Nexus 100 Orange
May. 28th, 2009 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
evillurksTitle: Old Tiger
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (older), unnamed criminal, unnamed others
Prompt: 012 Orange
Word Count: 693
Rating: PG
Summary: Brief mini-story set in Chinatown
Author's Notes: By far the longest I’ve written thus far, and I thought about cutting out the beginning, but was convinced not to by my beta reader. I owe the idea for this prompt very directly to Myra’s player.
Chinatown was changed by the decades, scattered with neon and the occasional fast food venue. Despite the altered scenery, The Shadow entered the area with a sense of homecoming. His quarry had chosen poorly in fleeing here. Seeking to lose the silent pursuer, the young man fled down twisting alleys in a panic. He never guessed that The Shadow knew every one by heart. For a long moment the criminal paused by a dumpster, catching his breath while his eyes probed every dark corner. He was alone, and sure of it, while the flickering light of nearby signs shrank all hiding places but his own.
In confidence he slid out onto the street, fingers loosening on the gun in his pocket. Within three steps his gaze caught and held on a dark shape just detached from cover across the street. The burning eyes there seemed to squeeze his heart. The Shadow had taken a path to cut him off and had been waiting.
Fear seized the criminal, but the adrenaline released him from that gaze into desperate flight. Heedless of the peaceful locals going about their business, he tore up the street and ducked around a stand closing up for the night. He sought cover in the first store there, a tea shop with a handful of late patrons. The bell on the door jangled angrily to announce his entrance, and a glance back showed the figure in black moving smoothly towards the shop, in plain view.
Hostages struck the man’s frenzied brain as the way to seize the upper hand, and he drew the gun as he ran for an elderly woman by a back counter. A leap carried him to her side as the door opened again, the bell tinkling softly this time under a gentler hand.
Narrowed gazes shifted between the heavily breathing rowdy and the tall shape just inside the shop. Patrons and employees alike made a frozen audience, leaving the two players the only motion in the shop.
“I’ll kill her. You stay put, stay right… there.” Arm locked around the slight figure of the woman, he panted between his threats. “I’m heading out the back, and you’re going to stay right there, or I’ll let her have it.”
Motions fluid and slow, The Shadow raised gloved hands, empty. From beneath the hat brim, sharp blue eyes showed, surrounded thickly by lines of age. As gently as the motion of his hands, the eyes settled first on those of the older Chinese woman, then very pointedly to the space behind the young man with the gun.
Attention locked on The Shadow, the criminal did not miss this silent signal, and made a half-turn to look for whatever threat was indicated behind him. In that brief moment, a sharp elbow stabbed below his ribs. His grip was loosened by the blow.
Smiling serenely, the old woman made a slight duck away.
These movements happened in an instant, but that space of time was enough for The Shadow. Before the young man could recover his aim a single bullet knocked the gun from his hand. The dark shape flowed across the intervening space to catch his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. Rope was generously supplied by an employee, and black-gloved hands made quick work of binding the young man into utter helplessness.
Still smiling, the woman bowed her thanks and murmured the name on every other mind in the shop. “Ying Ko.”
Awestruck, her grandson came to stand beside her, watching the dark figure telescope to full height from beside the stunned criminal. He had heard the tales of this shadowy fighter from his own grandmother’s youth. Awkwardly, but in fluent English, he stammered at the intense blue gaze. “Thank you, Ying Ko. You are… truly as powerful as ever.”
The old woman grinned and pointed to a partitioning screen, the silk painted with a figure in brilliant orange and black. “It is the old tiger who is strongest, most cunning.”
His lower face was concealed, but the lines about The Shadow’s eyes told of a smile. He slipped behind the painted screen in silence, and was gone.
Fandom: The Shadow
Characters: The Shadow (older), unnamed criminal, unnamed others
Prompt: 012 Orange
Word Count: 693
Rating: PG
Summary: Brief mini-story set in Chinatown
Author's Notes: By far the longest I’ve written thus far, and I thought about cutting out the beginning, but was convinced not to by my beta reader. I owe the idea for this prompt very directly to Myra’s player.
Chinatown was changed by the decades, scattered with neon and the occasional fast food venue. Despite the altered scenery, The Shadow entered the area with a sense of homecoming. His quarry had chosen poorly in fleeing here. Seeking to lose the silent pursuer, the young man fled down twisting alleys in a panic. He never guessed that The Shadow knew every one by heart. For a long moment the criminal paused by a dumpster, catching his breath while his eyes probed every dark corner. He was alone, and sure of it, while the flickering light of nearby signs shrank all hiding places but his own.
In confidence he slid out onto the street, fingers loosening on the gun in his pocket. Within three steps his gaze caught and held on a dark shape just detached from cover across the street. The burning eyes there seemed to squeeze his heart. The Shadow had taken a path to cut him off and had been waiting.
Fear seized the criminal, but the adrenaline released him from that gaze into desperate flight. Heedless of the peaceful locals going about their business, he tore up the street and ducked around a stand closing up for the night. He sought cover in the first store there, a tea shop with a handful of late patrons. The bell on the door jangled angrily to announce his entrance, and a glance back showed the figure in black moving smoothly towards the shop, in plain view.
Hostages struck the man’s frenzied brain as the way to seize the upper hand, and he drew the gun as he ran for an elderly woman by a back counter. A leap carried him to her side as the door opened again, the bell tinkling softly this time under a gentler hand.
Narrowed gazes shifted between the heavily breathing rowdy and the tall shape just inside the shop. Patrons and employees alike made a frozen audience, leaving the two players the only motion in the shop.
“I’ll kill her. You stay put, stay right… there.” Arm locked around the slight figure of the woman, he panted between his threats. “I’m heading out the back, and you’re going to stay right there, or I’ll let her have it.”
Motions fluid and slow, The Shadow raised gloved hands, empty. From beneath the hat brim, sharp blue eyes showed, surrounded thickly by lines of age. As gently as the motion of his hands, the eyes settled first on those of the older Chinese woman, then very pointedly to the space behind the young man with the gun.
Attention locked on The Shadow, the criminal did not miss this silent signal, and made a half-turn to look for whatever threat was indicated behind him. In that brief moment, a sharp elbow stabbed below his ribs. His grip was loosened by the blow.
Smiling serenely, the old woman made a slight duck away.
These movements happened in an instant, but that space of time was enough for The Shadow. Before the young man could recover his aim a single bullet knocked the gun from his hand. The dark shape flowed across the intervening space to catch his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back. Rope was generously supplied by an employee, and black-gloved hands made quick work of binding the young man into utter helplessness.
Still smiling, the woman bowed her thanks and murmured the name on every other mind in the shop. “Ying Ko.”
Awestruck, her grandson came to stand beside her, watching the dark figure telescope to full height from beside the stunned criminal. He had heard the tales of this shadowy fighter from his own grandmother’s youth. Awkwardly, but in fluent English, he stammered at the intense blue gaze. “Thank you, Ying Ko. You are… truly as powerful as ever.”
The old woman grinned and pointed to a partitioning screen, the silk painted with a figure in brilliant orange and black. “It is the old tiger who is strongest, most cunning.”
His lower face was concealed, but the lines about The Shadow’s eyes told of a smile. He slipped behind the painted screen in silence, and was gone.