Fan Fiction: Crossovers
Shadow of the Warrior
Chapter 9
The cold fall wind had nearly refrozen the wet towel wrapped around Itchy's hand as he stood in front of the building looking up at the illuminated sign which proclaimed its title POLICE HEADQUATERS. Itchy began scratching his head and neck, sweating despite the cool breeze that engulfed him. He was angry when he left the club it was not the first time Big Boy had assaulted him or anyone else. Granted it was more severe then the usual slap to the face he normally handed out but the boss had a lot riding on this job. Itchy had nearly scratched the back of his neck raw as he began to turn away from the building. He thought to himself that if he stepped in that building there was no turning back, he would be a marked man he would spend the rest of his life on the run, trying to stay a step ahead of Big Boy's wrath and a painful death. Itchy stepped toward the street and watched as a never ending parade of cars drove past him. He pondered exactly how many people in those cars worked for Big Boy in one way or another? Which one of them would rat him out as he himself had done to others so many times before. He lifted his hand to hail another cab to go home and hoped that no one had seen him, as he held his hand in the air the thought hit him. The cab! He had taken a cab in front of Big Boy's night club. The cabbie might have already run back and told Big Boy where he had taken him. Itchy began bleeding on the back of his neck from scratching. If he went home there might already be someone waiting for him. Itchy turned back towards the police station, realizing his decision had, in reality, been made the minute he told the cab driver to take him here. Even if Big Boy never learned about the trip, the fear of him finding out would haunt Itchy day and night.
Itchy strode up the concrete stairs and into the station. The entire entrance was brightly lit almost blindingly to a person like Itchy who spent most of his time in dark places. In front of him, there was a large wooden check-in desk whose width dominated the room, and was situated several feet off the ground. The desk officer had to walk up a small fight of stairs to get up to it. Itchy had been here before when he was taken in for questioning. He had always thought the check-in desk was built high off the ground so the cops could look down on people like him, physically as well as morally. He hoped today someone would look down at him out of pity. He walked slowly toward the desk and removed his hat. Looking up at the desk clerk his hand burned to cinders and blood pouring down the back of his neck Itchy began scratching his leg as he looked up and said, "Get me Tracy."
Cliff Marsland walked up the path to his house. The concrete
that made up the path was shattered and cracked in different places. What
little bit of grass that did grow on the dirt patch he had for a lawn needed
to be cut. The exterior of the house was in shambles it was painted a dull
gray and had large pieces of siding hanging off of it revealing the structure
of the house below. A dead tree stood rotting in front of the house looking
like an alien monster form some sci-fi story guarding the entrance to Hades.
The appearance of Cliff's house long ago ceased to concern him, as did his
own appearance, as did anything at all for that matter. A broken man with
no hopes or dreams doesn't care about things around him, or what people
think of him, or even what he thinks of himself. A bitterly cold wind whipped
past Cliff, scattering the trash that laid in his yard. Cliff stopped to
pick it up for the first time in a long while, partially because for the
first time in a long while Cliff actually cared about something. Not the
trash in his yard of his decrepit house. It was just something he could
change for the better at the time. He cared about contacting The Shadow
somehow, to inform him about the museum heist to help remove some of the
criminals from the city just as he was removing trash from his lawn. He
cursed to himself wishing he could contact The Shadow, but when he asked
The Shadow he was told that one of his agents would contact him, and Cliff
did not think questioning The Shadow would be in his best interest. As he
was pondering all of this he heard a voice behind him "Good evening Mr.
Marsland, even at this late hour of the night THE SUN IS SHINING."
As he turned around Cliff responded, "But the Ice is Slippery" Then a well
built man with dark hair introduced himself to Cliff as Kent Allard and
asked Cliff if they could step inside.
The inside of Cliff's house was even worse then the exterior, the furniture was old and torn with stuffing falling out of it, the floor was covered in dirt and had a huge hole in the middle of it leading to the basement. As Cliff looked around his house he could see that trash was piled everywhere. For the first time since before he lost his life, Cliff apologized to someone for the appearance of his house. Allard replied, "It doesn't matter, but a mutual friend of ours says you may have some information for me." With that Cliff ran down the details of the heist.
Itchy looked down at his hand, in the bright lights of the police interrogation room, he realized how bad the damage to his hand had really been. To his surprise for the most part it didn't hurt much anymore. One of the medics in the police station had cleaned it up for him. He told Itchy that there should be minimal pain because it appeared that some of the nerve endings in his hand had been burned through. Anger rose in Itchy as the medic's words rang in his ears: "Your hand my never function properly again." He pounded on the table with his good hand so hard that pain now shot through that hand as well. He could feel himself itching uncontrollably all over and know neither one of his hands was in any position to do anything about it.
The door to the room opened and a man dressed from his head to toe in yellow walked in. Taking in his yellow trench coat and hat Itchy mocked Dick Tracy, "Nice banana suit Tracy" Tracy sat down with a stone cold look on his face and replied grimly, "Did you come here to give me fashion tips or to rat on your friends?" Itchy's voice rose "I ain't rattin' on my friends, it's just Big Boy I wanna see get what's comin' to him, not the other boys. They ain't never done nothin' to me." Tracy leaned back in his chair, "That's exactly my point, they ain't never done nothing to you including help you out." Itchy looked puzzled, "Whatta you mean Tracy I don't need no help!" Tracy smiled and looked down at Itchy's hand. "That's not what your hand says right now. Either you needed help with Big Boy or you fell asleep with your hand on the stove." Itchy snarled, 'I told your cronies that Big Boy did this to me now I want you to go arrest that fat bastard!" Tracy leaned on the table with his arms crossed, "With what? The word of a two-time loser like you! Even if I had enough to arrest Big Boy I could only hold him for a couple of hours on something like this, I would be lucky to even get him to trial where he would find a way to get off anyway. Then what do you think he is going do to you? No. Your good buddies are the way to get to Big Boy."
Itchy's good hand had stopped throbbing from pounding it on the desk. He began to scratch himself on his side. "I told you, my friends never did nothin' to me, it's Big Boy I want ya to get for messin' up my hand" Tracy stood up and began to shout, "And I keep telling you that your buddies are the only way to get Big Boy! Like I said, they never did anything to help you out. I know Big Boy. He likes to show off. He didn't just fry your hand when the two of you were alone did he? No! I bet Flattop and JoJo and all the others watched and didn't do anything did they? Just like they never have before, right?" Itchy's voice replied with contempt, 'They couldn't do nothin'." Tracy got into his face, 'They couldn't pull Big Boy off of you? He might have been mad but he wouldn't have taken on all five of you at one time, he would have cooled down later." Itchy solemnly answered "I still ain't gonna rat on my friends" Tracy let loose a deep laugh as he stood up and walked around the table. "You think they never ratted on you before? How many times have we pulled you in after nabbing Flattop or the others? They always dime you out" Itchy's impulsive scratching began to increase as Tracy pressed the issue. "More than that they always laugh about you and your scratching, Come on who gave you the name Itchy anyway?"
Itchy's voice grew to a whine as reality began to sink in. "That's not…." Tracy cut him off, "But it is Itchy! Now listen you can keep protecting friends who stand by while your hand is burned to a crisp and laugh at you, or you can help me really take down Big Boy! I know he is interested in a coffin at the museum and that you probably know when he is going to hit it. If we catch Flattop and his boys red-handed in the middle of a heist between the info you and them have we might be able to get Big Boy on something real. Even if it's not enough to bring him in I know that Big Boy is getting a big pay off for this type of job its not his style he wouldn't even bother with this if he wasn't getting a big pay day. For telling me what you know about the heist, the army you guys shot it out with and the ghost who shot at you, you can get a free pass to witness protection while Big Boy losses money and hopefully freedom." Tracy stopped for a second took a deep breath and said, "This is a one time offer I'm leaving now, good luck with Big Boy if he finds out you came here!" Itchy grabbed Tracy's arm as Tracy walked by. Tracy glared at him. Itchy whimpered, "No wait. Look it wasn't no ghost it was some kinda cowboy dressed in black. Other then we shot at each other I don't nothin' about the army, but I can tell ya about the heist' Tracy took out his note pad and sat down.
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