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The Shadow Knows! (Final Update 6/3/04)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 1534025" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p>[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. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />]</p><p></p><p>[Think of this as a fragment of a "What If?" story set in the Shadow's universe.]</p><p></p><p>Dear Journal:</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>Start with the basics, I guess.</p><p></p><p>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:</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>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-</p><p></p><p>"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."</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p></p><p>...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!"</p><p></p><p>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.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>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...</p><p></p><p><strong><em>You do have a bit of a tendency to wax melodramatic, you know.</em></strong> Carlos' eyes swam a bit, and he whispered, "I know, Dad."</p><p></p><p>"What's that, Runt?" David's voice came tinnily through the commlink. "Nothing, Dave. Pay attention to the bad guys."</p><p></p><p>[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.]</p><p></p><p>[Assuming the campaign hasn't changed totally beyond recognition by that point, which knowing SP, it will have. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" />]</p><p></p><p>[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...]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 1534025, member: 16760"] [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... [b][i]You do have a bit of a tendency to wax melodramatic, you know.[/i][/b] 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...] [/QUOTE]
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