Participants:
| Scene Title | Casting Shadows |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? |
| Date | October 8, 2010 |
Curfew approaches with the darkening of the skies and the emergence of street lights beginning to dutifully flicker on. Beneath one of those lamps' jaundiced glow, a black sedan isles on the roadside, parked behind a battered old Audi with a Rickham 08 bumper sticker fading from sun bleaching.
With a Blackberry held in one hand, Agent Desmond harper quietly peruses news feeds while he waits in the driver's seat, blue eyes scan the headlines discussing the attacks from Messiah with resignation and curiosity all in one. It's only at the sound of someone knocking on the driver's side window that Harper looks up and reaches to unlock the door, setting down his Blackberry in the center console.
Sliding into the car at Harper's side, a darkly dressed man in a cape wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and a crimson scarf wound around his lower face, along with a demi-mask settles in to the passenger seat with little reaction from the straight-laced agent. Pulling the door shut, he then begins to tug off his gloves, offering a look towards Harper.
"How'd the costume party go?" It's dryly offered by Harper as he turns the headlights on and shifts the car into reverse, looking back over his shoulder after checking the street, then backing out of the parking space, pulling around the car in front and heading off down the street. The man dressed as the Shadow at Harper's side lays his gloves in his lap, then pulls off the elastic-held black mask, setting it down atop the gloves.
"Not as planned," he explains, fingers pulling down the red cloth covering his lower face. "You could have told me that Trafford had lost her ability," brown eyes regard Harper only for a moment before he withdraws his hat, and when Tyler Case has removed most of his claustrophobia inducing disguise, there's a crooked smile on his lips. "But I did make an interesting discovery. There's a postcognitive that was there, apparently he'd come to talk to me. He might have even known who I really am, but I'm not sure."
Harper looks askance to Tyler, one brow lifted, then back to the road as he rolls to a stop at a traffic light. "Bluthner? I'll run it through the database when we get back to— " Tyler raises a hand to interrupt Harper, shaking his head slowly.
"Don't. Let's worry about more immediate problems while we can. Trafford doesn't have her ability anymore, and while I wasn't able to get a good feel for it, I'm not sure if her unborn son does either. We might have dodged a bullet on this one, which means one less long-term problem to worry about. Trafford is at the Octagon, we'll know when she's delivering and there'll be a blood test anyway." Tyler picks up the bundle of scarf, hat, gloves and mask, then twists around as the car starts moving again to put them in the back seat.
"If you don't mind my asking, Sir," Harper focuses ahead on the road, eyes occasionally dipping down to view the speedometer in the dashboard. "What exactly is Walter Trafford's ability, whether he has it or not? He's just one person and he hasn't even been born yet. If he's really that much of a problem, we can do something about it."
Tyler's eyes narrow as he looks to Harper, a frown dawning on his face. "Delilah's a sweet girl, I don't think you want to play that card with me Harper. Besides, Trafford's ability could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands. If he does have his ability, and he manifests? He needs to be on our side. Him and Matthew Junior."
Furrowing his brows, Harper looks away from the road to Tyler. "Parkman's kid? He's— Sir with all due respect don't you think I should be clued-in on what it is exactly you're doing?" Then, in the same breath, Harper strains the words, "Don't you think I should know your name?" One brow lifts. "We went through a lot of trouble to save you."
Tyler offers a lift of one brow, then smiles coyly. "Simon didn't tell you?" Sure, there's a little bit of pride and jovial nature in Tyler's tone of voice, in that I know something you don't know childish way. Lifting his shoulders into a shrug, Tyler offers a flash of a grin, "Sure. Sure, it's fair enough, right? After all, Simon trusts you pretty explicitly…" to which Tyler sounds, admittedly, a little reluctant to admit.
Lips part to speak the name of his true identity, and outside the sedan, the city flashes past in swift speed down a mostly desolate street. Lights whip by, pedestrians are on their last steps towards getting home before curfew and the wail of a siren from a Police SUV whipping past in the opposite direction echoes for blocks.
Back in the car, Harper's eyes are wide, his lips parted and a look of horror crosses his face. Slowly shaking his head, he almost tries to say how impossible it is, how that can't be. But instead, Tyler offers a motion towards the windshield, and a bit of helpful insight.
"Eyes on the road."