Hello, Bibat-sensei!

Well, it's certainly been a while for both of us. Me more than you, 
admittedly, but hopefully I haven't forgotten how to do this...

Any and everything I say can be completely ignored at will if you so desire. 
You're the author, I'm just a fan with a few opinions. Frankly, you're much 
better at this than I, so if we disagree on anything, it's probably because 
I'm wrong. Proceed at own risk, and watch out for severe tire damage.

I really hate it when that happens.

Yeah, me too. When what happens? ^_^

Let's try this again.

Okay. Pleasure to see you back again, by the way. I should have guessed it 
would be you to rouse me from my self-imposed hibernation. It was kind of 
like a mini-retirement, except I didn't tell anyone and nobody noticed. ^_^

Disclaimer:

 Sailormoon is owned by Naoko Takeuchi. All licenses
belong to the proper people. This is used without permission.

I know it's a pain to list everything, but you really should pay credit 
where it's due. I mean, I love Sailor Moon as much as the next guy (assuming 
the next guy also really digs it), but depending how much of other stuff has 
been merged in, here, it might behoove you to mention them, too.

And I think that's the first time I've ever used the word "behoove" in a 
sentence and meant it.

 This disclaimer also applies to several intellectual
properties referred to in the text. Please be guided
accordingly.

Ah. Never mind my comment earlier, then. I'm doing this as I go, so I'm 
bound to do stuff like that from time to time.

 This file can be freely distributed so long as it
appears in its complete form and proper credit given. No
part may be reproduced for monetary gain without permission

>from the author.

Or even then, I'd wager, since then it would fall outside the "Fair Use" of 
the copyright law that all we fanfic authors rely on so heavily, and people 
who wanted to would be free to sue your pants off.

Note: This is set in the "Dances Set To The Music of Time"
sequence

*******************************************

I know what evil lurks in the hearts of men

"The Shadow" copyright 1930 by Street & Smith. ^_^

Or possibly Universal Studios. Did they buy out the character when they made 
that movie, or just pay for his use? Come to think of it, he may not even be 
protected by copyright law...

Er, sorry about that. You know me; I go on tangents. I'd use a bus, but I 
find that tangents have more leg room.

*******************************************

Shadows

by

Elsa Bibat

*******************************************

1992:

 I ran through the forest.

Please tell me it's not Wildwood Cemetary. ^_^

 No sound marked my passing, but the sigh of the wind
and occasional rustling of leaves. I glided from tree to
tree, hiding in the shadows of the late afternoon sun, my
zigzag path erratic yet silent.

I'm not sure, but shouldn't "zigzag" be hyphenated? "Zig-zag"?

<Tiny Snip!>

 Grandpa Richard moves like a spider, slow and
considering one second, to lightning-fast the next.

I have a feeling that I should know who "Grandpa Richard" is, but I don't. 
My mind is just blank on that name for some reason.

 Gramps is the name I use to call my other grandfather
for I know the name he uses isn't his real one. He is a
living shadow. He makes no sound when he moves. Your eyes
always seem to miss him, your gaze always trying to slip
away from him.

Ah, Mister Cranston! Or Mister Dillard, if you prefer. I was wondering when 
you'd be rearing that slouch-hat-bedecked head of yours.

He is the only one in the family who can
still surprise me. Everyone else I can feel approach, but
never Gramps. He is the one who taught me everything I know
in the arts of stealth and stalking. He's also been teaching
me some arts that no normal person can do.

I wouldn't be surprised. And I can guess what some of those might be.

Gramps: See, honey? THAT'S how you cloud a man's mind! Easy, isn't it? Now 
you try...

 My dark clothes help me blend with the afternoon's
deepening shadows. Dusk approaches and soon I have to go
home. But, first I have to visit my secret place.

She has a "secret place" deep in a forest? If this girl is also related to 
Julie Walker (and the eight dozen or so Kit Walkers mixed in with her), I 
officially name her the most awesome new character ever and wish to place an 
early nomination for whenever the heck the next Chickenballs are. ^_^

 After a few minutes of silent running, I encountered
my first landmark, a Roman statue of a woman with an
enigmatic face. Time had weathered the figured but it was

Oops! Slight typo there: figured -> figure

Also, I think you'd be better off changing that comma after "Landmark" to a 
semi-colon of a dash, like

"my first landmark - a Roman"
or
"My first landmark; a Roman"

still whole, set on a pedestal in a forgotten clearing of a
long-dead empire.

"forgotten clearing of a long-dead empire" sounds a bit awkward to me. I 
think you might want to take a closer look at this sentence and maybe 
re-word it a little.

I had deciphered the inscription at the
base and it said something about the the woman being a
priestess of Hades.

Or Pluto, as the Romans would have referred to that god. Subtle. I like.  
^_^

A Mona Lisa smile, over hundreds of
years too early, was visible on the aristocratic face.

Define "over". The smile ended? But it is still visible, right? Or do you 
just mean that the smile is over hundreds of years old?

She
seemed vaguely familiar when I first saw her, but I never
could place from where I saw that countenance before.

I think you could get away with dropping the "from" and changing "saw" to 
"had seen".

 I checked my traps and confirmed that no one had
entered the clearing. I moved on, following the statue's
gaze.

 The next landmark was a gnarled tree, out of place in
the verdant forest that surrounded it. It was clearly dead,
branches bereft of leaves reaching upwards as if in
supplication or for cursing the heavens.

Why do I have a feeling that Luke Skywalker is going to come staggering out 
of that thing at some point, looking scared out of his wits? Or that some 
tiny, wizened little goblin with a speech problem is going to make the girl 
go inside?

Someone had been
here from a long ago time for an inscription was cut deep
into its side. The initials "H.V." were clear and distinct
on one side.

Never mind. I stand corrected. ^_^

Of all my landmarks, this one chilled me the
most for some unknown reason. I hurriedly checked the traps
and left. No one had passed. The ground gave way to rock and
trees lessened as I approached my final landmark.

 The final landmark was a curious rock structure.
Obviously man-made, it was a stone monolith with several
runes etched into its base. It was one of several such
structures near my sanctum, monuments I have seen only in
the land of Dreams. This particular one was located in one
of the more easy to reach paths, thus the reason for the
traps. I glide over the series of tripwires, not even
slowing. The pattern for the wires was from an old Chinese
manuscript.

Or at least, that's what Gramps had told her. Little did she know that the 
whole thing was just a giant cat's-cradle.

Gramps: Look! An onion!

It is not humanly possible to move through them
without prior knowledge of their existence. Approach too
fast and you blunder into them, too slow and you will trip
at least one. It was undisturbed.

Well, it sure seems like this little girl has her ducks all in row. Yup, 
she's perfectly safe from any human intruder. Her only problem is that not 
everybody in this place is human.

 Moments later, I am in the sanctum, my secret place.
The sense of comfort that drew over me is like a blanket. A

I think it should be "draws" over me, not "drew" over me.

dimly-lit cave chamber, it was dry and comfortable with
several comforts of home. I had begun work on this little
hideaway when I was eight, spending countless hours in
clearing and tinkering with the place. Solar cells set on
top of nearby trees charge the cave batteries and supplies
it with twenty-four hour light, just enough for my purposes.
If I wanted focused light, I could use the blue-lights that
consumed a negligible amount of electricity. A simple cot,
a shelf of books, a simple writing cabinet with a chair and
a pantry rounded out the central chamber. Packed to the side
was a small makeup table and a considerable wardrobe. An
adjoining chamber was a simple laboratory. Another chamber
was a small gym, where I practiced the martial arts taught
to me by my father and the gymnastics of my mother.

I believe that another chamber would "have" or "hold" a small gym, not "be" 
a small gym. It's already busy being a chamber.

And given the style that this nameless girl is narrating in, I think she'd 
use the full word "gymnasium". Anybody who would say "countenance" instead 
of "face"...

 This will be the last time I see it for a few years. I
will be leaving Averoigne for New York in a few days, my
college studies finally beginning. I smiled thinly in the
soft light as I ran my hands over the books on the shelf. A
complete twenty volume set of the first edition of Sherlock
Holmes' "The Art of Scientific Detection"

Sherlock Holmes belonging, I believe, to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or whoever 
owns the rights now that he's dead. Or is Holmes another one of those 
characters who is so old he doesn't have a copyright? I somehow doubt it...

stood by Grant and
Robeson's definitive three-book collection of historical
examinations on the vigilante phenomenon, "The Mystery Men".
A set of John Clayton's memoirs and a biography of La Maupin

La Maupin belonging to absolutely nobody. If she was still alive, you could 
ask her yourself - assuming you didn't want a rapier jammed through your 
shoulder. Although at least there'd be a chance that she'd sleep with you 
afterwards.

were set on the second shelf supporting Admiral Heinlein's
history of the OSS, along with a set of Asimov's "Silver
Millenium" and "Foundation" novels.

Never read them. I've heard others recommend them to me, but I've never read 
them.

Edogawa Ranpo's Kogoro
Akechi

>From "The Mystery of Rampo", right?

stood cheek by jowl with Dr. Watson's complete Holmes
and an autobiography of Mary Russell.

>From "The Beekeeper's Apprentice", but I can't remember the name of the 
author at the moment. Nurts.

Oscar Grandier's
memoirs of the French Court before the Revolution held high
honors with Baroness Orczy's transcipts of the Scarlet
Pimpernel

Always liked him, by the way. "Is he in heaven? Is he in hell? That damned, 
elusive Pimpernel..."

 Then I moved on to the desk of my writing cabinet
where lay my little knick-knacks and souvenirs. A monocle

>from a gentleman thief, _the_ gentleman thief, an associate

of my grandfathers.

Arsene Lupin the First, I presume. Nobody else would dare be considered the 
ultimate gentleman thief in a world where he was around. ^_~

I had obtained it as a prize from Gramps
for solving a little problem when we visited Paris. I picked
up a brightly-coloured feather and remembered my little
African vacation. A miniature Leiden jar was a token from
my adventure in Germany and I smiled as an arc of electricity
reached for my fingers. An elongated canine tooth was all I
had to remind me of my adventures in the Parisian sewer
system.

Vampire or Werewolf?

I'm surprised you didn't make it a porcelain mask.

The phurba I had managed to obtain from the Louvre's
secret annex.

The phurba was that nasty little dagger from the movie that kept flying 
around and trying to either bite or stab the Shadow, right?

I shake my head as I remember how I put to use
the fake ID for the Bibliotheque Nationale. I then looked to
the prize of my collection, something I picked up when I
went on vacation with my parents to London last year. It
was a prize from the Great Detective's secret hoard, which
I had managed to bump into in the midst of my little
adventure, a picture of the Woman.

Ah, The Woman. Irene Adler. The only person who ever actually outsmarted and 
beat Sherlock Holmes.

As I gaze into the eyes
of this remarkable woman, I fancy that her face seems to be
a bit familiar.

Remind her of the statue out front, maybe? ^_^

I sat down in my usual chair to gaze at the
picture, I tilted my head to better regard the Woman's
profile in the dim light.

 That was when I noticed the package.

 Laid on the cot, tied with twine, it was the size of
a good-sized box and was hidden under the cot. Scanning the
room, I berated myself for a fool. Nostalgia and emotion
should never get in the way of habit and routine. Grandpa
Richard had drilled that into my head too many times,
especially when he trained me in the use of guns.

I'm surprised Grandpa Cranston wasn't the one who trained her. Whoever 
Grandpa Richard is, he must be really good.

 What was inside took my breath away.

 The first object was obviously a hat. A black hat.

 A black slouch hat.

Boo-yah! This woman just hit the motherlode.

 I took it up in my hands and raised it up reverently.
It looked as I expected it to look like. After turning it
around a few times and a few moments of contemplation, I
came to a decision.

 I put it on.

Very good. Now put on the black slacks, black shirt, black trench coat, 
black gloves, and the red scarf. Then all you'll need are some pistols and 
some flunkies, and you'll be set. ^_^

 The next items were a peculiar black garb and a pair
of gloves.The garment was part Inverness coat, part opera
cloak, part trench coat with a high collar. I put on the
gloves and dramatically twirled around as I slipped into
the cloak.

Oooh. Aaah. ^_^

 I buttoned it up and turned the collar up. The slouch
hat's brim was already down. I could feel all the little
things that should be in the inner pockets, tools of the
trade. I was grinning and I started to feel the peculiar
feeling coming up my throat.

Wouldn't it just be "a" peculiar feeling? I'm sure she's had more than one 
in her life.

Still, that urge to cackle maniacally is hard to subdue. I could sympathise, 
except that I never fight it.

I suppressed it. Now was not
time for that yet. There was still something left in the
box.

Pistols, and a red scarf.

 It was a brace of pistols and a ring that seemed to
change color even in the weak light.

Oh, yeah! I forgot about the ring. She'll need that, too. Actually, she'll 
need a lot of them, since she'll have to give one to everybody who works for 
her. Tradition, you know.

Hey, no scarf? What gives? ^_^

I left the shining
jewel for a while and took up the weapons. Six pistols in
all, holstered and gleaming black light. Two more than that
I was expecting.

She wanted eight? Greedy little thing...

<I don't know enough about pistols to correct you if you mess this part up 
anyway, so SNIP>

 It was a girasol. I knew that it was like the ring
worn by my father and my grandfather. Blue shifted to red to
amethyst, the fires of the earth burning within the jewel,
as I lifted it up in the dim light.

Her father being who, again? You never said. I'm assuming he must have been 
one of the Shadow's agents, if he had the ring. Either that, or he actually 
WAS the Shadow for a while, at which point I start thinking that this girl 
really IS Julie Walker. With a hat.

 "Beautiful, isn't it?"

 The voice was melodic, musical even, in accentless and
perfect French.

 I turned to look at the intruder.

 "Well ... put it on already."

 In the dim light, I could see a shapely woman
dressed in a sharp business suit. Long dark hair
reaching well past the waist.

That's a sentence fragment, Elsa. I think you can combine these two 
sentences with no problem. Just drop the period, and make it "...suit, with 
long dark hair..."

<SNIP, SNIP, SNIP>

 I knew that face.

 "It seems that you haven't aged a day, Ms. Margo Lane."

So, Sailor Pluto is Margo Lane? Interesting.

<MORE SNIPS>

 There was a moment of silence as we regarded each
other, the sable-clad teenager and the beautiful woman who
never grew old. I looked to the girasol in my hand. It
seemed to be even more mercurial in its changes, shifting
colors like some kaleidoscope in the dim light. I returned
my gaze to the woman before me. I was once again struck by
her face. Then enlightenment hit me like a runaway train.

 "Mei'ou-san, you wouldn't happen to have been an
acquaintance of a certain detective, a hundred or so years
back?"

 Her smile was maddening to say the least.

And now she was also Irene Adler? And, I'm assuming, the woman from the 
statue?

 "And you wouldn't happen to have been in this
particular part of France when it was Gaul and under Roman
rule?"

 "The likeness is quite flattering, don't you think?"

Hey! I was right! ^_^

 "How old are you and grandfather?" I asked, narrowing
my eyes in thought.

 "Old enough."

Heh. I can tell you had a lot of fun writing this. I know, because I also 
enjoy writing enigmatic characters who refuse to directly answer questions 
and slowly drive their questioners insane. It's really quite entertaining.

 Silence once again reigned in my sanctum.

 "Talking with you is as irritatingly difficult as
pulling my own teeth out or talking to Grandfather."

 "We share similar traits," mused my guest. "You do
notice that your family isn't big on small talk either, ne?"

Why is she using "ne"? I thought they were speaking in perfect, accentless 
French.

<SNIP>

 As the laugh crescendoed, I lost myself in that rush
of self. I was indestructible. I was undeniable. I was
Natasha Cranston-Wentworth, inheritor of my family's legacy.
I was the -

 "Natasha."

Uh-oh. Busted. And right in the middle of a good cackle, too.

 Gramps' quiet voice snapped me out of my frenzied
state. My throat felt raw as I gazed at him. His eyes had
that lambent glow of coal embers just waiting to blaze once
again. A long thin face like a mask with combed-back white
hair complimented his eyes.

 "Hello, old friend." Mei'ou drawled from where she was
standing.

 "You could have at least dropped by at the main house
before going here, Margo."

 "The name is now Setsuna Mei'ou, Lamont...Kent...or
which of the several dozen names you maintain that you prefer.
And I did drop by. Myra just promised not to say anything
about it."

Meaning that Natasha's mom is Myra Reldon, one of the Shadow's agents.

Wait a minute... Grandpa Richard... Richard Wentworth...

She's the granddaughter of The Spider, too? Holy cow, no wonder she's so 
spooky! O_O

 Gramps just arched an eyebrow and looked at me. "That
time of the century again?"

 "The Princess has been reborn, you know. And she will
be weak in the beginning of her power."

 "And what does my granddaughter have to do with it?"

 "She has it in her blood. The contagion has been
passed on for three generations and it has not even weakened.
I know you know this or you wouldn't have trained her."

 "She is not ready."

 "She is ready enough. She will not have to face any of
our errant brothers and sisters. Just the scum that you and
I have faced for centuries."

 Gramps frowned and it was a terrible sight. The mask-
like countenance was drawn like a skull and his eyes were
burning. Mei'ou just smiled. Then Gramps sighed and his face
lost the power that was manifesting beneath.

 "It seems my retirement is going to be cut short."

 "As if you ever really retired."

 Gramps smiled. "So you've heard."

 "Occasional sightings. Plus those movies with that
Keaton fellow as you. Incredibly laughable."

Are you trying to imply here that the Shadow is also Batman? Or were you 
meaning to reference Alec Baldwin and got the actors confused?

 "Don't remind me."

 Mei'ou chuckled. "Anyway, I should be leaving now. I
still have others to visit."

 Gramps smiled as Mei'ou stepped back into the shadows
and disappeared. Turning to look at me, his eyes narrowed.

 "Young lady, if you expect to eat dinner wearing that
you have another think coming."

I doubt anybody would mind, in that family. Or notice anything as being out 
of the ordinary.

 Taking my hand, he raised it to see the girasol. He
kissed it and I heard him whisper a word to it. What
happened next was rather surprising.

 The dark clothes given to me rippled with an audible
sound. Another ripple and they had disappeared. Even the
guns were gone. My surprise was evident on my face as Gramps
smiled.

Why am I suddenly reminded of good old Barry Allen?

I wonder if Wally still has the old "costume in a ring" setup, too? I'm 
ashamed to admit that I've more or less stopped reading all of my old comic 
heroes. Except Spidey, of course. And Deadpool - although he's hardly old.

 "Did you seriously believe Grant's theories on how I
managed the costume? Trick briefcase, indeed! There are many
thing left over from olden times, you should know that, my
little Dreamer."

I think you might want to break that sentence. "...from olden times. You 
should know that..."

 I was silent. I had heard of ancient tales told by the
storytellers in Hlanith. But such things were rarities even
in the Dream. Gramps' long experience helped him read my
face.

And a smattering of Lovecraft. You know, I still haven't gotten around to 
reading more than a few of those tales. Still, you must have some of the 
most literary cameos I've ever had the pleasure of stumbling across. It 
really does help give your works that special feel that sets them apart from 
other stories. ^_^

 "Explanations are for later. We have your farewell
dinner to attend, Natasha. Come."

 He turned and I joined him as we left my Sanctum. I
would probably be getting another one when I arrived at
New York. Both my grandfathers had an extensive network that
were undoubtedly still there.

Why would she be going to New York? I'd expect her to be in Tokyo. Y'know, 
where this Princess who needs her so badly IS.

Why do I have this weird mental image of her and Tuxedo Kamen both trying to 
come to the rescue at the same time and fighting over who gets to pose on 
the highest tree branch, or something?

 We moved in companionable silence after leaving the
cave. The deepening dusk was no worry. We would arrive at
the house in time.

 "Natasha."

 "Yes, Gramps."

 "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

 I stopped and turned to see a sardonic smile and
burning eyes. I grinned back. I could feel the laughter
bubbling up in my throat.

 "We know, Grandfather. We know."

 Gramps could only laugh. I joined him and the forests
was filled with the laughter of shadows.

*******************************************

Very good. I am, as always, in awe at just how talented you are, my dear 
Miss Bibat.

Little Author's Note:

This is a bit of an attempt at world-building for one of my current
fanfic-in-the-works. It should also be noted that this is writing
practice, and I definitely know that some of those tenses are wrong.

I did notice one or two tiny gaffes. I tried to point them out for you.

But since I prefer playing by ear, I try to ignore them. Please try to
see what's what and notify me. Another note, this is in the same
continuity as the several earlier vignettes and my short fic "Catnap"
which means Natasha is the young lady that Luna met on the way to
Ulthar.

Well, that answers that question. I figured it might be her once she started 
getting the gear from Setsuna.

There are also several characters and concepts hidden in the
story, points for anyone getting all the references in the story. ^_^

I'm quite certain that I didn't. There were several times that I just knew 
you were referencing something, but I was left scratching my head as to what 
it might be.

Still, a fascinating read, and I for one really enjoyed it. Carry on, dear 
Elsa, and good luck with whatever you're working on at the moment. I'm sure 
it will be just as good as this was.

Ja!

-Morgan Hudson


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