"  The others started opening fire, their argument forgotten.  Like I said, stupid.

Never mind the details.  I left them in a neat heap, still breathing, but without weapons, drugs, or money.  Any of the above would just get them in worse trouble.  See "stupid".  The first two of the three go down the nearest storm drain - I had to crush the guns before they would fit, but hey.  The third...

Ah, a church steeple, a couple streets down.  That'd do.  Gotta salve the old conscience somehow - even if it does make _Him_ laugh.

Old, dark, Catholic.  As I'm putting the money in the poorbox, an elderly priest came up.  He looked me up and down, and gestured to one of the confessionals.  "Been awhile?"

I tried to laugh, then tried to cry.  Neither worked.  I just looked away.  "You could say that, Father."  "No time like the present...?"  I started to tell him no, but there was something in his words that got under my skin.  When he turned and doddered off purposefully toward the box, I found myself following him.  Boy, will _He_ get plenty of amusement out of this!  I thought.  But... what the hell.

I knelt in the dark.  Didn't have the faintest idea what to say, and I guess it showed.  "Need a hand?" the old padre quavered at me.  "I guess... This was a mistake."  "No.  I don't think it was."

His aura - a pure white but otherwise unexceptional thing - flared like the sun, just for an instant.  Throwing my hands up reflexively to shield my eyes, I knew terror as I haven't known it in a long time.  I'd never seen anything like that except... Oh God.  "Forgive me, Mas-!"  "NEVER CALL ME THAT," he hissed furiously at me through the grille.  "There are more games in town than your precious Council, boy.  Remember that."

Confused and terrified, I stayed quiet.  He went on, "I saw what you did tonight to that family..  And what you did to the dealers after.  You're not a typical apprentice."  "No," I wrenched out, tears forming at last and starting to fall.  "I try not to be."  "Want to start over?"

"More than anything.  But _He'll_-"  "No, he won't.  I've been opposing the Masters for a very long time, boy.  They haven't caught me yet.  If you're careful, they won't catch you, either."  "But-"  "But nothing.  If you want to start over, drop your shields."

That scared me all over again.  With as much power as he'd displayed, he could do anything to me... anything at all.  What finally decided me was that anything would be better than living this way.  I would've ended it all long ago, if He'd let me.  I lowered all my mental defenses and shivered as I knelt there.

His light flowed around me, into me, through me.  Warm, clean, soothing.  Nothing like my Master's aura, that's for sure.  When the sensation ended, I noticed with a lurch that the compulsions were gone.  All of them.  No, it's not possible.  It's all a trick, a te-  "No, Titus, this isn't a test," he told me calmly, plainly reading my thoughts.  "This is the real thing.  For your penance, devote your life to doing right with the powers you've developed.  Oppose the Council when you can, run when you can't;  I've damped down your aura to make that a bit easier."  "I don't know what to-"  "Then don't say anything. Except 'yes'."

"Yes, I will," I whispered.  "Good.  Now get out of here, and good luck."  I started to rise, still shell-shocked, when he said, "Oh, wait, I almost forgot."  I braced myself, sure that the other shoe would now drop.  "What?"

"Ego te absolvo, my son.  Go in peace."

So I did.  Really.  Life started over, right then.

------------------------------------------------------------

Not for the first time, either.

My earliest memory is of pain.  Unbelievable pain and loss.  I screamed and wept and begged without shame.  Couldn't seem to move.

Finally it faded, and I was able to take in my surroundings.  I was lying naked on a bed in a richly appointed room.  I had no idea how I'd gotten there - or of anything else, really, except the pounding in my temples.  I sat up, swung my legs over, when an assured voice said, "Your name is Titus."  I've always hated his voice.  So smug, so confident, like nothing you can do or say matters in the least.

"And I am your Master."  Thing is, see, he's right most of the time.

"F*ck you," I suggested, and got up in a hurry, aiming a punch at him.  I ain't nobody's slave, thank you sir!

He tsked and I howled, as agony lanced up my arm.  "Shut up," he said, and I did, though the pain didn't go away in the slightest.  "Stand up."  I did that too.  "You were wrong just now," he informed me.  "You are someone's slave.  Mine, to be precise.  Right?"

I stood there and sweated and sweated, dying inside.  Finally, I forced myself to say, "Right."  "Right _what?_"  The pain, impossibly, ratcheted up to a new level of torture.  "Right... Master," I gasped.  "Good.  I'm glad our relationship is firmly established in your mind."  The pain faded, and I hated him.  Helplessly.

"Get dressed," he informed me brusquely.  "You have duties to perform."

He didn't tell me anything else.  It took me days to figure out the limits of my new existence.  I couldn't try to oppose or disobey him in any way without paying the immediate consequences - it didn't matter if he was there or not.  I could think bad thoughts about him (I later learned that he had the power to prevent even that if he felt like it - the fact that he didn't is one of the vanishingly few things I feel grateful to him for) but he would know.  Most of the time he would simply be amused.  The other times he would hurt me.  Not always with the pain.  Let's just say that he's got a really good imagination when it comes to degrading people, and leave it at that, OK?

It took me weeks before I even learned his name.  Osric.  At last I had a name to put to the hatred, for all the good it did me.  Weeks more before I learned anything about the Council.   That was stunning enough, but I really lost it when he dropped the casual comment to another Master that he'd seen the fall of Rome.

Finally, after several months, he felt I was broken-in enough to formally start as his apprentice.

See, he'd read my aura.  I have potential, lucky me.  I have more of the Sight than even some of the Masters... though not the willpower or the training to go along with it, which made me irresistible prey.

[In the old priest you get a glimpse of an old, much-loved character of mine, Brother Jordan.   (Patron of the original Carlos.)  I would have written more, but after I got to this point I realized that I didn't really want to explore it further.]

[Woulda been fun to "see" the looks on you guys' faces when Titus' story was revealed, though.  It's a doozy. ]


----------



## The Shadow

Here's a link to the Star Wars campaign I mentioned above.

It's called Chasing the Stars!


----------



## Lela

It took me a couple false starts but I finally had a chance to finish the darn thing.

I really can't place the guy, though the obvious bet would be either Alex or Carlos--likely the latter considering the blurb at the end.

Have you published any books yet?  Seems to me that you have a major talent for capturing someone and keeping them focused (when there isn't a power tool demanding my attention).  Your writing is a complete emotional ride with real characters and powerful plot.


----------



## The Shadow

Damn.  Didn't know I was being that transparent.   Yes, it's Carlos.  This is situated after Alex's death.

No, I hadn't really considered publishing.  God knows Loren's had enough trouble breaking into the market, and he's much more talented than I am.  I'm open to ideas, though.

Gotten the chance to look at the SW campaign yet?


----------



## Lela

I've got it printed out and have almost the first page (I'm on a roll here).  So far I have no comments as I just havn't had time to think about it.

I probably wouldn't have thought it Carlos if you hadn't basically said it was.  In this timeline, what would have happened to David (Alex's son, if I remember right)?


----------



## The Shadow

I, uh, didn't say anything of the sort.  You appear to have made a lucky guess based on a misunderstanding? 

Not sure about David.


----------



## The Shadow

I never thought this would actually happen, but...

It seems that there will be an actual, real, in-continuity update to this thread within the week.  I anticipate there being only the one, to tie up a loose end.

The story is this:  SuentisPo and I were reminiscing about the game, when it suddenly came out that Alex's last conversation with David was a complete maze of cross-purposes.  The two were basically having utterly different conversations, without realizing it.  Alex was approaching it from the angle of, "I've been a terrible father," and David from the angle of, "Dad's disappointed in me because I'm not a telepath."

The more I thought about this, the more aesthetically displeasing I found it.  Further, Alex's relationship with Carlos had ended on a high note, but his relationship with David had ended with a big question mark.

Our plans to rectify this were interrupted by my recent hospital stay.  (See below.)  The plan now is for SP and I to play out a scene between Alex and David this Saturday.  SP needs the time to work his way back into character as David, among other things.  (While I can still fall into character as Alex at the drop of a hat, even after all this time.)

P.S.  Gah.  I just realized that 'drop of a hat' was, in this context, a truly horrible pun. 

P.P.S.  Yes, I spent two and a half weeks in the hospital recently, nine days of which in the ICU.  I'm out now, but still very weak, and will be recuperating for at least a month.  Any prayers/good wishes/karma you care to send my way are greatly appreciated.


----------



## The Shadow

[I was looking over some of the old Shadow game-writeups to prepare for the David scene I promised a while back but haven't yet delivered on - another case of SP and I being hopeless when it comes to scheduling.  And while I was doing so, this scene came to me all at once, almost in whole cloth.  I honestly don't know how or why that happens, but here it is for your edification and delight.]

[This is another What If?, in a possible future where David is getting married to Twyla.]

Twyla fussed with her gown, increasingly nervous on her big day.  The chatter and giggling of the bridesmaids did nothing to calm her nerves, and she started at the knock on the door.

David's father came in carrying a small cardboard box.  The tuxedo he wore only accentuated the formality and reserve she associated with him.  I hadn't realized he was so tall, the irrelevant thought came to her, but she collected herself as he said with a slight bow, "I wanted you to have this, my dear."

She tilted him a smile and opened the box, gasping at the vibrant colors of the orchid corsage inside.  "It's... gorgeous!"  The girls likewise oohed over the flower.  "Thank you," he said modestly, "I was not certain it would bloom in time for the wedding, but fortune smiled upon us."  "You grew it yourself?!"  "I'm full of hidden talents," he said wryly.

Something flashed between the two of them, and Twyla came to a decision.  "Girls, could you give us a moment?"  They filed out and she looked at him more directly than she usually dared.  There'd always been something a little frightening about him, the more so after that memorable phone call.

"Mr. Brighton..."  "Please!  Alex."  "Alex, then... I just wanted to say..."  She swallowed, then spilled out, "I know you've never much liked me..."

With the courteous directness she knew drove David crazy, he said, "My dear, the feelings I had toward you before this day are now entirely irrelevant.  You are my daughter, and I love you."  His words were sincere, and she could not doubt him.  Whatever else might be said about him, somehow she had always felt he was scrupulously honest.

She dropped her eyes.  "That... means a lot to me.  I know you and David fight sometimes, but I've always seen how much you love each other.  It's... something I never had at home."  "I know," he said gently, and again she did not doubt him, though she couldn't imagine how he knew.

After a short silence, he stated, "I gather from David that there is something else you wish to ask me."

"Yes," she said quietly.

"How much has he told you about me?"  "Nothing much.  But it's been obvious for a long time that you're just as - what's the word you used? - 'special' as he is."

He sighed. "As I said - hidden talents."  Her hand cupped her slightly-swelling abdomen protectively.  "Alex, is our baby going to be 'special' too?  David didn't know."

"I cannot say for certain.  My own brand of 'specialness' is quite different from David's, and I do not know the reason.  But yes, I think it very likely that my grandchildren will have quite the range of unexpected abilities."

She absorbed that, startled.  "Different?  But you can beat David in a fight, and he..."  "Not any more.  My skill is purely the result of training.  His raw power has dwarfed any skill I can bring to bear for years now."

"Then," she swallowed hard, "then I suppose you should tell me what I can expect."  He closed his eyes, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh.

After a moment, he said, "There are forty-six people in the building presently.  I can recognize many of them from here, and for the rest I can tell you their locations, genders, approximate ages and emotional states.  David, for example, is pacing up and down in the room down the hall;  he is nervous.  'Little Dave' is trying to jolly him out of it.  Your parents are downstairs getting mildly drunk.  Give me a moment of concentration, and I can see and hear any of them clearly, or tell you what any of them is thinking.  Give me a few moments more, and I can retrieve for you any of their memories.  If there were a pressing need, I could alter those memories.  Or afflict any of them with mortal terror.  Or do any of a number of other things."  He smiled sadly.  "In the lingo of the trade, I am a telepath, an empath, and an esper.  Your children could end up all of those things, or some of them, or none.  I simply do not know."

She paled as she stared at him, shocked.  He continued quietly, "Please do not fear me.  I never spy on people unless there is a great need.  I have no desire to know the inner thoughts of others, least of all my loved ones."

"Does... does David know?"  "He does.  But he does not understand."  His eyes mutely begged her to.

After a long silence, she asked, "How do you bear it?"  "At times, Twyla, I cannot."

"If... If my baby has this thing..."  She could not continue, and Alex said quietly, "He or she will be able to bear it better than I can.  I did not have the help of another telepath as a child, and so I had to deal with it alone and in ignorance.  That fate, at least, will not befall your children.  I swear it."

She shook her head, then realized something else.  "What, uh, 'trade' were you referring to just now?"

"Daughter," he said with a tender firmness, "it is best for everyone that you not know the answer to that question."

"I suppose so," she said slowly, "But hear me now - my children won't be part of it."  Her voice rang with firm decision.

"No.  They will not be.  I am as determined in this matter as you are, I promise you."

"Then I guess we have an understanding."  "I guess we do."  "...Am I going to remember all of this tomorrow?"  He quirked a smile.  "If I were of a mind to change your memories, I would have done so years ago, after the whole bandage incident."  Surprised, she said, "I guess you would have.  Why didn't you?"  Quite seriously, he replied, "My son loves you."

That brought her to the sort of sudden impulsive decision she had always trusted:  "I love you too, Dad."  He closed his eyes, visibly pleased but struggling for the poise she now had an inkling why he needed.  She kissed him on the cheek.  "And I'll try to help David understand.  He's too close to you."  "I know."

"Do me a favor?"  "Ask and it is done."  "Read my mind as I come down the aisle."  He looked at her oddly, disapprovingly.  "If you wish it."

Later that day, he stood at the front of the groom's side, a fidgeting tux-clad Carlos next to him.  As he promised, when she appeared on her father's arm (wearing the orchid), he opened his mind to hers.  For a moment, she met his eyes, and he sensed clearly, _Tradition says this man gives me to my love, even though he cares little for me.  I'm glad to enter a real family._

Then she caught sight of David, and her heart swelled with joy.  Alex remembered Jennifer, and discovered something new about himself:

He was the sort to cry at weddings.

[Yes, I realize that realistically they would've had this conversation weeks if not months before the wedding;  it was just more dramatic this way.  Plus, it preserved the original impetus of the scene

[Reading Alex's background again, I thought, "That's right, he likes to grow tropical plants.  We never did anything with that in the game." -> "Alex is the sort to grow an orchid for somebody on a special occasion.  Say, a wedding." -> "Of course.  David and Twyla." -> Whole scene drops neatly into my mind, nearly verbatim.]


----------



## thatdarncat

Makes sense... very nicely done.


----------



## The Shadow

Thanks, thatdarncat.

It's weird how easily I can still fall into character as Alex after all this time.  He means a lot to me, the big lug.


----------



## The Shadow

[Remember that scene with David we were going to do, to tie up loose ends?  Well, it never happened, and SP doesn't feel up to it any more.  But I have this one which I wrote up when I got impatient, around the same time the Twyla scene came to me.  I'd forgotten about it until the thread was bumped.]

[SP tells me that, as always when I write David, that his characterization is a bit off.  But he can't articulate why or how, so it'll have to do. ]

[This one takes place the day after the last scene of the campaign - the long-awaited Thanksgiving.]

*A Tale of Two Turkeys*

Alex pulled a sweater on over his dress shirt (his one concession to informality), then went and knocked on David's door.  When (as expected) there was no response, he opened it, to find David websurfing idly in boxers and a tank top.  "We're heading to the Vu's in half an hour, so be ready."  "Yes," the boy acknowledged shortly, without looking in his direction.

Alex folded his arms and noted mildly, "I do hope you won't be sulking the entire time."  David replied, using (if he but knew) Alex's careful enunciation when exasperated, "I am not. Sulking."  "What term would you prefer?"

David closed the window he was surfing in with excessive violence to the poor mouse.  Looking only vaguely in Alex's direction, he stated, "Oh, I don't know.  How about, 'restraining oneself from parricide'?"

"I approve of the restraint, at any rate."  "Ha. Ha. You slay me."  "I thought it was the other way around?"  "No.  Restraint, remember?"  "Ah."

Then, "David..."  "Just don't even start, OK?"  "Start what?"  The boy snorted. "Does it matter?"

Alex's voice became positively Arctic: "That. Is.  Enough."  David flinched involuntarily at his tone.  "Look at me, young man."  David compressed his lips but evidently made the decision not to escalate;  he met Alex's eyes grudgingly.

Alex stated, "You have a right to be angry with me.  I do not deny it.  You do not have a right to treat me with disrespect while living in this home."  To his surprise, David took a deep breath and said, "Yeah.  I'm sorry."

He studied his son for a long moment, then said, "I accept your apology.  Can we agree it is past time for us to discuss our differences?"

David finally swivelled his chair toward him.  "OK, Dad, let's.  How am I supposed to take all this?  Not only do you go out at night and beat criminals up, but apparently you also..."  He visibly stopped himself from saying something cutting, breathing hard.

"Before I attempt to answer that question, may I ask you one?"  Bitterly, "Sure, fine."

Alex carefully modulated his tone, trying to be more expressive than he usually permitted of himself.  "Son... Where have you gotten the idea that you could be replaced?"

The dam of David's anger finally broke.  He abruptly stood up, sending the computer chair flying.  "Why do you even bother ASKING all these questions?!  Is it manipulation or what?!  Pushing me into saying what you want?"

Alex's face went blank as he retreated behind the ramparts of his mind.  "I do not understand."

"Oh sure!  What's the poker face for, then, huh?  Guilty conscience much, Dad?"  Alex let his hands slip to his sides, and repeated faintly, "I do not understand."

"The thing I don't get is, you really are a straight arrow.  You don't lie to me otherwise.  Is it all part of the whole 'secret identity' thing, or what?"

Alex stated with emotionless finality, "I have never lied to you.  There are things I have concealed from you.  But I have never spoken an untruth to you."

"Come off it!  Do I have to spell it out for you?  You're. A. F*cking.  Mind. Reader.  It explained a whole hell of a lot, when that came out last year.  You always seem to know what to say, despite not being able to read a room for sh**.  All those 'man-to-man' talks over the campfire?  I always wondered how you worked it, because I really did start to see things your way.  Must be easy when you can know exactly what someone's thinking, huh?  Maybe even give them little nudges?  I'll give you this much, though - at least you haven't mindwiped me like you wanted to do to Twyla.  I figure you'd have done it last year if you were going to."

Alex had been shaking his head through this outburst, trembling slightly.  "No." "No what?"

"David, I have only read your mind twice, and that only very superficially."  David stared at him, disbelieving.  Alex continued, "The first time was the day after the trial of your mother's killer.  That was the day I consciously realized I was a telepath, and I accidentally read your surface thoughts.  The second time was when I contacted you to send you with Jerry out of state.  In order to communicate, I had to read the thoughts you consciously sent me.  I got a few sensory and emotional impressions besides those, but as little as I could manage."

"Why should I believe you?"  "Do you think I WANT to know what you're thinking?!  Do you think I want to live that way, pushing the people I love around like game pieces?  Would YOU always want to know what Twyla thought of you?  What your friends think of you?"

David cocked his head.  "So you don't even pick stuff up by accident?"  "Not since that first day, no."  "I don't get it... How does the campfire thing work?"  Alex snorted.  "I'm your FATHER, you idiot.  I don't have to read your mind to know you well.  How did you think it worked before you knew I could read minds, anyway?"

David thought it over, then said sheepishly, "I guess I figured it was a dad thing."  "So it is."  Alex took a deep breath, then let it out and deliberately joked, "You don't get to learn the secret handshake until you have kids of your own."  "Darn.  Do you get to wear funny hats?"  "It's a secret. ... You still haven't answered my question."  "Huh?"

"Where have you gotten the idea you could be replaced?"  David suddenly remembered he was still furious with Alex.  "Oh.  That."  "Yes."

"OK, so you haven't been reading my mind.  Glad to hear it!  Really, I am!  But I've watched you and Grace.  The way you glance at each other and get all thinky.  Or cock your heads sometimes as if you're listening to something that isn't there.  You're talking with each other, right?"  "Yes."  "Pretty rude, don't you think?  But that's not the point."  "What is?"

David's anger had been slowly rising as he spoke.  "You live in a whole different world, Dad!  Hell, even leaving the Shadow out of it, you can talk to people from miles away, erase their memories, whatever.  sh**, I don't even KNOW what all you can do, and I might not even understand if you told me!  I'm the stupid one in the family, huh?  The 'Sucker', as YOUR dad would say.  Guess I didn't get the genes from you or Mom.  So then you come and tell me, 'Oh, there's this other guy out with me while I'm the Shadow.  I've known him eight months, and I love him like a son.'  Guess 8 months of 'A$$hole' is worth 17 years of 'Sucker', huh?!"

"Stop.  You are making so many false assumptions I hardly know where to start."  "Oh please!  Enlighten my ignorance!  Maybe then I'll be worthy."

Alex ticked off points on his fingers.  "First, one reason I have never picked up your thoughts by accident is that you have a pretty good mind shield.  I doubt my father could've sold you anything."  "...HUH?!"  "Living around me tends to do that to people."  David shook his head, stunned.

"Second, your mother had no telepathic powers that I know of.  I don't know where you even get the idea."  "I figured... You said he couldn't control her..."  "She had a shield, just like you.  So congratulations, you're an 'A$$hole' too."  "Gee, thanks."

"Third, the 'other guy' isn't a telepath any more than you are.  Why did you think he was?"  David dithered, bewildered.  "I... Uh...  Eight months?"  "Eight months of trusting your life to someone, every day.  He's saved my life at least three times I can think of.  I've saved his, as well.  Even so, I did not feel fatherly to him until..."  Alex's face twisted, and he could not speak.  David, for his part, didn't dare to.

"Until my enemies used him as a 'Sucker', as you put it.  Put a mental bomb in his mind, tried to use him to spy on me.  Even in the midst of THAT, even while being controlled like a puppet, he was as loyal as he could manage.  But in the end I had to knock him out, handcuff him, and take him to Grace.  And I felt... like I did the time when they hurt you, son.  I realized all at once how much I loved him, and how I had failed him, caused him to suffer... even added to his suffering myself.  It was more than I could bear."

David looked down at his feet, biting his lip.  "Wow.  I guess I really have been an a$$hole, huh?"  Alex squeezed his shoulder, then said quietly, "Fourth, I am glad you are not a telepath."  David swallowed hard.  "Why?"  "Because it has been nothing but a curse to me, David."  He paused to let that sink in.  "Perhaps for someone like Grace, who has been able to control it since childhood, it is truly a gift.  But for me... it has destroyed any chance of ordinary, normal happiness.  It has... kept me... from being the father... I want to be."

David hugged him impulsively, sobbing.  Alex held him, stroking his back.  "It is hard for me, David.  I have to... hold it all in, all the time."  David asked quietly against his chest, "Hold what in?"  "Everything.  It's not the receiving of thoughts and emotions that is the problem.  It is the sending.  You've had to shield yourself from me all your life, without even realizing it.  Think of the other people I meet, who don't have shields.  The people my father could sell anything he wanted.  I have to hold it all in, and I am weary of it.  Is it strange that I can't read a room, as you put it?  I'm too busy trying to keep them from reading me!"

David finally pulled away and wiped his eyes, still sniffling slightly.  "I feel so stupid.  I'm sorry, Dad."  "I am sorry too, son.  I have concealed too much from you.  It must have been hard for you, to wonder about all this with no hard data."  "Yeah."  "Shall we forgive each other, then?"  David managed a smile.  "Sure.  You first."

Alex snorted, but said seriously, "I forgive you for leaping to conclusions and sulking about them."  "I wasn't... well, yeah, I guess I was."  "Your turn."  "I... Damn.  Dad, I just gotta process all this first.  I'm not even totally sure yet what I'm forgiving you for.  Tomorrow?"  "Very well.  Can I give you one more thing to process?"  "Um.  OK?"

Alex hesitated.  "I want... to share something with you, David.  It will be very difficult, but I think it is necessary.  If... well, if anything untoward happens, call Grace, all right?"  David stared at him.  "Uh..."  "And if it comes to that point - and I don't think it will - well, it would probably be best if you didn't touch me until she got here."  "Dad, I don't think..."  Alex repeated, "It is necessary."  "All right..."

Alex retrieved the computer chair and sat down, his eyes on his son's.  "I love you, David."  "Yeah, Dad, I..."  "No.  Hear me out."

Alex took a deep breath, let it out.  "When you were born...  When I held you in my arms, looked you in the eyes..."  His voice was soft, tender, more full of expression than David had ever heard it.

"I knew that my life had forever changed.  I knew that my life fell in two parts.  The time before I became a father, and the time after.  I knew..."  He had to pause, his breathing getting ragged, "I knew... that I would do anything for you and your mother.  To keep you safe, to make you happy.  That was the meaning of my life, from that moment on."  David stared at him, mute.

Alex's knuckles went white on the arms of the chair.  "I failed... your mother."  He sobbed once, and continued:  "I became the Shadow because I had to let it out, all the stuff I told you about.  I had to.  And... I wanted to keep it from happening to anyone else."

"Then, because of the Shadow..."  Alex's face twisted in agony as his shields came to the breaking point.  David started forward, looking frantic, but Alex held up a hand to stop him.  "No, don't touch me!  That will make it harder... I failed you too."  "Dad, I-"   "Let me speak!  I don't know how much longer I can do this. ... I don't know how to bear it, son.  I don't know how to bear it, putting you and Carlos into danger, but I don't know how to stop.  I don't know how to stop."  He bowed his head to his chest and was silent.  David asked nervously, "Dad? Are you OK?"

"Yes, David.  There is one more thing."  "Are you sure-"  "Yes.  You're growing up, son.  You're more a man every day."  He paused for strength, then said, "I'm proud of you."

When he recovered enough to lift his head, he saw David slumped against a wall, tears running steadily down his cheeks.  "Nobody can ever replace you, David.  Nobody."

"Dad, I... I didn't realize.  It's so hard for you to talk about this stuff?"  "Yes."

"All my life, I've waited for you to say that."  "Say what?"  "That..."  The boy swallowed hard. "That you're proud of me.  I thought you were just a jerk."  Alex smiled wearily.  "Oh, I'm a jerk all right.  Just not for that reason."  He struggled to his feet.  David asked anxiously, "Do you need help?"  "No, I'm fine.  I am reliably informed that I have the constitution of a horse."  He said it lightly, but his sweater was living up to its name.

"Dad, I... don't know what to say."  "I'm not surprised.  You said you needed time to process."  "Yeah."  "...We're late for the Vu's."  "Crap!  You're right!"  "You get dressed and I'll change."

David was quite subdued on the drive over there.  Dat's questions died on his lips after one look at the two of them.  Wisely, he put them both to work at once, chopping veggies and such.  Soon Alex and Mrs. Vu were in their element, coddling the turkey almost to the point of putting in an IV, and discussing whether the green chili sauce needed more garlic.  David for his part was kept chattering by the seemingly innumerable Vu cousins, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces.

After a heavy and satisfying meal of American/Vietnamese fusion cuisine, an old two-family tradition was enacted.  Dat poured a large cup of tea and held it in his hands as he recited a Buddhist blessing over it, then stated what he was thankful for before taking a sip:  "Family and good friends."  Passing it around the table, each person did likewise.  The cup came to David first, seated next to Alex at the other head of the table.  He looked into it for a time as if seeking for secrets.  Then he looked at Alex. "I'm thankful for my father."  Alex nodded gravely as he accepted the cup from David's hands. "I am thankful for my son."

After an equally subdued drive back home, Alex said suddenly, "I just realized something."  "Yeah?"  "We still have a loose end to take care of, for consistency's sake."  "What's that?"  "I seem to recall certain forbidden vocabulary words being used earlier..."  David was torn between bemusement and chagrin.  "Aw, crap.  Yeah."  "How many did you earn, you think?"  "A lot."  "Pick a number you think is fair."  David rolled his eyes, and pondered.  "500 at the very least.  Call it a thousand."  "Get to it."

David nodded, stripped off his shirt, and dropped into pushup position.  "Ready."  Alex asked curiously, "Are these really a deterrent for you any more, given how strong you're getting?"  "From the effort?  Not really.  From the sheer monotony?  Oh heck yeah."  Alex chuckled, then frowned slightly as David abruptly went onto his fists before beginning.

After a dozen or so, Alex said hesitantly, "I need to go."  Sarcastically, "What, you're going to let me count?"  "I trust you."  "...You're going to go have Thanksgiving with him, aren't you?  With Carlos?"  "Yes."  After a long silence save for soft counting on David's part, "Tell him I said hi, I guess."  Softly, "I will."

Alex ruffled his son's hair and went out into the night.

--------------------------------------------------------

Returning in the wee hours, Alex was shocked to find David still doing pushups on his fists in the dining room.  One glance at the set of the boy's shoulders told him they had started getting difficult some time ago;  and there was a puddle of sweat under his torso.

"What do you think you're doing."  David gasped, "Pushups.  What's it look like?"

Alex walked over and knelt by his son's head.  "How many?"  "Lost track... a long time ago.  Suspect we'd better... call the Guinness Book... people though."  "You're in pain."  "Got... a bit of a burn... yeah.  Real problem... is the fist thing though. ... My knuckles and wrists... really hurt. ... Shoulders now too."

"Why are you doing this."  "Processing.  The pain... keeps me focussed."  "David, I want you to stop."  "...Okay."  The boy lowered his knees to the ground and gingerly pushed himself up a final time.  He winced as he lifted his hands from the ground and straightened them out, sitting down abruptly. "YOW!  That hurts!"  Alex took his right hand and began massaging it gently.  "Are you punishing me for going to see him?"

David winced again but let his father work on his hand.  "No.  I meant to be in bed by the time you got back, in fact.  ... Guess I lost track of time."  "Why, then?  And I don't believe it's just processing."

David didn't answer for a long time. "I had to know."  "Know what?"  "If I could push myself as far as you did, just to prove a point."  "Prove what to whom?"  "To myself.  Not sure what exactly.  That I've got your guts, maybe."  Alex started working on his left hand.  "You certainly don't have to prove anything to me."  "I know, Dad.  I... know it for the first time.  It's a weird feeling."  "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Knock it off."  "Eh?"  "Apologizing.  We've both been jerks.  Must be hereditary or something."  Alex laughed despite himself.  "Must be."

David said sleepily, "Did learn one thing from the processing, though."  "Oh?"  "Yeah.  I forgive you for being a telepath, Dad.  Must really _suck._"  "Yes.  Thank you."

The boy perked right back up for a moment when his father started rubbing his shoulders. "YIKES!  My pleasure.  ... The forgiveness, not the shooting pains."  "I gathered.  Need a hand up?"  "No..." Then, rapidly, "Yeah.  Guess I didn't inherit the constitution?"  Alex snorted as he hauled the young man to his feet.  "We'll let the Guinness Book decide."

David asked over his shoulder as he picked his way to his room, "When am I gonna meet him?"  "Probably next week sometime.  Grace wants to check him out again on Monday to make sure he's recovering OK."  "...I can't promise anything."  "I know."  "Well... I guess I can promise one thing."  "Oh?"

"Yeah.  I'm going to give him a chance.  At least three chances, in fact.  I owe him for bringing you back home to me."  They exchanged an embrace, though David couldn't manage much of one just yet.  "I love you, Father."  "...You've never called me that before."  "You've never called me a man before, either."  "Not yet, I think.  But you're well on the road."  "Ah.  So I still get to be obnoxious for a while, huh?"  "Yes.  I love you too, son."

"G'night, Dad.."  "Good night, David.  It's good to have you home."

[OK, yes, so the loose ends got wrapped up a little too neatly with a bow.  That's what the scene was for, deal. ]

[I also have an unfinished piece on Alex's Thanksgiving with Carlos.  There's some good stuff in it, but it ended up surprisingly cathartic (the relationship between Alex and Carlos evidently pushes some of my buttons, I'm not entirely sure why), and I got stuck halfway in.  I'll consider posting it after I've looked it over some more and shown it to SP, as I don't think I ever shared it with him.]


----------



## The Shadow

I also just realized that I've never posted a link to my latest Story Hour, Life and Light.

It's been on hiatus the last several months, but I anticipate that it will be waking up again within the next week or so!

Oh, and there's a brand-new Shadow scene posted above this one, if you're coming in just now.


----------



## The Shadow

Every once in a great while, I come back to this game and look over the logs.  I can still, after all this time, fall into character as Alex at the drop of a hat (pardon the pun).  And each time, I get something new out of it.

This time, it was both amusement and amazement at how quaint the game feels, technologically-speaking, after 15 years!  Here's a list of some things I sent to SP to laugh over.  They made perfect sense at the time, but now they feel like something archaeologists would benefit from discovering!

1.  Several times, Alex goes home to listen to messages on his answering machine.

2.  David has a cell, but Alex doesn't.  Even more amazingly, David sometimes *leaves his at home!*  Can't easily picture a teen doing that any more!

3.  The ubiquity of cell cameras is such that Mental Invisibility itself seems rather quaint.  The Shadow  would have a LOT harder time convincing people he's an urban legend these days!

4.  Alex takes it for granted that a homemade website will have a guestbook.  When's the last time you saw one of those?!

5.  Hooking up a new computer to the household network takes an entire afternoon.

6.  Floppy disks are still a thing.  (Though admittedly, they were on the way out even in 2004.)

7.  Pay phones are still a thing!

8.  Perhaps most glaringly of all, the only way Alex could think of to find Twyla's number was to hunt up where David *had it written down!!*

Also, David and Carlos would be in their 30's by now.  This makes me feel positively ancient.


----------

