[OOC: Ghost Rider meets The Shadow - another short]
((This, interestingly enough, is based off of a very vivid dream I experienced a short time ago. I finally had the chance to get around to writing it.
The Shadow sounds more like the radio shows, than the pulps, but that's a result of listening to the shows for the last couple of days.))
Vengeance and Justice
The Shadow could hear the sounds of a motorcycle blazing through the streets and frowned as it reached the alley he stood in. Footsteps preceded the form of a gasping young man who fled from someone. Ducking into a shadowed doorway, he gulped and tried to calm his racing heart. The Shadow recognized the boy for one that he had previously seen down on the docks a week earlier, aiding in the smuggling of illicit goods from a number of small ships docked there. He was not surprised when a brilliant glow of hellfire and the stomp of boots rounded the corner in the boy’s wake. He watched in observant silence as the Ghost Rider reached almost lazily into the doorway, grabbing the gasping kid and holding him inches in front of his face.
“You are guilty!” The skeletal head bellowed, the flames around his head flaring as the young criminal squirmed, gave a whimper and then dropped to the ground, a dazed, nonresponsive mess.
“You are too quick to hand out punishment, Ghost Rider.” An eerie voice floated through the air and Zarathos spun on his heel, blank orbs staring into the blackness of the alley. He watched as The Shadow seemed to meld from the darkness, and the fire around his head sputtered in indignation.
“Vengeance must be given…”
“And vengeance will be had, in full, if you are willing to be patient!” There was irritation in the voice of The Shadow. Since the last time he and the Ghost Rider had met, scores of leads and small time criminals that could have guided The Shadow to his desired goals of justice had met a babbling, senseless fate at the hands of the Ghost Rider. As tall as The Shadow was, Zarathos was still slightly taller, so the brim of the black hat had to tip upward at a slight angle in order for The Shadow to glare at the Ghost Rider with orbs that blazed with a desire for justice that was unmet.
“You allow the guilty to go free!” Impressively fast, the Ghost Rider grabbed the folds of the sable hued cloak and pulled The Shadow within inches of his skull. “How is this justice?” The Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly, the brightness of the fire around the Ghost Rider’s head causing the pupils to contract to pinpoints of black within their blue-gray depths.
“They are only free until the final stroke; where the powers that drive these children to crime, fall as one!” He motioned to the boy on the ground that was slumped against a trash can, staring blankly into space. “Your methods are ineffective in solving the greater problem, Ghost Rider…”
“My methods…” The Shadow felt a prickle of warmth from the usually cool hellfire. Behind the scarf, he frowned, but the remainder of his face did not betray the expression. “I will show you my methods! You have no guilt, but there is blood on your hands, Shadow! Even though your victims were guilty, you still have a soul to burn!” Zarathos wrapped a thick hand around The Shadow’s neck, forcing his head into an uncomfortable upward angle as he struck at the mortal man with the hellfire at his command. The Shadow went rigid and made a small gurgling sound from behind his scarf, and his eyes dilated for a moment, before the Ghost Rider suddenly found himself sailing through the air, the result of a skilled jujitsu move. He crashed loudly at the end of the alley, eventually standing unharmed. Shoulders hunched and ready for a fight, he looked to The Shadow and saw the man was facing away, stooped slightly with his hand over his eyes.
“A taste of hellfire for you, Shadow!” Zarathos bellowed triumphantly, when his own laughter was quickly drowned out by the chilling mirth that emanated from The Shadow.
“An interesting trick, Ghost Rider.” The Shadow stood erect, a bit wobbly on his feet, but his voice betrayed none of this. “But I think the results were not what either of us expected.” Zarathos grated his teeth together as he watched The Shadow turn to face him. No longer was the burn in his eyes merely the result of his force of will, now they were rimmed with the flicker of hellfire!
“What kind of trick is this?” Zarathos snarled as he took a step forward towards The Shadow, who stood unwaveringly in place now. The shock of being seared by hellfire having worn off, The Shadow was able to resume his usual composure.
“One that I hope can be reversed, demon.” There was unappreciative venom in The Shadow’s voice as an eye narrowed at Zarathos. “It does not behoove a shadow to glow.”
The Shadow sounds more like the radio shows, than the pulps, but that's a result of listening to the shows for the last couple of days.))
Vengeance and Justice
The Shadow could hear the sounds of a motorcycle blazing through the streets and frowned as it reached the alley he stood in. Footsteps preceded the form of a gasping young man who fled from someone. Ducking into a shadowed doorway, he gulped and tried to calm his racing heart. The Shadow recognized the boy for one that he had previously seen down on the docks a week earlier, aiding in the smuggling of illicit goods from a number of small ships docked there. He was not surprised when a brilliant glow of hellfire and the stomp of boots rounded the corner in the boy’s wake. He watched in observant silence as the Ghost Rider reached almost lazily into the doorway, grabbing the gasping kid and holding him inches in front of his face.
“You are guilty!” The skeletal head bellowed, the flames around his head flaring as the young criminal squirmed, gave a whimper and then dropped to the ground, a dazed, nonresponsive mess.
“You are too quick to hand out punishment, Ghost Rider.” An eerie voice floated through the air and Zarathos spun on his heel, blank orbs staring into the blackness of the alley. He watched as The Shadow seemed to meld from the darkness, and the fire around his head sputtered in indignation.
“Vengeance must be given…”
“And vengeance will be had, in full, if you are willing to be patient!” There was irritation in the voice of The Shadow. Since the last time he and the Ghost Rider had met, scores of leads and small time criminals that could have guided The Shadow to his desired goals of justice had met a babbling, senseless fate at the hands of the Ghost Rider. As tall as The Shadow was, Zarathos was still slightly taller, so the brim of the black hat had to tip upward at a slight angle in order for The Shadow to glare at the Ghost Rider with orbs that blazed with a desire for justice that was unmet.
“You allow the guilty to go free!” Impressively fast, the Ghost Rider grabbed the folds of the sable hued cloak and pulled The Shadow within inches of his skull. “How is this justice?” The Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly, the brightness of the fire around the Ghost Rider’s head causing the pupils to contract to pinpoints of black within their blue-gray depths.
“They are only free until the final stroke; where the powers that drive these children to crime, fall as one!” He motioned to the boy on the ground that was slumped against a trash can, staring blankly into space. “Your methods are ineffective in solving the greater problem, Ghost Rider…”
“My methods…” The Shadow felt a prickle of warmth from the usually cool hellfire. Behind the scarf, he frowned, but the remainder of his face did not betray the expression. “I will show you my methods! You have no guilt, but there is blood on your hands, Shadow! Even though your victims were guilty, you still have a soul to burn!” Zarathos wrapped a thick hand around The Shadow’s neck, forcing his head into an uncomfortable upward angle as he struck at the mortal man with the hellfire at his command. The Shadow went rigid and made a small gurgling sound from behind his scarf, and his eyes dilated for a moment, before the Ghost Rider suddenly found himself sailing through the air, the result of a skilled jujitsu move. He crashed loudly at the end of the alley, eventually standing unharmed. Shoulders hunched and ready for a fight, he looked to The Shadow and saw the man was facing away, stooped slightly with his hand over his eyes.
“A taste of hellfire for you, Shadow!” Zarathos bellowed triumphantly, when his own laughter was quickly drowned out by the chilling mirth that emanated from The Shadow.
“An interesting trick, Ghost Rider.” The Shadow stood erect, a bit wobbly on his feet, but his voice betrayed none of this. “But I think the results were not what either of us expected.” Zarathos grated his teeth together as he watched The Shadow turn to face him. No longer was the burn in his eyes merely the result of his force of will, now they were rimmed with the flicker of hellfire!
“What kind of trick is this?” Zarathos snarled as he took a step forward towards The Shadow, who stood unwaveringly in place now. The shock of being seared by hellfire having worn off, The Shadow was able to resume his usual composure.
“One that I hope can be reversed, demon.” There was unappreciative venom in The Shadow’s voice as an eye narrowed at Zarathos. “It does not behoove a shadow to glow.”