NOTE: Most of the dialogue here is in Han Yin Pin Yin, which is Chinese in lettered English alphabet. There will be subtitles below the phrase, so not to get confused.
Fourteen months ago.
China. The last emperor has disappeared from this land for a long time now. Only the Japanese remain dominant, as the streets littered itself with soldiers, ready to carry any pain on the burden of the locals.
Hei Long. The port of the Black Dragon, common ground for pirates and scum, hidden from the Japanese's narrow view.
The Tear sat on the wooden throne, as if resembled that of the forbidden city. He was admired by his minions, as they groveled to kiss his feet. His grin was covered by his black mask, with a white tear on his left eye that marked the darkness. He kicked them aside, as the bellow of the horn signaled the coming of his ship.
"Nin qui xiamen ma?*" one of them asked the agent, as he made his way outside. He ignored the question, as the others lifted his luggage aboard the junk boat.
"Shi,**" he said, as the ferryman swung his pole, steering the boat away from the port. Suddenly, gunshots began to ring across the area, as whores and pirates began to scamper away.
*(Are you going to Xiamen, yes?)
**(Yes.)
The Japanese discipline enforcers had found them.
One by one, the shots became frequent, second after second, as more pirates dropped dead in the chaos. From the distance, the ferryman drew off his cloak, revealing himself to be an American smuggler. Instantly, he dropped the pole, and opened the box in the back, revealing a hidden motor.
"So, what did you tell your men, Master Tear?"
"I told them I was going to Xiamen. How little they know."
The agent sneered, having dropped his Chinese accent ever since he had left the port. No longer would he be hounded by those pirates, nor those Japanese. "I already gave the Japanese information on the pirates. Seeing them bloody Hei Long was a pleasure for Master Shiwan, beyond all he has experienced. You should try it more often."
"Well, I'm sure my boss will like that."
"What's his name again? The Deacon, right. I forget too easily." The motor began to sputter, then stopped altogether, as they neared a luxury cruiser, SS Promethea. "He's in Ellis Island, waiting for your arrival. In the meantime, sir . . . " he said, as the ladder dropped down on them, and the ganglord began to climb up. " . . . I hope you enjoy your stay onboard the Promethea."
Suddenly, Shiwan Kahn took the smuggler by his hand, then rammed his head onto the boat. Bleeding, he let the boy fall into the sea, as he noticed the fins swimming near by. "Have fun, little friends," he muttered, as the sharks began to circulate the body. He climbed up still, ignoring the strong movement of the waves, and the sound a scream submerged underwater. Aboard, the captain greeted him wholeheartedly, asking him where the boy they sent had gone.
"He was killed, unfortunately . . . by those Japanese scum," Shiwan said wryly, and went to his cabin to rest after the long day.
A bright new future awaited him.
Two nights ago.
The Chinaman dragged the body of the head of acquisitions across the floor, and threw it into the crate. Behind the shadows, the henchmen rushed forward to greet the man.
"Are you Shiwan Kahn?" one of them asked, as the ganglord stood before them, his aura of power illuminating the darkness. "Yes," the ganglord said, as he stepped down on the floor. Suddenly, one of the men dared to fire at the man, and in response, his mind was set aflame. He fell onto the floor, as the others began to back away. "Tell me where the Deacon is, my friends, lest would you like to join your friend," he said, as he grabbed an axe and tipped it below the dazed man's head. "Take him away. I shall spare his life . . . for now. If you take me to him."
"What do we do with this, sir?" one of them said, as he took out the Jade artifact, its enigmatic power becoming all too obvious.
Shiwan smiled devilishly. " . . . place it in the crate. I am sure the museum will need a compensation for one of its losses . . . "
One day ago.
"Poor soul," the constable said, as the body was placed to head for the morgue. "All he ever had was his job . . . "
"Constable," the curator managed to mumble, waking the detective. "Look what I found . . . "
"It came from the crate . . . "
"It's the perfect thing to place into the Wonders of China exhibit! Something from the mysteries of the Orient!"
The Jade Phoenix.
Today.
"This ancient artifact dates back to cro-magnon period, excavated in the 1920s," the young tour guide said as excited as possible, while the group stared in awe at the beauty of the exhibit, if not for its value.
Lamont Cranston tried to wake himself, keeping himself semi-conscious during the whole tour. "I hope this ends soon," he whispered to his companion, Margo Lane, who was actually quite interested in the subject.
"Then keep your thoughts to yourself first," she said.
The guide led them to a huge room in the museum, entitled "Wonders of China." The guide turned to the visitors, before leaning on the rail. "What you are seeing here, people, are the unimaginable and outstanding artworks that came straight from China!" she pointed towards a statuette situated in the center of the lifelike mountain mold under the skylight. It was sparkling in the light, as its green translucent color gave it the atmosphere of mystery. "That, my friends, is the enigmatic Jade Phoenix, derived from the tomb of the eleventh emperor of China, Jia Jing! As it goes, the Jade Phoenix was a vessel of unlimited power, made out of magical stones, then covered with jade. No one knows what lies beneath it, and no one will, for this artifact is covered with alarms, so it'll be safe."
Lamont stared quietly, as if caught in a hypnotic trance of the Jade Phoenix. "If I know better, I'm sure this will be their next target."
Dusk hit the dazzling lights of New York City.
"Welcome to America, my friend," Shiwan said highly, as the Tear set foot upon the port's grounds. "How was your trip, then?"
"Could use a little furnishing. I've already destroyed the pirates at Hei Long, as you requested."
"Good."
The Deacon placed his hand on his watch, and eyed the time. " . . . we're going to be late, Shiwan. You've already played this game of yours by letting the Phoenix slip into the hands of the museum. Sooner or later, we'll miss the Shadow."
"Do not worry, friend Deacon. We will capture the darkness and the relic."
"Yes, and the museum has plans on using the relic. we'll play this game of yours, Shiwan. Either way, I will have my hands on that artifact."
The captain and two of his crew brought down his luggage, and dropped it on the floor. The Deacon opened the suitcases, and smiled in approval. "It seems that you deliver well, Kahn. Your agent has already gotten the goods." Tear emotionlessly slammed the cases, as the Deacon stood up. Shiwan kept quiet, and eyed the crew. He walked over to the captain, grabbing him by the collar. The captain couldn't resist but stared into his eyes, as if they were a spiral staircase, going down and . . .
"Sail your ship across the horizon north of here," Shiwan Kahn whispered to his ears, and dropped him on the floor. As the crew struggled to get their captain back on his feet, the Deacon called for a cab.
Suddenly, a black Bugatti appeared out of nowhere, stopping right before the two. "How, can I help yuh, guv'nor?" the cab driver said, and the Deacon opened the door for Shiwan Kahn and his agent, asking them to enter the car. Shiwan did so, with an air of royalty, making sure he will be treated as the ganglord that he was back then.
Tear climbed in, and placed his hand on the white tear on his left eye that marked the darkness. Deacon climbed in, as the engine began to sputter. "So, where to, sairs?"
"Red Cardinal," the Deacon whispered, and suddenly, the cab driver's eyes lit up. Shiwan Kahn noticed his personality change, his southern accent gave way to his eloquent English, and his expression became darker. "Good work, Monty. Right on time. You were great, by the way."
"Thanks boss. We're going back there?"
Deacon relaxed, giving a nod, and the cab sped off. Behind them, the ship made its way back. The captain, as if in a trance, kept uttering the same words, watching the horizon.
"To the horizon . . . "
"Captain, we're on collision course with the bridge!"
"To the horizon . . . "
"We're not going to make it!"
"To the horizon . . . "
" . . . Captai--"
An explosion rocked New York that night . . . it was only the beginning.
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" The Shadow sighed under his scarf, watching over the building. He saw the figures making their silently into the museum, breaking in without ever so tripping the alarms. "I'm not the best person for this job . . . where are those costumed heroes that debuted awhile back?" He sighed again, disappearing into the shadows, as his name said. "Well, I am the Shadow . . . "
He dropped down on the floor, with only a thud to mark his existence. The burglars heard him, and started to look around with anxiety.
{He's here, like the boss said he would be. Now what?} the Shadow overheard.
One of them, in their minds, registering a thought so loud, it was painful. The leader, with his Uzi readied, aimed at the darkness uttered a single word.
"Fire."
The Shadow ran quickly behind the marble columns, to escape the barrage of bullets hurtling across the room. "This is not good," he muttered, before the firing stopped. Thoughts began to fly in mid-air, as the Shadow tried concentrate. The panic was too much to ignore.
{Is he dead?}
{Where'd he go?}
{Who's going to tell the Deacon?}
"As I suspected," The Shadow said, grabbing a chunk of debris from the ground, and throwing it across the room. The gunmen turned to the sound, and began to firing at that direction. Without their notice, the Shadow made his way swiftly across the room, and into the display area of the Jade Phoenix.
The Bugotti stopped right in front of the Museum.
"This way," Deacon told Shiwan Kahn, as they entered the broken the doors. "I'm sure you'd know not to trip any alarms, my friend."
Shiwan Kahn kept silent, as they passed down the gun-riddled corridor. The Tear placed his hand on one of the ancient Greek relics, then smashed it to pieces. "Pathetic workmanship," he muttered as they continued on. Deacon smiled, though in his mind he was slightly peeved at the Chinaman. "How familiar are you with the Shadow, Kahn?" he asked.
Slowly, Shiwan turned to the man, with a grim smile written over his face. "Quite . . . well."
He knew he had found him at last.
Lamont stared in awe at the Jade Phoenix, as the moonlight gave it an aura of exotic oriental dreams. "Wonderful," he said, tempted to touch it. " . . . but, that's not my concern right now."
Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming that way, and he stepped away from the railing, and hid himself amongst the shadows again. The gunmen entered the room, searching for him. Behind them, the three men made their way to the light. One of them Lamont was not too eager to meet again.
"Ni how ma,* my great rival Shadow," Shiwan Kahn addressed to the darkness, knowing that he was there. Lamont felt the chill in his spine draw up to his neck, as if clasping onto it.
*(How are you?)
"Kahn," he replied, angrily. "What are you doing here in the America?"
"That is my business, Shadow. Now, I see the Deacon has made well arrangements for the Jade Phoenix, so I would like to take my purchase now, if that is fine with you."
"You're playing this game far too long with me, Shiwan. Even back in China."
"No one asked you to join in," Shiwan declared, as he drew closer to the exhibit. Suddenly he paused, then closed his eyes.
"Don't fire yet, boys," The Tear said, observing the Chinaman.
"What it is that bothers you, dear friend, with the fact that I am utilizing my own benefits? I can read that you are on yours," Shiwan whispered, as the shadows moved around the room, as if reflected by the light of the Jade Phoenix.
{I don't use it for destroying lives, Shiwan.}
The ganglord smirked, then continued walking closer to the artifact. "To each his own," he muttered, before he reached for the Jade Phoenix. Suddenly, his hand stopped in mid-air, unable to move any further. "Is this your work, Shadow? You know your telepathy and my own are equally matched. Are you trying to stop me?"
{Anything.}
"If so is your case, I could just let them know where you're hiding, where you are." he turned to the gunmen, and gave them the signal to ready their Uzis. "I could just ask them to fire now, and get it over with. You would either die, or move away and let the bullets hit me. But that isn't the easy case, is it Shadow? How much do you value a life?"
Lamont didn't say a word, still holding onto Kahn's wrist.
"Would you let all you've exerted go to waste because of one life? The Deacon can spread the word; the Shadow kills an innocent! Now tell me, who will be the sacrificial lamb? You? or Me?"
{You know how I hate you?}
Lamont let go of the wrist, and Shiwan ordered the gunmen to put their weapons down. Helpless, the Shadow watched angrily as Shiwan Kahn took hold of the Jade Dragon from its pedestal, and let the alarms trip. "That's the sound boys. We're moving out now!" Deacon exclaimed, as the gunmen began to withdraw from the museum. Lamont revealed himself, standing still, as Shiwan moved beside him.
"You did the right thing," he whispered in a vile taunt, and slowly left the room.
The Shadow stared at the empty exhibit, and disappeared into the gloom of the shadows again.
"Lamont, you look awfully tired. What's wrong with you?" Margo asked, holding onto the disgruntled Lamont, bitten by disgrace.
"Margo, you wouldn't understand. It's . . . nothing. Just a bad night." he said, as he notice Margo's face that could brighten the daylight on New York's cobble streets. "But you know what?" he said, passing by the horse carriages in the park. " . . . you've been there to lift me up. All the time."
Margo Lane smiled, and held his hand. "I'll always be there, Lamont. You know it. I just don't . . . say, would you mind to take a ride with me across the park?"
Lamont's eye lit up with subtle joy.Does she really care? Margo called for a carriage, and they got in, sitting together hand by hand. The hooves clumped across the ground, as the carriage began to move steadily. Margo came close to Lamont, and pressed her head on his shoulders. Lamont closed his eyes.
Was this the beginning of something more . . . ?
"Excellent," the Deacon remarked, as he eyed the Jade Phoenix with his spectacles. "You have been very generous to me, Shiwan. Perhaps it be the reward of bringing you quietly in America?"
"Maybe," the Chinese ganglord said, admiring the art pieces in the majestic room.
The Deacon smiled. "I acquired this penthouse in Roulette District just for you. A proper ganglord needs a proper hiding place, yes?"
"Maybe," Shiwan replied, in a flat tone, while holding onto a piece of ancient Chin Wei Dagger, of the Ming Dynasty. Deacon was getting impatient with the man. "Now, on to business. As you have mentioned, the price of smuggling you into America would be my selection of special opium, that I can release in the black market. That has been resolved, thanks to the numerous luggage that you have smuggled here. Now, about the other one . . . "
" . . . the secret of the Jade Phoenix? It is a power beyond reckoning. Anyone can behold it . . . "
Shiwan grabbed the dagger, and threw it across the room. It went straight through Deacon's chest, to his surprise. "What is--"
The Deacon dropped on the floor, bleeding away. Shiwan Kahn stood before him, neither triumphant nor pleased. " . . . but only I can possess it," he muttered.
"W-why, Shiwan?" he said, trying to grab hold of the Chinaman's robe.
"It was nothing really, Deacon. I read your mind," he said. "Don't disgrace me please. You were really just in my way." Shiwan opened an empty hope chest, and dropped the Deacon inside. His screams faded as the chest was slammed shut, and placed with a lock.
Shiwan took a moment, and knelt before the chest, whispering to the man inside it, "After all, a proper ganglord also needs proper henchmen. And a proper identity."
He called for the henchmen, who entered the room. "What is it, sir?"
"Dispose of this hope chest immediately. I find it . . . rather disturbing."
The henchmen began to heave it away, unaware of the muffled screams and pleas. Then, Shiwan called one of them back. "Young one," he said, as the henchman stood still in order. "Would you believe I would use mind clouding powers on you?"
"Never sir!"
"Good. And who am I?"
"Why sir . . . you're the Deacon, sir!"
"Exactly."
Shiwan Kahn was left alone in the penthouse and he sat by his couch, and sighed. "Yesterday, I was Shiwan Kahn. Today, I am the Deacon. When will you learn, Lamont, that I will be able to get you and all you hold dear with the flick of my wrist?"
He grabbed a glass of champagne, and poured himself one.
" . . . very, very soon . . . "
Next Issue: Dark Beginnings concludes as The Shadow faces his arch enemy once more!