Fan Fiction: Crossovers
Justice Falls
Chapter 1:
A Final Farewell
A gloomy day in New York City, as if the dewy weather
seemed to sympathize with the city's loss this Christmas day, 1954. It's
as if the city has come to a standstill because of one, single death…
Even 'Old Glory' sagged in this insatiable downpour bearing its proud
colors at half-mast, while the populace bow their heads in grief and uncertainty.
Many would suppose that someone important died this day, it's unfortunate
they do not know how right they are… Only one truly knows what the
city has lost this day. And her name is Margo Lane, who was hardly hearing
what others who knew Lamont Cranston has to say… But, instead is
wondering how this could have happened, to him of all people. The one
man in this city, which has time and again, escaped criminal and police
clutches alike, only to meet his own untimely demise at the hands of a
madman. The very same madman, only a few years ago The Shadow had placed
into a New York's Insane Asylum. How Shiwan Khan had ever managed to escape
the asylum, defeat and kill The Shadow was beyond Margo. But Khan had
and this was the result.
Thousands of Cranston's friends and coworkers all mourning his loss, many
of them bearing fire opals in gold settings upon their right ring fingers.
Not able to bear it any longer, Margo departed from the crowd of black
umbrellas to seek sanctity in the cleansing rain, which she found, only
for a moment, for her gaze fell upon a shadowy figure that stood watching
the proceedings from a distance beneath a tree. Something about this figure,
drew her further from the crowd and closer to it, perhaps Margo was hoping
it was Lamont, for he had pulled this little trick of his once before.
Only on closer inspection, Margo found it was not Lamont, just some stranger
watching the last rights of a great man. Sighing Margo turned around,
only to look upon the group of umbrellas across the way. Is this truly
the end, Margo wondered quietly to herself, is it truly finished?
Only if it was, replied an icy whisper within Margo's mind, which
caused her to jump, I am afraid that this is far from finished, Miss
Lane. Margo's head snapped back around to find the stranger standing
directly behind her. Its unusually, silvery hazed, unfocused gaze had
not left the burial. But, yet there it stood within arms reach of Margo,
who knew that only moments before, it had not stood. This unnerved Margo
a great deal. Not had it approached her without a sound, but perhaps even
spoken to her. No, Margo shook her head slightly, it's best
not to jump to conclusions.
Ah, but you already have, Miss Lane, it mocked, resulting in another
surprised jump from her.
You can hear me, Margo's mind inquired, uncertain.
Louder then a radio signal on a good day, it replied. Only then
did its gaze turn upon her, despite the fact that neither silvery orb
focused, Margo couldn't help to think that this unblinking gaze was judging
her. While she was being weighted, Margo gave this being a once-over.
From its silvery eyes set deeply in a face that was harden and time ridden,
weathered and tanned all hidden beneath wild white hair that seemed to
be pulled back; in its hair played pairs of Jade beads tied to feathers
darker than shadows dipped deeply in abyss with slightly pointed ears
sticking out with an earring-cuff linked to a katana, all done in black,
hanging upon the left ear. From there Margo's gazed moved down to its
neck that was hidden by an upturned collar of what seemed to be a buttoned-up
dark jean jacket, still her gaze fell to where this stranger had its hands
shoved into its coat's pockets. There seem to be something more confined
within those pockets, but Margo moved on. Next came what seem to be an
oddly fashioned black holster, with parts disappearing under its coat;
then a pair of dusty blue jeans that lead into a pair of dark boots.
Her gaze returned to its pocketed hands, where she pondered what could
possible be there. You know, Miss Lane, it sighs, it would be
so much easier if you just asked. At this it removed its left hand
form its pocket, where upon its ring finger it bore a simple Jade band.
Or at least that was what it seemed, until a translucent blood-red flames
crawled their way beneath the stone's surface. Then in a sudden notion
it rotated that same hand and opened its clenched fingers. Margo let out
a horrified gasp. For there in the palm of A Stranger was a solitary
ring that was unmistakable. A large blue gem in a rather plain gold setting,
however Margo knew this particular girasol would've casted a strange,
red glow if it was upon the left ring finger of one man. That man was
The Shadow, who lived and died by the name of Lamont Cranston.
Where did you get that, inquired Margo, hostile, as the ring seems
to vanish from sight. Come, it beckoned, come with me, Miss
Lane, and you shall learn my gifts... It turned and was next to the
tree where Margo had first seen it, and my curses. As The Shadow
had not been able to do, it simple melted into the rainy gloom. It was
as if Margo's private guest had never been. Margo began to question her
sanity, till she got the notion to reach into her right pocket of her
jacket. There, greatly to her surprise, she found a folded note that she
hastily unfolded while she fought with her umbrella. A message, inked
in silvery scrolled scrip read simple thus.
Miss Margo Lane
One to enter
Infinity Diner
13 Hell's Way
Midnight
There was no more or less, other then this mark that Margo did not recognized. A blacken mark of a katana enclosed between simplified wings. Margo beheld the message as a death omen, hoping the ink would vanish; instead another line appeared below midnight.
Be prompt
Margo sighed, realizing that this was no joke and was to be taken seriously. She began making her way back to the dispersing umbrellas with one question on her mind. Who was this person?
Who indeed, a question that could've been answered by two people. One of
which no longer graced this plane of existence, and the other currently
sat upon a bar stool at a counter that would be more befitting of a late
fifties roadside diner. A diner with a neon sign that read, Infinity Diner,
which was simply passed off as an empty lot by the populace. And perhaps,
it was just that, an empty lot for this particular diner, existed and yet
didn't... But, it was unlike the Hotel Monolith, which Khan had hidden through
his mind's powers. This diner was hidden through the use of majick, ancient
majick. The kind easily bypassed for something of my caliber. Hank, the
diner's owner, had grown accustom to my unusual comings and goings but still
watched with great interest and awe the image of my shadow, since the first
time I entered his establishment.
I knew all to well, what my shadow could and often would portray. A shadowy
image of a being with a pair of folded angelic wings, when physical I bore
none, it foretold any being with a keen eye the truth about me. The harsh
truth of my accursed destiny, the destiny of a Fallen Justice. But, today
for a change my shadow bore no wings, however it still seem to break ever
rule of a 'normal'shadow. Like moving on its own accord when the lights
hadn't moved, it was something of a hot topic between Hank and I, on a usual
basic... But, not today, not on this dewy day. Instead, the conversation
revolved around a plain black velvet box. Not the box, itself, but what
the box beheld. Hank finished pouring himself a large shot glass of brandy
then sat upon a stool he had pulled up early, with the remaining bottle
with arm's reach. Between his shot glass and my ceramic cup of steaming
green tea sat the box, which had opened but once since I arrived and closed
in the same instant it had been open. Though, most of the conversation had
not been spoken, it was still expressed. None was more apparent then the
half empty bottle of Hank's finest brandy that sat near him as our gazes
locked over the counter. Hank knew, all to well that I was blind, however
I could and did see things in a different light. I watch as Hank's purple
shadowy aura reached down and take a quick shot, draining half the glass
and placing it back on the counter.
"You know," began Hank's familiar rusty wise voice, "you can always walk
away from this now. Let his agents deal with it..." I allowed a half smirk
to cross my emotionless face as I took a quiet sip of tea.
You and I both know, I reply placing my cup back on the counter,
that I cannot do that.
"Yea, yea," a pause as he drains the rest of the glass, "I know this all
to well. But, what are you going to tell this Lane woman?" The smirk faded,
as silence prevailed between us, till Hank picked up the bottle and began
pouring himself another shot.
The truth, was the two words of mine that broke the silence, and
caused Hank to let go of the bottle. Which never met an explosive end upon
the counter's polished top, instead it remained where it had when Hank's
hand had left it. This reaction of utter shock and horror, was very unlike
Hank. Thankfully, I reacted without thinking, however it was the expression
of Hank's mind that concerned me. The expression of sheer and utter terror,
the kind many faced against astronomical odds or that last battle against
those very same odds. An expression, I knew all to well...
The bottle began to pour itself, once more, without me physically moving.
Hank's expression did not change, for he seen and help bind the wounds that
I had satiated against Khan earlier this day. Though, he had not ask how
I gotten those wounds, the angles and depths of the marks told this ex-military
man all he needed to know. Hank allowed me to finish pouring the shot, only
then to have the bottle recapped and placed back on its shelf.
"Are you certain," inquires Hank not touching his refilled glass, which
I answer with a grim nod, "I was afraid you say that." At this he took up
the glass and drained the whole thing in a couple large gulps, while I sipped
quietly on my tea.
Well, I began, as Hank placed the glass back on the counter, if
you were in my position, would you not do the same thing? Hank seem
to hang his head in though while staring blankly at his empty glass.
"If I was in your exact position, right now and there was no way to walk
away right then and there," asks Hank, which I answer with another nod,
"Probability the same thing, you're about to do. But still..."
You have you're doubts, I finished, that she cannot handle what
I'm going to tell her.
"Hell, I have doubts that even I can handle it, my friend," he sighs rising
from his stool, "And I've seen a many atrocity in my lifetime." He turned
his back to me, while he thought and I drank, "But, compared to what you've
seen and done, my atrocities are nothing more then Nightmares that have
and often been washed away by the blissful rays of daybreak."
Yes, but some of mine are also Nightmares too, Hank, I sighed finishing
my drink.
"Yes, I know," he sighs turning back around and picking up both glasses,
only to place another cup of green tea in front of me, "But, unlike mine.
You cannot leave yours' in the past. Nor will they let you leave them there,
Jwin." A pause as Hank begins to clean the dirty glasses, "I guess it comes
along with your accursed destiny and all..."
Though, there are days, I wish that they would leave me be, I smirked
evilly at him over the counter.
"Ah," comes Hank with a sigh, "but what's the fun in that?" At this we both
grimaced at each other till the clock began to toll midnight, which was
followed at the last stock of the hour by the ring of a tiny silver bell
that hung over the front door jam, from the door being opened.
Margo had spent most the afternoon and evening reading the reports on Shiwan
Khan. It turns out that he had been loose for nearly a week before The Shadow
had met and was destroyed by him. What could Khan been doing that entire
week, Margo could only guess. And perhaps would find out through this meeting
with this unusual stranger. Which she spent the last few hours before the
meeting pondering who this stranger was. Margo had managed to draw a few
conclusions, but still had many questions unanswered... The first of which,
involved its sudden appearance and shortly disappearance from the graveyard,
and that ring. This was what bothered Margo the most as she rode in the
back of Shreevy's cab. Nothing else, other then its gaze, had set her nerves
on edge expect that ring. Was it the ring, itself, or the blood-red flames
that had crawled their way beneath the stone's very surface causing the
Jade band seem like a living being... Margo could not decide which was worst,
perhaps she did not want to admit which frightened her more. The ring or
the being that bore the ring.
But, that seem to matter little to Margo for Shreevy's cab rolled to a stop
across the street from an empty lot on Hell's Way, or at least that what's
Shreevy saw. Margo, on the other hand, found to her surprise between those
two large buildings a steel colored rounded train car bearing the name of
Infinity Diner in bright lights. Margo began to move towards the side of
the cab nearest to the sidewalk, only to have Shreevy turn around and raise
a bushy eyebrow in question and concern.
"You sure," inquired his firm tone, "that's the place?" He thumbed towards
what appeared to be nothing more then an empty lot.
"I'm sure, Shreevy," answered Margo, opening the passenger door only to
have her left hand caught and having something cold placed within it. Margo
looked, only to find a silver plated Colt 45 within her grasp. The same
gun that may have once belonged to The Shadow.
"But, Shreevy," began Margo, who was silenced by Shreevy raising his right
hand.
"I know, Miss Lane," sighs Shreevy, "but, don't you think we have had enough
bad news for one day? Besides, I think your host or whatever, will understand."
Margo nodded grimly, Shreevy was right, the agents of The Shadow indeed
had enough bad news for one day. And the worst was yet to come, Margo sighed
sadly as she placed the weapon within the confines of her purse.
"Give me a call from this so called diner, when your finished, Miss Lane,"
Shreevy pauses to dry the tears from his face, "And I'll come get you."
"Thank you, Sheevy," says Margo as she exited the cab onto the deserted
sidewalk, where she waits till his cab disappears from view then made a
mad dash across the empty street. Margo paused upon the visible and yet
invisible threshold between the sidewalk and marked path to the steps of
the diner. Marking sure, none were watching, Margo gritted her teeth and
shut her eyes only to step foreward expecting something unimaginable to
happen. Much greatly to her relief, nothing did happen, expect for the odd
sensation that came when one awoke from a dreamless sleep. Margo shook herself
to clear her groggy head, only to approach the diner's front stairs as the
toll of midnight began to sound. Her heart race faster as she climb the
three whole steps that separated her from her unusually mysterious gifted
stranger. As the last toll struck midnight Margo pushed the diner's front
door open.
She was surprised at the sweet sound the tiny silver bell made above her,
while she entered into an entirely empty diner expect for its owner and
solitary guest. Though, the guest did not catch Margo off-guard, the owner
did. An elder gentleman with long following silver hair pulled back, fair
skin, pointed ears and golden cat-like eyes wearing attire more befitting
a cook then a diner owner. Margo stumbled in, nearly falling forward to
the checked titled floor below, but was caught. Caught by what, Margo wondered,
noticing fearfully that neither strange being had moved a muscle. The owner
smiled softly towards her, leaned over and whisper something indiscreet
to Margo's host. It nodded solemnly in agreement, then waved him off, like
it was dismissing him. He left, but not before he gave Margo a look, one
that could be only described as mischievous. Then his vanished from view
behind a flapping door.
So tell me, Miss Lane, it inquired, rising from its stool, what
would you rather prefer, Coffee or Brandy. Margo did not know what to
make of its question, till she caught a glimpse of what broken her fall.
A shadow half risen from the diner's floor bearing two angelic wings held
her as if thought she was but a feather, but what really did a number on
her already racing and bewildered mind was to whom this shadow was cast
by... The stranger, who stood but three feet away, and had tempted her to
come. Come by only five words, those of 'my gifts and my curses'.
"Smelling salts would be nice," she replied verbally, then allowed the shock
to take over causing her to faint.
It would be my pleasure, I replied softly as though Margo could still
hear me and perhaps she could...
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