The Shadow Knows! (Final Update 6/3/04)

[The Shadow]

Shadow, way to hold onto Carlos. Don't let those sons of motherless billy goats take anything that special away from you.

Heh. Anything that tries will be left with Alex-sized holes in it. Or, well, lots of small round holes caused by bullets, that works too.

Speaking of which, I am curious, any idea of what kind of damage Grace has found? Memory and emotion certainly but is there any additional detail you found/figured out?

There seems to be some physical damage as well - hence the headaches. Sounds to me like the equivalent of a mini-stroke; SP says that's about right.

By the way, you guys will appreciate this:

I scolded SP for telling me I'd "jumped the gun" in sending David away from Legion, when all along Legion was searching for him. His response?

"Hey, I honestly think that Alex was too paranoid at that point. ... It just so happens he was right, that's all."

P.S. GreyShadow, why would Alex need a dog? To keep off the rabid attack-kittens?

 

[Lela]

Dog's are emotionally healthy. And loud. Very loud. Personally I recomend a cat. Whether or not you'll live longer, I don't know. But, assuming a good cat, you'll live quieter.

Actually, maybe a cat would be good for Carlos. Alex might get one at the hideout for that purpose. Of course, it may help Alex too, but I doubt he'd get one for himself.

Dang, I must have glossed over the Legion looking for him bit. That's okay, I tend to hold chunks of stories together (usually two or three updates large) and go back to it based on the feeling I remember.

Still, I agree with SP. Alex/Shadow (which one was he at that point?) was being too paranoid. Then agian, if they're really out to get you, are you still paraniod?

 

[The Shadow]

Dog's are emotionally healthy. And loud. Very loud. Personally I recomend a cat. Whether or not you'll live longer, I don't know. But, assuming a good cat, you'll live quieter.

I love dogs, personally. Plus I'm terribly allergic to cats. Naturally, they want to be all over me.

I like 'em OK, but dang. They've cornered the market on "uppity", y'know?

Actually, maybe a cat would be good for Carlos. Alex might get one at the hideout for that purpose. Of course, it may help Alex too, but I doubt he'd get one for himself.

I've never thought about Alex's attitude toward pets. Hmm. I suspect any pet at the base would be adopted by Carlos, though.

Still, I agree with SP. Alex/Shadow (which one was he at that point?) was being too paranoid. Then agian, if they're really out to get you, are you still paraniod?

At that point he was in Shadow-mode but being unusually Alex-like. It's because David was involved, no doubt.

A big part of Alex's problem right now is that he can't retreat into the Shadow persona - it's just plain gone. (Reminds me a lot of the end of Fight Club, actually.) I think that's why he's pushing for the meeting between David and Carlos.

Anyway, I still don't think it was too paranoid. The vision haunting him at that point was "Night of the Living Legion" - the nightmare exponential growth scenario. Like a zombie movie where the zombies aren't slow or stupid, all think together, and have unknown psychic powers.

By the time you confirm something like that is happening, it's too late.

 

[Lela]

Totally agree. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if Alex had paranoid legally added as his middle name.

Shrug, Alex just seems very concerned about Carlos (and rightly so). Plus he has been stepping out of his traditional self of late. He may combine the two and try to do something to enhance the boy's recovery.

 

[The Shadow]

Totally agree. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if Alex had paranoid legally added as his middle name.

No. If he did that, They would get suspicious.

One of my favorite lines in the whole campaign thus far is Hal Garrity saying, "It depends. How paranoid are you? ... Never mind, I forgot."

Shrug, Alex just seems very concerned about Carlos (and rightly so). Plus he has been stepping out of his traditional self of late. He may combine the two and try to do something to enhance the boy's recovery.

Alex is a very caring guy at heart. He just has a lot of trouble showing it. He is terribly afraid - and not wholly without basis - that if he gives his emotions free rein, he'll end up hurting the people he loves.

Johnson was trying to break him, and nearly succeeded. Carlos being mentally extinguished would have been bad enough. Carlos being mentally extinguished *by Alex* would have been a masterpiece of sadism. It was his own extreme reaction to what NEARLY happened that has freed Alex up to admit how he feels toward the kid.

P.S. No game Thursday or Sunday. Family and work craziness on SP's end, as usual. He has pledged to make Tuesday evenings sacrosanct from now on, though.

 

[The Shadow]

[You know how sometimes you get an idea in your head and the only way to exorcise it is to write it down? Well, even if you don't, I do. (He said with a loopy, manic grin. ]

[Think of this as a fragment of a "What If?" story set in the Shadow's universe.]

Dear Journal:

I keep trying to write about Dad's work as the Shadow, because I think it's important to get the story straight. But it just won't go. I'm too close to him.

I'm sitting here at the computer in the base, like I have so many times for so many months, and the memories just won't quit. Him smiling that half-smile at me as he comes down the stairs; whipping that cloak around his shoulders, joking in that understated way he had. Though I had no name for him for a long time but "Shadow" and "sir", I thought of him, deep down, as "Dad" from the first. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. His work - even though I was in it up to my eyeballs - just doesn't register as important as that.

Start with the basics, I guess.

I'm Carlos. I'm alive, sane, off drugs, and out of jail because Dr. Alexander Brighton - the Shadow - cared enough to scare me off the road to Hell and then take me in and give me his love and trust. I'm everything I am because of him... Dang. There I go again. Take two:

I'm Carlos. I'm a fairly ordinary guy, except I dream the future and the past, I can dodge bullets, and I fight crime in a costume for a living. OK, so I'm not that ordinary a guy, but it beats boredom, right? Sure.

I'm the Shadow, trying my best to follow in the footsteps of the greatest man who... Gotta watch that. Well, to be more precise, I'm half of the Shadow. The other half is my brother Dave. He's over there right now, limbering up and pulling on a black turtleneck. He usually fills in on the weekend, when he's got time away from his classes. He can't dodge bullets, but he can punch holes in brick walls if he gets mad enough. I try not to make him upset.

Not that he'd do that to me or anything. Though our relationship started out really rough, Dad's death - dammit, Dad, why'd you have to go and die nobly, huh? Couldn't you have been selfish just for once? - pulled us together. We're really close-

"Whatcha writing, Runt?" he calls over to me. "Story of my life, Freak." "Huh. Didn't know you'd gotten a day job writing for the soaps."

Can't you feel the brotherly love? No, really, we're close. We trust our lives to each other routinely, and it doesn't get much closer than that.

...Back. Dave needed me to tighten up the back of his vest. Now he's putting on the nightvision goggles and testing Mr. Garrity's distortion field - flickering in and out of visibility. "All systems go." "Testing, one two three," I say into the commlink. "Loud and clear, Runt. Wish me luck." "Luck!"

I should probably stop writing for now. Dave can generally take care of himself - that punching-holes-in-brick-walls thing - but that's not to say he might not need a hand on short notice. I'm here to support him, just as he's here to support me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carlos saved the file and shut down Word, then pulled up his usual collection of crime-fighting windows: Gang database, master map, state criminal records...

You do have a bit of a tendency to wax melodramatic, you know. Carlos' eyes swam a bit, and he whispered, "I know, Dad."

"What's that, Runt?" David's voice came tinnily through the commlink. "Nothing, Dave. Pay attention to the bad guys."

[Don't worry, I have no plans for Alex to buy the farm in the near or distant future. But if he ever does, this could be an interesting seed for a follow-on campaign.]

[Assuming the campaign hasn't changed totally beyond recognition by that point, which knowing SP, it will have. ]

[Though I didn't manage to fit it into the writeup, in this continuity Michael Barnes has become a disembodied cybernetic "ghost" (probably in the same incident that killed Alex) and there is a small but fervent "Church of the Ascendant". Let's just say that the passing of a telepath of Alex's caliber under "difficult" conditions did not go unnoticed...]

 

[The Shadow]

[Well, in the comedy of errors I've been coming to expect, we didn't get our game on Tuesday because SP had a totally unexpected household crisis. But he made it up to me Saturday night, so I am well satisfied. I call this one, "Headache Remedies". And I've only just realized I can give titles to each individual entry; I may just have to go back and put them in.]

Alex walked into a work environment that made the Cuban missile crisis look tame. The halls were a silent battlefield, with openly hostile glares being exchanged between members of rival factions. They were three now - those for Legion's project, those against it, and those vehemently insisting they wanted to hear nothing about it. By lunchtime even Alex's stiff upper lip was starting to droop. The atmosphere was simply poisonous. Alex dreaded what would happen when the news hit that the project would never be paid for... Bob's reputation would likely take a heavy blow, and Wright's team would be livid.

Lunch was worse. In his absence from work, he had evidently been pigeonholed as a fencesitter between the "opposed" and "uninvolved" camps. His level, steely gaze discouraged anyone from actually attempting to sound him out, but speculation was plainly rife. He noticed a quietly vicious exchange between two of his own team members out of the corner of his eye, and resolved to quash things before they reached the level of open mutiny. He was considering his options when something brushed against his mental shields and shocked him out his reverie.

What was...? Who? It had been an inexpert, clumsy thing; and there seemed to be more than one locus. Alex opened his mind and scanned cautiously outward... only to realize, stunned, that no less than eight people in the room were projecting their emotions telempathically, seemingly at random. They did not seem to realize what they were doing - they reminded him, rather uncomfortably, of himself as an adolescent.

He couldn't make out who they all were, so he made an excuse and walked across the room, carefully noting the identities of the projectors. All eight were members of Wright's ten-man team working on Legion's chemicals. That tears it, he thought. But how are they getting exposed?! Professional chemists assuredly don't sample their own work!

At any rate, the cause of the company's morale problem was solved. Now that he'd lowered his shields, Alex saw clearly that the entire building was blanketed in a miasma of irritation, hostility, and ill will. It was a feedback effect long familiar to him - negative emotion on his part spawning similar emotions in others, which worsened his own mood, and so on. The question was what to do about it... He could probably suppress the activity of any one of them without much trouble, but eight at a time? And perhaps two more? (Wright himself and another team member were not present.) Impossible. Alex sighed. He didn't need this on top of OmniMetal.

Nothing to be done about it just yet, though; first things first. After lunch, he called a team meeting. Once everyone was assembled and had put on a suitable simulation of friendly attention, he told them tersely, "I won't take up much of your time. I am aware that there is a project elsewhere in the company that is highly controversial and stirring up strong emotions amongst the staff. You are entitled to whatever feelings about it you may have, but I must remind you that we have a job to do here in this lab whose merits stand or fall on their own. We are here to help people with cancer, and I will not tolerate that work being compromised by projects none of us here are are actually involved in. Are there any questions?" There were none, and Alex felt that he had actually gotten through to them. [Natural 20's on Diplomacy are nice.]

They literally got a break later in the day - a sudden insight which promised to save the team at least a week and a half of work. They couldn't accomplish anything more until a test came back from toxicology, so they knocked off early in a celebratory mood, much to Alex's relief. He proposed to Vu, "Care to join me for tea, Dat?" Vu smiled - he'd seemed scarcely affected by the office politics, unflappable as ever - and replied in his precise English, "Certainly, Alex. It is a special day." They stopped off at a nearby coffee shop and ordered a cup of tea apiece. [Neither of them drinks alcohol, so they're hardly going to hit a bar. ]

After some initial chit-chat about Thanksgiving plans and other things, Alex remarked, "Work was ... difficult... today." Dat grimaced faintly. "Indeed. I have never seen things so hostile. I cannot understand what is causing it." "How long has it been like this?" "It has been especially bad the last couple days that you have been gone."

Alex weighed things carefully, then set down his teacup. "I think I know the cause." Vu blinked, "Really? What?" "...Let's take a walk." Looking even more puzzled, Vu said, "All right." They settled their bill and went outside; Alex swallowed one of the little "headache" pills from the bottle in his pocket, but said nothing until he'd found a secluded bench in a park. By that time Dat's curiosity was undisguised.

"Dat, I... haven't been sick the last couple days. I told Bob I had terrible headaches, but I'm afraid that was only metaphorically true. I dislike lying more than I have to." Dat nodded slowly, not interrupting. Alex sighed. "I suppose it's easier if I just show you. Give me a moment." He paused for a long minute, letting the drug's loosening feeling spread through his system... then reached out to his friend's mind. There's more to me than meets the eye.

Vu stared at him for a long moment, then said with great formality, "Dr. Brighton, would you object if I placed my hand on your throat while you repeat that? I thought I heard you speak to me without moving your lips, and I must be assured you are not employing ventriloquism." "All right, Dat, if you like." When these precautions were taken, he sent again, As I said, there's more to me than meets the eye. I am speaking to you via mental telepathy.

Dat sat still and impassive for almost a minute, staring at him fixedly. Then he said, "Either you employ discretion, or else you cannot read minds. I have been thinking at you single-mindedly for some time now." "I can read minds," Alex told him, "I just dislike doing so without good cause. I consider it rude." "As I said: Discretion." He thought a while longer, then said with firm decision, "I think I am not going to mention this to my wife." "Thank you."

"Am I right in guessing that you have been having... difficulties of a telepathic nature lately and that is why you have sent David away?" Now it was Alex's turn to stare. "How on earth did you know about that?!" Dat struck a pose of inscrutable Oriental wisdom, then spoiled it by grinning. "My oldest is a good friend of the mother of David's friend Mary." "Your spy network is unparalleled," Alex told him drily. Dat waved off the praise modestly. "I got lucky."

Then he went on, "I also conclude that the telepathic situation, whatever it was, is now mostly resolved... but that you fear the company project is related. The chemicals we are making are related to your 'headache medicine', aren't they?" Alex gaped at him openmouthed. When he was able to speak, the only thing he could think of to say was, "Amazing, Holmes!" Dat grinned again. "Come, Alex, it's obvious. You sent David away because you thought he might be in danger; you had a father's natural concern. If things hadn't been mostly resolved, you would already have contacted my wife to let her know that David would not be present at our Thanksgiving dinner; you are too conscientious not to. And there had to be a reason why you took a pill on the way here; you admitted that you were not really having headache problems. Finally, I do not think you would be telling me this at all if there were not some relationship to the project and the company's problems." Alex shook his head. "Your powers of deduction are most impressive."

Dat acknowledged the compliment with a seated bow, then asked, "Do you need the pills to use your... abilities?" "They get me in the mood, so to speak. ... And you were wrong in only one particular. I am positive that the company project is related." "Ah. Very well. What will we do?" With that simple question he placed himself at Alex' disposal with a sincerity and trust that humbled him. Alex felt his eyes threatening to mist up, and fought for his wonted rigid control before responding. "Several of our competitors have been offered the same project. Do you have any contacts you could sound out to discover if they are having similar problems? I am on good terms with only a few myself." Dat thought a moment, then said, "Of course," and rattled off a list of names. "Do you wish me to begin making discreet inquiries?" "Please." "I will begin tonight."

"Thank you. ... There is also the puzzle of how our people are being exposed." He explained what he knew of the problem, though of course not mentioning Legion or the Shadow. "What is the half-life of these drugs?" Vu wanted to know. "Six hours for the one, perhaps twelve for the other." "Then clearly the exposure is not accidental. It is unthinkable that people in our labs could be unwittingly exposed to a neurotoxin several days in a row." Alex grimaced; he should have thought of that himself. Dat went on, "You say that you have not verified exposure of Wright and one other member of his team. Until we have more information, we should regard them as our first suspects." Alex nodded. "It is time for me to read a few minds, it would seem."

He was about to take his leave and get started, but found himself curiously reluctant, the burdens of the last days and weeks suddenly seeming to crash down upon him.. Suddenly unable to meet his friend's eyes, he said, "Dat, I..." Alex swallowed, his heart starting to race. "I've done things I am not proud of." Dat nodded slowly. After a time, he asked, "Have you been working for the greater good?" "I... never thought of it that way before. I don't know."

"Have you acted out of the desire for self-aggrandizement?" Alex thought it over. "...No." "Have you acted out of greed?" This one was much easier. "No." "Have you acted out of anger?" Alex winced. "Sometimes." "You would be wise to cleanse your soul of that anger, my friend. But to the extent you have acted for the greater good and not for your own pride or self-advantage, not out of anger or hatred, you have done well. What more could be asked of you?"

Alex bit his lip. "I thought... if anyone knew the things I've done, they..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but Dat understood. With eyes full of compassion, he said, "My friend, you forget that my hand has also been raised against my fellow man." He paused while Alex remembered with a start that Vu had been in the South Vietnamese army as a young man, and "re-educated" after the fall of Saigon. Then he shrugged and went on, "It would be pointless to compare our pasts and try to decide whose hands have been stained a deeper shade of red; the very impulse to do so is only a blacker form of pride. Only know that I do not judge you. The important thing is to let go of the illusion of the past, and live..." "...in the illusion of the now?" Alex concluded ironically. Dat smiled. "Just so."

Alex took a deep breath, let it out. It came more easily than any breath he'd taken in a long time, he thought. "Thank you, Dat." "You are welcome, my friend. I will see you tomorrow." "Yes."

Alex moved invisibly back to his employer's parking lot. Wright's car was already gone, as was that of the other team member he intended to investigate; but a couple other members of the team were still straggling out. He dipped into the mind of one of them that he knew slightly, a Debbie Mortenson. Her will was strong, but still somewhat weakened by the drug; he had no real difficulty. She certainly had no idea she'd been drugged; her only impression of the last few days was that everyone was being unreasonable and needlessly irritating. It was just so obvious that the project was a plum for the company; why couldn't the others see that? The work was annoying, too; Wright was a demanding person to work for, and he'd left early in a huff after getting apparently contradictory results from the same test three times in a row.

Alex probed gently for any accidents, spills, suspicious happenings. There were none. Then he tried for shared food or lunches; none. Shared water? Bingo. They had a common water cooler in the lab, and Debbie had noticed that the old canister of water had been replaced a couple days ago although it was only three-quarters empty; she didn't know why or by whom, but it hadn't seemed important. Alex let her go, resolving to fry bigger fish on the morrow. Returning home, he got dressed in his costume (having dropped it off there on his way to work) and made his way to the base by a more-than-usually circuitous route.

Once there, he went over the surrounding block with a fine-toothed comb, looking for snipers, suspicious loiterers, or anything else out of the ordinary; he found nothing. I could spend the whole night looking for bombs, cameras, or other things, he realized with frustration, and still I wouldn't be sure there weren't any. And I don't HAVE all night. He sighed, and settled for checking the entrance to the building and the area near the stairwell for tripwires, hidden sensors, and the like. When as satisfied as he could be, he stepped through the fake wall and went down the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief. It was safe in here, at least... Though the absence of the hat on the banister knob did give him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Immediately he moved to gingerly pick up the tampered screamer he'd left on his desk. No telling if, or what, it was transmitting or receiving; though at least it didn't set off the little radio detector Garrity had given him. What to do with the thing... He fetched a mailing box and sealed it up, not bothering with a return address. He seriously considered for a moment sending it to Maria Escolante - the idea of sowing further confusion among his enemies causing a warm glow in his heart. But he eventually decided against it... He didn't particularly want Maria to have screamer technology. After some thought he addressed the box to a police precinct not far from Harvey's favored haunts; the cops already had a screamer so another shouldn't matter, and might intrigue them greatly.

That done, he decided to call the other Maria (Volanti) before sending the thing off; it'd been sitting here a couple days, a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. "Maria. It's your friend in black again." "Ah. Good to hear from ya." "What have you learned?" "There's a big shakeup going on. One of their VP's just got canned, and they're bringing in a team of auditors." "So that's the official line, is it? Was his name Richard Jones, by any chance?" "Got it in one. The official line leaves something to be desired?" "I suppose you could say he got the big pink slip from the sky..." "...Oh." "I want you to stay away from these auditors. I suspect that's a cover for a team of telepaths coming in." "That'll make it harder - I can hardly be asking people a lot of questions that they'll also be asking a lot of questions." "Right. Well, it's unfortunate, but that's how it has to be." "You're the boss - and it makes sense, too." "Until they arrive, though, I want you to find out as much as you can about these three people," and he gave three names that Legion had mentioned as possible co-conspirators with Jones. "I'll see what I can scare up, but this whole auditor business will make things difficult." "Do what you can, I'll be in touch. Oh - and what are your Thanksgiving plans?" "Gonna go to my sister's place in San Diego. Sorry, you'll have to wait another year for a proper Italian Thanksgiving." "I wouldn't miss it," Alex assured her, silently regretting the fact that he and Carlos wouldn't have the dinner partner he'd hoped for. After trading a couple more barbed pleasantries, he hung up.

Glancing at the clock, Alex realized he only had an hour before Mike was due to show up; he'd better move fast, as he didn't want to mail the screamer from a location too close to the base. Jogging to a moderately distant post office, he reflected ruefully that he'd never thought he'd miss the bike so much after only using it a few weeks. And it was strangely lonely out on the street without Carlos in his ear, too... He rapidly squelched that line of thought.

Mike showed up in the base computer shortly after he made it back in the door. Hello Michael. I am glad you got my message. Hey boss - yeah, thanks for the warning. You suffered no ill effects from your brush with the 'thing' in OMIG's computer last time? Nah, the lad replied with his cocksure attitude intact, Carlos told me about it in time. Was it a person or a machine? Person, I think. I don't see how anyone could make a machine that felt like that.

All right. Are you ready to do some more hunting in the same areas? I'll be with you this time. Umm... Sure. Why not? Alex stretched out on Carlos' cot, just as he had the last time. Soon the connection was established - it seemed easier this time. Let's go. Mike flashed them into OmniMetal's mainframe without delay, aided by the still-functioning "Prometheus" login. There's a sysad online, boss. I don't think he's noticed us. Alex 'nodded' and told him, We're looking for the files of 'Richard Jones'... Mike found them easily and downloaded them into the base computer. Meanwhile Alex felt them scanned by a psychic presence, but decided that there was no reason to start doubting his invisibility.

Now look for 'Jeffrey Thomas'. On it, boss... Uh oh. What? These files are garbage, Shadow. Somebody slipped up and didn't change one of the timestamps correctly. They've been replaced with fakes. Alex pondered, then told him, Download them anyway. It'll be good to know what they WANT us to know... and they may go on to think us fooled by it. OK, done. What now? Another scan passed over their position; Alex decided tensely to let that one slide too.

Now we look for the files of these three people... He passed on Legion's information again. After a short interval, Got it. This stuff looks like the real thing. Good. How do you feel about retrieving some emails? I dunno, Shadow. That sysadmin is doing stuff in a related area. You want me to try? Yes. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You're the boss... aw, crap! The connection was broken at the speed of thought and Alex's mind reeled as he tried to follow the boy's twists and turns through the Net.

What happened? That sysad set us up - tried to lay a trap for us. He's good. Has he succeeded in tracing us? Let me check... Nah. He saw through a couple layers of my tricks, but not all. The boy flashed a mental grin at him and gloated smugly, I said he was good, not that he was the best. Alex refrained from rolling his eyes. How do you feel about heading for the parent company's computer again?

Mike mulled that over. I dunno, boss. If we do it, we'd better do it now. Otherwise, they might be ready for us, and that wouldn't be good. That sysad could be on the horn to them right now. Not worth the risk, then, you think? I don't feel good about it, boss. Let's wait. That reaction from the ragingly impetuous teen decided Alex. Good enough, then. Come by my computer at the same time the next few nights, will you? I may have need of your services. Sure thing. See you tomorrow! Until next, Michael.

There was enough data in the files to keep Alex occupied for hours; he selected one of the people, a middle manager who was the highest-ranking of the three, and did some rapid skimming. He quickly convinced himself that the man knew of Legion, and of other "interesting" projects. Good enough. He also had an address.

"I believe a visit is in order - and quickly, before OmniMetal organizes."

[Looks like things will be going back into hot water next session - which will be on Tuesday, SP's life permitting.]

[Events continue to take me by surprise. I felt sure that Alex was headed for a breakdown of titanic proportions (which would have had some very interesting consequences), but it now looks as if Dat may be able to head that off single-handedly. I was VERY impressed with him; everybody should have a friend like that. And boy, SP made quite the string of Int checks for him, didn't he? ]

 

[Lela]

[I was VERY impressed with him; everybody should have a friend like that.]

Don't you mean a friend like Dat?

 

[The Shadow]

Don't you mean a friend like Dat?

Oh, that's BAAAAD!

...But his name is actually pronounced "dot", unfortunately for the pun.

Incidentally, he's named after a Vietnamese seminarian I met several years ago. Really nice, very deep guy. Not at all Buddhist, unlike this version, though.

 

[The Shadow]

Good Guys Finish Last

Alex quickly checked the addresses of the three men from OmniMetal on the master map. Unfortunately, the highest ranking - and the one who seemed to know the most - lived in a distant suburb. It would take all night to get there and back on foot, and even by car it would take unacceptably long. He was a middle manager in R&D. The next, a man who had been peripherally involved in supervising Christophilous' work (a "dotted line boss" in Dilbert terms) was closer, but it'd still be a long haul. The third, the chief of security, had only a mailing address given.

He did a quick skim of the second man's files; he also seemed to know something. It'd have to do, as time was of the essence. After a little thought, he put the more distinctive bits of his costume in a briefcase, and put his work clothes back on. Then he called a cab, asking it to arrive a goodly number of blocks away from the base. He'd save a great deal of time that way.

Unfortunately late-night traffic was worse than usual, and the ride took over half an hour. (Still much shorter than he could have gotten there on foot, at least.) On the way, though, Alex realized with a guilty start that he hadn't stopped by Grace's house, or even called. Was Carlos OK? Was he getting worried about him? Surely he wasn't up, fretting... A variety of images flitted through Alex's imagination.

Then they settled down on Carlos' soundly slumbering form in bed. I'm worrying too much, he thought. He'll understand. Just then he was tackled from "behind" by a powerful mind bent on immobilizing him. Oh. It's you. It was Grace.

What the- Grace, what are you doing?! I might ask you the same thing. I'm not doing anything! I assure you that you're doing something. I don't sense an uninvited mental trace in my guest room every day of the week. Alex "looked" back at Carlos. It was quite a realistic and stable vision compared to mere imagination. I'm really seeing him, he realized with a sense of awe.

Grace picked up on it. I didn't know you could do that. Neither did I! Well, well. Life is full of surprises. How did this happen?! If I had to guess, it might be your exposure to that super-screamer. ...Might be, I suppose. He dismissed the puzzle in favor of more important matters: How is Carlos?

Doing better, she replied judiciously. A little better than I'd expected, not so well as I'd hoped previously. We're still looking at weeks, but I think we might end up counting them on one hand instead of two. I'm sorry I haven't been by, Alex sent contritely. Things have been heating up. Carlos wasn't worried, was he? He asked about you a number of times. I'll leave a note that you, ah, contacted me; that'll make him feel better. Alex picked up on the imperfectly-hidden wry thought that it would also make Alex feel better, but he didn't mind; she was right. Thank you, Grace.

You'd best sign off now; you undoubtedly have things to do, and I need my sleep. Sheepishly, I, uh, don't know how. Her laughter bounced brightly down the aether at him, a lovely thing. Here you go, O mighty hero. She applied a pressure of sorts against his presence, and abruptly Alex opened his eyes and found himself back in the cab. "Here you are, Mack," the cabbie told him. Alex paid the man in a whirling absence of mind, but quickly returned to business.

Once the cab was gone, he faded out of sight and dressed in his blacks, then secreted the briefcase a block or two from his quarry's home. That taken care of, he spent a few minutes trying to "get into character" as the Shadow, then cased the joint.

A moderately upscale house with a decent-sized back yard, there were four minds within: two sleeping, two together in what was probably the living room. The Shadow frowned; he'd have to be careful or things could get messy. The spare key was noplace obvious, and there was an alarm sticker in the window. A locked sliding glass door connected the master bedroom to the yard, but the dark avenger found a better option - a window left open in the same room for ventilation.

He felt distinctly uncomfortable climbing through it, and as he moved cautiously into the hall the feeling grew until it could not be ignored. Alex retreated back toward the bed, heart pounding. What's wrong with me, he thought. I've done this plenty of times!

After pondering a while, though, Alex realized that he hadn't. Not like this; not quite like this. But he knew who had.

He remembered another house, upscale but not posh, in a nice neighborhood.

One child, asleep in peaceful innocence, not two.

Another woman, the most beautiful and precious in the world.

The husband hadn't been home. He'd been working late. (Fool that he was!)

And now that husband was the one crawling through windows to disrupt people's lives. Perhaps even to end them.

Divided between frustration and agony, Alex realized he couldn't do it. He could tell a gang leader to leave town or die, and carry out the threat, even in front of the man's woman if he had to. But this man, whatever he was, wasn't Julio; and his wife assuredly no doxy. Did he, like Jones, believe in what he did? Did he understand the full ramifications? (Does that really matter?) He could confront the man alone - on the way to work, perhaps.

But this he couldn't do. ('The line between good and evil...' The words flitted through his mind unbidden.) He couldn't. His whole being trembled in protest - he felt physically ill. If David's life was on the line, or Carlos', then yes, he could. But it wasn't; it was only the world.

Alex felt heavy as lead as he climbed back out the window and over the fence, then trudged over to retrieve his briefcase on the way to... where? Does it matter?

...Yes, he thought, it does. The fact I've been checked doesn't mean I have to give up. There's no time to try the other OmniMetal people, but there's still Wright to think about. He lives not far from here... He carefully did not think to himself that the man also had no family.

Soon Alex had stolen his way into the gated community his co-worker lived in. This house was also fairly expensive, but the security was of an entirely different order. Alex was appalled; he'd never seen a private home with TWO alarm systems before. The man had one solely for his bedroom, another for the rest of his house - the panel was visibly different through the window. "Well well, Wright. Why does your head rest so uneasy? Do you have something to hide, perhaps?"

He slipped into the man's sleeping mind - always a difficult task unless the person was dreaming. Fortunately, it was not too difficult to latch onto a memorized, commonly used sequence of numbers like the alarm code.

Alex managed to open an improperly-latched window in the kitchen, using a length of wire to short the sash to the frame. Sure enough, the alarm remained quiet. Then he made his way to the bedroom. There was no panel on the outside; apparently the one on the inside was the only one. "Not even I am THAT paranoid," he muttered under his breath as he considered his options.

Gambling on quick action, he opened the door and moved to the panel at once to enter the kill code. The alarm went dead before it had whooped twice; probably that meant the company would regard it as a fluke. Unfortunately, Wright did stir, cursing; and the Shadow marvelled further at the man's paranoia as dim red lights went on at the corners of the room, designed not to interfere with night vision.

Alex ran on a curving route to the bed, as the man was raising a strange-looking gun as well as fumbling for a cell phone. Soon he had his own pistol to the man's head. "Drop it. Both of them." Wright froze, dropping the phone at once and saying, "Do you, uh, mind if I put the gun down slowly?" "By all means." The man did so gingerly, trembling. "I don't keep much money in the house, but you're welcome to it..." Alex kept his voice low and steady, so as not to be recognized: "I don't want your money." "Wh-what do you want, then?"

The Shadow slipped into the man's surface thoughts. Terror was uppermost, as was the desire to tell the maniac with the gun whatever was likely to keep him calm. Rage and helplessness lurked not far beneath. The sable sleuth asked grimly, "I want to know why you've been poisoning the people at your company." Wright's outrage broke partly through his fear: "What?! I have no idea what you're talking about!"

The sable sleuth's heart lurched as he realized the man was telling the truth as he knew it, and he cursed himself under his breath. Assumptions will be the death of you yet, Alex! "Someone has been adding the chemicals you've been making to the water cooler. I want to know why." "I don't know anything about it! And I haven't even succeeded in making the stuff!" The man's frustration was real; the problem was driving him nuts.

"What kind of gun is that?" the Shadow asked coldly. "It- It's of my own design. A squirtgun, you might say." "And what does it squirt?" "Chemicals. Not lethal ones! Honest! It's, uh, well, you probably wouldn't understand if I told you..." (Alex shook his head inwardly; the guy could remain arrogant and annoying even under these conditions.) "You might call it a kind of super-mace." "I see. Good night." With that a blast of raw emotion turned Wright's lights out, and Alex dipped further into the man's mind to erase the memory of their conversation. He replaced the phone and the gun where they had been, then made his way out - setting the alarms behind him.

It was a long silent walk back to the base. "What a disaster of a night," he said to himself as he trudged, defeated, down the stairs and slammed his hat down on the banister knob. Undressing wearily, he sought sleep on his cot, only to find it troubled and uncertain.

In the morning, his first priority was to make an important call. Dialing OmniMetal's number, he said tersely to the secretary, "Van Helsing for Mr. Johnson." [SP: "Cute."] A moment of consternation followed, then, "Ah, I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Johnson is not available. He's, ah, not in today." "All right. Is Mr. Torrance available?" "...No, I'm afraid he's in the same location as Mr. Johnson." That would be Hell, Alex thought to himself wryly. "Is there anyone I can speak with, then?" "Let me ask. Please hold?"

After an interval, she returned and said, "Mr. Van Helsing? You're to discuss your business with Ms. Barbara Nearman now. I'm afraid she's in a meeting at the moment. If you give me your number, she'll return your call as soon as possible." "That's quite all right," Alex told her drily. "I will call again this evening. "I'll let her know. She should be here until six. Thank you for calling!"

The next call was more pleasant; David picked up on the third ring. "Dad?" "Yes, David, it's me." "How are things going? Should I come on home?" "I've... just had a very difficult night. I didn't learn what I'd hoped to." "Umm. Probably I shouldn't ask about it right now, huh?" "Probably not." "Well, do you want me to hold off on tickets and everything?" Alex mulled it over. "The primary threat I sent you away from is taken care of..." "But there's something secondary still going on?" "Yes. ... Come home, son. I think it's for the best." "You bet! I'll start on it today! I'll call you when everything's worked out." "All right, David. Take care!" "You too, Dad! Love you!"

Work was tense as usual, but slow - the toxicology report his team needed wasn't due until Monday. Alex spent his time catching up on paperwork, and made some discreet inquiries... All of Wright's team was present except for the other suspect - Jay Warren, a man Alex had barely met. He'd made an excuse and said he'd be in that afternoon.

Alex asked Vu into his office and he quietly shared what he had learned, though not how he had learned it. Dat remarked, "So Wright is not guilty. Odd, I think I wanted him to be." Alex nodded in agreement. Dat went on to report that none of the other companies he'd checked were having any problems. Then he continued, "Alex, we need to warn people about the water." "If we do that, our suspect may well realize that something is up. We could lose him." "My friend, now that we know that and how people are being exposed to mind-affecting chemicals, I think we have a moral obligation not to let them be exposed further."

Alex sighed. At times moral obligations were awfully inconvenient. "You're right, of course. But how, Dat? They're going to want to know how I know, and I can hardly tell them I learned it with telepathy!" "I know, but... Well, are there any physical symptoms we could report?" They thought it over, and mutually came to the conclusion that Wright's team had noticeably bloodshot eyes. "Do you think he'll listen to us?" Vu considered. "I've never liked the man, but he's an honest scientist. I don't think he'll be able to ignore something like that." "Which of us should break the news?" "Probably you. He'll probably take it better from another project head."

Alex nodded; it was true. Wright was a touchy sort - though a gifted chemist, he'd never gotten his doctorate, and was sensitive about it. He made his way to the man's lab and sought him out. "Mr. Wright." "Brighton," Wright returned shortly - refusing as ever to add the "Doctor". "What do you want." "I thought I would bring to your attention something that I and several others have noticed. The members of your team seem to have uniformly bloodshot eyes, and there is concern you might have some sort of release in your lab." "My lab's fine! You're imagining things." "Then several people are imagining things independently."

The man sighed. "All right, already! We'll check it out. But we won't feel the need to notify the safety officer, okay?" Alex stood his ground: "You know the rules as well as I do, Wright." Wright rolled his eyes up to the heavens and said, "Fine! We'll check it out, and if it's true, then we'll notify people. Okay?" "Agreed."

Wright assembled his team and checked them out. At first he seemed ready to explode, then he took a deep breath and let it out. "I guess you were right, Brighton. We'll have to pass this on up." Alex went with him to Bob, and soon that whole wing of the building was evacuated while those certified to do so went in with protective suits on to check everything out in detail.

The result was that work in the rest of the building slowed to a crawl. Amidst all the downtime, Alex tried experimenting with his new ESP ability, but didn't make much headway. Most of the time he felt sure he was just imagining things, though he did get one flash of Carlos looking up startled and saying, "Sir?" that seemed genuine. It had faded as quickly as it had begun, however.

The workplace was alive with rumors over the shutdown, of course; apprehension and speculation were running high, but in a way it was a nice change from the political ferment of the previous days. While walking past Bob's office, Alex overheard him chewing out Wright (who was projecting sullen anger): "Your ass is on the line here! Get Warren's ass IN here, or your ass OUT!" Around three, things had gotten so bollixed up that the Powers That Be told everyone not involved in cleanup to go home for the weekend.

Alex took care of some errands he'd been letting slide over the last week, then headed to Grace's house to see Carlos.

So many things are changing, he thought. Too many to understand. "If only the Shadow DID know..."

[From Alex's point of view, this session was almost a complete debacle. From mine, it was at least an interesting debacle. I learned things about him I hadn't previously known - and no, the ESP wasn't one of them, I paid for it fair and square. ]

[His reluctance - actually, his inability - to confront the guy in front of his family came as a surprise. It was understandable after I'd thought it over, but at the time it was kinda freaky. I suspect that experience was another notch on the internal Tenso-O-Meter, though... I don't know how much longer Alex's psyche can take acting as the Shadow without BEING the Shadow.]

[By the way, the campaign has now reached it's official one-game-week anniversary. SP says that unless I go in certain directions in the next session, he'll fast-forward things a bit. We'll do a scene of Thanksgiving, then probably move to mid-December.]