Fan Fiction: Crossovers
Can't Get You Outta My Head
Chapter 4
"I don't know what's wrong sir." Said Russell, the family butler. "He came home less than two hours ago, rage on his face, and he started smashing things. Is he sick?"
"Diane Burke is in town." Stephen informed him.
Russell gasped. "That would explain it." He fidgeted for a moment. "Um…sir, is it possible that our jobs could be in jeopardy again?"
Stephen snorted. "Russell, rest assured, that nobody is going anywhere. They weren't the first time either."
Russell was very much relieved. "Thank you sir."
Stephen took a deep breath, and entered Victor's private office.
Sure enough, there were a few smashed shards on the floor. It seemed that Victor had taken the news badly, and had smashed some very rare antiques.
"New decorator?" he asked the back of his uncle's chair.
The Chair swivelled, and Stephen was face to face with his uncle. "Tell me that Peter is playing a cruel joke."
"No. Peter isn't. God is."
"Marvellous." Growled Victor. "You know, when Peter told me that your worst nightmare was in town, I told him that I hadn't felt any signs. Migraines, birds taking flight, but the truth is, I have been sensing something. Now that I think about it, it feels like an earthquake about to strike, or a dark force, or a vortex of evil. I didn't realise it until Peter said the words: Diane Burke. Did you tell Peter the whole story behind her?"
"Everything that you didn't this morning." Stephen said.
"Sorry about that, but I figured that of all people, Peter should know all about her, if only to prevent him being sucked in by that infuriating smile."
"Yeah, I know. I think her charm act has worked on Peter too. He said that she and I seemed made for each other."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "He would insult a man to his face?"
"She sends her love by the way." Stephen chuckled, and Victor winced.
"What's she doing back here anyway? Kingpin needs another stooge, and can't hire anybody new?"
"Well, according to Diane," Stephen said, picking his way around the broken pieces of pottery. "It seems that a loan shark she borrowed cash from, is here to collect, and she doesn't have the money. She's afraid for her life, and wants me to foot the bill."
"So, its up to us whether or not she could live or die." Victor gave a very small grin, and got a faraway look in his eye.
"Uncle." Scolded Stephen half-heartedly.
"How much does she want?" Victor asked.
"$100,000."
Victor burst out laughing and Stephen couldn't help but join in. soon the Shadow's laugh was echoing off the walls, its mirthless tone seeming appropriate.
Finally, Victor settled down. "Seriously though, is there any truth behind her story?"
"I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out. Peter is having lunch with her as we speak." Stephen steeled himself. "They said they might stop in after."
"WHAT?" bellowed Victor in the Shadow's voice. "I'm not going within twenty feet of her without a bottle of holy water and a clove of garlic."
Stephen was almost amused. "I'm not going to have to sedate you am I? Come on uncle, it wont be that bad."
"Stephen, let me make this clear. If Diane and I go into a room together, only one of us will come out alive."
"Uncle, weren't you the one that taught me the value of calm?"
"Okay then think of this: Peter and Diane are chatting right now. What do they have in common?"
Stephen thought briefly and then looked horrified. "Me."
"So what do you think they'll be talking about?" Victor said smugly.
Stephen gasped in terror. "Excuse me uncle I have to go. I hear the Cobalt Club makes an excellent filet mignon."
"Bye." Called Victor as Stephen bolted from the room.
Peter just couldn't figure it out.
The filet mignon was excellent, the wine was fantastic, and Diane had only said thirty-two things that were derogatory or condescending about Victor and Stephen in the last two hours, so what was making his spidersense tingle?
"Well, I'm in town because of my creditors." Diane said. "They've been hounding me, and business has been slow lately, so I decided to get away to New York. And if they follow me here too, then I thought maybe I could talk Stephen into giving me a loan. You know, for old time's sake. I don't see why he shouldn't. He blows money on the silliest things. Those tapestries in the manor for example."
Peter was trying to seem interested, but just couldn't stop searching the room, sweeping his gaze around. What was going on?
"Of course I think that the tapestries are just tacky for millionaires, but Stephen and Victor have this silly thing about Tibet." Diane was saying. Peter couldn't help but laugh at this. If she only knew.
"If I only knew what?" Diane said curiously.
Oops. thought Peter. There's that mind reading again. Stephen's right to be nervous.
"You think so too?" Diane said, once again answering his unspoken thought. "You know, about a month before we broke up, Stephen said that I was reading his mind. He seemed really freaked out by it, but I never understood why."
"Well, Stephen likes to be mysterious." Peter said, distracted, trying to find the source of his danger reaction.
Diane laughed. "Tell me about it. I have never met anyone who can think up so many creative ways of dodging a simple question. Not to mention his hopeless punctuality, and of course his silly excuses for walking out on dinner. Honestly, I really think that the whole gentleman thing is a bad cover, for an untrustworthy idle rich, ivy-league playboy."
Thirty-three derogatory things. Peter thought with a fraction of his mind, still subtly looking this way and that.
"Anybody I know?" asked a voice.
Peter spun, and Diane almost spilled her drink, only to find Stephen standing less that two feet away, with a martini in hand.
Diane barely blinked. "Stephen, how wonderful, come and join us."
Stephen sat down. Diane started talking again, and Peter subtly got Stephen's attention. He pointed at the back of his head. Stephen understood the little code that they had, to describe his Spider-sense, and shifted his gaze to Diane, then back to peter. The look on his face was a smug 'I-told-you-so' and Peter rolled his eyes.
"You know what I love about this place?" Stephen asked. "The people. High society, every one of them."
Diane nodded, gave her charming smile, and looked around the room herself, until her gaze settled on the bar. Then, she suddenly gasped. She leaned over to Stephen and hissed. "Stephen, that's him! The man in the brooks brothers suit, over at the bar."
Stephen looked. He felt his jaw drop. Couldn't control the way his eyes widened, but had his face composed when Diane looked back. Stephen rubbed his eyes and looked again, just to be sure, but there was no mistake.
Peter leaned over. "What is it?" he whispered.
Stephen slowly turned to his partner, dark rage on his face. "Khan." he whispered back.
Peter was absolutely stunned. Diane's mysterious loan shark...
...Was Kuba Kahn!
Direct descendant of Genghis Khan. Grandson of Shiwan Khan, who had clashed with Stephen's own grandfather, the first man to bear the Shadow's cloak. The Khan's and the Shadow's had fought a war of blood with each other for seventy years. Kuba Khan himself had almost murdered Victor Cranston, almost a year before.
Stephen put the martini glass down so hard, that the stem snapped. A waiter hurried over to clean it up, and Stephen absently tipped him, ordering another of his usual. But even the waiter could tell that he was in a foul mood. His voice was cold steel. His eyes were dark, and his movements were tightly controlled. Even Diane seemed to shudder, the whole room seemed colder, and patrons went from speaking, to whispering.
At the bar, Khan suddenly sensed that he was under scrutiny, and casually glanced around. When his eyes locked with Stephen's he almost dropped his glass. Khan was clearly surprised, but hid it masterfully behind a calm smile.
Peter leaned back over to Stephen. "Get a grip. You're making the walls twitch."
Stephen took a deep breath, and seemed a little calmer. "Get her out." he whispered. Peter got up to collect his coat, and Stephen fixed his eyes on Diane. "Go with Peter." The Shadow's voice commanded.
Diane's eyes glazed, and she stood, headed to the coat check, and waved at Stephen from the door.
Peter was already at the curb, and a cab was pulling up. Diane got into the cab, gave the driver a smile, and started to freshen her lipstick.
The driver seemed to recognise her. And when she thought about it, she thought she recognised him too. She couldn't place where. The license said: Moe Shrevnitz. Shrevnitz. That was a name not easily forgotten, she remembered seeing it before. Moe Shrevnitz. Of course. She remembered him from the last time she was in New York. He had driven Stephen and her around all the time. When she had asked, Stephen had made a joke about how Moe followed him around because he was such a great tipper.
The whole train of thought was derailed when she suddenly dropped her lipstick, and it rolled out of sight on the cab floor.
Sighing, she bent down, and started searching for it. The cab pulled out into the street. Diane found her lipstick, and was about to sit up, when she saw something strange. There was a drawer set into the seat. Diane stole a quick glance at Peter, but he was busy giving the driver directions to notice her. After a very brief moment's hesitation, she pulled the drawer open just the tiniest bit. In it was a dark cloth. She stole another look at Peter, but he was looking out the window, back toward the Cobalt Club.
She reached in, and felt the cloth; it was strong, but soft. Under it she could feel something strange. It was harder; she quickly brushed aside the cloth, and saw that beneath it, was in fact a slouch hat.
"Lose something?" Peter asked.
Diane quickly slid the drawer shut, and sat up. Peter had not seen. "My lipstick." she explained, holding up the offending item as evidence.
Peter nodded, and returned to looking out the window. Diane suddenly felt scared, but not because of her stalker. Because suddenly, she remembered. She had seen that hat before. She had seen the dark cloth. It brought back a terrifying memory of her last stay in the city, a terrifying memory of when she had worked for Wilson Fisk, a terrifying memory of a time, when she was working with a man believed to be the biggest crime lord in history. That hat and cloak brought back a terrifying memory of when her life, when her career had ended. The night that had led her to this predicament.
The hat and cloak, hidden in the seat of an ordinary New York City cab, reminded her of a sinister man in a slouch hat and black cloak, with a chilling laugh. The Shadow has been in this cab. She thought to herself in terror. The Shadow has been in this cab a lot. Enough for him to leave his costume here. As she thought this, she followed the thought, down its disturbingly logical path. And this cab driver follows Stephen around, waiting until he calls for one. Diane gave a silent gasp, and nearly fainted when the thought followed itself through to its completion. Stephen Cranston is The Shadow!
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