Fan Fiction: Crossovers
Why Wasn't I There?

  Stephen ran the tape again.

  "Again?" groaned Peter. "This is the 12th time. What do you plan to see this time?"

  "Faces." answered Stephen, still scrutinizing the screen. He had loaded the tape into the Sanctums computer, and was enhancing it with each run. But nothing had stood out. It was just a plane, flying along, looking like any one of a million planes.

  But Stephen was undaunted, the determination on his face was like a living thing, and Peter knew better to argue.

  The radio buzzed as Stephen fine-tuned the video. Peter flicked the switch, and Stephen spoke from where he was. "Report."

  "One of the hijacked planes made a short transmission before radio silence." Reported Burbank. "Agent at Boston airport was able to make a copy."

  "Let me hear it."

  A crackling radio voice filtered through the console speakers. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

  The voice stopped. Stephen had recorded it. "Is that all?"

  "Yes sir. Shall I send a response?"

  "Negative. Keep me informed." Peter shut down the connection.

  Stephen was silent for a moment, but he ran the recording. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

  The tone was victorious, but held the sound of an awe inspired, almost religious glow. As if this man was about to start Judgment Day. The accent was of some middle-eastern country, but it was chilling and powerful and a little giddy.

  "Four planes." said Peter finally. "Four horses of the apocalypse."

  Stephen snorted, and ran the recording again. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

  He ran it again. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

  He ran it with the video feed, zooming and enhancing the cockpit. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

  Peter watched the hard look in his partner's eyes. He was growing worried. He had always known there was a dark side to Stephen. It was a part of his Cranston lineage, and he had always used it against evil, personifying in The Shadow. But this time Peter saw the darkness in his partner as a part of Stephen. Not The Shadow. Stephen Cranston.

  Stephen was using his dark side for himself, not for his alter ego, and that thought made Peter uneasy.

  Stephen ran the tape twice more and closed his eyes as he listened, his _expression changed, he was almost smiling.

  Peter was completely unnerved. "So if the terrorists do strike again, where would they strike?" Stephen opened his eyes, and Peter gulped. Stephen now had that same messianic glow that they had heard in the tape. "Anywhere," he said, mirroring the voice on the tape. "It will be a strike that will demonstrate the weakness of the modern day America."

  Peter took a step back. This was eerie, even more so than Stephen usually was, but he tried to go along with it. "They would have to pick their target carefully. Somewhere that they could get to without being stopped by the police, army, government, national guard and anyone else that lives in New York."

  "Anywhere!" insisted Stephen, still in the worrying voice. "God is on our side and he will make sure we succeed."

  That was Peter's breaking point; he reached out and shook his partner hard. "Stephen! What the hell are you doing?"

  Stephen pushed him away, and peter sighed in relief when he saw that his partners face was back to normal. "Don't worry Pete, I was Profiling. You can't understand someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes, so that's what I'm trying to do."

  "Well stop it!" snapped Peter. "Don't try to get inside their heads, there are safer places to be."

  "True." Stephen allowed, "But the only way we can properly predict them is to think like..." He trailed off and stared at the screen over Peter's shoulder. Peter turned. On the screen was an enhanced image. It was the close up of the Flight 11 cockpit, and clearly visible, was the man on the plane, running the controls.

  He was not wearing a pilot uniform.

  "Gotcha!" hissed Stephen.