Fan Fiction: First-Hand Accounts
The Life of an Agent

  New York City - July 1931

  The lights were dim at the KRAB radio station, located on 52nd Street in midtown. A middle-aged and distinguished looking radio announcer stood over a microphone in the sound room making his usual promotional announcements.

  "The time is 5:30 p.m. And remember friends, this is the Mutual Broadcasting System reminding you to try Blue Coal for a more even, more dependable, longer lasting heat. Phone your neighborhood Blue Coal dealer tomorrow and tell him you choose Blue Coal, the cleanest, most healthful anthracite for all your heating needs."

  As the announcer finished his words and his microphone was cut off, he removed a pair of large studio headphones from his ears and gestured to his boss, Mr. Franklin Welles, from across the room. Mr. Welles, sauntered toward the announcer, giving him a huge smile.

  "Thanks a lot, Mr. Burbank. Why, you're probably the best announcer we've ever had at this station."

  "I appreciate that, Mr. Welles," the announcer stated. "It's not a bad job for a veteran of the Great War. It's an easy job in fact, given my experience with electronics, radio communication and cryptography in Germany."

  "Quite impressive. Same time tomorrow then?"

  "You bet," the announcer known as Burbank agreed as he leaped from his chair and exited the sound room.

  As he left, he moved to the small lobby of the place and fetched his bowler hat and long gray overcoat from the station coat rack. He was tired and ready to get back to his apartment for the evening.

  As Burbank exited the small two-story radio station to the well-lit street, the city was booming with activity. Car after car lined the avenue and the sidewalks were littered with people who were either just getting off work or getting ready for the usual New York City nightlife. Immediately, Burbank noticed a dingy yellow taxicab rolling up alongside the curb. Hurriedly, the radio announcer raced to the cab and entered. Without warning, another person, a burly, shady looking gentleman, also entered the cab from the other side.

  "I'm sorry, this is my cab," Burbank informed the other passenger.

  "Hey, what gives? I saw it first," the man declared from across the seat."

  "Easy, boys. There's room for both of you. Now where to?" the cabbie in front asked impatiently.

  "I'm going to 40th and Phillips," the man quickly chimed in.

  "And I need to get to 43rd Street," Burbank mentioned in an aggravated tone.

  Suddenly the cab roared into life, speeding down the avenue. As the two men rode together, there was silence until the other passenger spoke to Burbank to break the tension.

  "So what is it that you do, fella?"

  "Oh, I work in radio," Burbank replied.

  "That a fact? What station?" the stranger asked.

  "I work for KRAB as an announcer."

  "KRAB huh? Well, it's a small world after all," the man proclaimed, swiftly pulling out a large revolver. "You're gonna be sorry I asked. You see, I've wanted revenge against that place and the people who work there for a very long time."

  "Why?" Burbank wondered.

  "Never you mind that, just now. Driver, pull off into the next alleyway you find. I wanna have a talk with my friend here," the man ordered belligerently, pushing the barrel of the gun into the back of the cabbie's head.

  Nervously, the cabbie continued his route until a suitable alleyway was accessible. As soon as he saw the opportunity, the cabbie veered the car sharply right and into the dark side street and stopped abruptly.

  "Alright, pal, we're here. Just please don't kill me," the cabbie pleaded, sweating fearfully.

  "Let him go," Burbank implored. "I'm obviously the one you want."

  "Forget it. He's a liability," the stranger affirmed, unexpectedly pulling the trigger.

  As the gun went off, the cabbie's head violently jerked and blood splattered all over the car.

  "I really wanna thank you, guy. You've given me the incentive to do what I've wanted to do for a long time," the man stated, pointing the gun directly at Burbank.

  "What's that?" Burbank nervously muttered.

  "When I get done with you, I'm gonna blow that place sky high," the stranger declared with a laugh.

  "What's your problem with KRAB anyway?"

  "If you must know, it was a broadcast on KRAB that got me sent up the river for five years. Enough talk."

  At those words, sudden maniacal laughter sounded all throughout the alley. The stranger and Burbank grew even more nervous. Neither man could tell where it was coming from, but the laughter kept getting louder and louder and went on for at least two minutes until finally ceasing. All was quiet.

  "What was that?" the stranger asked Burbank, wide eyed and in a cold sweat.

  From out of nowhere a gloved hand smashed through the rear window of the cab, gripping the stranger's throat. As the stranger gasped for air, the gun went off, putting a hole in the roof of the cab. Burbank, seeing the madman distracted, exited the car as fast as possible and began to run deeper into the alley.

  The stranger was viciously pulled through the window of the car and thrown to the ground. He couldn't believe his eyes. He was terrified because in front of him stood the black-cloaked form of The Shadow!

  "You! You're The Shadow. Some guys in the joint told me about you. I didn't think you were real. I just —."

  "You are Bart Blackstone," The Shadow interrupted. "You were imprisoned for five years on charges of petty larceny. You have now killed a man in cold blood. Now comes but one thing for you: death."

  "You won't kill me. You ain't got the stones to kill me."

  At that moment, faster than lightning, The Shadow whipped out two .45 automatic pistols and opened fire. After a few moments all that was left was a tattered, blackened husk.

  Suddenly, The Shadow looked on at the other man who had left the car. Burbank was standing in the alley and had watched the entire affair. The Shadow holstered his guns and moved towards him. Burbank stood there, not in fear, but in awe.

  "You are the man known as Burbank, an expert in electronics, cryptography and communications."

  "Yes, I —."

  "I saved your life. I hope to use it solely for my benefit in a war against crime, corruption and injustice."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You will be at the heart of a vast network of agents. Perhaps as my most important ally, your specific skills will serve me well. You will be my messenger."

  "But what about my job?"

  "Pay no mind to that dismal life. You will never have to worry about money ever again. Your only purpose now is to serve me, but you of course still possess free will. Therefore, the choice remains yours."

  "Well, sure, I mean it's the least I could do. You did save me from that maniac with a gun. But if I am to serve your cause, I guess I will need a base of operations, equipped with the latest in radio and communications technology."

  "Think nothing of it. You will have whatever you require. You can set up temporarily in your apartment, but as time goes on you may need to drift from place to place to stay hidden," The Shadow offered.

  "Then in that case, you just got yourself a messenger," Burbank offered with a smile, offering a hand to The Shadow.

  "Good. All that I require is your full obedience. Absolute obedience."

  "Anything for the man who saved me from certain death. You have my pledge" Burbank reassured.

  "Splendid. Until we meet again," The Shadow offered, shaking the hand of his new agent. "I must go now. Watch for my sign. I will contact you when you are needed."

  With that, The Shadow turned away and slithered back into the darkness from which he came.