Fan Fiction: Short Stories

Never Forget
by Qutime

  Paragon City. City of Tomorrow. City of Heroes. The world's last best hope of freedom and justice. Home to Statesman and the greatest heroes on earth. What true hero could resist?

  Perhaps the only answer to this question was the simplest. Those who didn't heed Paragon City's alluring call were either retired or never considered themselves heroes. The Shadow was both, though the seventy-three-year-old man didn't appear a day over twenty-eight, and looked nothing like most people thought of as 'superheroish'. Actually the six-foot, dark haired, slightly tanned man with long fingers was quite normal compared to many who now sought to protect and provide 'justice' to Paragon City.

  And that suited The Shadow just fine, for he had come to Paragon City to attempt to enjoy his retirement. Though it had taken several doctor's orders to get him on the first plane out of New York, it only took a single letter to actually convince him. Signed as Dark, the poorly scrolled script was a dead giveaway of who had really sent the letter. Her name was Kyoko Sovna and… and The Shadow wasn't quite sure how to classify her. An annoyance perhaps, though in this rare case, she had been a godsend.

   A smile flirted upon his tightly drawn lips for a brief instant, then was gone as it had never been. Still clinging tightly to vertical steel support pole, The Shadow causally glanced about the train's interior with his living cobalt coal irises over the edge of his newspaper. There, amongst the civilians, dressed to blend in or in 'costume' were the heroes that Paragon City had drawn into her enormous ranks. Again the smile flirted across The Shadow's lips, but like the first it was gone just as quickly. Rustling the newspaper, all The Shadow could do for these heroes was to pity them. They did not know evil like he did. No one would.

  The only thing which drew his attention from the paper, was the computerized announcement of the train's arrival at Steel Canyon station. Careful not to lose his grip on the pole, The Shadow folded the newspaper while scooping up his bag with his right hand. He proceeded to stick the folded paper beneath the arm that held the bag as the train began to slow. The Shadow was dimly aware of the girasol, pulsing softly, in a tarnished gold band that encircled his left ring finger as the train jolted to a sudden and complete stop.

  Only a hiss of compressed air proclaimed his arrival, yet The Shadow would not have it any other way as civilians and heroes exchanged places at will. He exited at a leisurely pace, knowing that Kyoko Sovna would not be there to greet him. She, however, had drawn a very detailed map to her apartment and told him when she would be expected to be home that day. A well-used key also came with the letter, and the only thing stamped upon it was #317. It was these items that The Shadow paused briefly for, fishing them out of the inner pocket of his oilskin trench coat. With cat-like grace, he palmed them both, only glancing at the hand drawn map to get his bearings.

  Then Shadow was off again, keeping his pace relaxed and unhurried. Down Steel Canyon's platforms stairs and a quick right led him into the labyrinth of metal. A single glance at the towering sentinels would have told this unusual man where this part of town had gotten its name. But, like the New Yorker he was, The Shadow did not even look up once, but kept his attention focused mostly on his new surroundings. A tenth of his keen mind was upon the map, for if the rumors The Shadow had heard about Paragon City were true, this wasn't the place to be caught of guard — much like New York in its hey day.

  Again that rare smile found The Shadow's face, only to have him realize that he found the apartment build easily. The smile was gone as his climbed the stairs and was met by the front door. Fumbling with the key for a bit, The Shadow was interested in the security key box under the third floor. A loud beep indicated that it been accepted, followed by a thunderous click. With bag, newspaper, map, and key still in tow The Shadow slipped into the narrow hallway easily. He noted the sign asking those on the first four floors to use the stairs due to the bad electrical system and the even worse elevators. An arrow directed him to the stairs, and then it was up two flights to the third floor. As he reached the landing to his desired floor, The Shadow exited the stairwell to find his destination the very first apartment off to his left.

  How convenient was the only thing which crossed the retiree's mind as once again he fumbled for the key. With the ease no other seventy-three-year-old could have managed, The Shadow inserted the key, and turned it and the doorknob, letting himself into the apartment. Awe greeted him as he crossed the threshold, seeing the sprawling state of the living room. It looked like a tornado had lost its way and found this poor place to take it out upon. Some things, he smirked inwardly, never change. With a lean, he closed the door finding the entryway sunken from the rest of the home. Two pair of slippers rested at the edge of the steps, one apparently larger then the other. Upon these rested another note, which Shadow scooped up while placing his bag and paper upon the raised floor.

  Shadow, it read, your room is the smaller one in the corner. Hope you don't mind. There's food in the fridge, help yourself. Please excuse the mess. Haven't had the time to clean due to the deadline I had to meet for the day. There are necessities laid out upon your bed. We'll go shopping later. I hope what I got you fits… Dark.

  All he could to do from laughing was to shake his head, then he flopped down upon the step and began unlacing his shoes. Within a few minutes, he had his slippers on and was meandering about with bag in one hand and newspaper in the other. The only thing, beside the sheer disaster of the living room, that caught his attention was a small plaque hung in the off-white hallway near the three-door intersection. In plain black print upon gold plating it read thus: For The Shadow. 1938-1954. NEVER FORGET. Those last two words were bolded and capitalized.

  A swell of pride filled him briefly, then was gone as suspision arose in his mind. Was it possible that this Kyoko Sovna knew whom he was, or just sheer luck that he received her letter. The Shadow noted only one of the doors were closed, while the others remained open; one, naturally, lead to the bathroom while the other led to his room. Dare he invade the privacy of another, simply to set his mind at ease? He was too old for surprises, so yes he would.