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The Shadow Knows! (Final Update 6/3/04)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 1370640" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p>Alex stalked down the stairwell and dropped his hat on the knob at once. (No doubt a sign of his upset, as he usually takes it off only when he leaves for the night.) </p><p></p><p>Carlos spun around in his chair and took in the look on his face. He got up to help Alex off with his bulletproof vest. "So, uh, do you want to talk about it, sir?" </p><p></p><p>Alex did not respond at once. He got off the vest and his cloak, and hung them neatly on their hooks. Then he sat in a chair and stared off into space. Carlos, knowing his moods, wisely kept silence. </p><p></p><p>"How much did you hear?" he finally inquired. "Most of it." "Ah." Longer silence. Then: </p><p></p><p>"I did not want to kill him." </p><p></p><p>Carlos sat down. "Do you want my assessment of what happened?" "Very well." "I think you got caught up in your own image - invisible, untouchable. You let hubris get the better of you for a moment. It happens to the best of us, sir." </p><p></p><p>No response except a minute sigh. </p><p></p><p>Hesitantly, Carlos went on, "I see a good man sitting there..." Alex finally looked at him and said with quiet firmness, "No, Carlos. I am not a good man. I do what I do because I must. Not because I think it right." "You're not working to make the world a better place?" "A cleaner place, perhaps..." He snorted. "I am scarcely Mother Teresa." </p><p></p><p>"Well, no," Carlos replied uncomfortably. (Over the previous year, he'd been returning to his Catholic roots and getting moderately devout.) "But then I guess Mother Teresa wouldn't do very well in your position either..." He changed the subject. "I did some checking up on El Bandito and the Red Shivs that may help us figure out what to do next." "Very well, let's hear it." </p><p></p><p>The boy dutifully reported on some rather old violent crimes believed to have been committed by his erstwhile namesake - beating rivals to death and the like. Alex looked at him, having picked up on the fact that he was being cheered up. "You found this in the time since I left the Hangout?" "Yessir." "While the smart thing to do, it was also a kind thing to do." Carlos looked intensely nervous for a moment. "What do you mean, sir?" "Never mind. Who is likely to succeed El Bandito?" </p><p></p><p>It developed that in Carlos' expert opinion, three successors were likely. "There's Julio, his right-hand man. He's basically Carlos' protege. He's likely to follow through on everything Carlos was doing. Then there's Mario, the guy in charge of pimping. They didn't get along. And finally Maria, Carlos' ex-girlfriend, more or less." Alex frowned. "I did not have the impression that the Red Shivs were the kind to take direction from a woman." Carlos shrugged. "I don't know who she'd pick to use as her figurehead, but she'd be the one really in charge." </p><p></p><p>"It occurs to me that the successor, whoever it is, will be needing to make some decisions about the black cars very quickly." "Well, the whole thing will probably take a week to shake out at least, sir." Alex replied sardonically, "I imagine one of Julio or Mario will be dead before the week is out." "Probably," Carlos said matter-of-factly, "If not, the Red Shivs will probably splinter." </p><p></p><p>Alex had a sudden thought. "Did I just start a gang war between the Shivs and the Angels? Given that Carlos died just minutes after being threatened by them." "It honestly depends on who succeeds El Bandito, sir, and what their goals are. It would be easy to start a war if they want to. I'd guess that Mario would go after them, while Julio would pin the whole thing on you. I have no idea what Maria would do." </p><p></p><p>"Will the price on my head go out on the street, do you think?" "Again, it depends. Mario despised Carlos and will likely oppose anything he was in favor of. Julio, on the other hand, got where he is by not making waves (the last protege met a sudden end by making them...) and working to keep El Bandito happy. ... Honestly, sir, we want Mario to win." </p><p></p><p>Alex sighed a world-weary sigh. "I suppose I can arrange that if I work at it. What I would really like is for nobody to 'win'... but I suppose that's too much to ask for." </p><p></p><p>Coming to a decision, he announced, "Carlos, I want you to be careful." The young man looked faintly puzzled. "I'm always careful, sir, don't worry..." Alex gave him a look. "Have you forgotten? You are one of my principal 'collaborators', as El Bandito so gently put it." </p><p></p><p>The look on Carlos' face would have been priceless in a less serious situation. Plainly he HAD forgotten. Visibly flustered, he got out, "Er, yeah, I guess I did, sir." Alex added with quiet intensity, "I don't want anything to happen to you." The boy ducked his head, pleased, but unsure of what to say. </p><p></p><p>Alex filled the short silence with, "I also want you to get word out to Maria and others of the network that there may be danger in the upcoming weeks." "OK... Who else?" "I've already spoken to Harvey. They and Doc Griswold are the most likely targets. And you might say a word to the 'fan club.'" Carlos snorted with wry contempt. "Even Ricky?" Alex weighed it. "I suppose he might go off and do something stupid, now that you mention it." "Honestly, sir, their connection is remote enough that they probably aren't in danger. Not enough people take Ricky seriously enough to think he's actually tied to you." "Very well." </p><p></p><p>"And Carlos..." "Yessir?" </p><p></p><p>"If you were thinking of seeking out the men with suitcases... Don't." That one syllable was freighted with ominous finality. </p><p></p><p>Busted! The boy suddenly found the table intensely interesting. Alex continued, "If you happen to come across one, by all means get a good look at the suitcase and tell me what you notice. But do not show undue interest and do NOT attempt to follow them under any circumstances. Understood?" He waited until he got a meek "Yessir," in reply. Disaster averted, Alex thought. </p><p></p><p>Alex glanced at the clock. It was quite late - early, rather. Carlos followed his eyes and said, "Hadn't you better be getting home and to bed, sir?" (Saying nothing, to be sure, of his own sleep schedule!) Alex snorted. "Yes, mother." It took Carlos a moment to decide that was a joke, and therefore safe. Then he grinned. "And be sure to button up, it's chilly out!" </p><p></p><p>Alex grinned despite himself as he rose to his feet. "What did I ever do before you, Carlos?" He got the impudent reply, "Bumbled along like usual, sir - just not as well." "Just so. ... I'm glad you're here." He gripped the startled Carlos' shoulder a moment, then went up the stairs. </p><p></p><p>Once home, he performed his nightly ritual of looking in on his son. But instead of reassurance, he found this night only a new worry... </p><p></p><p>David was sleeping on his belly, the covers in disarray... with a stained bandage about his left shoulder. Alex froze for a long moment. Then he entered the room, got a closer look (the stains were brownish, like curiously old blood), and retrieved David's clothes from the chair he knew they'd be on. Taking them out of the room to look at in the light, he found no obvious bloodstains... but the shirt was conspicuously missing. </p><p></p><p>Sensing movement behind him, he whirled only to find his sleepy-eyed son confidently holding a baseball bat. "Oh! Uh, hi, Dad..." Plainly he was expecting a prowler. </p><p></p><p>Alex asked in conspicuously emotionless tones, "Hello, son. How did you come by the bandage?" "Oh, uh, a guy knifed me." (Trying to say it casually - no big deal, Dad, just a Friday knifing - and not quite making it.) "A guy. Knifed you." Acutely uncomfortable, David said, "Uh, yeah." </p><p></p><p>"You do not seem very bothered by this." Playing for sympathy, David made a misstep: "Well, you know, after being kidnapped and worked over by goons last year, it doesn't seem that bad. Just a scratch..." Uncharacteristically, his father turned his back on him, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. He strode into the bathroom and leaned on the counter, struggling to collect himself. David trailed behind sans bat, getting nervous. </p><p></p><p>The boy offered, "The movie was longer than we thought so we decided not to watch another one and go for a walk instead." Silence. "The rest of the gang eventually went home, so Twyla and I started heading back to her place." Silence. "This guy with a knife said she was going to come with him. I said she was with me, and he slashed at me. Got me the once before I took it away from him." Silence. David plainly took this for an ominous sign, getting more nervous as his recital went on. </p><p></p><p>Alex abruptly cut in. "Let me have a look at that shoulder." David submitted meekly to his father's ministrations with visible relief. The cut was shallow - too shallow for the amount of dry blood on the bandage. "How deep was it at the time?" "I don't know! Deep enough to need a bandage." Alex sighed. More evidence of David's healing powers. "Were you hurt anywhere else?" "Just some bruises." </p><p></p><p>"How did you get the blood on your hands?" For the second time that evening, a young man gave him a flabbergasted look worth framing if it'd been a less serious situation. He stuttered, "H-how did you know?!" while displaying his clean hands. Alex snorted without amusement. "I am the detective in the family, remember?" He pointed to the bloodstained knobs on the sink, and David said some words he probably shouldn't have. </p><p></p><p>The boy started looking intensely uncomfortable again. "I, uh, banged two of their heads together." "So there were two of them." "Uh, yeah, you see it was sort of, that is, I mean..." "David, we both know you are avoiding saying something. Just say it." For once David didn't bridle at Alex's bluntness, and did as he was told... in a small voice. </p><p></p><p>"There were six of them." </p><p></p><p>"Six." "Yeah..." then he added, "Not all at once!" as if this were an extenuating point in his favor. "Were they all armed?" "Yeah." "Any guns?" "One of them. I, uh, threw one of the other guys into him before he could draw it." "I see." Another silence followed. </p><p></p><p>David filled it with more nervous explanations - a little more unabridged, this time. "We weren't looking for trouble, Dad. It was by this alley..." He described the location, and Alex recognized it - an alley notorious for violent crime that he'd cleaned out of lowlives himself several times. He mentioned the notoriety, only to be met with a blank, "I didn't know." </p><p></p><p>At any rate, David had taken the knife from the erstwhile rapist (breaking his arm in the process), while one of his buddies got in the slash on his shoulder. After that, nobody managed to touch him, save for a few whacks with a stick he got from one of them. "He was pretty good," he added nonchalantly. </p><p></p><p>"David, where did you learn to fight like that?" "I dunno. Roughhousing with the guys, I guess." Having been in more than a few spats himself, Alex did not find that theory too believable. </p><p></p><p>"The two whose heads you knocked together... There was a lot of blood?" David said in a small voice, "Yeah." "Are they still alive?" "...I dunno." "How do you feel about that?" "Weird." "I do not blame you." Silence again prevailed. This time, it was Alex who broke it: </p><p></p><p>"I killed a man tonight." He NEVER talked about the Shadow's doings with David. Never. David went tense with shock. "I did not want to kill him." </p><p></p><p>The boy looked away first. "It was too EASY, Dad! It shouldn't be like that... so easy." (A memory: David getting ready to try out for the track team while his father timed him. Upon hearing the time, he showed shocked pleasure, then uneasiness. "It's too easy..." He never did join the track team...) </p><p></p><p>Alex's face twitched - a rare sign of loss of control. "Killing should never be easy," he said, and the two reflected soberly on that. David asked hesitantly, "Have you ever... you know. Done it by accident?" "No. I am very deliberate in what I do."</p><p></p><p>David shook his head and repeated, "It was too easy," looking like a little lost boy for once. </p><p></p><p>The father in Alex instinctively knew what to do. He hugged his son tightly - noticing that the hug he eventually got in return was curiously gentle, as if David were suddenly afraid of his own strength. </p><p></p><p>Alex was still struggling to retain emotional control when they parted. Abruptly a new thought occurred to him. "How is Twyla?" "She's all right. None of them touched her." "So she is all right, but is she <em>all right</em>?" David took his meaning and said uncomfortably, "I dunno." "What does she think of... what you did?" David bit his lip and repeated, "I dunno." Alex twitched again. </p><p></p><p>Suddenly he asked, "David, why are you standing like that?" David blinked and shifted in surprise. "Like what?" "You dropped into a fighting stance just now." "I did?" He visibly tried to regain the position, looking, well, like a gangly inexperienced seventeen year old trying to mimic a fighting stance and failing - comic, if it weren't so dead serious. "Like this," he demonstrated. David immediately fell into a matching stance, poised on the balls of his feet, clearly surprising even himself. Alex sighed. As if their lives weren't difficult enough. </p><p></p><p>"Well," David said too brightly, "I'd better get back to bed." "Yes," Alex agreed wearily. "G'night, Dad..." </p><p></p><p>"I love you, son." </p><p></p><p>"Love you too, Dad."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 1370640, member: 16760"] Alex stalked down the stairwell and dropped his hat on the knob at once. (No doubt a sign of his upset, as he usually takes it off only when he leaves for the night.) Carlos spun around in his chair and took in the look on his face. He got up to help Alex off with his bulletproof vest. "So, uh, do you want to talk about it, sir?" Alex did not respond at once. He got off the vest and his cloak, and hung them neatly on their hooks. Then he sat in a chair and stared off into space. Carlos, knowing his moods, wisely kept silence. "How much did you hear?" he finally inquired. "Most of it." "Ah." Longer silence. Then: "I did not want to kill him." Carlos sat down. "Do you want my assessment of what happened?" "Very well." "I think you got caught up in your own image - invisible, untouchable. You let hubris get the better of you for a moment. It happens to the best of us, sir." No response except a minute sigh. Hesitantly, Carlos went on, "I see a good man sitting there..." Alex finally looked at him and said with quiet firmness, "No, Carlos. I am not a good man. I do what I do because I must. Not because I think it right." "You're not working to make the world a better place?" "A cleaner place, perhaps..." He snorted. "I am scarcely Mother Teresa." "Well, no," Carlos replied uncomfortably. (Over the previous year, he'd been returning to his Catholic roots and getting moderately devout.) "But then I guess Mother Teresa wouldn't do very well in your position either..." He changed the subject. "I did some checking up on El Bandito and the Red Shivs that may help us figure out what to do next." "Very well, let's hear it." The boy dutifully reported on some rather old violent crimes believed to have been committed by his erstwhile namesake - beating rivals to death and the like. Alex looked at him, having picked up on the fact that he was being cheered up. "You found this in the time since I left the Hangout?" "Yessir." "While the smart thing to do, it was also a kind thing to do." Carlos looked intensely nervous for a moment. "What do you mean, sir?" "Never mind. Who is likely to succeed El Bandito?" It developed that in Carlos' expert opinion, three successors were likely. "There's Julio, his right-hand man. He's basically Carlos' protege. He's likely to follow through on everything Carlos was doing. Then there's Mario, the guy in charge of pimping. They didn't get along. And finally Maria, Carlos' ex-girlfriend, more or less." Alex frowned. "I did not have the impression that the Red Shivs were the kind to take direction from a woman." Carlos shrugged. "I don't know who she'd pick to use as her figurehead, but she'd be the one really in charge." "It occurs to me that the successor, whoever it is, will be needing to make some decisions about the black cars very quickly." "Well, the whole thing will probably take a week to shake out at least, sir." Alex replied sardonically, "I imagine one of Julio or Mario will be dead before the week is out." "Probably," Carlos said matter-of-factly, "If not, the Red Shivs will probably splinter." Alex had a sudden thought. "Did I just start a gang war between the Shivs and the Angels? Given that Carlos died just minutes after being threatened by them." "It honestly depends on who succeeds El Bandito, sir, and what their goals are. It would be easy to start a war if they want to. I'd guess that Mario would go after them, while Julio would pin the whole thing on you. I have no idea what Maria would do." "Will the price on my head go out on the street, do you think?" "Again, it depends. Mario despised Carlos and will likely oppose anything he was in favor of. Julio, on the other hand, got where he is by not making waves (the last protege met a sudden end by making them...) and working to keep El Bandito happy. ... Honestly, sir, we want Mario to win." Alex sighed a world-weary sigh. "I suppose I can arrange that if I work at it. What I would really like is for nobody to 'win'... but I suppose that's too much to ask for." Coming to a decision, he announced, "Carlos, I want you to be careful." The young man looked faintly puzzled. "I'm always careful, sir, don't worry..." Alex gave him a look. "Have you forgotten? You are one of my principal 'collaborators', as El Bandito so gently put it." The look on Carlos' face would have been priceless in a less serious situation. Plainly he HAD forgotten. Visibly flustered, he got out, "Er, yeah, I guess I did, sir." Alex added with quiet intensity, "I don't want anything to happen to you." The boy ducked his head, pleased, but unsure of what to say. Alex filled the short silence with, "I also want you to get word out to Maria and others of the network that there may be danger in the upcoming weeks." "OK... Who else?" "I've already spoken to Harvey. They and Doc Griswold are the most likely targets. And you might say a word to the 'fan club.'" Carlos snorted with wry contempt. "Even Ricky?" Alex weighed it. "I suppose he might go off and do something stupid, now that you mention it." "Honestly, sir, their connection is remote enough that they probably aren't in danger. Not enough people take Ricky seriously enough to think he's actually tied to you." "Very well." "And Carlos..." "Yessir?" "If you were thinking of seeking out the men with suitcases... Don't." That one syllable was freighted with ominous finality. Busted! The boy suddenly found the table intensely interesting. Alex continued, "If you happen to come across one, by all means get a good look at the suitcase and tell me what you notice. But do not show undue interest and do NOT attempt to follow them under any circumstances. Understood?" He waited until he got a meek "Yessir," in reply. Disaster averted, Alex thought. Alex glanced at the clock. It was quite late - early, rather. Carlos followed his eyes and said, "Hadn't you better be getting home and to bed, sir?" (Saying nothing, to be sure, of his own sleep schedule!) Alex snorted. "Yes, mother." It took Carlos a moment to decide that was a joke, and therefore safe. Then he grinned. "And be sure to button up, it's chilly out!" Alex grinned despite himself as he rose to his feet. "What did I ever do before you, Carlos?" He got the impudent reply, "Bumbled along like usual, sir - just not as well." "Just so. ... I'm glad you're here." He gripped the startled Carlos' shoulder a moment, then went up the stairs. Once home, he performed his nightly ritual of looking in on his son. But instead of reassurance, he found this night only a new worry... David was sleeping on his belly, the covers in disarray... with a stained bandage about his left shoulder. Alex froze for a long moment. Then he entered the room, got a closer look (the stains were brownish, like curiously old blood), and retrieved David's clothes from the chair he knew they'd be on. Taking them out of the room to look at in the light, he found no obvious bloodstains... but the shirt was conspicuously missing. Sensing movement behind him, he whirled only to find his sleepy-eyed son confidently holding a baseball bat. "Oh! Uh, hi, Dad..." Plainly he was expecting a prowler. Alex asked in conspicuously emotionless tones, "Hello, son. How did you come by the bandage?" "Oh, uh, a guy knifed me." (Trying to say it casually - no big deal, Dad, just a Friday knifing - and not quite making it.) "A guy. Knifed you." Acutely uncomfortable, David said, "Uh, yeah." "You do not seem very bothered by this." Playing for sympathy, David made a misstep: "Well, you know, after being kidnapped and worked over by goons last year, it doesn't seem that bad. Just a scratch..." Uncharacteristically, his father turned his back on him, putting an abrupt end to the conversation. He strode into the bathroom and leaned on the counter, struggling to collect himself. David trailed behind sans bat, getting nervous. The boy offered, "The movie was longer than we thought so we decided not to watch another one and go for a walk instead." Silence. "The rest of the gang eventually went home, so Twyla and I started heading back to her place." Silence. "This guy with a knife said she was going to come with him. I said she was with me, and he slashed at me. Got me the once before I took it away from him." Silence. David plainly took this for an ominous sign, getting more nervous as his recital went on. Alex abruptly cut in. "Let me have a look at that shoulder." David submitted meekly to his father's ministrations with visible relief. The cut was shallow - too shallow for the amount of dry blood on the bandage. "How deep was it at the time?" "I don't know! Deep enough to need a bandage." Alex sighed. More evidence of David's healing powers. "Were you hurt anywhere else?" "Just some bruises." "How did you get the blood on your hands?" For the second time that evening, a young man gave him a flabbergasted look worth framing if it'd been a less serious situation. He stuttered, "H-how did you know?!" while displaying his clean hands. Alex snorted without amusement. "I am the detective in the family, remember?" He pointed to the bloodstained knobs on the sink, and David said some words he probably shouldn't have. The boy started looking intensely uncomfortable again. "I, uh, banged two of their heads together." "So there were two of them." "Uh, yeah, you see it was sort of, that is, I mean..." "David, we both know you are avoiding saying something. Just say it." For once David didn't bridle at Alex's bluntness, and did as he was told... in a small voice. "There were six of them." "Six." "Yeah..." then he added, "Not all at once!" as if this were an extenuating point in his favor. "Were they all armed?" "Yeah." "Any guns?" "One of them. I, uh, threw one of the other guys into him before he could draw it." "I see." Another silence followed. David filled it with more nervous explanations - a little more unabridged, this time. "We weren't looking for trouble, Dad. It was by this alley..." He described the location, and Alex recognized it - an alley notorious for violent crime that he'd cleaned out of lowlives himself several times. He mentioned the notoriety, only to be met with a blank, "I didn't know." At any rate, David had taken the knife from the erstwhile rapist (breaking his arm in the process), while one of his buddies got in the slash on his shoulder. After that, nobody managed to touch him, save for a few whacks with a stick he got from one of them. "He was pretty good," he added nonchalantly. "David, where did you learn to fight like that?" "I dunno. Roughhousing with the guys, I guess." Having been in more than a few spats himself, Alex did not find that theory too believable. "The two whose heads you knocked together... There was a lot of blood?" David said in a small voice, "Yeah." "Are they still alive?" "...I dunno." "How do you feel about that?" "Weird." "I do not blame you." Silence again prevailed. This time, it was Alex who broke it: "I killed a man tonight." He NEVER talked about the Shadow's doings with David. Never. David went tense with shock. "I did not want to kill him." The boy looked away first. "It was too EASY, Dad! It shouldn't be like that... so easy." (A memory: David getting ready to try out for the track team while his father timed him. Upon hearing the time, he showed shocked pleasure, then uneasiness. "It's too easy..." He never did join the track team...) Alex's face twitched - a rare sign of loss of control. "Killing should never be easy," he said, and the two reflected soberly on that. David asked hesitantly, "Have you ever... you know. Done it by accident?" "No. I am very deliberate in what I do." David shook his head and repeated, "It was too easy," looking like a little lost boy for once. The father in Alex instinctively knew what to do. He hugged his son tightly - noticing that the hug he eventually got in return was curiously gentle, as if David were suddenly afraid of his own strength. Alex was still struggling to retain emotional control when they parted. Abruptly a new thought occurred to him. "How is Twyla?" "She's all right. None of them touched her." "So she is all right, but is she [I]all right[/I]?" David took his meaning and said uncomfortably, "I dunno." "What does she think of... what you did?" David bit his lip and repeated, "I dunno." Alex twitched again. Suddenly he asked, "David, why are you standing like that?" David blinked and shifted in surprise. "Like what?" "You dropped into a fighting stance just now." "I did?" He visibly tried to regain the position, looking, well, like a gangly inexperienced seventeen year old trying to mimic a fighting stance and failing - comic, if it weren't so dead serious. "Like this," he demonstrated. David immediately fell into a matching stance, poised on the balls of his feet, clearly surprising even himself. Alex sighed. As if their lives weren't difficult enough. "Well," David said too brightly, "I'd better get back to bed." "Yes," Alex agreed wearily. "G'night, Dad..." "I love you, son." "Love you too, Dad." [/QUOTE]
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