From:
"Dave Menard" <deibu_kun@sympatico.ca> | Block address
To:
"FFML POSTING" <ffml@fanfic.com>
Subject:
[FFML] [Fic][Ranma/x-over] The Shadow Of The Past
Date:
Tue, 12 Sep 2000 08:52:55 -0400
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NERIMA, PRESENT DAY.
It was a particularly drizzly afternoon in Nerima when
Cologne called Shampoo and Mousse into the back room of the
Nekohanten.
The day's custom had been slow, even for a weekday; most
of the commuters and locals had decided to eat their bagged
and boxed lunches rather than brave the miserable conditions
outdoors. Even Shampoo's normally bubbly temperament was
subdued by the grey day, to the point where she had actually
ignored Mousse's come-ons rather than pounding him, as was her
usual wont. Cologne herself had been unusually quiet and grim
for the past few days, a fact that worried her great-
granddaughter quite a bit.
@@Nice opening. A trifle wordy, esp. "as was her usual wont."
The Amazons abroad
Shampoo: "Shampoo not a broad. Not bimboo either."
were seated around the small table in
the kitchen that they usually used for breaks, Cologne's
diminutive frame perched atop a trio of phonebooks.
"<I will be leaving this evening,>" the ancient Amazon
rasped in her native tongue, pausing to take a few slow puffs
on her pipe, watching the burning tobacco in the bowl glow a
warm orange. "<I should not be gone more than a few days; a
week or two at the most.>"
@@ you don't need the < > symbols. Your meaning is
clear w/o them and, IMO, they clutter things up.
"<Is it tribal business, Great-grandmother? I've a letter
for Mother and Father that I haven't mailed yet, if you'll be
going home...> Shampoo inquired politely, desperately hoping
that that was indeed the case; that her beloved Elder was not,
as she suspected, hiding an illness. Mousse cocked an eyebrow
as he busied himself setting steaming cups of strong black tea
in front of his beloved and her ancestress.
@@I found "his beloved and her ancestress."
awkward reading.
"<It is tribal business of a sort, child, but I'm afraid
it won't be taking me back to the village. A very old friend
of mine passed away last week, and I must attend his funeral
in America.>"
@@Ah HA! The set-up. nice.
Shampoo barely restrained her sigh of relief and nodded
in understanding. "<Will we be closing the restaurant, then,
or..?>"
Cologne waved a gnarled hand dismissively. "<Do as you
prefer. You've been working hard lately, the both of you. Take
a vacation, if you wish; I'll be leaving some monies to tide
you two over until I return. As for now, back to work. I must
finish packing.>" And with that, the wizened elder hopped atop
her cane and made her way up the stairs to the dormers,
leaving her young charges to mind the store.
@@Ummm, nit-pick time.
It "feels" funny to me that Cologne would close
the restaurant. Business that do that go out of
business. Also, better to keep them working. Less
time for them to get into trouble.
It may be that you have a plot reason to close.
In that case I'd have a reason . . .perhaps close for
renovation or repair.
Cologne sighed to herself as she slid the door to her
room closed and slumped to the floor, feeling every one of her
hundred-plus years. There was nothing, she reflected, that
reminds a woman of her own mortality like the death of friends
from her youth. Tamping fresh tobacco into the bowl of her
pipe, she made her way over to her jewellery box; not the one
full of magical treasures of the tribe, the ones she let
Shampoo borrow, but her own, personal effects.
@@Good. As a C&C'er it's my duty to nit-pick
so here's another. I find the wording of " not the one. . . .
personal effects," to be just a tiny bit awkward.
Just a "tiny" bit. ^_^
Inside were memories. A pressed lotus blossom wrapped
carefully in rice paper, given to her over seventy years ago
by a young Japanese pervert who had, it seemed, at least one
romantic bone in his body; a wrought golden bracelet bearing a
tiger and a phoenix, her clan's totems, given to her by her
mother-in-law on the occasion of her wedding to her sweet,
quietly handsome Rei-xa, dead these past thirty years. A
favorite pair of jade earrings she had received as a birthday
gift from a long-dead grandparent; a leather thong strung
clumsily with brightly-painted clay beads that a young Shampoo
had made her ten years ago, simply to show her sometimes-
forbidding great-grandmother that she loved her.
Cologne: <wearing thong> "Well, how does it look?"
Mousse: "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
Shampoo: "Next time I'll make her a one-piece."
All were
treasured, pearls beyond price. At the bottom of the carved
cedar box was a false panel. Gingerly, she lifted it,
retrieving the object of her search.
@@Very, very nice. Again, a couple of places
(eg, " . . .young Japanese pervert who had, it seemed, at least . . .)
where it's a little convoluted for my taste. OTOH the imagery is wonderful.
My suggestion would be to play with the wording a little. Not very much.
Mostly a matter of flow and timing.
(I'd change "leather thong". I read that as a bathing suit
the first time through. ^_^ Now _there_ was a scary thought)
It was a gold ring, yellowed with age, bearing a red
rounded crystal cabochon. Quite ordinary and plain, really;
unremarkable when compared to even the plainest item in her
box of memories. It wasn't magical, it wasn't even
particularly beautiful or well-made, either. She knew for a
fact that it was indeed one of hundreds, mass-produced on an
assembly line. Yet the red gem seemed to catch the light,
drawing it into the shadows at the crystal's core so that it
seemed redder than red, a bloody, thick scarlet.
@@I'd drop or change the "redder than red"
Isn't as nice as your other imagery.
"<Oh, Ying-Ko....>" the old woman sighed, clutching the
ring in one tiny hand. "<I never would have dreamed you, of
all people, would die in your sleep.>"
@@Very nice.
*************************************************
Space Pirate Productions Present...
"THE SHADOW OF THE PAST"
By Dave Menard
The Shadow and associated characters copyright Conde-Nast
Publishing (I _think_) Apologies if I am incorrect. Other
characters created by Rumiko Takahashi, and copyright her
designated licensees. This is a work of fanfiction, and no
profit has or ever will be made from it, so obey your local
lawyer leash-laws.
This one's Allyn's fault.
@@HEY! It wasn't me, I wasn't there, it was someone else. I've
got WITNESSES!!!!!!!!!
****************************************************
NEW YORK CITY, SEPTEMBER, 1940
The sleek charcoal-grey sedan slid through the midnight
fog, coming to a halt in the middle of the blocked-off bridge.
Underneath, the East River rolled on, uncaring, as dark deeds
took place.
@@Oh come on. This is the perfect place for some
alliteration::
" . . .uncaring, as dark deeds were done."
" . . .took place." <ugh> how plain vanilla.
This is PULP fiction. Gritty. Darkly flamboyant.
"The East River rolled on, uncaring as a whores step daughter,
while dark deeds bloomed like roses on a corpse."
A beautiful young woman was dragged from the back seat,
her angry yells muffled by her thick gag. She struggled
against her chains, but she had been expertly bound, her legs
imprisoned in now-solidified concrete.
@@Better. But "chains"??? Nah. All the best pulp villains
would use velvet or silk. Or perhaps silver chains. Something classy.
OR, "iron links that cut cruelly into her alabaster skin."
This is PULP. You've got to do them in with STYLE.
And sex. . . .where's the sex? The whole POINT of tying her
up in the first place is because all PULP villains are sexual
deviants. Heck, they'd had a half naked girl bound and gagged
on the front of the magazine even if there wasn't a female within
fifty Li of the story. ^_^
Hmmmm . . .OK, lets see what we can do. (I'm enjoying
myself much-to-much.)
Shampoo: "Shampoo read chapter 6 Sukeban, think you pervert.
Read chapter 9 . . .Shampoo GOOD girl. NEVER do that."
I'm having too much fun. <sigh>.
Silk scarves, soft as an angles kiss and stronger than steel,
were knotted cruelly around the young beauties wrists
and elbows while her stocking cocooned her legs from knees
to ankles. Binding her with her own clothing increased the
humiliation of her capture and deprived her of any weapons
she might have hidden.
She, like her captors,
@@I first read this is "She liked her captors . . ."
NOW we're getting somewhere . ^_^
was Chinese; dressed in a blue
cheongsam embroidered with a tiger and phoenix rampant, a
splash of color in the darkness of Gotham. Her captors were
nattily dressed in sharp American suits and concealing
trenchcoats, snap-brim fedoras hiding their almond-shaped eyes
as they dragged her to the rail of the bridge.
@@Better. Got to have well dressed villains.
but . . .you're leaving out the sexual tension.
We've got bad guys . . .helpless woman . . .
They're going to kill her . . .but it's the principal
of the thing.
A bulky figure, obviously the man in charge, climbed out
of the sedan and strolled leisurely over to the bound girl,
buttoning up his black overcoat against the fall chill.
"<You shouldn't have nosed around where you aren't
welcome, little flower,>" he whispered in his native
Cantonese, stroking a gloved hand down the face of his
captive, who returned his frankly appraising look with a
fierce glare as she snapped at his fingers; a futile gesture
of resistance since the two thugs held her tightly.
@@Much better. Still not perverted enough. But a start.
Fat deviants are good. A homophobic homosexual
is even better. Look at the Maltese Falcon. (Gunsel
is slang for homosexual btw, not gunman)
Good, but you need a lot more perversion and pain.
This is the 1940's. Now in the 1990's they just
shoot you in the back of the head. Or perhaps slice
you apart with a chain saw. :(
Nothing but blood and gore.
Pulp villains has style. They toyed with their
victims. (I blame it on the modern educational system
and microwave ovens.) Everyone wants instant gratification.
And no one reads the classics, de Sade, Massoche. <sigh>
"<Chinatown belongs to me, and I don't need legends from the
old country trashing my operations and freeing my whores. Who
are you working for? The Triads? The Italians? The Irish?>"
@@ I work for Mel Brooks!
The girl barked something through the gag. The man cocked
an eyebrow curiously. "<Very well. I'll remove the gag,
@@Shoot them. Shoot them, shoot them, then question them.
Oh. Very well, just shoot them.
(Sorry, had Mel Brooks flash back)
but if
you scream, no one will hear you; not in this neighborhood,>"
He tugged the gag off, withdrawing his fingers quickly lest
she try again to bite him. "<There now, that's better, isn't
it?>"
The woman spat at the sidewalk at his feet. "<Chu Wan,
you damned lowland fool!>" she hissed in accented Cantonese.
"<I want nothing to do with you! I am on a Blood Hunt! Release
me, or you will feel the wrath of three-thousand years of->"
SLAP!!
@@Ummm, I'd rather "see" the slap. I'm not fond of
sound effects.
"<Wrong answer. Very well, you've had your chance.>" He
replaced the gag, straightened his lapels and turned to make
his way back to the car. Almost as an afterthought, he added:
"<Throw her over the side.>"
@@ "I always forget that part." <looking at rows of bound and gagged
figures lying
beside the bridge>
His men struggled to comply, but their muttered grunts
and curses were silenced by gunshots, as two high-calibre
bullets took off the better parts of their heads, sending
their corpses over the side and their captive slumping to the
sidewalk, unconscious from her head hitting the railing as she
fell.
@@Better. I'm not crazy about "two high-calibre bullets".
Again, don't waste an opportunity to go a little wild.
" . . .the night was shattered by twin thunderbolts
that exploded their heads like a locomotive smashing new
born puppies. Red mist, like a blooming rose, filled the
air as, headless, two bodies tumbled like broken winged
birds over the rail and vanished beneath the black water.
<SNIP>
The laughter seemed to grow louder, sending icy claws
down Chu Wan's back. Before his eyes, a patch of fog
solidified, becoming a swirling ebon cloak draped over a tall,
angular form. The man, or demon, stepped forward, eyes blacker
than night almost hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, twin
nickel-plated automatics gripped in black-gloved hands.
@@Nickel? I thought they were blued? Oh well, minor point.
(I'd give him silver, but perhaps that's too "Lone Ranger?"
Chu Wan screamed and ran, his bowels loosening, only to
collide with a stony fist that appeared from nowhere, knocking
him onto his back. Suddenly, strong hands yanked him to his
feet and slammed him onto the hood of his sedan, denting the
steel of the hood.
"<Don'tkillmepleasedon'tkillme...
OhAncestorssavemePleasedon't killme...>" Chu Wan sobbed, an
acrid-smelling stain spreading across the front of his
tailored trousers.
@@Better. Pleading and groveling before a painful, humiliating
and ironic death is good. But that's why you need MORE villainy
before you do him in. He needs to dig a much deeper hole
before he gets his just desserts.
*I WANT YOU TO GO DOWN TO THE POLICE STATION AND TURN
YOURSELF IN, WAN. I WANT YOU TO CONFESS TO YOUR CRIMES.*
"<I'll do whatever you say, just don't kill me...>"
The dark figure released him. *GO*
Chu Wan ran. As he fled into the fog-shrouded darkness,
the sinister voice echoed in his mind, laughing still.
*REMEMBER, IF YOU DON'T TURN YOURSELF IN, I'LL KNOW...* The
stain on Wan's trousers spread, but he continued to run,
uncaring, into the night, vanishing from view in the deep fog.
@@ I'd like to see Chu Wan suffer more at this point.
Not nearly enough pain, angst and irony.
Need to have phantoms chase him through the streets,
leave him bleeding and exhausted. Perhaps to be torn
to bits by his own men, fall into one of his own traps, sold
into slavery on one of his own ships . . .something like that.
*************************************
Professor Jim Henderson was pretty low in the pecking
order at the Metropolitan Museum of Antiquities, he knew that
well. Unlike many of his colleagues, he'd spent his entire
career in academia, never dirtying his hands with the drudgery
of field work. Unfortunately, he had little talent for
administration, either, so he'd drifted from position to
position, until washing up here as a cataloguing assistant to
Professor Richmond, the curator of the Far Eastern Antiquities
wing.
@@Ummm, I'd use a more specific name. " Metropolitan"
_sounds_ too generic.
<sigh> I'm going to be _very_ bad and suggest you
change "Jim" to "Peter" so you can work in a pun
about the "Peter Principle". ^_^
Along the lines of, "Professor Peter, it's the Principle of
the thing." ^_^
It was in that capacity that he was stuck in the bowels
of the museum in the wee small hours of the morning, looking
over a recently-delivered shipment.
Henderson's specialty had been Ancient Greece, so he knew
little about the items he was cataloguing; they appeared to be
mostly mundane, everyday objects. Oil lamps, potsherds,
crudely-forged iron arrow- and spear-heads. Valuable to
researchers, certainly, but nothing eyecatching enough to
warrant display in the galleries upstairs.
@@OK, need to tell reader _where_ shipment is from.
Otherwise the fact his speciality was "Greece" doesn't
have much impact. And perhaps change his speciality
to "Late Bronze Age Greece" Or "The Hallstatt People of the
early iron age." Something a bit more specific.
It was a shame, he noted, that the war in Europe made
getting permission for American digs in sites in the
Mediterranean next to impossible. They museum had been
fortunate enough to get a dig permit from the Japanese
occupying army in China.
@@Hmmm, possible. Of course that would limit them to
only certain narrow portions of China.
He mopped his brow with a handkerchief as he took in the
final crate. It was a tall, rectangular box about six-an-a-
half feet high, stamped 'fragile' and 'this side up' in half a
dozen languages. The crate wasn't listed on the receipt from
the Stoner expedition, but it _had_ arrived on the same truck
as the others...
"Eight damn years at Yale... " he grumbled, hefting his
crowbar and setting to with a grunt, "and I'm a goddamn
packing clerk!"
@@And darn thankful for the promotion, too.
The crate opened reluctantly, spilling a mountain of
sawdust at his feet. The crowbar fell nervelessly from weak
fingers as he took in the contents of the mysterious crate.
"What in the Sam Hill..?"
Henderson knew little about the far east, and less about
metallurgy,
@@Ummm, well possibly. But even if he specialized in pottery
or fabrics he'd still have to have a reasonable familiarity
with metals to pass his orals at the very least.
<SNIP>
*************************************
The young woman came to on the bridge, her muscles aching
from her unnatural posture and the clammy dampness of the fog.
She looked up to see a black-garbed figure looming over her.
He seemed to be cut from night's own dark cloth, with only a
bloody splash of red at his throat and in the lining of his
swirling cloak. To her, he seemed a demon from her
grandmother's tales, a hungry ghost come to devour her soul.
She began to scream against her gag,
@@Oh come on. She just spit in the face of
Chu Wan, and she's on a "Blood Hunt". This seems
a little OOC for what has gone before. At least
give a little build up for this break down.
when the creature unslung
a gleaming pair of guns. No demon, then, but a man. She
clenched her jaw shut and closed her eyes. She had escaped
death thus far, only to fall to the bullets of a mere man in
this benighted city.
@@I'd think she'd stare him in the face. But that's just
me.
Her ears filled with the thunderous report of shots
fired, and yet... There was no pain!
Hesitantly she opened her eyes. He feet had been freed
from the block of cement! She spared an upward glance in time
to see the dark man reholster his weapons and reach down,
yanking her to her feet. Instinct took over, and she kicked up
at his face, her cold-stiffened muscles failing to put much
behind it. Instead of knocking him away, she merely tore off
his red scarf, revealing his face.
His face... It was long, and sharp, and wicked, like a
dagger or a razor. It was cold, cruel malevolence she could
feel in the marrow of her bones, and the eyes were so very,
very black...
"<Ying-ko...>" She whispered in fear.
@@Good, Except for the "fear" She's on a "Blood
Hunt" that seems to make her more that a bit of a predator
and thus not so liable to fear.
He snarled, yanking up his scarf to cover his visage.
*HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME? TELL ME!!*
"<Y-you...>" she whispered backing up against the
railing. "<You are he! Ying-Ko the Warlord! Ying-Ko the
Butcher!>"
*YOUR DIALECT... YOU ARE FROM ONE OF THE MOUNTAIN
VILLAGES NEAR THE TIBETAN BORDER, AREN'T YOU.* It wasn't a
question, but the girl nodded anyway. The man stepped back.
*THAT'S NOT MY NAME ANYMORE. YING-KO IS... DEAD. I'M JUST HIS
SHADOW.*
@@Don't like the contraction. Perhaps . . .
YING-KO IS DEAD. I AM . . .HIS SHADOW.
The girl regained a little bit of her self-possession,
swallowing hard. "<I was told of this... I was told that you
had met the Tulpa, and that he had enlightened you...>"
*YOU KNOW OF THE TULPA?*
The girl nodded still backing away. The Shadow followed,
looming over her. "<H-he was well-known in my province... He
was greatly mourned.>"
The dark eyes widened a fraction. *HE IS DEAD?*
The girl swallowed again. "<Yes. He was killed by one of
his students, they say.>"
The Shadow's brow seemed to crease, or maybe it was a
trick of the light. Suddenly, he was inches away from her, his
hawklike nose almost touching her own. After a heartbeat he
straightened, stepping back a foot or two. *YOU ARE TELLING
THE TRUTH, AS FAR AS YOU KNOW IT.* Once again, it wasn't a
question, merely a statement of fact. One hand shot out,
grabbing one of the girl's. She struggled for a split-second,
but his grip was like steel. When he released her, she bore an
unremarkable gold ring on her middle finger, with an inset red
stone. The Shadow backed away, hands disappearing into his
cloak.
*KOH-LOHN OF JOKETSUZOKU, I'VE SAVED YOUR LIFE. AS SUCH,
IT BELONGS TO ME,* he addressed the girl, the mocking tone
returned to his voice.
@@Good.
Koh-Lohn nodded warily.Such was the custom in many parts
of her native land, and amongst her people as well. Absently
she tugged on the ring, but it seemed stuck fast.
*DO NOT REMOVE THAT RING.* He glared once, and she
stopped. *YOU SEEK VENGEANCE ON THE MAN WHO ATTACKED YOUR
PEOPLE, AND SLEW YOUR MOTHER. YOU ARE AN ADEPT OF YOUR
PEOPLE'S WARRIOR ARTS, AND AS SUCH, YOU ARE USEFUL TO ME. WHEN
I NEED YOU, I WILL CONTACT YOU.*
Koh-Lohn's mind was awhirl with questions. How did he
know my name? How does he know why I'm here? Magic? Finally,
she stammered out: "<How will I know?>"
*IT IS UNLIKELY WE SHALL MEET AGAIN, BUT SHOULD YOU BE
NEEDED, ONE OF MY AGENTS WILL CONTACT YOU. THEY WILL SAY: "THE
SUN IS SHINING"*
"Tha son iss shyniing." Koh-Lohn repeated the awkward
English phrase.
*AGAIN*
"The sun is shy-niing"
*YOU WILL ANSWER, "BUT THE ICE IS SLIPPERY" DO YOU
UNDERSTAND?*
"'The aice iss sliiparee.'
@@By George, I think she's got it.
<Yes, I understand. H-how do
you know these things about me? How did you know I was in
danger?>"
He laughed, long and loud, disappearing once more into
the fog.
*THE SHADOW KNOWS...*
@@ " . . .what happened to that girl? WHERE IN THE WORLD AM
I NOW!!!"
Very tragic story of side-effect of ability to cloud mens minds.
*********************************************
Dr. Richmond rubbed the corners of his eyes wearily
before replacing his spectacles. Henderson had roused him from
a sound sleep to bring him here, and he vowed that if it
wasn't the discovery of the century, Henderson'd be out of
work by tomorrow morning.
"Henderson, this had better be good. Do you have any idea
what time it is?"
@@Ummm, no sir. I'm a Yale grad. They only teach
the advanced stuff at Princeton.
"Yessir, I do, but I thought you'd better have a look at
this." Henderson led his reluctant superior from the elevator
into the shipping and receiving area. "At first, I thought it
might be a mummy case, but as you can see-"
"The shipment came from China, correct?" Richmond
injected. His assistant nodded.
@@Pointing to the large label that said "CHINA".
"Well, then that's
preposterous. The Chinese never practiced ceremonial
mummification."
@@Well, not that they knew in 1940.
They've been finding some interesting things
of late. Caucasian mummies. Near Amazon territory
of all things.
"I know that, sir," Henderson replied. To be truthful, he
didn't, but he didn't relish looking any more ignorant than he
had to. "But when I saw the markings... Well, see for
yourself."
Richmond stopped dead at the sight of the silver
cylinder. His eyes widened in awe and scholarly glee. "It's...
exquisite! Is that _solid_ silver..?" He touched the surface
almost reverently as his eyes darted across the object. "You
did the right thing calling me, Henderson."
Henderson released out a breath he didn't know he'd been
holding. "I figured you'd want to see this as soon as
possible."
"Yes..." Richmond whispered absently, entranced by the
gleaming casket. "Look, there's writing here, on the side!!"
He leaned in closer to decipher the markings. "It's archaic
Chinese, hard to read... There's some dirt covering it.
Henderson, your handkerchief, if you please."
The younger man handed his boss the square of thin cloth
and stepped back to give him his space. "What's it say?"
"That's what I'm trying to... Aha! Here it is. 'Kneel,
mortal, before He who is Master of the World, the Dragon of
Heaven on Earth, Emperor of All Mankind. Here rests Shen
Leung'... My God... How the _hell_ did they manage to convince
the Japs to part with this?"
@@Very nice section. Depending on how old this thing is
I'm not sure he'd be able to read the writing that easily.
I don't have a time-line in front of me but I know there
have been changes in the language. And different writing
within China for a while.
Hmmm, looking in "The Story of Language", Mario Pei, revised
edition . . .
Hmmm, Chinese is part of the Sino-Tibetan group and the written language
was probably reasonably fixed at about the sixth century BCE.
So, it could be pretty old and, if he's a Chinese scholar he'd be able to
read it.
Assuming it's in Chinese. ^_^
{Side story. Burmese uses tones to convey meaning, as does Chinese.
The word "ma" pronounced in five different tones gives :::
"Help the horse; a mad dog comes."
There's GOT to be a story in there someplace. ^_^
"Who's Shen Leung?" Henderson asked.
"It's a mythological reference to one of the great
dragons of Chinese legend. He supposedly ruled all of China,
as well as parts of Tibet and southeast Asia. As legend has
it, the dragon married a human woman, beginning a great
dynasty known as the Musk that continued until they
intermarried into the nobility around the beginning of the Han
Dynasty."
@@Nice segue.
"Oh yeah? What ever happened to them, anyway?"
"It's a mystery, actually. The British found no evidence
of this mysterious 'Musk Dynasty' when they invaded, and
subsequent governments have denied that the Musk existed at
all, except as fairy tales. Still, it's a very common peasant
superstition... But this discovery, if it's legitimate and not
some clever forgery, could be the beginning of a whole new era
in our understanding of China's past! Why, the engravings
alone..." Richmond's eyes were aglow in heady joy. This could
make his career! He began to mentally list what he'd need to
begin study of the artifact; radio-carbon dating tools, a
metallurgical analysis of coffin itself, the expedition log...
@@radio-carbon? That was developed after
1945. Hmmm . . .I can tell you that Willard Libby
won the 1960 Nobel Prize for developing
carbon-14 dating. Not sure of the exact date
but I'm pretty sure if was after the Atomic Bomb
was dropped.
"Er, so I can leave you two alone then?" Henderson jested
weakly. "I could really use the sleep..."
"Fine, fine... Lock the shipping gate when you leave."
Richmond nodded absently, engrossed in his mystery.
Richmond had long held an interest in crypto-archeology.
A close colleague of the infamous Dr. Henry Jones Jr.,
@@Errrr, Henry Jones had a daughter that marries
a Japanese pervert . . . .
Raiders of the Lust Ark.
the
mysteries of the far east held as much fascination for him as
the enigmas of the middle and near east held for his
celebrated counterpart. The hidden city of K'ung Lung, the
legendary Springs of Jusenkyo... He had done his doctoral
thesis on the legends of lost Sino-Tibetan civilizations so
prevalent in the Manchurian and Sezchuan provinces. And now,
to be confronted with evidence of the factual existence of the
Musk Dynasty! He could barely restrain his glee.
@@I read your end notes. I think you could have left
the Amazons in the mountains. ^)^ (especially if he's
been studying Tibetan civilizations. They're right on the
border.)
An echoing crash announced Henderson's departure,
shutting and locking the shipping doors behind him. Alone with
the casket, Richmond stood and removed his suit jacket and
rolled up his sleeves in preparation.
"First things first," he said to himself as he pulled out
some rubbing paper and charcoal from his briefcase. The
rubbings of the engravings could be sent off to a colleague of
his in California for study. Then it would be time to open the
coffin...
He knocked jauntily on the lid of the sarcophagus.
"Almost time to wake up, Your Highness," he grinned.
The grin fell as one of the seven locks popped open as
though it were spring loaded.
@@I asked for a 960AD wake up call. This is
the last time I stay at Ramada.
Richmond reached over to close
it (the dragon pattern ran across it, and he wanted a complete
impression) when it snapped shut the instant before he could
touch it. He raised an eyebrow. "Curious..."
The bottom lock sprung open in turn, then shut, followed
by the other six in rapid succession. Richmond jumped back,
alarmed. Had he set off some kind of booby-trap?
The seven locks continued their mad clattering, filling
the room with firecracker-burst noise. Richmond backed away,
grasping wildly for the button that would summon the night
watchman. With a final clank-hiss, all seven popped open, and
the sarcophagus seemingly split in two like an enormous egg,
disgorging a roiling cloud of golden smoke.
@@Dammit, I asked for NON smoking.
Amidst the cloud, a man's body stood revealed. He was
tall, and regally adorned in ceremonial armor of gold and
jade. He wore a great golden helmet, the faceplate a snarling
mask of an oriental demon or dragon. Full bejewelled gauntlets
enveloped his hands, and purple and white silks were draped
like water across his broad chest, flowing back over his
shoulders like a cape.
"My God..." Richmond whispered in awe. "It's perfectly
preserved-"
@@Thanks. I always use a moisturizer before going
to bed.
Exactly how perfectly was demonstrated a moment later
when the armoured figure moved!
The huge man took a heavy step forward, then another,
until he stood before the casket, smoke dissipating at his
feet. Richmond froze in awe and terror as the gauntleted hands
came up, removing the masked helmet.
His face was long, and hard; shining black hair tumbled
past his shoulders, with streaks of silver flowing like
streamers from his temples. He was clean shaven and beautiful
of feature, until his eyes snapped open, revealing the
reptilian gold irises and slitted pupils in almond-shaped
eyes. His ears were slightly pointed, and a hint of draconic
fang seemed to glint in his mouth as he smiled cruelly.
@@Nice.
"It's true!" Richmond whispered in mingled awe and fear,
"It's all true!!"
@@<aaaaaa> Bernadett Peters flash back from "Blazing Saddles"
"It's twuu. It's twuuu!"
The man's golden eyes glittered as they alit on the
trembling curator, capturing him, mesmerising him like a
snake's prey. The slitted pupils seemed to widen, until the
darkness encompassed the whole of the iris, then the whole of
the eye, then the whole of Richmond's world.
*SERVE ME, OR DIE...*
@@Would you like to biggie size that master?
The dragon-man's voice seemed to
whisper in his mind.
@@Errr, "whisper"???
Richmond felt his will slipping away.
His voice was a strangled whisper. "W-what are y-you
doing to me?"
*SERVE ME,* the voice hissed sibilantly, *OR DIE...*
Richmond was not a weak man; his will was strong, and he
managed to fight off the compulsion for almost a second.
"Yes, my Emperor..." Richmond whispered, abasing himself
before the armored figure, exposing his neck.
The Emperor's justice was swift. Richmond barely felt a
thing as his neck snapped.
@@Errrr, and what's the reward for NOT serving?
The Emperor's gonna be short of servants pretty soon.
*********************************************
The Shadow returned to his Sanctum, a secret base of
operations hidden amidst the twisting back-alleys of
Manhattan.
@@ " . . .to tha MOON Alice. To tha MOON!"
If it wasn't rent controlled he'd move to a new apartment.
He paused for a moment to check his messages; Chu
Wan had indeed turned himself in, his source at the precinct
house informed him. Wan had been crying and pissing when his
charged in, confessing all. The Shadow smiled. More scum
behind bars, where he belonged. If he was smart, he'd pay his
debt to society, clean up his act and come out a better man
for the experience, willing to make a positive contribution to
society. If he didn't, well... He'd see him again.
@@Pick up bread and milk?!
He looked at his watch. Damn, the
stores had closed. The Shadow paled. Margo
was going to KILL him. He would just have to cloud her
mind so she "thought" the fridge was full Besides, she was
always talking about losing weight.
The Shadow
smiled a mirthless smile and doffed his dark cloak and hat,
removing his brace of pistols with a shrug as he felt his
features soften and melt from their grotesque arrangement into
the handsome, debonair face of Lamont Cranston, Playboy.
@@ . . .bunny. He slid the sheer stocking up his
legs, relishing their feel against his skin as . . ."
Lamont Cranston had a dinner date, one he was loathe to
blow off. If this Koh-Lohn woman was correct, though, dark
deeds were afoot in his adopted homeland of China, and not
just due to the Japanese invasion. He pondered this as he
dressed in tie and tails for dinner.
He'd always had a fascination with the Orient; after the
Great War, his army unit disbanded, he'd made his way east,
until he came to the Sezchuan province near the Tibetan
border.
@@Why not go via Qinghai? It directly borders
Tibet, Sezchuan does as well but the common border
is much smaller and further south. IMO it's easier to change
his rout of travel to take him through Qinghai to Tibet
rather than move the Amazons. For instance he could come
down from the old silk road, through Qinghai and into Tibet.
There's a lot of smuggling in that area so it's plausible.
Coming through Sezchuan you'd run into a lot of officials. ^_^
Thanks to a few contacts he'd made during the war, he
managed to assemble a group of mercenaries; men who, like
himself, had enjoyed the savagery of war and weren't in any
hurry to go back to their dreary peacetime lives.
The Cranstons were old money, well respected in New York
society, and Lamont had been raised with every advantage a
child could want; an excellent education, striking good looks,
servants to obey his every childish whim, more money than he'd
known what to do with, and indulgent, frequently absent
parents.
If Lamont had been a normal boy, all this might have
simply caused him to grow up into a foppish dandy of a
playboy, and that, in fact, was the image he cultivated to
this day. Lamont, however, had been far from a normal boy.
It had started with bullying the servants; he'd
discovered that he enjoyed inflicting pain and humiliation on
'lesser' beings. It had graduated to beatings, then the
surreptitious killing of small animals. He had been working
himself up to
@@going to law school
<SNIP>
The darkness in Cranston's soul snarled eagerly, baring
its fangs. Cranston grinned to himself as he checked his
reflection in the rear-view mirror. It had been some time
since he'd had a challenge.
@@ "RANMA!!! What are you doing in that stupid cape.
You get back in here right now and . . . ."
"Yes dear." Darn it, Akane never let him have any fun.
And he was just getting the hang of this "walter-mitty-kung-fu"
********************
<SNIP>
Koh-Lohn had chased the raiders across China, but was
always a step or two behind them; she had despaired of ever
catching up with them, until word had reached her from one of
her contacts back home, a seeress by the name of Han-Khee
@@<shudder> Please, no personal-care-product names.
I'm begging you. <whimper>
<SNIP>
************************
Somewhere in Manhattan...
"Warriors of the Musk Dynasty!" called the armored figure
on the dais overlooking the palatially-furnished hall. "Our
hour of triumph has arrived!!!"
The assembled men, almost a hundred strong, roared his
name.
"JIN-SENG! JIN-SENG! JIN-SENG! JIN-SENG!"
Emperor Jin-Seng, last descendant of Shen Leung, waited
for the chant to die down before continuing. "No longer will
we skulk in the shadows as our enemies steal what is
rightfully ours! No more will the foreign devils claim our
lands! The time of the strong is now!!!"
The ovation was louder and longer this time, and Jin-Seng
grinned ferally. "With _this_ in our possession-" he held
aloft a elaborately-wrought spear, "None shall stand in our
way!!!"
@@We shall always get the best seats on the subway.
No longer shall we have to wait for a good table at The
Four Seasons . . .
The chanting was thunderous, and this time, Jin-Seng
joined in, shaking the spear overhead, his powerful voice like
a roar of thunder.
"The Musk Dynasty RISES AGAIN!!!!!!"
****************************************
@@Overall::B+
(hey, I don't like my own suff enough
to give it an A) A couple of nits as mentioned.
Very nice. Mostly I think you're MUCH too restrained
in places for real pulp. And a few times you let
the pace slow. You've made the Amazon
warrior to fearful for my taste. Especially for
an Amazon on a Blood Hunt. IMO you need to up
the terror level if you want her to be that afraid.
A "cracking good" story though.
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's note: For the sake of the story, I've placed the
Byankala Range in the Sezchuan province of China.
@@As mentioned, I don't think that's necessary. IMO better
to move the Shadow than a mountain range. ^_^ (much easier)
Apologies to
geographers everywhere. Also, 1940 is a tad late for a Shadow
adventure, since the Pulps that were his home were starting to
die out by that point. The wartime setting was to good to pass
up, though. The tale is _loosely_ based on the Alec Baldwin
'Shadow' movie, but it won't be religiously faithful; expect
many changes to come. For the sake of the story, I'm using
Cologne's age as stated in the manga of roughly 100 years old,
rather than the anime Cologne, who claimed to be over 300.
Comments?/Questions?/War Bond Drives? E-mail me at
deibu_kun@sympatico.ca or respond publicly on the FFML.
Dave Menard
-------------------------------------
Fanfiction pages: http://spghome.tripod.com/
"Just as there are laws of Conservation of Matter and Energy, so there
are
in fact Laws of Conservation of Pain and Joy. Neither can ever be
created or
destroyed.
But one can be converted into the other."
-Spider Robinson, 1977