Vacation Day (for Myra)

[evillurks]

The appointment has been set for very early in the morning, a reminder that he keeps all hours, not just the late ones. The coordinates he's sent Myra land her somewhere that the very first and overwhelming impression is one of fog. In her day and age, only a daring pilot would dream of taking off in it, but this is a modern airport with a very small, if often unmanned control tower, from which it's already clear this is simply a low-lying and temporary blanket of mist that will burn off quickly once the sun is truly up. Already a watery light is filtering through.
The building at her back is a shabby hangar, and is no different from any she's seen in her own time, if just a little more weathered. On a private airfield, not much changes but the planes.

The Shadow, dressed in a button-down shirt, light jacket, and jeans, is holding two thermoses. It should be easy to guess the contents, but he looks fairly alert already. "Morning." He has either slept a little better, or is simply covering for it well. Possibly there is some combination of the two.

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[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra herself appears in a pair of jeans and a shirt, bloused so that it isn't tight against her small figure. Even so, it's a particularly close attempt at a modest 70s style. She's had to guess at an appropriate era, so she's done what she can. She carries with her a small day-pack slung over one shoulder that looks about half-filled, and light. Her small boots clomp clomp on the pavement as she walks up to the Shadow in the fog, her eyes bright. She's very much awake herself and smiling.

"Morning, Captain."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

She's roughly a decade short, but some looks are simply classics. They more or less match in style, and aren't likely to encounter many people today regardless.
The Shadow gives a laugh that rolls and echoes off the tin side of the hangar and into the mist. It's been a very long time since anyone called him that. "Welcome to Jersey. We're not too long of a drive from the Cranston Estate." He is leaving out the detail that the Cranston Estate is more or less abandoned these days, and he will make no mention of the turnpike. The information should let her know that this is a place she has been near before, however, provided the adventure involving the Golden Pagoda has passed. This small airfield sits close to Newark, and has long been a convenient spot to store his aircraft.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra glances back at the old hangar and then looks around. Bringing her sight back to the Shadow she smiles. It's almost awkward seeing him in jeans, if only because she's never seen him dressed the way he is before. Not to say that it's a bad look, it's just, not her Shadow.

"Jersey. Looks the same. Still foggy as ever." She gives a small laugh that doesn't echo off of anything, in the fog it dies quickly. "Is that what I think it is?" She motions to the thermoses as she shifts the pack so its now over both shoulders.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

Jeans are a rarity for him, even in this era, but he has moved with the times somewhat. It might reassure her slightly to know this is his only pair. He pushes away from the hangar wall with care, still favoring his shoulder a little, and hands over a thermos. "I thought you might appreciate it since I called on you at such an early hour. Are you ready?"

He barely waits for her answer before he begins to move at an easy pace through the fog. "You... probably haven't seen one quite like this, but the early models aren't far off for you."
Dim through the fog sits a small plane, facing out from the hangar and free of blocks. He has already been here for at least half an hour, making the usual preflight inspection that is so often passed up when it's used for a mission. It seemed a good idea, since he wasn't in a hurry for once, but it also seemed polite not to make her wait through it.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"Of course." She walks up to the plane, giving it a quick, curious inspection. Indeed it looked similar to the model of plane she knew. "So, am I allowed to know the flight plan? Or do I have to remain in the dark on this 'mission'?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"The map's in the cockpit." He gives a mild shrug, and does his best to stifle the accompanying wince, although the wound has reached a stage where he's no longer reminded of it until he makes some inadvisable movement. "Just upstate New York. There's still some wilderness left." There is less, perhaps, than there was, but he hardly expects that to come as a surprise.
Out of gentlemanly instinct he offers her a hand up to step into the plane, which is neat and clean, save for the mapbook and a pack strapped against the back of the pilot seat. The plane is used less often than he'd like to use it, but well maintained.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"Thank you." Myra accepts the hand and works her way up to the cockpit, sitting in the co-pilot's seat and strapping her bag to the back of the seat as well. She picks up the map and very quickly starts to inspect it for landmarks and also, updating herself in case something were to happen and the plane took an unexpected landing.

Standard worst-case-scenario work that was automatically ingrained in her mind, even though she was certain The Shadow would be far more prepared for such a situation if it were to arise.

"Not too much change, from what I can tell. Once we're in the air I'll probably change that assessment, though."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

Once the door is shut he comes around to take the pilot's seat, and worries briefly about what she might see on the map, but as he has brought her here there are some things he knew could not be avoided. Having considered things long and hard, it has occurred to The Shadow that she will likely be drawn to visit his world sooner or later, and it will most likely be in the midst of a crisis. This way she'll have a more pleasant memory beforehand, and perhaps a hint or two on the workings of modern things before she's thrust into something ugly.
He is unlikely to share that motivation with her, but it is a factor that lies behind the trip.

"It's... more built up. I expected you to anticipate that anyway. Where we're headed hasn't changed much." Strapped in, he starts the propellers and checks flaps, and leans forward to peer through the fog as the roll slowly forward and along faintly visible painted lines to the runway proper. A faint static crackles on the radio, but this piece of airfield is used only by private pilots, and there's little in the way of air traffic control.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

After recent events, such considerations are completely reasonable in Myra's mind, and she's trying to take in as much as she can, without overwhelming herself. At the same time, it's a new place of sorts, and she is trying to have fun.

"I haven't seen much of Upstate from overhead, so whatever I see I really only have my experiences on terra firma to compare to. Most of my trips are between San Francisco and New York." She goes quiet now, listening to the thrum of engines and watching the foggy runway in earnest. It's almost as if the plane is taxiing in a dreamworld, and she's mesmerized as the Shadow jockeys around the runway, preparing to take off. How he's going to take off in the minimal visibility is beyond her, but she trusts his skills, and is not afraid.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

A long-standing familiarity with the airport is of immense help in the fog, and he has already been up in the tower this morning. There are a handful of people around, despite the sense of desolation, and as they line up between lights that blink faintly in the fog and pause there, a voice comes suddenly through the static.
"That you, Raptor?"
The Shadow answers calmly, making a last check across the gauges of the plane. "Lined up and ready, Roger." It's not 'Black Eagle', but there's very few people who'd connect a man that appears to be around Seventy with the would-be-Ninety-something Kent Allard.
"You're clear, all empty this morning. Full visibility at one-hundred."
Invisible to the man in the tower, The Shadow nonetheless gives a mild nod, and click a few switches. The purr of the engines increases to a roar, and they roll forward with rapidly increasing speed. A small plane, it does not take much runway to get airborne, and then they're climbing at a fairly gentle angle of attack.

Thick white air swirls around the plane, too dense to see anything through, and then in a matter of seconds the world is a brighter place. The tips of trees show as dark spots in a blanket of white below.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra listens quietly, and lets the Shadow take the plane up above the fog before she speaks. She squints as they break through the fog and she smiles broadly as she leans to look out of the window down at the scene below. Her stomach drops at the height, but it's a novel sensation and she welcomes it.

"The famous 'Black Eagle' is 'Raptor' now?" She speaks while she watches the ground pass by; she's not making fun of the name, merely stating her observation. She realizes, especially since he didn't show up as Allard today, that he would have been unlikely to use the call-sign anyways.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

After a brief word to the tower, he clicks the radio off. "On the ground, they mostly know me as James Rettigue." They still believe him to be a war veteran, but of a different war, and he's hardly about to go into that. A mild frown crosses his features, although the plane continues to climb gently. "The trouble with aging a little too well is that the older aliases are... outliving their usefulness."

The fog is very low, and lies in pockets between hills and trees. As they climb she can see hills that rise up out of it, clear and quiet in the early morning. The more distant terrain has a very misty look, but somewhere off in the distance are mountains, a muddy sort of green and deceptively small from the air.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"I would imagine. That's, quite an inconvenience now that I consider it more carefully." She looks out of the front window now, watching the approaching scenery with wide, excited eyes. "So, you mentioned you did some flying during your so called retirement. Where did you go?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"One of a few, but yes..." He murmurs, banking slowly to turn them toward the more distant catskills, too far off to be more than a dark blue line on the horizon.
"All over. I didn't just fly, I took cruises, safari trips... anything to keep myself busy. keep moving. After a while it was more grueling than my work has ever been. But I did take a long trip West and back."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"Really..." She cracked open her thermos and took a small sip. "Visit old haunts? Explore new places you'd considered at one point or another?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"Mostly exploring. I was trying to avoid nostalgia. There's some beautiful country to fly over, and it's nice to land near a small town and be anonymous without even trying." He gives the faintest of sighs, suffering a brief fit of nostalgia for that portion of his retirement, but having done that trip the once, a second time somehow lacks the same allure.
"I should make myself do this, though, maybe once a year. Your head feels clearer up here... and I don't mean from your ears popping." He flashes Myra a brief smile.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"That's why this is called a vacation." Myra grins back at his smile. "Day trips like this are severely under rated, I think." She stretches in her chair, finding a comfortable position and taking another sip from the thermos. "By the way, I don't think I ever properly thanked you for inviting me along."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome. I'm not used to... socializing, but it's nice to talk to someone as myself instead of as an alias." The Nexus has introduced him to that pleasure, and he's still adjusting to the idea. "I also knew if I made myself obligated to take someone along at a specific date and time, I wouldn't put it off for work..."
That may be slightly unflattering, but tact is not his natural forté.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"At least you know yourself well enough to realize that." She nodded. "Most people can't discipline themselves even for a vacation. I definitely rank among that majority." Her cheeks faintly glowed the slightest shade of red at the admission.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"Self discipline is, by definition, difficult." The Shadow's calm air of self-control is striking precisely because he does not come by it without effort.

As the plane begins to level out, his pose in the pilot seat grows more relaxed and he puts the thermos between his knees to unscrew the cap. "I can't promise not to bring up something about work today, though." After all, he has little else in his life.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"It's hard to talk of anything else." Myra screwed the cap onto her thermos and then unscrewed it. At least it was a silent fidgeting, unlike tapping her nail on a cup. "My dinners with Lamont are hardly more than a casual business meetings. There just isn't much else to talk about. Besides tea, I don't do much outside of work myself."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"I assume you mean my alternate in the role of Cranston, rather than the actual Cranston? I do remember those dinners, though." He takes a long swallow of coffee, one eye on the surrounding air, before screwing the cap back on. He has kept a light hand on the controls throughout. "I'd ask if I've changed much, but I still can't be sure how close an alternate he is. He sounds like me."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"I did have a dinner with the actual Cranston once. The Shadow couldn't make it, so he stepped in. I let him regale me with tales of his adventures, but I really couldn't talk about much, so I just listened." Myra gave a half-hearted shrug. "As the Shadow, you're honestly very close matches, from my experience."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The Shadow smirks in private amusement, but does not quite laugh. Cranston's adventures have always paled somewhat in comparison to his own. "We're not as interchangeable as he might have liked to think."
He tilts the controls, letting the plane climb a little higher. There's more air traffic than there once was, and he has to adjust his altitude to avoid becoming a nuisance to commercial flights. "Have I mellowed, then? And is that good or bad?" It's nagged at him ever since Vincent said it.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra laughs gently at his question.

"Well, most of my time spent with you has been doing our usual work. I wouldn't say mellowed, but you're definitely a better conversationalist. My Shadow, if he's not filling the role as Cranston, I hardly get more than a 'Report!' out of him. Talking to him as Allard or any other guise is just about impossible."