1964-05-11 - The Shadow Knows...?
Summary: Seems there are zombies in Central Park. Nightwing goes to check it out and finds that he's not alone in his observation.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
lamont nightwing 


*

So, the Shadow's not in the Park proper, not yet. Rather, he's atop the roof of one of the fancier apartment buildings - one he happens to have a residence in. But at the moment, he's crouched in the shadow of one of the Art Deco gargoyles that adorn the roof's edge, as the sky darkens over the city, gazing down into the park. He's in a broad-brimmed black hat, black caped coat, and a dull crimson scarf. Nightwing's too young to remember the days when the Shadow was the scourge of New York's darker streets….but perhaps he's heard rumors or old stories. Wayne's far from the first caped crusader, after all.

*

Nightwing may be too young to remember the vigilante, but he heard the radio shows. Maybe it was something Alfred enjoyed, maybe it was something Wayne himself exposed him to. But it's not outside his knowledge. The fact that the man might be real, however, that is unknown to him. It's different, going about town without his mentor, but it's not distateful. It's given him a chance to re-learn the city through his own eyes as an adult now…not as a young teen.

Central Park is always a place to keep an eye on, especially at night. During the day it's not so bad, but once night falls, the place becomes a bit darker in spirit and not just in light. He's certainly stopped a few crimes from happening here and it's always his first and last stop on this evening's patrols. The gargoyles and guest aren't quite noticed immediately as he swings down from the flagpole of the Waldorf-Astoria to perch on a balcony and look over the park.

*

Now that….that is intriguing. The Shadow wasn't the first, either. But it's the first time he's seen one of the later generations out and about, other than the ones who are legitimately public figures in their own right, like the Star Spangled Walking Target CAptain Rogers. It's been a long time for Lamont. So he doesn't move, keeping still and silent….but the night breeze toys with the swath of scarlet silk that covers most of his face. The only part of his face visible between the shadow beneath the hat brim and the scarf are a pair of pale, gleaming eyes. The zombies visible in the park are neglected in favor of the newcomer.

*

The…zombies…zombies? Those catch Nightwing's attention and he perches on the edge of the balcony as if to get a better look until something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. That fluttering scarf among the gargoyles. He's not alone. In just a blink of an eye he's no longer on that balcony but is, instead, making his way to the gargoyles and the fluttering scarf to investigate.

Seems Wayne taught him well. Or, at least, never squashed his natural curiosity.

*

The one in the dark…cloak? Coat? realizes he's been seen. But the Shadow doesn't attempt to flee. Rather, he stands and steps back away from the edge a little, so they aren't easily visible to the man (or zombie) on the street below. He's silent, hands at his sides, but there's no particular tension to him. As if he met strangers on dark rooftops all the time.

*

Nightwing climbs easily onto the rooftop with the gargoyles and stands, his eyes peering out from his domino mask as he looks for the source of that fluttering. He flips his escrima sticks into his hands and steps forward, "Who are you and what are you doing up here?" Sure, there are other vigilantes; he's caught up on that news at least. It's not going to cause him to make any assumptions, however.

*

There's a sense of….amusement, that emanates from him, somehow? Not that a smile's visible. There's an odd, metallic quality to his voice, as if it didn't merely come from the body standing before him. "I'm the Shadow," he says, simply. As if that should be taken at face value. A glance aside towards the depths of the park. "And I'm doing what you were doing, or so I imagine. Trying to get some perspective on what's going on in the park."

*

"'The Shadow'? is repeated as the younger vigilante tilts his head. "Like that old radio show?" Well, it's a memorable name? At least the one in the show was on the side of good? Nightwing scrutinizes the other figure for a long moment before he chooses to sort of trust this stranger. At least in terms of discussion. "I usually check the Park a few times a night, but this is odd. I read that there's been weird stuff going on here…which never happened before." Who brought more weirdness into his city? "They look dead…or like those creatures from those bad horror movies."

*

Still that sense of humor….now turned a little wry. "I assure you," comes that flat voice, though there's a hint of ruefulness there, "I am the original." …..which doesn't make sense, for he showed up in the Twenties, almost forty years ago. Then again, Bruce's never let age slow him…. "And indeed, they are the walking dead," he adds, with another glance aside. "Precisely what kind and why they're manifesting here….that is what I intend to determine."

*

Nightwing turns sharply to look at the other for a moment…he'll note that to research later. For now, though, they seem to be on the same side. "Ew," is offered after a moment before he adds, "Well, from what I heard, there was a gateway to Hell at one point here…recently. I'm still not entirely sure I believe in that stuff but," there was enough proof that he has to at least consider it. "Are there different kinds then or just the 'eat your brain' kinds?"

*

"There are many different kinds," the Shadow affirms, calmly. "Many ways to raise the dead….or infect and degrade the living. And as for a gateway to Hell…..I don't know about here, most recently, but believe it. There are many other worlds than these, horrible and wonderful." He's utterly matter of fact about it. "And who are you, my fellow watcher in the night?"

*

Too bad Bruce is off doing his own stuff…he might be interested in this. Or not…he's weird about Supernatural things. "Seriously?" that gets another glance to the Shadow. At the mention of other worlds he glances back out at the park. Perhaps this other guy is nuts? Then again, they are both out at night…in costumes…observing zombies in Central Park.

The Sanity bus left a long time ago.

As he asks his name though, there's a moment before he answers, "…Nightwing." If he hadn't decided on a name before, it's that one now.

*

"Entirely seriously," His posture's still easy, as if he were just a birdwatcher in the park, in more normal times. "Is that so hard to believe?" he asks, sparing a glance for the man beside him. And then there's that sense of humor again - perhaps the way the lines graven by his eyes deepen. "You've not been at this long, have you?" No condescension in his tone. IT might even be welcome.

*

"It's a little weird, sure, but I don't discount it entirely." He's seen too much. "I guess when you're fist to fist with these things it's a lot easier to believe…or rather, a lot harder to discount. The next question then gets a slight grimace before he tries to smooth it, "Actually, I've been at it for a while. I've just had a hiatus for a few years."

*

Now he laughs….and while it isn't that echoing maniacal cackle that's all part of the persona, there's an edge to it. Not mocking, though. It might sound, just a bit, reminiscent of a certain Clown Prince. "Tell me about it," he says, still chuckling. "On both fronts. I used to fancy myself a very hard-headed man. And I've been gone from here for a very long time…."

*

Just the fact that it's a familiar sort of laughter has Nightwing narrowing his eyes at the other. Movements are noted…height, build, the way he holds himself…for later reference and possible comparison. "It's possible to be stubborn but open to new and esoteric ideas." Maybe. No one's said he wasn't stubborn, but he likes to think he's more open-minded than his mentor. "And what brought you back now?"

*

Tall, thin but not gaunt….and he moves with the kind of fluid grace that betrays long training. "Indeed," he agrees, nodding. And then he's falling silent, watching a pair of zombies coursing down a paved path, moving with a surprising nimbleness, as they chase a lost dog. There's a hissing intake of breath at that. "I don't like that at all," he allows. "I was rather hoping they'd be the slow and stupid kind." A moment, and then he adds, "Humans too long away from Earth sicken for their homeworld. It was time to come back."

*

"So what's going to take them out? Fire? Blunt trauma?" Nightwing frowns down at the zombies as well before he looks sharply at the Shadow's next words. "So you were…on a different world." He was just traveling in Europe and Asia. Apparently that's not good enough. "You have to admit, even -that- sounds weird…"

*

"I don't know yet. In my experience…fire. Decapitation. Dismemberment. Sometimes the most effective means is magical. I don't think those are being directly controlled by a sorcerer at the moment," the Shadow says, easily. "Which is both good and bad." Another look at Nightwing. "It does. But yes. There are many realms, and many ways to pass through them. Lost Carcosa isn't as lost as we are told," He sounds almost offhand. Like all you need to do is head down to Port Authority and buy a Greyhound ticket to the Dreamlands or sunken R'lyeh.

*

And now he's fairly certain this guy is nuts. At least, more nuts than most. Nightwing watches the other for another long moment, trying to maintain his composure when the other speaks to him of other realms. "So…how should those of us who -don't- have magic take these guys out?"

*

One hundred percent certifiable. "These ideas really bother you," he observes, mildly. "Well," he says. "I thought I'd experiment with the direct method, and shoot one in the head this evening."

*

"I'm a guy who goes about the city in a mask and costume fighting bad guys. I like to think I'm pretty open-minded," so some of this must be really out there for it to bother him. "I'm also a guy looking at zombies. Most people wouldn't even accept that much." So give him some credit! "Ok, so…saying one doesn't have guns. Next best method?"

*

There's another of those wry chuckles. "Indeed. New Yorkers've had to learn to accept quite a good bit, these last few months," he concedes. "Decapitation. Blade, wire, grenade sandwich. That puts paid to almost anything. Fire. Fire will almost always at least distract something. I would not, under any circumstances, go hand to hand with these. That almost never works well."

*

Not too much in his arsenal, but he'll dig around and see what he can find. "Good to know. Fire, huh?" He might be able to do something with that. There might be some creativity involved, but Nightwing doesn't tend to be too shy when it comes to improvising. Surely there must be a way to ignite his excrima sticks. "Yeah, and now they get to deal with zombies. I really hope these guys aren't from some nearby cemetary."

*

"I don't know about electricity." He's musing aloud now, is the other man. "Poisons or chemicals are more or less useless, in general. I hope so, as well. I don't know - I think there's a portal here, sporadically."

*

"So…close the portal and take down the zombies. I'm not sure that electricity would work either since they might not have enough of a system to be interrupted?" Maybe he'll experiment with that as well though. Nightwing moves to another part of the rooftop to follow the movements of the zombies before he offers, "I'm going in. At least to follow these guys." There's a glance to the shadowy man, "I'd appreciate not being shot, thanks."

*

"I'll come with you," he says, following easily, tread surprisingly soundless. "I do want to conduct that experiment, after all. And….yes. If it can be closed and kept closed," Lamont sounds thoughtful, still.

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