Agents of the Shadow: The Double Shadow

CHAPTER I

New York, 1952.

Clancey Barnes had run into a dead-end. The panic that had overtaken common sense had led him down too many back streets that were unfamiliar in the night. The glances over his shoulder every few seconds had him disoriented; stumbling into trash containers and huge cardboard boxes full of unwanted packaging and rubbish had eventually injured his side. He could feel his insides swelling up and his hip begin to stiffen with the pain.

“Ah crap!” he spat.

He turned around and stared intently back along the dark alleyway. The light from the buildings around him barely made it down to ground level. A few open windows two storeys above glowed with electric warmth, but they were swallowed up by the night and Clancey could just about make out the ground and the walls that surrounded him for a few feet before the Stygian atmosphere engulfed it. High above, above the rooftops about, the midnight blue sky was being covered by ominous black clouds.

“Give me a God-Damned break won't ya!” he yelled into the night. He strained to see further into the distance, but to no avail.

He began to rasp as the cold air bit into his heaving lungs, and the sound of his own heartbeat sounded loud in his ears; faintly in the distance he could hear the sound of a radio. He thought it sounded like that new science fiction programme Dimension X but it was difficult to tell, and he wasn't paying too much attention.

Just for a moment he considered running back the way he had come; he took a few steps before a wave of fear surged up from the pit of his stomach and took a grip on his neck. The hot flush of blood and bile froze is body where it stood. He licked dry lips with a dry burning tongue and swallowed forcing down the rising feeling.

A gust of wind nearly blew him over he was so on edge. Pieces of paper and a wall of dust came out of the blackness like a demonic breath. Clancey shaded his eyes from the debris that wound about him, but it still managed to work it's way into his mouth and nose. His eyes stung from the motes of dust.

“Jeez, what d'ya want from me,” he managed to croak. His words were sucked into the night no sooner had they been uttered, “I didn't do anything to you!”

This last shout drew some attention from a tenant up above. There was what sounded like a coarse reply and then a sash window being closed roughly. He was about to shout for help again, but the words froze in his throat.

Ahead of him, something moved in the blackness.

A sound like the slithering of a snake seemed to move in front of him.

Clancey Barnes dug a trembling hand deep into his coat pocket and pulled out a fist full of dollar bills. He held them out in front of him dropping some in the process.

“Here – take it! For God's sake, if this is what you want, take it!”

At first he could not see anything, the dark tendrils of the night had wormed their way into the recesses of the alleyway. Then his eyes noticed movement again in the blackest of blackness.

The night seemed to stand still around him as a part of the alleyway beyond his vision began to solidify into a solid mass of shadow. Slowly, rising from the floor a few feet in front of his feet, there began to take shape a figure wearing a long cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. There were no features on the face below the hat. He could just about make out the outline of a face because his eyes now felt like they were covered in cotton wool.

Suddenly he noticed that a thick cloud of smoke had began to flow from the mysterious figure towards him. It made it's way around their feet and then started to rise up behind his back until it loomed above him like a ghostly tsunami. The eerie cloud surrounding him gripped like ice, and he could feel the greenbacks in his hand begin to stiffen.

Clancey heard the figure breathing now. It took a deep breathe and let out a sibilant hiss as it exhaled. A gloved hand, appeared from within the folds of the black cloak as if it were part of the material and extended towards him pointing an accusing finger at his chest.

When it spoke, the sound chilled him fully to the bone if that were possible, considering how scared he was already.

“Your name is Clancey Barnes, and you are a criminal of the worst kind.” It stated. “You have sealed your doom with this, your last act of violence.”

The cloud was now enveloping Clancey, it's very substance spreading over his shoulders and spilling down his jacket. “W-what do you mean?” He managed to ask, as it worked its' way into the pockets and between the buttons.

“There is no use in trying to deny your wrongdoings. I have been witness to your recent activities, and they have convinced me that you are beyond the help of the authorities. You are given over to the world of the corrupt and have taken up a life of crime amongst those most defiled in our society, Clancey Barnes.

“You've been watchin' me?”

“I have.”

“Listen buddy, you wanna piece o' the action? Take it! Here, take the goddam dough and stop spouting the mumbo-jumbo.” Clancey tried to moved his arm again to offer the money in his hand.

It wouldn't move – he tried to let go but could not. His arm was frozen in place. He stared at it in panic, “What have you done to me! I can't move my arm!”

“You are paralysed. You are powerless and at my mercy. For you, this is the final act in a life of murder and treachery.” Hissed the figure.

“Hell! Stop playin' me for a sucker and take the loot.” Clancey was beginning to lose any sense of his bravado. He could not move and had no idea how the stranger was doing it. This cloud must be some kind of poison gas, he thought.

“I do not want for your ill gotten gains, fool.”

The strange man took one silent step forwards. “The money in your hand is stained with the blood of the man you killed for it! It is marked with the evil of the men who planned the raid on the security car you hijacked tonight. All of you will pay for this. I will avenge the family of the man you shot in cold blood not less than one hour hour ago, Clancey Barnes.”

As the stranger took another deep breathe, Clancey could almost make out the shaded features below the hat. “You will all feel my vengeance!”

I can't move! Clancey screamed in his head. This fella is going to kill me and I can't do a thing to defend myself! “You're crazy! You can't do this. I'm connected, buddy. You wanna lay off, pronto!”

The figure moved again. His hand disappeared into his cloak, and with the same smooth motion, both hands reappeared, this time revealing a flash of crimson from within the garment. In his hands he held two revolvers.

“What're ya doin'!” Clancey gasped. “Ya can't be serious, buddy. For God's sake! I didn't mean to kill the guy, he just got in the way. Lonnie was buggin' me to stick it to 'im! I couldn't back down in front of the guys. Come on, buddy – come on!”

He was truly terrified now. The unnatural smoke, the strange figure from the dark, the feeling of being followed that led him down this forsaken alleyway. All of it swam before his mind like the smoke that was still swirling about him. He tried in vain to move his arms but they just would not respond. He had had a piece shoved in his face before, but never like this.

“Please fella, don't shoot me. I-I promise to turn myself over to the cops see? I'll do whatever you want, but please don't kill me!” He begged.

“It is too late for you Clancey Barnes,” said the stranger.

“No!”

There was a double click as both hammers were cocked on the revolvers. The figure suddenly leaned to one side and then with inhuman strength leapt into the air accompanied by a whirlwind of smoke that seemed to keep him surrounded in darkness. His blurring body moved with such speed that Clancey did not have time to react. It landed on the wall to his left and then seemed to propel itself back towards him both guns aimed squarely at his chest. At the last moment the guns were withdrawn and Clancey felt a hammer-like blow to his chest that he realised afterwards was a thundering kick.

The force of the kick seemed to release him from the paralysis he had been put under. He was thrown back into the wall behind him, and collapsed in a pile. When he opened his eyes again the figure of the stranger was towering over him. It was so dark now.

“Who the hell are you?” he gasped through the pain he was feeling.

The last thing Clancey Barnes remembered before the fist struck his face was the whispering sound from beneath the wide brimmed hat, “The Shadow,” it said.