----- Original Message -----
From: "Elsa Bibat" <aerolbj@i-next.net>
To: "Dave Menard" <deibu_kun@sympatico.ca>
Cc: <ffml@fanfic.com>
Sent: Sunday, September 17, 2000 3:09 AM
Subject: [FFML] Re: [Fic][Ranma/x-over] The Shadow Of The Past
Hiya Dave!
Anyway, as an official Agent of the Shadow!!!!, I should kick myself
for missing this one. But, hey, better late than never.
Woo-hoo! A personal review! I appreciate it.
Anyway...
<snip>
"<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.>"
Ah yes, our favorite boy, the Chief, the Master of Night and Darkness,
The Shadow himself.
"The Master", at this point...
Y'know, though the Alec Baldwin movie was kinda cool I prefer the
pulps.
Haven't read 'em in ages, meself, but on the advice of a few other
correspondents, I'm taking another whack at 'em. I'm using the mythos as set
out by the Baldwin movie, though, due to the direct connection to China it
provides.
BTW, Reid Carson already has a Shadow/Ranma crossover though
that one crosses over with SM, too, along with tons of other stuff.
So I've heard, but I haven't read it. What's it called?
*************************************************
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.
Ayup, nasty Conde-Nast people. If you believe some of the reports
we'd already have a Doc Savage a la WB's Batman if it weren't for
them.
_That_ would be something. Last I heard, Schwartzenegger was in
negotiations to to a Doc Savage movie, but that was months ago. Have you
ever seen the ultra-campy Doc Savage flick, came out about '79? If you
haven't, you're missing a riot. Check your brain at the door, though.
<SNIP>
She, like her captors, 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.
Gotham? The pulps mention Manhattan and New York as a whole
when describing things like this.
I just liked being able to use "Gotham" without writing a Batman fic. I
was under the impression it was just another synonym for New York.
And if you're gonna write a Shadow fanfic make it at the very least
"pulpy", one of my major peeves about the lot of Shadow fics on
the 'net. Pulpy as in very, very descriptive. See later.
Actually, I've gotten some great advice on that from Allyn Yonge that
I'll be using for the re-write, so never fear. Purple prose will abound.
(Y'know, it's funny, I've always had a tendency to get TOO descriptive, so
I'm always restraining myself. It'll be fun to cut loose for a change. ~_^)
<SNIP>
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->"
Since I skipped ahead and read that you used the hundred year old
version of Shampoo, shouldn't she be about fifty or in her forties by
now ?
You mean Cologne, I assume. Yeah, it was a mistake, one that will be
rectified in the re-write.
<SNIP>
Chu Wan whirled, seeking the source of the shots, pulling
a tommy-gun from inside his coat "<Who dares-?>"
Gawd, a Highlander coat! ^_^
Heh. first time I've heard it called that. Appropriate, I suppose.
Do you know how big tommy guns are, especially those with cylinders?
And I would also like to note that during the thirties the gat of choice
for
a torpedo, even a gang boss, was a snub-nosed Saturday special. Hiding
a "typewriter" in a coat is almost impossible. Hoods usually carried a
"typewriter" during a tough score or during a gang war, most usually in a
drive-by.
Agreed. I'll swap 'em in the re-write. BTW, love the gangster slang.
I'll begin using it as soon as the opportunity presents itself.
Also note that you set this pre-war 1940's, Hoover (with his pretty dress)
would be cracking down on foreigners in posession of what amounted
to as urban assault weapons of the time.
Good point, I'd forgotten that Hoover was already in power by that
point. As I told Jaime Wilde, my American History outside of the World Wars
isn't what it could be.
He was answered by laughter. Deep, mocking, sonorous
laughter that echoed across the bridge.
*CHU WAN.*
Damn. One of the things I loved about the pulps was the description
of the Chief's laugh. A sample:
As a token that such shooting was the work of a master marksman, foemen
heard a mocking laugh.
Long, strident, the taunting mirth brought ghoulish echoes from the
surrounding slopes, as though the tongues of a thousand demons had joined
in
the challenge. Out of those echoes came the hoarse cries of the scattering
fighters, who were learning the lone marksman's prowess:
"The Shadow!"
Sigh. It brings a tear to my eye... (Soun Tendo-like awed weeping
begins) They don't write 'em like that anymore. I will follow in the steps
of the Great Gibson from now on, never fear.
- from the August 1, 1940 issue of the Shadow mag, "Crime at
Seven
Oaks"
The Shadow's cackling, demonic laugh was a weapon. Describe it as one.
Please.
Yes'm. Will do.
As I said in a former discussion, the Laugh could have been a ki
technique,
kinda like the Shadow's ability to fade away and seeming invisibility.
I don't want to get into Ki-techniques (at least, describing them as
such) since it takes away from the mystery; but your point is valid, and
I'll approach it that way from a story point-of-view.
Another
sample or two:
A LONG, silhouetted streak of blackness wavered beneath the structure
of an elevated station; a moving, elusive shape passed the front window of
the Hotel Spartan. A mass of blackness merged mysteriously with the
darkness of an alleyway behind the hotel.
Unseen fingers dug into the crevices between the bricks of the
dingy-walled building. A hand found the projecting ledge of a window.
Slowly, steadily, a shrouded form moved up the side of the wall. The
Shadow
was creeping vertically to his chosen destination.
- The Shadow Magazine July 15,
1933.
"The Silver Scourge"
I've snipped the discussion on gunfights and The Master's martial arts
abilities, since I agree completely and will work on it.
"<Where are you, devil?! Show yourself!>" He fired a
burst into the darkness. More laughter answered, this time
>from behind. He spun, firing again, but the laughter
continued, seeming to circle him like a prowling tiger.
The gangster began to sweat, his eyes wide with fear. His
men were dead, and he had but a limited supply of bullets.
*CHU WAN, YOU ARE A MURDERER AND A SLAVER,* the rumbling
voice called. *YOU'VE KILLED HUNDREDS WITH YOUR POISON, RUINED
COUNTLESS INNOCENT LIVES... DID YOU THINK YOU'D GET AWAY WITH
IT..?*
BTW, the Chief never sounds like a rumbling voice. It's more like a
menacing
whisper that seems to come from everywhere, echoing in the stygian
darkness,
in a voice that would be as threatening as the feel of a gun pointed at
your
temple, with the need to obey filling each word.
Oooh, yeah. Damn, I have been writing too many pulps. ^_^
Heheheheh...
<SNIP>
BTW, I hate the movie's version of the Chief's guns. They were black in
the
pulps. Damnit, if they were nickel-plated, they'd glint in the dark
pinpointing the Boss' coordinates for the hoodlums/zombified gunmen/evil
Mongols and a dozen other evil henchmen.
I can see why they made 'em shiny for the movie, though. Visually
speaking, they're very striking that way. I'll probably switch to the
blued-steel in the re-write, though. I had no idea there were so many pulp
fans on the list who called me on that. That'll teach me to underestimate my
audience.
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.
*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.
Now this is the point where any blood-thirsty fan of the "bloody" Shadow
would say, "The Shadow didn't just support the death penalty, he _was_ the
death penalty!" <chortling laughter along with several .45 caliber
gunshots
in the background>
Anyway, good play on that one. The Shadow's Justice was a Justice tempered
with Mercy. Well, the kinda mercy that made him give the scumbags a final
chance to surrender. But he never did hesitate gunning down the hoods if
they were directly shooting at him or gunning for his agents or, horror of
horrors, actually either capturing one and torturing him (The Prince of
Darkness story arc) or killing one of them (Gangland's Doom, the only
time an agent of the Shadow is ever killed, damn that was one helluva
bloodbath).
Yeah, I wanted him to come off as ruthless, but not merciless. That's
always how I've seen him. Besides, any smart vigilante knows that if you can
take the bosses alive, they can lead you to bigger fish upstream.
<SNIP>
"Eight damn years at Yale... " he grumbled, hefting his
crowbar and setting to with a grunt, "and I'm a goddamn
packing clerk!"
Hey, I've seen people in college for ten years and ending up
giving cattle full rectal exams. ^_^
I take it they weren't veterinary medicine majors, then?
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..?"
Who is Sam Hill, BTW? You Americans still have these idioms
that confuse me. ^_^
I have no idea as to the entymology of the phrase, myself. (And, BTW,
I'm not American, I'm Canadian. Them's fightin' words, in some parts o' the
country ~_^) I really wanted to use "Oh my stars n' garters...", but I
figured it was over the top.
<SNIP>
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.
If there are any pair of guns in the world that could break cement,
it would be the Chief's. BTW, the total number of bullets in his
two guns are twenty-four. The total number of bullets he has is
forty-eight with one or two reloads in spare for his guns. Everybody
assumes that the Chief has only _two_ guns when he has _four_.
Two pairs for quick instant reloads, two braces under his coat. Also
note that this babies were heavy enough to be used as highly
effective clubs, almost like a Ruger and powerful enough to penetrate
rather thick doors and able to snipe up to twenty-thirty yards. And
they've
blocked and parried everything from samurai swords to Hindu katars.
Gawd, I love the pulps with their unrealistic ballistics. ^_^
Yeah. Jaime Wilde jumped on that with two feet, though. Damn servicemen
and their realistic ballistics!!! ; )
<snip-snip>
One of the things I didn't like about the movie was the Shadow's back
history. The Chief is rather nasty but he isn't that nasty, well, he got
a bit of humanity when we got Margo, probably one of the few things
the woman was good for.
And the cheesy movie Mcguffin of the ring. The Shadow's ring is
one-of-a-kind given to him when he rescued a member of the Russian
Royal Family during the Romanov Jewel incident, either that or given
by the Xinca Indians who worshipped him as Quetzalcoatl.
(Falls off chair) My God, it HAS been too long. I'd forgotten just how
fantastic some of those old stories were.
Koh-lon's swearing in would have been better if you had used the
pulp's version of an agent induction, the one that the movie ripped off.
Give me some time to reasearch that; I've got a couple-dozen old Shadow
mags to go through. I'll see if I can't adapt it.
*********************************************
<snip-snip>
"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?"
Ayep, the politically incorrectness of the 1930s America, the age
where every Filipino was a manservant to an American, learned in
oriental martial arts, where the yellow peril was rearing its head
and every Cuban and Hispanic, heck European was a villainous
schemer or a highly misunderstood fighter for freedom.
Damn. I love these pulps. ^_^
Yeah, they're such an example of tolerance at work, ain't they?
Fortunately, Cologne is a walking stereotype in so many ways, so she fits
right in.
"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."
"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...
A little question. When was carbon dating first used? I'm a bit
foggy on that. Please enlighten.
That was a mistake. I should have used a soil-depth analysis instead,
since the radio-carbon dating didn't come into use for about another ten
years, according to another correspondent.
"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., 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.
Hey, Indy gets mentioned. Maybe a cameo and sequel-adventure? ^_^
That would be a hoot. I wonder if anyone ever wrote a Shadow-Indy
x-over? Surely SOMEbody must've. It'd be a natural choice, second only to a
Doc Savage-Indy or Phantom-Indy.
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.
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-"
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.
"It's true!" Richmond whispered in mingled awe and fear,
"It's all true!!"
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...* The dragon-man's voice seemed to
whisper in his mind. 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.
Oooh yeah, shades of Shiwan Khan as you will mention in the
notes and , of course, everyone's favorite oriental Dr. Fu Manchu. ^_^
Oooh! The Devil-Doctor of Limehouse himself! Now _that_ would be a
crossover to beat all crossovers: The Shadow vs. Dr. Fu-Manchu!
I also mentioned earlier how this was one of Shiwan Khan's arrivals.
*********************************************
The Shadow returned to his Sanctum, a secret base of
operations hidden amidst the twisting back-alleys of
Manhattan. 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. 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.
<snip-snip>
Once again, the backstory of the Master of Darkness and Night.
Yeah, I went with the movie conceit of him actually _being_ Cranston.
Less backstory to explain.
At least you have the property of the Shadow's "working" face
being like a mask. Cool stuff. BTW, the Shadow's Sanctum was
always totally dark, so dark that I suspect that the Chief has
nightvision and every piece of furniture was black. And the
Sanctum is described as being so easily accesible yet impossible
to find. Something like hiding in plain sight.
The entrance to the old Sanctum was in an alley and a special
underground path to the basement Sanctum of a seemingly normal
yet abandoned apartment building. Well, that was until Crime Inc.
blew the building up and the Chief had to relocate. ^_^
********************
<snip>
She had one lead left, but there was no time to pursue it
tonight; she had to secure some form of lodgings or crude
shelter for the night. After her encounter with Ying-Ko, she
craved the comfort of a warm, safe bed, hopefully where the
man-demon would never find her...
It should be known that in the pulps, the name Ying-Ko if mentioned
in the Orient or in Chinatown would either conjure terror or instant
obedience and everyone treating you like a part of the family _and_
with tons of respect. Most of the Asian community would be
familiar with him since his operations stretch pretty far and the fact
that
some of the higher level adepts in Tibet consider him as a worthy
ally and a skilled warrior.
************************
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!!!"
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!!!!!!"
Oooh yeah. That spear something like the Spear of Destiny filled
with ancient Amazon magic. ^_^ Heheh.
Bingo!
****************************************
TO BE CONTINUED
Author's note: For the sake of the story, I've placed the
Byankala Range in the Sezchuan province of China. 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.
1940 was one of the peak years, along with the war years when America
needed avenues of escapism.
As a golden-age comics fan, I've always sort-of taken the rise of the
funnybook to mean the death of the pulps, but you're right.
And the pulps aren't dead! The modern
pulps as attested by the incredibly entertaining Destroyer series and
increasingly laughable Mack Bolan series are proof of this.
Ack! Mack Bolan! (Shudders) Not a favorite.
The Destroyer, however...
Now why hasn't anyone written a Destroyer/Ranma x-over? The potential is
there, and Korean martial arts are pretty impressive, yet missing from
Takahashi's works. I seem to recall a Remo cameo in A Tale of Two Wallets,
but that's the closest thing _I've_ seen...
The hundred-
year old version of Cologne is a favorite for the Shadow crossover it
seems.
Reid Carson used her, too, though through a different channel. You could
throw Happosai in later. Damn, that is gonna be a mess when Pearl Harbor
gets hit. ^_^
I have a plan for involving a relative of the Japanese cast, but it
won't be Happy. He doesn't really fit the mood, IMO. Too cheerful. Pulp
perverts were always really nasty, whereas Happy's a jolly old hentai.
BTW, good choice on the plot. The pulps, though pretty nice, didn't have
the
scope of the movie at times. But I advise reading the pulps and throwing
in
a few elements from them.
Will do, and thanks a lot for the advice.
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