evillurks | Vacation Day (for Myra)

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Current Location: Private airfield, New Jersey

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Vacation Day (for Myra)

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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"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."

"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."

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 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."

"It's... a recent development, really. The Nexus encourages conversation, but I've never been good at it outside of my work." He makes a subtle shift to their course, at ease in the pilot's seat with the long fingers of one hand playing silently on the thermos cap. "And if I am more patient, that's probably a natural result of age. Priorities... change." His tone is as relaxed as his pose, contemplative in the peace of the morning air.

"All good things, in my opinion. Adaptation is a sign of wisdom gained; or at least, that's what my Father is always saying." Myra takes note of the relaxed posture of the Shadow and smiles, mostly to herself. She's never seen him honestly relaxed, and if anything, it's made him seem more human, and she finds herself more calm as a result.

"Thinking of the Nexus and its encouragements, who else have you found yourself talking to? Anyone besides the obvious?"

"Adaptation is just the alternative to stagnation." He shrugs lightly, a move which results in a wince as it reminds him of the bullet wound. At the least it is painless enough for him to forget it exists until he moves wrong. There is something about the pilot's seat that is so familiar it makes him at home, even if he did first learn to fly in an open cockpit with the wind blowing oil in his face.

"A lot of youngsters." The moment the words escape him, he gives a grimace. "I meant that without the bias of my own age. I've met some kids still in college, or at the age for it, but trying to fight crime in costume on the side. It's a little unnerving, I didn't start at that age. It's reassuring to see so many vigilantes around the place, though."

"I agree. Many of them are young, but there are quite a few of them. I don't know how they manage their flavor of double lives, but a few of them seem to have a reasonable handle on it." Myra smiles, aware of the irony of her own words. "It's one thing to assume an identity, but a whole different ball of wax to try and grow up in both of them."

"Hmmm. I seem to be in the minority for not trying to keep some kind of secret, normal life on the side. I already knew that was the case, but it's driven home by just how many people I've met there that keep double lives." When the truth of the matter is that he has no secret identity, then there's little point in hiding the fact.

Myra shakes her head.

"I guess I could be considered some sort of middle ground, but I really don't do much as Myra besides talk to my parents, and use it as a more secure avenue of communication." She shrugs. "I mean, I used it recently to follow around the errand boys from the alternate world, but that's one of the few times I've ever done that. I guess I'm just not as comfortable in my own skin, as I am as Ming."

He regards her thoughtfully, albeit mostly in his peripheral vision. It's wise to keep half an eye out for air traffic at all times, just in case. The sky is a more populated place than once it was. "I'm in no position to judge, of course. Your approach does seem closer to mine than theirs, however. It seems some of them even try to keep their work a secret from family and friends. It sounds to me like a fast ticket to a nervous breakdown."

"I can understand trying to protect your family and friends, but after a point, keeping that sort of thing secret from them seems more foolhardy than telling them."

"Being a vigilante is inherently dangerous. Friends and family will be at risk, that's almost unavoidable, so it seems unfair not to make them aware of that risk at least. Your family knows what you do for a living, I assume." He unscrews the cap and takes another long swallow of coffee, watching the fuzzy blue line in the horizon.

"Of course. My Father nearly died when he found out the Bureau accepted me. He would have called in a favor to get me rejected if my Mother hadn't calmed him down." She grins wryly at the memory, it had been a trying time for her and her Father, but they had made it through. She sips the coffee and looks out of the window as well. "Now, he keeps me updated on events over in China. He has a nearly unparalleled inside scoop on the situation over there, and it gives him an excuse to write to me often."

Her story makes him smile faintly, a slightly nostalgic expression. If the Myra of his own world ever told him about the struggle with her parents over joining the Bureau, it was a very long time ago indeed, and even The Shadow can't remember everything. "It sounds like it turned out well. They ought to be proud."

"Thank you." Was she blushing? Myra prayed that she wasn't; so few people gave her compliments of that caliber, she honestly hadn't been expecting it. Coming from the Shadow only tripled the effect of it as well. She hid her face in her thermos as she sipped at the coffee, just in case she'd been unsuccessful at hiding the faint coloring of her cheeks.

Unfortunately for Myra, those sharp blue eyes take in nearly everything but small print, and he catches the attempt at hiding and then the reason for it. Because he is neither tactful nor empathetic, The Shadow laughs. The sound echoes and rolls in the cabin of the small craft.
"I'm sorry, should I insult you instead?"

Myra comes out of 'hiding' at the sound of his laughter, the red coloring is gone from her face. It wasn't his mirthful laugh, but she still enjoyed it. It was one of her favorite trademarks.

"I prefer the compliments." She quips back with an amused look. "Even if they do go to my head a bit quickly."

"I'll use them sparingly." He smiles. "Who do you talk to in the Nexus?" Always working, he wants to know what sort of alliances she's formed in part because he might someday need to make use of them. Creating some sort of network in the Nexus seems inevitable.

"I have passing acquaintances with a handful of people. A couple heroes, a few villains even." Myra smiles slyly as she watches the horizon. "I've only seen fit to exchange contact information with two people so far, but their skills are still questionable. One of them is a new axquaintance, and the other has a curse that turns him into a loose cannon."

"I've met a few suspicious characters, too, but in those cases I usually try to avoid asking. I know myself. It would be all too easy to carry my policing tendencies across dimensions. Ah, barring the recent incident." He is doubly aware that having made an exception once already, it will be all too easy to do so again in the future.
"What kind of curse?"

"John Blaze? I believe I mentioned him in passing at one point. He's possessed by a demon of Vengeance." Myra shrugs. "It's a curious situation that I'm still investigating. It seems to be both a symbiotic and parasitic relationship." Myra shakes her head as she watches a few of the dials in the cockpit. "As a stunt rider, I imagine Johnny could be useful, but I'm not so certain about the demon, Zarathos. I haven't met them away from the AVF in the Nexus, so I can't say how much or how little John can actually police the demon."

"Otherwise, I haven't made any significant contacts as of yet. I'm still in the process of getting my feet wet."

"I think you did. Having fought one demon already, I'm not in a hurry to meet another, but... if he could be trusted he'd make a powerful ally." He frowns thoughtfully. "You know Green and Crumrin, now, and there's Allen. But I'm not recruiting, of course." His tone and the sideways glance make it clear that he knows what a joke that protest has become.

Myra gives an amused glance at his statement.

"Of course, but then, you cheated on that issue when I arrived."

The Shadow watches the sky, but while the rest of his face remains impassive, the lines about his eyes and particularly at the corners are deeply creased. His truest smiles tend to show there, where no scarf can conceal them. "Technically that's not true, I recruited you decades ago, it was merely resumed."

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