Why Wasn't I There?: A September 11 fan fiction

by Stephensmat

Even superheroes can't fix everything. But they sure do try. SpidermanShadow crossover.

This story is a crossover of The Shadow, and Spiderman, set in the modern world. I have written a few Shadow/Spiderman crossovers, and this is not the first I have made, but I mostly worked with a partner, and wanted to get her okay before posting the team efforts. In the mean time, feel free to read this story, totally my own work. Reviews are always welcome. If you want to flame me, that's fine too, but leave my mother out of it.

Why Wasn't I There?

A September 11th Spiderman/Shadow crossover fan fiction by Stephensmat.

September 10th

Stephen Cranston/The Shadow sat in the Sanctum, leafing through countless reports from his agent network.

"Look at this!" he laughed to his partner, "Agent in midtown believes-"

"Let me guess… that the business he's working for has mob connections?" finished Peter Parker/Spiderman from the ceiling, changing a light bulb.

"Right."

Both of them broke up laughing.

"Does he think we'll respond this time? That maybe if he repeats himself for the three thousandth time, it'll change reality so that he'll be right?" asked Stephen.

"Think maybe he's onto something?"

"He wasn't the first five times we looked into it."

Peter laughed again. "He should know by now: The world doesn't change until we get involved."

Stephen chuckled and suddenly screamed, grabbed his head.

Peter immediately fell to the floor and helped his friend to a chair. "Stephen, Stephen! What is it?"

Stephen opened his eyes and looked at his friend with lost, empty eyes. "I-I heard something. In my mind."

Peter was rattled but tried to lighten the mood. "Did it sound as if millions of voices had cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced?" he quipped, quoting Star Wars.

The serious, terrified look on his partners face made him suddenly take his own joke seriously.

Stephen rubbed his head again, and staggered over to the console. "Burbank."

The radio buzzed. "Yes."

"Did somebody drop a nuke on a small city last night and you forgot to tell me?"

It was a long time before Burbank answered. "I'm sure I wouldn't forget anything like that."

"Okay. Anything like that, you will let me know right?"

"Yes sir!" Burbank said instantly.

"Good. Keep me informed." Stephen cut the connection. Then settled into his chair, thinking hard.

Peter was worried. "Stephen… You're scaring me now, what's going on?"

Stephen looked at his partner. "Something is going to happen." He whispered. "And I don't know what it is."

September 11th

Peter wandered down Broadway, still mulling over the situation that so suddenly interrupted the previous day. He had no answer, when a cab pulled up behind him and the window rolled down. "Hey mister? Need a cab?"

Peter turned around and saw Moe Shrevnitz leaning out of the window. The look he gave Peter told him to get in.

"Uh, Yeah. Thanks." Peter said for the benefit of anyone listening, and then he jumped into the back seat.

"Has the boss said anything to you? Is something going on I don't know about?" Moe asked as he pulled into traffic.

"Well, something was going on yesterday, but he himself had no idea what it was." Peter answered.

"I gave him a lift this morning at dawn. I took him down to The Empire State. He didn't say anything. But something is definitely up. And whatever it is, it has him scared half to death."

That did nothing for Peter's nerves. "What on earth could so thoroughly shake him?"

No more words were exchanged.

In the empire state building, on the observation deck, Stephen Cranston watched.

"Hey that's odd," commented one of the controllers.

"What is?" asked the man next to him, this one looking out at Boston airport, his fire opal ring clinking against the binoculars in his hand.

"This plane here. It's changed its course. It's doubled back toward New York."

The second man looked at his screen. "So it has. Try raising it."

"Flight 11," said the first man into his radio. "You have reversed course and are increasing speed. Is there a problem?"

There was no answer.

"So what do you think it is Bruce? Should I take it seriously?" Spiderman asked.

The stone gargoyle did not respond.

"Want some time to think that over?" Said Spiderman.

Again the stone monster made no reply.

"Okay then. Sorry I haven't been up here for a while, but I've been busy with my partner. I told you about him right? Right. Well, maybe I could find out what has him so rattled. But first, I'm starved. Think the world will end before I can finish a happy meal?"

Once more the gargoyle made no answer.

"Okay then. Thanks Bruce. You're a great listener." Spiderman fired a web line across the street, and swung away.

"Flight AA 77, this is Dulles control," snapped a man manning a second control tower. "I repeat: you have reversed course. What is the nature of the problem?"

There was no response from this plane either.

In the empire state building, on the observation deck, Stephen Cranston watched.

"There is something very wrong here." Said the radar controller at the Boston airport to the man on his left. The second man was now also nervously watching the screen. "You still can't raise them?"

"No." said the controller, ignoring the reflection of his friends fire opal ring.

"Maybe its something on our end." The second man suggested. "Contact Dulles and Newark. See if they can't contact it."

"Okay." Said the first man, and then he spoke into his headset. "Dulles control, this is Boston control. Can you contact that plane? It isn't responding here, and its completely changed course."

"Negative Boston control," came the answer. "We have no contact with flight AA 77 either."

The two men shared a look. "Uh… you may want to recheck that board Dulles control. Flight 11 is the one going walkabout."

There was a pause. "Boston control, check your national grid. Flight 77 has changed course and is not responding."

The men shared another look, this one alarmed and saw that a second plane had also doubled back on itself and was heading back across the state line between Kentucky and Ohio.

In the Empire State building, on the observation deck, Stephen Cranston watched.

"A second plane?" whispered the controller. "What are the odds of that?"

"So extreme it's beginning to scare me. Try Newark."

"Newark control this is Boston control. Can you reach flights AA 77 and AA 11?"

"Negative Boston control," came the answer after a long silence. "While we're on the subject, can you talk to flight UAL 175?"

The men went back to their local board. The third lost plane had turned around and was heading for New York also.

"A third plane?" the controller practically shouted, panic clear in his voice. "What the hell is going on?"

Similar voices of panic came through the radio from Newark and Dulles. The fear was beginning to spread throughout the tower, until the second man broke in on his own headset.

"GENTLEMEN, PLEASE CALM DOWN." When there was silence, he continued. "I want Newark to continue trying to call the planes. Dulles, I want you to contact the weather bureau. See if there is something in the area bad enough to turn them back and fry their radios too."

The men, calmer now, went about their tasks.

"Tony." The second man said to the first, in a low voice. "You might want to contact Washington. See what the air force's take on this is."

In the Empire state building, on the observation deck, Stephen Cranston watched.

"The sun is shining." Said a man into one of the Boston airports outside line phones. The opal ring on his hand drew the eye of a few people as he took the phone into another room.

"It's me." He said after a moment. "Listen, you still have your Cessna? Great. You wouldn't happen to be taking it up this morning would you? I thought you might say that. Listen, in about 15 minutes, a large plane will be passing overhead. I need to know what's going on with that thing. I can't contact it here. Take your video camera too. It'll be heading in the direction of New York. You don't have to keep up with it for long. Just see if there is something the matter, and try to get some footage of it too."

Tony burst into the room, sheer terror on his face. "A-a fourth plane." He hissed. "Flight UAL 93!"

The man hung up his phone and practically ran for the screen. A dozen people were gathered around it now, worry and confusion on all their faces.

"It was supposed to go to San Francisco." Continued Tony. "But now it's heading for Washington, and we cant raise it either."

Just then, Flight 11 vanished from the radarscope, directly over New York City.

"Oh no." whispered Tony.

Peter Parker was just finishing a McDonalds milkshake, when his Spider-sense buzzed, and a dozen people suddenly screamed.

Leaping to his feet, Peter ran out into the street and saw something that made his stomach drop.

A plane, flying far, far too low, speared into the tower. The World Trade Center had been wounded, struck and was bleeding smoke and flames.

As people swore and whispered the names of various deities, Peter Parker stood in numb silence. But the awful voice in his head, the voice he had heard every time he had put on Spiderman's mask, told him to move.

In the empire State building, on the observation deck, Stephen Cranston closed his eyes. The few dozen people around him were aghast, running, some for the exit and a few for the telephones. But Stephen Cranston just closed his eyes, and then ran for the elevator with the others.

Running into the nearest alley, pulling the jacket off, pulling his gloves from his pocket, he heard the voice again. And for some reason, it sounded a lot like his uncle Ben.

"You have great power Peter," the inner voice told him. "That means you have a great responsibility. There are people in trouble. You have a duty to help them. Never forget that."

Spiderman, still wearing Peter Parker's trousers, ran up the wall, his mask still only half on. By the time he got to the top, the costume was complete, and Spiderman was firing a web line toward the burning tower. "I won't forget Uncle Ben. I'll never forget."

Burbank picked up the newest report, and smiled at the smell of the fresh coffee. As he poured himself a cup, he read the new note.

Moments later, the coffee pot shattered on the floor.

The Shadow was in the hit tower's fire escape, and was climbing fast, when his ring flashed. Not even slowing down, he pulled a radio from his belt, and set it the correct frequency. "Yes Burbank. I know."

Spiderman had swung as high as he could, and was still about 10 floors short of the impact damage. He was climbing normally, and frantically, looking for a way in that wasn't burning.

He managed to pull himself into a broken window, a floor beneath the serious damage, but the office was still a scene of carnage. Broken windows, furniture everywhere, flames and sprinklers and broken pipes were everywhere. Pieces of debris rained down, and smoke was suffocating. But that was not the sight that stood out most to him.

He had seen destruction before, in a thousand different places, and a thousand different ways. But the one thing that really got to Spiderman was his partner. He was on his knees. But most disturbing of all, was his face.

The Shadow was crying.

"Are you okay?" asked Spiderman quietly.

"W-Why couldn't I stop this? Why didn't I know? WHY WASN'T I HERE?" said The Shadow.

Spiderman had no answer.

A low moan from a pile of wreckage distracted him. The two heroes scrambled and pulled away the wreckage. As the plaster and broken cement came away, a hurt man was unearthed.

"Are you alright?" asked The Shadow.

The man was not injured, just pinned down, and he stood on his own, wobbly legs. "I think so." He said. "Thank you. Do you think the elevators still work?"

"They do from about two floors down to the ground. Take the stairs to the elevator floor. Can you make it yourself?"

"I think so. Thank you again. You guys are heroes you know." And with that he was gone.

"But I didn't know." Said the Shadow softly.

"Stop beating yourself up." Advised Spiderman. "I know that you pride yourself on knowing everything, but this could be a simple accident. Even you can't predict blind chance."

Even as he spoke, only a few hundred meters away, a second jet flew by, and smashed into the second tower with a deafening roar.

Neither of the men said anything for several minutes. But then the Shadow wiped his face.

"Not an accident." He said crisply. "Spidey, you have to web up a ladder or something, to get the people above the damage, to some working elevators. I am going to try and find the black box from the upstairs wreckage. Move!"

The two heroes parted company.

Spiderman leaped from one side of the stairwell to the other, firing webs as he fell. He had made ladders before. Web line, web line, loop, loop. Loops for rungs, brace them with the straight web lines along the sides. Strengthen the supports and reinforce the connections.

"That's it Spidey." He told himself. "Just keep working. Don't think about it, just focus on what you are doing."

"Is it safe to come down?" called a woman, who had been watching from above.

Spiderman fired a few web shots to smother some of the flames. "Yeah!" he shouted back. "Go to the bottom of the ladder and you can get to an elevator that'll be safe."

People started to climb down and Spiderman left for another stairwell to repeat the process.

The Shadow had made it to the impact level, and immediately gave up hope of finding any kind of information in the wreckage. The destruction on this level was complete. He knew he should try, but he just did not know where to look first.

"Boss?" croaked a weak voice.

The Shadow spun, and saw, pinned beneath a fallen beam, one of his agents.

"Alex Thompson." Said the Shadow, recalling the man's name. "I'll get you out."

The Shadow heaved with all his strength, and finally managed to move the huge piece of steel. But when he saw his loyal man's injuries, he stopped completely.

Thompson read his boss' look. "I'm dying, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry." Whispered The Shadow finally.

"Don't be." His agent whispered back. "I lived five years longer than I should have because of you. And I have always been proud to work for you. But could I ask one thing?"

"Anything." Said The Shadow without hesitation.

"Take care of my family? I'm their sole support." His voice was growing weak.

"They'll never want for anything again." Promised the Shadow.

Thompson nodded and closed his eyes.

The Shadow stayed by his side for several more minutes before finally leaving.

"All the stairwells have a web ladder now. That will get people to the elevators." Spidey said to his partner.

"We can forget about finding anything upstairs. Its impossible to figure out where the plane ends and the building begins."

"Should we try to get out of the building and over to the other tower?"

"I think we better, we have to get over there."

Spiderman fired a web over to the opposite tower, and swung over, The Shadow hanging from one arm.

The other building was the same scene of destruction as the first. But the difference was the small group of agent armed with fire hydrants trying to get into a small room, being beaten back by flames.

"Boss!" yelped one of the men as the heroes smashed into the windows.

The Shadow checked, and realized what was so familiar about the men. They were all agents.

"What are you all still doing here?" he demanded.

"Two more of our people are trapped in that room. We can't get past the flames." Reported another of the men.

The Shadow whipped one of the fire hydrants from the men and handed it to Spiderman.

"Soak the cloak!" he ordered.

Spiderman opened up the fire hydrant and sprayed it all over The Shadow's hat and cloak. The Shadow grabbed a fire hose from the hands of one of his men and soaked his scarf and two handkerchiefs, being careful to not let anyone see his face.

"Right!" he said. "Spidey, see how much of the flames you can hit from here."

Spiderman fired his webbing into the room, smothering some of the flames. "We only have a few minutes before the webs catch fire." He warned.

"Long enough!" The Shadow declared and he leapt into the room.

Huddling beneath his cloak, and feeling the flames licking at his cloak, filtering the smoke with his scarf, he made his way to the back of the room, where two of his agents were recoiling from the fire.

"Get under my cloak! HURRY!" he yelled over to them, spreading his cloak open like the wings of a monstrous bat. He could feel the cloak around him drying out.

The two agents leapt forward gratefully. The Shadow wrapped them up, covered their noses and mouths with the handkerchiefs, and he dragged them back to the relative safety of the other room.

The agents cheered and began to attend to the rescued people, while the Shadow tried to breathe normally again. Spiderman stamped out the flames on his cloak.

"Right. Lets get out of here!" ordered The Shadow, and they made their way to the stairs. But Spiderman was going the other way. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I'm gonna web up a ladder like in the other tower." Spiderman's voice lowered. "Get your people out. I'll be okay."

The Shadow did not press the issue, and Spiderman left the exiting party.

The Shadow was supporting two of his exhausted people, passing equally exhausted firemen and ambulance crews.

They were about a block away from the towers when there was a huge creaking sound. The square grew eerily silent and everyone looked up at the burning towers. Then it came again: A low creaking moan.

"Well that sounds ominous." Commented one of the men he was half carrying.

Moe's cab pulled up. The Shadow opened the back door and helped all the rescued agents in. "Moe, get these people to a hospital." He ordered.

Moe did not answer, he just stared at the scene in front of him.

"MOE!" snapped the Shadow, he reached through the front window and shook his friend.

The cabbie quickly snapped out of it. Without a word, the cab pulled away.

Spiderman had webbed a ladder into most of the stairwells, when he too heard the low creaking moan.

Not much time. He thought to himself.

"Hello?" called a muffled voice.

Spiderman immediately pinpointed the noise, and began clearing the wreckage away. It was a woman, pain on her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I think my leg is broken." She said.

Spiderman helped her up, and supported her with one arm. "I'll find somebody to get you out. I have more to do here."

"I understand." She said bravely, but when Spiderman started to help her as a crutch to the next stairwell, his Spider-sense went nuts and he looked up, horrified.

"No." he whispered, but immediately moved again, back toward the windows.

"So," he asked the woman as he picked up a chair with his other hand. "What's your name?"

"Helen." She said, as he threw it through the window.

"Well Helen, I hope you don't get airsick!" he shouted.

Helen screamed as he leaped out the window, the building crumbling behind him.

The Shadow spun and looked up. The tower was collapsing! His jaw dropped beneath his mask. He ran for the nearest alley, when he saw the rain of debris coming down, led by a wall of smoke. Running for all he was worth, he saw a young boy, not ten years old doing the same. The boy was not fast enough, neither was the Shadow. But the boy was running down the street, The Shadow was running across it. Getting close to the alleyway, he stretched out his arm and caught the terrified child around the waist.

As the child screamed, he dived into the alley, and shielded his face, and the child beneath his cloak.

The boy felt safer, but the Shadow was worried. "Spidey." He whispered, saying a prayer for the safety of his partner.

When the first wave of destruction passed, he carried his small charge into the hazy street, and 'suggested' that the nearest man take over. As the child left, The Shadow looked back at the scene of wreckage, and looked desperately for his partner in the sky.

Helen was screaming wildly as she and Spiderman fell through the smoky sky. Spiderman aimed at the nearest building, more than fifteen stories below him. A long web streamed from his shooter, and attached to the wall. "Oh, this is gonna hurt!" he said to himself. "Hold on!"

The pair was at maximum falling speed before the web line too up the slack. "ARGH!" grunted Spiderman when the line pulled taut, wrenching his shoulder out of its socket, but somehow he kept the grip, as he sped toward the nearest building.

The Shadow ducked as Spiderman blurred past, faster than the Shadow had ever seen him move. The Shadow gasped as his partner bounced off a wall, dropped the woman, and spun, out of control, across the street, into the alleyway the Shadow had just left.

The Shadow dove and managed to catch the dropped woman before she hit the ground. Spiderman had bounced off the walls, hard, and smashed into something, out of sight.

The Shadow immediately carried the woman to the nearest paramedics, and ran back to the alleyway. "SPIDEY? ARE YOU THERE?" he called frantically.

A low moan from the end of the alley answered him.

Running through the brick canyon, stumbling into things in the haze, he found an overturned dumpster. Another moan came from beneath it.

With Herculean strength, he lifted the dumpster and threw it aside, and there, buried beneath a pile of rubbish, was the inert form of his partner. The Shadow immediately dragged him out of the rubbish and put his shoulder back in place with a sharp crack.

The pain from that maneuver made Spiderman wake up. "Ow. I was right." He mumbled.

"Spidey? Are you okay?"

"No, no parade." mumbled Spiderman, almost inaudibly. "It's an honor to simply be the first man to walk on the sun."

The Shadow let out an immense sigh of relief and checked his friend for other injuries.

"Hey, don't touch me." protested Spiderman weakly. "You're filthy. That gray dust does not at all go with your usual black." Suddenly his head dropped, and he fell forward.

"Spidey?" The Shadow asked worriedly.

He pulled off a glove and pressed his fingers against his friend's neck. Then he allowed himself to smile. "Still alive." he said quietly.

He got to his feet and laughed defiantly at the sky. "Do you hear me you scum? WE'RE STILL ALIVE!"

For another few hours, The Shadow stayed with his friend. Even as he heard the cries, felt the tremors as the second building came down, he stayed by his partner's side. Until finally: Spiderman woke up.

"Hey there." Spiderman said weakly.

"Hey. You feeling better now?" The Shadow asked.

Spiderman rubbed his head and got to his feet woozily. "Isn't the first knock to the head I've ever had. Won't be the last." He looked at his friend. "You stayed here?"

"That's what partners do." assured The Shadow. "Besides, it was a lot more fun than going back out there."

Spiderman looked out the mouth of the alleyway, at the destroyed street. "Dear lord, it wasn't a dream."

"Not a dream." whispered his partner darkly. "A nightmare. And if dreams can come true, then what of nightmares?"

Slowly the men made their way back to ground zero. "They just came true big time." answered Spiderman.

As they turned into the street, and saw first hand what was left, they paused in awed horror. Spiderman's mask darkened with tears, and once more the Shadow closed his eyes.

In silent agreement, the masked men made their way to the wreck.

"I can hear them. Under the ruins. There's one over here," yelled The Shadow.

They had been working all day, the sun was going down, and The Shadow thought he was going mad. All day he had heard the terrified thoughts of victims in his mind, as they called for help beneath the rubble, and one by one went out.

Spiderman put down the steel girder he had been carrying and ran over. They both wrapped their arms around a piece of cement the size of a truck, and strained to lift. It budged, but not nearly enough.

"We can't lift it." grunted Spiderman. "We need help."

"You've got it," said a voice behind them both. The men turned, and standing there behind them, was their main target, the man they always considered an enemy.

The Kingpin.

He was not wearing his suit, but overalls. The mass of dirt on him said that he had been working all day. "Would you accept help from an enemy? For today at least?"

The duo shared the briefest of looks. "For today." agreed The Shadow, and the immense man came forward and wrapped his huge hands around the concrete.

The three men lifted the concrete and slowly managed to move it aside. Underneath was another wounded man. As the paramedics took him away, The Shadow guided them to another buried mind. "I assume you knew nothing about this?" he asked the Kingpin.

The disgusted look said it all. "Nothing." said the Kingpin. "If I had I would have stopped it. I am still human after all. I would never sanction this...this...barbarism."

Another casualty found, another life saved. "Then I suggest we both use our considerable resources to find out who would." continued The Shadow.

"Are you suggesting an alliance?" said the Kingpin, surprised as he pulled more wreckage away.

"An information exchange." clarified The Shadow as he listened. "This one is bigger than our fight Kingpin."

"Agreed."

"I'll contact you. Help me with this." And the two enemies worked together.

Spiderman, hours later, had found a child, wandering the rubble.

"Hey there." he said to the girl. "This isn't a safe place for you."

"They took my mommy in one of those trucks, I don't know where she is now." The girl cried, pointing to an ambulance.

"They took her to a doctor." Spiderman said, uncomfortable.

"Are the bad men gonna do this again?" she asked, looking hopefully at him.

Spiderman did not know what to say for a long time. Finally, he got down on his knees, and hugged the little girl. "No." he whispered with conviction. "It wont happen again. We wont let it happen again."

He held the girl tightly as the haze turned golden around them.

The twilight stretched into darkness, and the search continued. The officials were still keeping up the illusion of optimism, hoping to find hundreds more survivors, but nobody believed it any further. Anyone who was helping with the digging believed it was pointless. Shock was beginning to wear into despair. The emergency crews kept digging robotically, looking so much for their comrades, as for victims, even as the tears rolled down their face.

Spiderman was taking a long drink from a water bottle, after carrying a pair of casualties out of the debris, when The Kingpin got his attention. "Spider!" he called. "You may want to take your friend home."

Spiderman looked over, and found his partner, actually asleep, in a kneeling position, with his hands still wrapped around a large concrete chunk. Under any other circumstances, he would have found the whole image funny, but today, nobody even spoke much, and Spiderman found himself without a witty comment.

Noticing The Shadow's fatigue, Spiderman suddenly noticed his own. When he thought about it, he was about to fall over. Moving to help The Shadow up, he looked back at the equally exhausted Kingpin.

"My people will be searching for hints." He told them.

"So will ours." Mumbled the Shadow, who was reluctantly coming back to the world of the awake.

"Until next time then."

Spiderman regarded his age-old opponent silently, he knew that he would be back against the Kingpin soon, but working side-by-side as allies, had given him a new respect for the man.

Kingpin saw the conflict inside Spiderman. "Once we know who did this, nothing more will be different between us." He pointed out.

Spiderman nodded, grateful for being taken off the hook. "Count on it." He said, and he started to drag his partner back to his sanctum, leaving the awful glow of destruction behind them.

"Spidey?" whispered his partner. "I think I need a very stiff drink."

"Why weren't you there?" asked Moe.

"I…I don't..." Stephen was at a loss he turned from Moe. In his way was Alex Thompson, as he was in the burning wreck.

"We needed you!" cried Thompson in pain, the team of agents with him.

Horrified, Stephen backed away. "But…" he bumped into Peter.

Peter's tone was accusing, and he pointed to the hurt agents. "They trusted you! Why weren't you there? Why didn't you know?"

Stephen turned and started to run…

…And smashed right into his uncle.

"You didn't save them." His uncle said, ashamed.

"I couldn't." sobbed Stephen.

"They would have been planning this for months. They struck at the very heart of your territory, and you didn't know."

"I…I couldn't."

"You should have!" declared a voice.

Horrified, Stephen spun, and saw his grandfather, Lamont Cranston, wearing the Shadow's hat and cloak. The mocking laugh rang out. "You could have known. You should have known. You didn't."

Stephen started to shake. "How could I know?"

Lamont burst out laughing. "THE SHADOW KNOWS! WHY DIDN'T YOU?"

Stephen screamed.

" You've failed."

Stephen screamed.

Stephen sat bolt upright and screamed out loud. "AAAAAH!"

"AAAAAH!" another scream answered.

Stephen hurled the sweat soaked blanket off him and leapt to his feet. Peter was standing in the doorway. "Nice to see you too."

Stephen looked around wildly. His Sanctum. His couch. His partner. Why had he screamed?

Then memory caught up. The Dream, the day before…

His failure.

Stephen let out his breath, collapsed into the chair again and shook.

Peter calmed his superhuman nerves and sat down across from his friend. "Nightmares?"

Stephen nodded, and buried his head in his hands.

"Stop blaming yourself." Said Peter firmly. "You did not know. You could not know!"

"BUT I SHOULD HAVE!" exploded Stephen, flying out of his chair. "That's what I do! That's who I am! I have to know, or things like this happen."

"Then you should know enough to cut this out!" shouted back Peter. "It happened. It's in the past, there's nothing you can do, so-"

"No." answered Stephen; in the most menacing voice peter had ever heard. "There is exactly ONE thing."

Stephen marched, slowly, over to the console. Peter was clearly unnerved by his expression, but he didn't care. His guilt had turned to rage, and that had crystallized something inside him. He was going to track down the villain, just like he always did, but this time the punishment was going to be so much higher.

"Burbank." He growled into the radio.

"Yes?"

Stephen spoke slowly with every syllable was tightly controlled. "I want to know who did this. I don't care whom you have to bring into it: this is priority one. I want to know who hijacked the planes, I want to know who planned the attack, I want to know how they got the weapons past the scanners, I want to know where they came from I want to know what they had for breakfast last week. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

The connection cut, Stephen turned back to his partner. "We cannot take the mastermind down ourselves. The powers that be want him as badly as I do. They can have him, I can let slip some useful information, but the real problem is the long term."

Peter was confused, and it showed.

"Whoever did this opened the door." Explained Stephen. "He showed it was possible, he set a precedent. Now, all the terrorists in the world are going to target us, because they now know its possible. We are going to close that door again. Yesterday isn't the end of the terror campaign, let them hunt one terrorist mastermind, but we'll still finish this on the home front. This isn't going to happen again. I will not fail a second time."

"You haven't failed at all." Argued Peter.

"No? Go outside, turn left and say that again."

Peter fell silent.

"I failed Peter because I didn't see this coming. But in retrospect, it was almost obvious that someone would take a shot at such a high profile target as the World trade Center. It's my job to see those things BEFORE they happen. So why didn't I?"

"Because you're a sane rational person." Peter interrupted. "The world will always be vulnerable to madmen, because madmen plan and live for things that sane people would never even consider."

Stephen considered this for a long moment. Finally he cooled off and even allowed himself to smile. "Maybe so." He allowed, "but there'll still be consequences of the last two days that will last for decades. I'm going to make damn sure that this doesn't happen to anyone again. It stops with this attack. This is their last offensive. And we will respond in kind."

"Count on it." Peter said. "So. Where do we start?"

"We have to make it clear. Open season on civilians is closed. We have to make sure that the whole world, and particularly the terrorists understand that. We start by sending a message. We can start with anyone who is planning something similar."

As if on cue, the radio buzzed.

"Report." Commanded Stephen.

"Agent in upstate New York, managed to get about two minutes of close footage of flight 11 as it passed. Tape in on its way now. Investigation is continuing. Agents in intelligence branches are attempting to intercept anything useful."

The pneumatics hissed, and Stephen retrieved the tape. "Keep me informed." He ordered, and cut the connection. He stared hard at the videotape. "Maybe this will give some answers."

Stephen ran the tape again.

"Again?" groaned Peter. "This is the 12th time. What do you plan to see this time?"

"Faces." answered Stephen, still scrutinizing the screen. He had loaded the tape into the Sanctums computer, and was enhancing it with each run. But nothing had stood out. It was just a plane, flying along, looking like any one of a million planes.

But Stephen was undaunted, the determination on his face was like a living thing, and Peter knew better to argue.

The radio buzzed as Stephen fine-tuned the video. Peter flicked the switch, and Stephen spoke from where he was. "Report."

"One of the hijacked planes made a short transmission before radio silence." Reported Burbank. "Agent at Boston airport was able to make a copy."

"Let me hear it."

A crackling radio voice filtered through the console speakers. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

The voice stopped. Stephen had recorded it. "Is that all?"

"Yes sir. Shall I send a response?"

"Negative. Keep me informed." Peter shut down the connection.

Stephen was silent for a moment, but he ran the recording. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

The tone was victorious, but held the sound of an awe inspired, almost religious glow. As if this man was about to start Judgment Day. The accent was of some middle-eastern country, but it was chilling and powerful and a little giddy.

"Four planes." said Peter finally. "Four horses of the apocalypse."

Stephen snorted, and ran the recording again. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

He ran it again. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

He ran it with the video feed, zooming and enhancing the cockpit. "…We have other planes. There are other planes…"

Peter watched the hard look in his partner's eyes. He was growing worried. He had always known there was a dark side to Stephen. It was a part of his Cranston lineage, and he had always used it against evil, personifying in The Shadow. But this time Peter saw the darkness in his partner as a part of Stephen. Not the Shadow. Stephen Cranston.

Stephen was using his dark side for himself, not for his alter ego, and that thought made Peter uneasy.

Stephen ran the tape twice more and closed his eyes as he listened, his expression changed, he was almost smiling.

Peter was completely unnerved. "So if the terrorists do strike again, where would they strike?"

Stephen opened his eyes, and Peter gulped. Stephen now had that same messianic glow that they had heard in the tape. "Anywhere," he said, mirroring the voice on the tape. "It will be a strike that will demonstrate the weakness of the modern day America."

Peter took a step back. This was eerie, even more so than Stephen usually was, but he tried to go along with it. "They would have to pick their target carefully. Somewhere that they could get to without being stopped by the police, army, government, national guard and anyone else that lives in New York."

"Anywhere!" insisted Stephen, still in the worrying voice. "God is on our side and he will make sure we succeed."

That was Peter's breaking point; he reached out and shook his partner hard. "Stephen! What the hell are you doing?"

Stephen pushed him away, and peter sighed in relief when he saw that his partners face was back to normal. "Don't worry Pete, I was Profiling. You can't understand someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes, so that's what I'm trying to do."

"Well stop it!" snapped Peter. "Don't try to get inside their heads, there are safer places to be."

"True." Stephen allowed, "But the only way we can properly predict them is to think like..." He trailed off and stared at the screen over Peter's shoulder. Peter turned. On the screen was an enhanced image. It was the close up of the Flight 11 cockpit, and clearly visible, was the man on the plane, running the controls.

He was not wearing a pilot uniform.

"Gotcha!" hissed Stephen.

Kingpin had kept his word; on his desk was all the information his contacts could find. His subordinates had not been happy when he told them of the joint operation. Many of them had risked their lives fighting the Shadow, but Kingpin made it clear: this was the one and only time. Most of them had understood the need for this agreement. The attack had left everyone in shock.

But the Kingpin was getting edgy waiting for The Shadow to contact him.

#Tap tap tap#

Kingpin decided that he should have suggested a neutral meeting place; somewhere that they could meet, or at least send representatives.

#Tap! Tap! Tap! #

This way, The Shadow could control it all, was this whole idea a mistake?

#TAP! TAP! TAP! #

Kingpin spun his chair around, and saw, resting comfortably on the outside of his window, Spiderman. Kingpin stood up and strode over to the window. Spiderman waved jovially.

"Your partner sent you?" he shouted through the glass.

Spiderman pushed a piece of paper against the window. "Look behind you" the paper said.

Kingpin frowned, turned around, and there, sitting calmly in his chair, with feet up on the desk, was The Shadow.

"How did you get in here?" demanded Kingpin.

"The same way I always do." Answered the Shadow, reclining back in The Kingpin's chair.

"Comfortable?" he asked sarcastically.

The Shadow sighed and stood up. "Found anything?"

Kingpin pointed to the papers on the table. "The men used sliding switch blades, simple box cutters to gain control. Isn't that hard to smuggle those sorts of things aboard planes. Also, we figure that Osama Bin Laden planned the attack. Al Quida carried out the attack. We also ran a search on the passenger manifests. Four of the passengers went to flight school, right here in the USA."

The Shadow looked the papers over, "Bin Laden." He hissed. "Well it's only been seven years since his last attempt. Looks like he finally managed to do it completely." He handed The Kingpin the pictures, taken from the video. "This is one of the Hijackers. We haven't been able to identify him. The name he gave at the ticket counter, and at the flight school, was a fake. How many people do you have in terrorist organizations?"

"More than you do it seems." The Kingpin took the picture, and pushed a button on the armrest of his chair. A huge view screen slid down from a hidden panel in the ceiling, and a keyboard extended from his desk. In the side of the keyboard was a scanner slot. He fed the picture into the slot, and then typed at the keyboard. As he worked, he spoke. "So, can I assume that you'll be on the next flight to Afghanistan?"

The Shadow shook his head. "No. The powers that be won't accept someone else getting their number one target. I'm more concerned about other people doing the same here, now that they've been shown it can be done."

"So you're going to let the army take their pound of flesh, while you take care of the home front?"

"Precisely." answered The Shadow, "But these guys are my only lead. I'm betting that at least one of them belongs to more outfits than Al Quida."

"Well, I will deny ever saying this to you, but, Good Luck." The Kingpin stopped typing. And on the screen, the picture came up.

Next to it, came the picture of another man. The second picture changed rapidly, the computer looking for a match.

"That's amazing!" said a voice from the ceiling, "You have the coolest toys. Where can I get one?"

Kingpin looked up and rubbed his eyes. "Alright, now how did YOU get in?"

Spiderman pointed to the Shadow. "The same way he did."

Kingpin shook his head. "There are guards in every hallway, he can be sneaky, but the ceilings aren't high enough for you to hide. How did you get past?"

Spiderman lowered himself to eye-level on a web line. "Well, your bodyguards wouldn't believe me when I told them I had an appointment, so I had to explain the meaning of trust to them. They will recover a bit later."

Kingpin rubbed his eyes again, and pushed a second button on his armrest. A second window opened on the screen, this one a videophone. "Yes boss?" said the man on the screen, his eyes widening when he saw The Shadow and Spiderman.

"Smythe," said the Kingpin. "I am in an important meeting, I am not to be disturbed."

"I understand sir."

"And I want a complete review of tower security tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir."

Kingpin hit the button again and the videophone closed. The photo search was continuing.

"Which button is the Pizza Hut Speed dial?" asked Spiderman. "A guy your size would have Pizza Hut, Baskin' Robbins, McDonalds, KFC, all those guys on speed dial right? And to imagine, you don't even have to leave you chair! And when they deliver, you have a whole building worth of flunkies to pay and bring it up to you! WOW!"

Kingpin glared daggers at Spiderman, while The Shadow did his best not to laugh.

The computer beeped. It had a match. "Well, Shadow." The Kingpin said graciously. "Looks like you were right."

"Haliv." Announced Kingpin. "Only answers to one real name because he has so many false names. Member of Al Quida, Silver Cobra, Golden Jihad, and at least three other middle eastern organizations we haven't been able to name yet."

"Must not have much of a home life." Commented Spiderman.

"Check this!" The kingpin was surprised. "Will not continue with any operation, unless at least two of his organizations agree."

"This guy goes with the majority?" yelped Spiderman.

"A democratic maniac." commented The Shadow.

"This seems familiar," murmured The Kingpin, and he ran another search on the names. "Ah! Here we go. Tular."

"Tular?"

"That isn't his real name. If he ever had a real name, it has been swallowed by a thousand pseudonyms. Tular is the name of the leader of another terrorist cell. Likes to be in the middle of the action. The cell he commands is called the Sacred Sword. Haliv was a member of the Sacred Sword too."

"They get these names out of fortune cookies or video games?" asked Spiderman.

Kingpin chose to ignore him. "The Sacred Sword is a particularly savage group, famed for vicious strikes, and hitting civilians."

"Haliv apparently thought that your usual terrorist was too warm and cuddly." Said Spiderman in a narrator's voice.

Kingpin ignored him again. "Shadow, the Sacred Sword has based itself in America for the last Century. Seems they didn't like the way the rise and fall of the world powers favored America."

"The last three days would have them shouting from the rooftops," agreed The Shadow. "They would definitely sanction this. And probably stage another, for their own glory."

Kingpin nodded grimly. "We cannot allow this of course."

"No we Cant." agreed The Shadow. "This stops here Kingpin. Thanks for your help." The Shadow turned to leave.

"Go get them Shadow." called The Kingpin after them.

Spiderman looked down at Kingpin in surprise. "You're cheering for us in this round?"

"I may not make an honest buck, but I still have a soul. It may have shrunk a bit, but its still there, and what they did was WAY over the line. Make them suffer."

The Shadow let loose his chilling laugh. "Don't worry. They will."

Spiderman dropped to the floor and stood between the men. "Would this be a bad time for me to suggest that we all link arms and sing 'God Bless America'?"

Kingpin and The Shadow both looked at him.

"And you always have this guy around?" He said to The Shadow. "Out of all your agents you picked him to be your partner?"

"You learn to tune him out," answered The Shadow. "If you have any more information, send it to me by email. theshadow@girasol.com. Forget about tracing it: its impossible."

The men left the office, and soon after were out of the building.

"The Sanctum." Commanded Stephen.

The cab pulled out into traffic as peter shoved his Spiderman mask into his bag. "So," he asked. "How long do you think it will take him to realize that we just broke a window to get in?"

"They'll find it in tomorrow's Security review."

The men shared an evil chuckle.

"I think we should have gotten more info on the Sacred Sword." Said Peter. "Or at least on Tular."

Stephen held up a small box.

"What's that?" asked Peter.

"An electronic laser recorder. Point it at the screen of a computer and it'll record everything that it shows."

Peter burst out laughing again. "So we have his files on terrorist cells?"

"All the ones he accessed just now."

The men shared another evil chuckle.

"The Sacred Sword." Murmured Stephen after a long silent moment.

Nobody spoke again as they passed Ground Zero, and were slowly dragged back to reality.

"The Sacred Sword." Announced Stephen. The men were back in the Sanctum, and the screen showed what little information kingpin had unwittingly given them. "Based in America, an extremist movement, targets Americans, hit whatever they think they can get away with."

Peter was looking over a list of their attacks. "Most of this stuff is hit-and-run. At best they make it look like an accident. They like being subtle."

"Recent events may convince them to be more adventurous."

"Well," Peter theorized. "They go for the ideological attacks. When they want a decision made, they don't attack the decider, they just make it clear that he's vulnerable. They play mind games, strike at the heart."

"I shudder to think what they would plan on a big scale." Whispered Stephen. Then he was all business again. "So. How do we track them down?"

"Well, as you once told me: Follow the money!"

Stephen nodded and scrolled down the screen to the relevant information. "Huh. They filter cash through a dozen black market dealers and mob accounts."

Peter thought briefly. "We might have an idea about what they're planning by what they're buying."

"And I know just the man to ask about black market deals." Stephen had a black look in his eyes, and a sadistic grin on his face. "Stay here!" the Shadow's voice commanded as he headed up the stairs.

"Say hello to Max for me!" Peter called after him. "Don't hurt him too bad."

The Shadow's mocking laugh answered him.

Max's specialty was black market accounts, and he knew where every dollar went, despite the fact that he worked out of a pawnshop in a bad neighborhood. Nobody outside his clients knew what he did on the side. Nobody that is, except The Shadow.

Max entered his store from the small bathroom, to find The Shadow looking at his merchandise. Max's terrified gasp alerted him. The Shadow's hand flashed beneath his cloak, and it emerged with an immense automatic.

"Max." greeted The Shadow. "Listen up, we are low on time."

Max could hear the difference in The Shadow's voice. The Shadow was angry, dark and vicious, even for him. "W-well…" he stammered.

The Shadow pointed the gun and fired a shot at Max. The terrified man felt the bullet whistle past his ear, over the immense roar in the confined space. "Max, listen, the way the dance usually goes is like this: I mock you, you feign innocence, I laugh in your face, you try to back away, I demand information, you tell me what I want to know. Let's skip the routine and come to the point. Because I've been having a very bad week and I'm in a really bad mood. You follow?"

Max nodded wildly.

"The Sacred Sword. They work accounts through Mobs. Mobs work money through you. Need I say more?"

"Well," Max was ready to talk. "That's tricky. They don't have to say which is for their organizations and which is for the Sacred Sword."

"But I know you Max! You'd figure it out, and you'd keep it on record somewhere."

Max thought for a moment. "Is this about the attack?"

The Shadow nodded slowly.

Max went over to a filing cabinet, and pulled out a thin file. "Here is everything. Go get them."

The Shadow smiled. This had made everyone work together. Including the criminals and superheroes.

Stephen slowly walked back down the stairs with his face buried in the file.

"Evening uncle." He said without looking up.

"You're still as observant I notice." Answered Victor from the far side of the sanctum.

"Your first lesson to me," replied Stephen, still not looking at the previous Shadow who ruled the night. "Was that you cant let your guard down, because an opponent can strike when you aren't looking. Hell of a way to get a reminder huh?"

"I was right." Announced Victor. "Your blaming yourself for this aren't you?"

"Bravo!" applauded Stephen angrily. "Brilliant deduction."

Victor felt the words hit him, and let it go. "You're a Cranston, that's for sure. You can't blame yourself."

"Have you come all this way just to lecture me too? Because you should know, Peter already tried."

"You know, being psychic doesn't make you omniscient, it just makes things noisy."

That made Stephen angrier. "You think I don't know that? I heard it. I heard it in my mind, and I still didn't figure it out!"

"What makes you think you could have?"

"Because I'm supposed to! That's my whole mission in life. I predict the crooks; I stop them. The one time I don't, and 5000 people die!"

Victor struggled for words. "You don't think your being just a tad arrogant? They would have been preparing this for months, you think that it just because of you that they succeeded? That doesn't strike you as a bit egotistical?"

"The fact that they were planning this for months is the reason I should have known. I had months to find out, months to figure it out, months to plan how to stop it. I usually do that in hours. Why couldn't I do it in months?"

"Being angry at yourself is pointless. Nobody is that powerful. Not you, not me, not even Bin Laden. Hurling yourself headlong into this without thought or regard for yourself, is a self-destructive path. And you know where that leads."

Stephen bit his lip. He knew his uncle was right, but he did not want to admit it, because he still thought he should have stopped it. "If this had happened before I became the Shadow," he said finally. "If this had happened when you wore the hat and cloak, would you be this forgiving on yourself?"

"After I finally figured out that there was no way to know about a plot to kill President John F. Kennedy?  Yes."

Stephen snorted. "Well maybe. But the fact is, if I had known, then there were a dozen places I could have found out. And you know this wont be the last attack. So I will forgive myself, when I have tracked down the next guys planning something like this, when I have taken them apart, and when I hand them over to a riot made up of angry New Yorkers."

Victor gulped. Stephen's voice was low with silky menace. Victor was familiar with that kind of rage. It was the same thing that every Cranston had gone through, and it could only lead to ruin.

"You may have forgiven yourself, but didn't you want to take that assassin apart?" asked Stephen.

"I didn't get that far.  My father threw me across the room with his mind when I still didn't get his point after giving me this same lecture."

Stephen laughed, the tension eased.

"So don't make me throw you across the room.  There are a lot of valuable antiques in here."

Stephen laughed again, relaxing himself further than he had been in days. "Okay. Deal. But I am not going to let this happen again."

"Of course you wont." Assured Victor. "Now, remind yourself that you are not omniscient. Don't fall prey to evil yourself. Fight the evil, dont become it."

Stephen looked in the mirror, he saw the hard lines on his face, and he shuddered. "Have I really been getting so close to the line that Peter sent you down here?"

"Peter didn't come to me. I decided to come myself."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes." Victor answered without hesitation. " I could hear your angry thoughts from Ground Zero that day."

Stephen sighed. "I guess I think loudly. Even for a telepath."

"But not for a Cranston."

Stephen laughed once more at the old family joke, and felt normal for the first time in days. "Thanks uncle. I needed that."

Victor nodded and stood to leave. "You know Stephen. The first, and hardest lesson I learnt on the dark night streets, was that no matter how strong you are, no matter how fast you can move, you cant save everybody. But you still keep trying, and fighting against impossible odds, and uncounted opponents. And I know you'll beat this one."

Stephen gave a small smile. "Thanks uncle. But I'll tell you the truth. I'm scared to death about what the next attack might be."

"I know you are. But despite your fear, you'll handle it, and you will prevail. Because who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

Stephen sighed. "I do."

"Thatta boy. Good luck." Victor left the sanctum, his nephew behind him, with a calmer air for the first time.

Peter came back several hours later. Stephen grinned as he came down the stairs. "Hey. Where you been?"

Peter grinned back warily. "Your Uncle came by, suggested I take a walk. I assume he chatted with you."

"Yes." answered Stephen.

Peter was content with that. If there was anything else he needed to know, he would find out sooner or later.

"I had a chat with Max. We discussed the virtues of disclosing required information."

Peter grinned. "And?"

"Max understood the necessity of honesty." Stephen's tone had just a touch of smug arrogance.

Peter burst out laughing and walked over to his partner. "Welcome back Stephen!" He shook his partners hand vigorously. " I like having you around so much better than the Stephen that's been pretending to be you the last few days."

Stephen snorted and returned the handshake. "Would you like to throw me a party, or do you want to find out what Max gave me?"

Peter settled down. "Okay, lets hear it."

Stephen held up a manila folder, making it appear in his hand like a magicians coin. "What I have here in my hand is a list of Sacred Sword transactions and delivery records: Everything from weapons to simple groceries to cash payments. I was just going through some of them."

Peter took some of the papers and settled into his own chair. "What are we looking for?"

"Clues." answered Stephen. "Are they buying things in bulk, are they stockpiling? Where are they getting these items delivered? Are they paying off anyone in particular?"

Peter returned to his papers. "Whoa!" he shouted. "There's a cash transaction to Hillary Clinton!"

"I saw that too!" laughed Stephen. "I don't want to know what that was for."

Peter laughed. Stephen was back to normal. "A lot of these are co ordinates." he commented.

"Pick up and delivery points." mused Stephen. "And a cash payment to various places in each case."

"You've got mail," chirped the computer.

"The sanctum has an email address?" blurted Peter.

"Not just an address, it has its own email server." confirmed Stephen. "Used primarily for sending information between agents on official business. It cannot be traced except from here. Remember the address I gave Kingpin?"

Peter laughed briefly. "So the Kingpin sent us a message?"

Stephen nodded and brought the message up on the screen:

"Shadow.

SS has made a transaction. SS delivery picked up and arrives in New York one hour from now. Pickup coordinates included. Package unknown. Drop-off coordinates, and shipment code name included.

Good luck."

"That's not right. The transactions and deliveries have always been one week apart. The last transaction, according to these papers, was only a few days ago."

"Unless this one was very urgent, or unexpected." theorized Stephen. He opened an atlas program and entered the drop off coordinates. "Lets see where they are going."

The screen focused and the map was centered on New York. "32nd street." announced Stephen. He turned to Peter. "Go find out what's there." he handed Peter a Global Positioning System. "Make sure you have the right place. I'm going to find out what else I can about those deliveries."

Peter nodded and grabbed his costume.

When Peter had left, Stephen activated his console. "Burbank?"

The console buzzed. "Yes?"

"I am sending you a set of coordinates, and a code name. I want to know what is at the coordinates, and if the code name matches anything on file."

"That may take a while, but I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask." Answered Stephen.

Spiderman swung through the streets several minutes later, one eye on the GPS in his hand, and the other on the street signs he was passing.

When he found the right coordinates, he kept swinging till he was a bit further up the road. He found himself a hidden corner and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Looking at the building the coordinates indicated, he reached for his radio with his other hand. "Stephen?"

The voice on the other end came through. "Talk to me."

"The building is a business named Damson industries."

"One sec."

Stephen turned off the radio and activated his console. "Burbank?"

The console buzzed. "Yes?"

"I also need information on a business called Damson Industries." He gave the building's address. "I need this fast."

"Yes sir. And the previously requested information is coming across now."

"Already? You're amazing Burbank. Keep me informed." Stephen cut the connection, and took the new file from the pneumatics. It was the information he had requested about the pick up point and the code names the Kingpin had listed. Reaching for his radio as he read, he suddenly gasped and turned white.

"Spidey?" he called frantically.

"Yes?" Answered Spiderman into his radio, still on his hidden perch.

"The results are in! The Russian mafia is sending the deliveries. The particular operation sending the package is a scavenger service, which specializes in getting stuff off destroyed submarines. The code names for the delivery match the ID numbers of sunken submarines. Nuclear subs." A buzzing sound came through the radio. "One sec." The connection was cut; the radio remained silent for several long seconds as Spiderman tried to understand what he was being told. Then it came back to life. "Spidey, Damson Industries doesn't exist. The Building is scheduled for demolition in three weeks. The package is going somewhere that nobody would even consider as a hiding place, and the package is something from a sunk nuclear submarine."

He paused briefly to let this sink in. "Spidey, the Sacred Sword just bought themselves the bomb."

Spiderman was silent for a long moment, and then let go a few choice words.

"I'm on my way." Shouted the Shadow's voice. "We wont have long. The nuke will be arriving within the next few minutes."

"Do you want me to try and stop it?" Spiderman asked. But even as he spoke, a convoy of armored trucks and jeeps came rumbling down the street, his enhanced senses and danger warning told him that the passengers were very heavily armed. Before he could do anything, the convoy had rolled up to the entrance and two dozen men jumped out, some of them carrying heavy crates, and the rest looking in all directions nervously. All at once the building was calm again; the men vanished within.

"Cancel that." Hissed Spiderman. The nuke is already there. It just arrived."

"Damn." Swore the Shadow's voice. "I'll be there soon."

The door to Damson industries opened slightly, and everyone in the room looked up as a box came sliding in. One of the men approached the box slowly, with an automatic pistol pointed at it. It seemed harmless enough, so he picked it up.

The small black box suddenly sprang to life, emitting a loud high-pitched shriek that made everyone drop their weapons and cover their ears. Their cries of pain were drowned out by the wail, which stopped suddenly as the box exploded. The room was filled with choking smoke, and a roar of noise.

The only man in the room left conscious after the blast looked up in pain to see the doors explode inward, and framed in the bright doorway, seeming to emerge from the thick smoke itself, a figure that seemed to represent death itself.

Whispering a chilling laugh, and drawing a glowing silver weapon, the raven figure flew towards him, hands of steel wrapping around his throat.

"WHERE IS THE BOMB?" roared the voice of the demon; and the words echoed back and forth inside the man's mind.

"Tular took it." Whimpered the man in simple terror.

"WHERE IS HE?"

Inexplicably the man smiled confidently. His face took on the now familiar religious glow. "He just had time to pack, and make an announcement to the order when the bomb arrived." Despite his fear, the man laughed in his face. "He is headed for Washington D.C. You cannot stop the will of God, Satan. You may rule America, but God rules you."

The black figure threw him to the wall and headed for the exit.

Outside, The Shadow ran for the alleyway where Moe's cab was waiting. Spiderman was leaping along the wall just above him. The Shadow repeated the entire interrogation word for word on the way to the cab.

"If he's heading for D.C., he will have to drive or take the train. All flights have been grounded after the attack." Spiderman pointed out.

"He'll take the train." Agreed the Shadow. "He'll want speed. But something about this bothers me."

"Well, maybe it has something to do with the fact that a particularly savage terrorist cell has just become a nuclear power, and their first nuke is on its way to our nations capital. Toward millions of civilians and all of the top level government officials, including the president and his staff." Said Spiderman sarcastically.

The Shadow nodded. "I suppose." But he did not sound convinced. Then he laughed. "He actually thought I was the devil. Can you believe that?"

"Central Station!" snapped Spiderman as they got into the cab, and Moe floored the accelerator.

The Shadow was troubled. "Spidey, I've been thinking about what the Kingpin told us, about how Tular likes to be in the middle of the action."

"Probably why he's taking the nuke to Washington personally."

"But, Kingpin also told us that Tular has so many pseudonyms that his real name is a virtual unknown, so how did that guy in the foyer know?"

"Well, the guy was probably part of the Sacred Sword himself."

"So why did he give us the information at all?"

"Maybe he was just terrified." Said Spiderman impatiently. "He probably thought that it was too late to catch him."

The Shadow shook his head. "Impossible. The nuke got here less than an hour ago. All flights have been grounded. So how could Tular get the Nuke from the courier at the docks, get it to Damson industries, get to the station, and be on the way to Washington in that amount of time, while still finding time to pack, and announce to his people that he was leaving?"

"He couldn't." admitted Spiderman, "But if he wanted to redirect attention away from himself…and he decided to lie low…"

"Then he would have someone tell anyone who asked that he was long gone." Finished the Shadow. "While he gets ready to leave once the paranoia dies down."

"And why bother taking the nuke anywhere new to hide when you already have it in a perfect hiding place at the drop off point…?" Spiderman followed the thought, looking back the way they came.

"Which means…" realized The Shadow.

"I'm going the wrong way!" concluded Moe from the drivers seat, and he spun the wheel, and floored the accelerator.

"Lets hope we're not too late." Prayed The Shadow quietly.

"He knew?" blurted Tular in Arabic.

The man from the foyer nodded grimly.

Tular thought briefly. "We will have to move the bomb sooner than expected. Get my car ready."

The word "Car" did not honestly apply. It was more of an armored van. Tular signaled his guards and moved quickly for the van.

"Tular." whispered a voice.

The men in the room gave a sudden jerk and spun, searching for the sound. Tular himself drew a gun.

The light went dark, and a sinister laugh issued from all corners.

"He's back!" snapped Tular in English, and his men moved once more toward the van. Already inside was a large crate.

A swirl of black swept over his men, and suddenly two on his left reeled as if struck.

"Tular." Taunted the voice. "You are a monster in the worst way. You would murder uncounted innocents. You would give them no warning, and you dare to consider it a holy crusade?" The tone turned disgusted and black. Another two knocked down, these closer to him.

"Find him." Tular hissed to his men, beginning to feel the knife-edge of fear. A noise behind him made him turn, and he saw one of his people pulled off his feet by a dark shape. The man screamed and suddenly fell silent, as he vanished into the shadowed corners. Tular fired his gun toward the corner, to no avail.

"You have the audacity to think you are sent to do this by God." Continued the accusing voice in a disbelieving tone.

Tular with only a few of his men kept edging toward the van.

"Well, by the time this day is over, one of us will know whom God is backing. And one of us will be dead."

Another flash of black, another sudden blur of movement from above. Two more men fell.

"Kill him." Tular hissed at the final man at his side.

"Better men than you have tried. And most of them at least had a sense of honor." hissed the voice venomously. "I've destroyed bigger men that you Tular, I have pitied most, mocked them all, and hated a few of the worst, but you: You are the first that has just made me sick."

Tular had reached his breaking point. With a cry of rage he fired his weapon at the empty room.

The answer was a swirling laugh of derision. Tular reeled as something knocked the gun from his hands. His remaining man backed away from his outmatched master, and tried to make himself as invisible as the speaker in the dark.

"Well no more." whispered the phantom with finality. "No more of you. No more attacks."

A fist appeared in Tular's vision an instant before it struck his face.

"No more terror."

An iron grip threw him against the far wall.

"No more fear!"

A kick to the stomach.

"No more innocents dead."

A massive uppercut.

"Not in my town."

Another kick.

"Not on my watch. NO MORE!"

A hammer blow threw Tular against the front of the van. He slumped to the floor unconscious.

The Shadow swirled into visibility. Spiderman landed quietly next to him. "Feel better now?"

The Shadow nodded. "Yeah actually. I really do. Lets get every agent with a detectives badge down here. We still have to disarm the nuke."

Spiderman suddenly looked a very nervous. "We? As in us? As in you and me? WE have to disarm a NUCLEAR weapon? As in, pull apart the NUCLEAR weapon, and try to figure out which wire to cut on the NUCLEAR weapon?"

"Good thing I'm feeling normal again isn't it? I'd hate to be fooling around with an atomic bomb when in such a temper."

"Yes." Spiderman said deadpan. "It would be a TERRIBLE thing if you were in a temper when fooling around with a live and dangerous NUCLEAR weapon."

The Shadow laughed and then dragged Tular away. Spiderman started to web him up while The Shadow entered the truck.

Once Tular was hanging from the ceiling on the end of a web, Spiderman joined his friend in the back of the van.

The Shadow was examining the lock on the box. The lock was automatic, and controlling it was an electronic keypad, with twin cables running from the keypad, into the box itself.

"It appears they wired in a failsafe." The Shadow commented.

"This would be a bad thing?" asked Spiderman.

"It is one more security measure that they added in themselves, to make sure that the bomb would not be set off prematurely." clarified The Shadow.

"That's good." Spiderman said.

"It also means that if this box is unlocked, or if the incorrect number code is entered, then the bomb will be armed, and set to detonate."

"That's bad." Said Spiderman.

"We need the right code."

"And if we open the box, in any way before we get it?"

"Boom." said The Shadow softly.

"Do you think Tular will tell us the code if we ask nicely?" asked Spiderman.

"I can make sure of that," laughed The Shadow. "I have a charming personality. Don't you think so?"

"Charming." Spiderman agreed dryly. "Positively persuasive. I would go so far as to say bewitching. Even..."

"Don't push it." interrupted The Shadow. "The only problem is that we have to wait for him to wake up."

BLAM!

A gunshot rang out and on pure reflex; Spiderman spun and webbed the man to the wall.

"The last of Tular's goons." said The Shadow. "I wondered where he had gone."

A beat of relieved silence.

"One thing I don't get." said Spiderman. "My Spider-sense didn't go off. So he wasn't aiming at me. You were not mind clouding. So he could see you. Neither of us knew he was there. He was three feet away. How could he miss?"

"He couldn't." agreed The Shadow.

The Shadow looked at Spiderman. Spiderman looked at The Shadow.

Both men looked at the webbed gunman.

The Shadow looked at Spiderman. Spiderman looked at The Shadow.

"I really don't want to look." The Shadow said quietly.

"Me neither." answered Spiderman, just as quietly.

"We'll both look," suggested the Shadow.

Spiderman nodded.

Slowly, the men turned, and looked at the crate. There, in the front of the box was a bullet hole.

"He fired his gun into the NUCLEAR weapon." Spiderman said stupidly. "There is a bullet in the NUCLEAR weapon."

"No Spidey, there isn't." The Shadow said calmly. "The case is lead lined. The bullet did not get into the crate."

"Oh good." Spiderman breathed a sigh of relief.

"The bullet only got far enough in to shred the lock." Continued The Shadow.

The lid to the box opened easily. Inside was a round cylinder, about three feet long, with three screwed in parts; And at the top, a small digital readout.

A ten-minute countdown had been activated. There were nine minutes left.

"The clock on that three foot NUCLEAR weapon is ticking," declared Spiderman hoarsely.

The timer read 8 minutes, 52 seconds.

And counting.

"This is bad isn't it?" Asked Spiderman.

"Not for another eight minutes." Answered the Shadow confidently.

"So, you can fix this right?"

"Yep. It's easy." Assured the Shadow. "Just hope I don't cut the wrong wire."

Spiderman gulped. "I don't want to hear that."

The Shadow was unscrewing the small screws in the bomb's wire housing. "Go make sure that Tular and his final goon are out cold still okay? I have to concentrate"

Spiderman went out of the van and checked while his partner worked. They were both still unconscious. As he headed back to the van, he heard a massive clanging noise. With a quiet yelp, he ran back in, to see the Shadow holding one of his automatics by the barrel, using it to repeatedly club the bomb housing.

"Please stop pounding the NUCLEAR warhead!" shouted Spiderman in terror.

"I can't get the casing off. It's stuck." The Shadow answered, pounding it again.

"Please stop that! It is not a padlock on a door, it's a NUCLEAR bomb!" yelled Spiderman again. "Let me." With that, he ripped the casing off with immense Spider-strength.

"Thank you." Said the Shadow. "I'll remember that next time I need to get through a padlock." He started to pull the wires loose.

"So you can do this right?" asked Spiderman again.

"Two wires. One is green, one's red. We need the green wire." He grinned beneath his mask and whispered something to himself. "This is green. That's red." He chuckled.

Spiderman was not put at ease. "What?"

"There's a story behind that." The Shadow told him. "Remind me to tell you sometime."

"Okay. Now if I can pull you off memory lane for the next five minutes?"

The Shadow checked the timer. "Four minutes."

"I don't want to hear that."

"Uh oh." Said the shadow.

Spiderman nearly fainted. "And I REALLY do not want to hear that."

"There is no green wire. No red wire either."

Spiderman looked at the Shadow in disbelief. "Surely your knowledge of bomb disarmament goes beyond 'red wire, green wire.'"

The Shadow did not answer right away; when he did it was in a morbid whisper.

"We can't cut the timer cable." He said. "If we do then we will lose the signal between the clock and the plutonium core, and the bomb will go off."

"I really don't want to hear that."

"We can't touch the clock, but we can remove the electrical wires from the core so that the charge will not start the reaction. No BOOM."

"That sounds better." Spiderman remembered to breathe.

"Unfortunately…" started the Shadow.

"I am NOT hearing this." Spiderman practically shrieked.

"If we cant touch the clock, then the countdown on the clock will continue. The only way we will know for sure if the reaction will or will not start, is to let the timer go to zero, and see if it blows."

"Now you're just doing this to be mean aren't you?" pouted Spiderman.

The Shadow slowly, gently, fearfully, started to pull the bomb from the crate.

"PLEASE! Be careful!" Spiderman begged quietly.

"Hold the base." The Shadow directed quietly.

Spiderman held it, almost afraid to touch the cool metal. The Shadow held the top half, and started to turn it.

Spiderman started praying quickly and repeatedly. "We are pulling apart a NUCLEAR weapon."

"Yes we are." The Shadow said with his usual cool understatement. For the first time Spiderman noticed that his partner was sweating. This was more terrifying than the bomb.

Slowly the top of the bomb unscrewed, and The Shadow lifted it off. Laying it carefully on its side, he reached into the top half of the cylinder. Withdrawing his hand from the cylinder, he opened his hand and displayed a small silver sphere with two wires extending back into the top half.

"Hey! A red and green wire! WE'RE SAVED!" He cheered.

"Marvelous!" Shouted Spiderman. "TICK TOCK!"

The Shadow looked back at the timer, only thirty seconds left.

Without a word, he grabbed the green wire and yanked for all he was worth.

The wire came loose, the timer kept ticking.

For a moment, both kept staring at it. Finally the Shadow spoke.

"In 25 seconds we'll know if I cut the right wire or not."

"Marvelous." Whispered Spiderman grimly.

The Shadow pulled his mask down, and pulled a cigar from his pocket. "Now might be the last chance I have to enjoy a good cigar."

Spiderman watched the timer keep ticking. He lifted his mask over his nose, and plucked the cigar from his partner's mouth, taking a long drag.

"Since when do you smoke?" Asked the Shadow.

"I'll quit in fifteen seconds." Assured Spiderman, with just the tiniest cough.

Another beat of silence. The men shook hands, and turned their back on the timer.

"See you on the other side Spiderman." Whispered The Shadow, shutting his eyes.

"Shadow, it has been a privilege." Spiderman whispered back, shutting his eyes.

The slight beeping on the timer stopped.

There was a long, frightening silence.

"I really don't want to look," said the Shadow finally, without looking.

"Me neither." Answered Spiderman, his eyes shut also.

"On three, we'll both look." Suggested The Shadow. "One…Two…Three."

Silence.

"I think 'three' came and went. Did you look?" The Shadow asked.

"No." answered Spiderman. "Did you?"

"I figured that if you did then I wouldn't have to."

Loud sigh. "Okay, here we go." Spiderman said finally.

The men turned to look. The timer was at zero.

"We're still here?" Spiderman asked in relief.

"I guess we're still here. Otherwise, we're either in heaven, or in hell." The Shadow agreed. "If its Heaven or Hell then it is most certainly not what I expected."

"Either way, the décor needs work." Agreed Spiderman. "I guess we're alive then. Told you there was nothing to worry about. You didn't have to get so worried."

The Shadow laughed, and the men stood up and burst into spontaneous cheers.

"I cant believe it, we actually pulled it off." Laughed Spiderman,

Tears of mirth were streaming down The Shadow's face. "You go and tell Moe the good news. Tell him to get the standard clean-up crew over here, he knows whom to call. I'm going to do a quick sweep; I doubt there would be much in the way of records around, but there's no harm in looking."

Spiderman nodded, and the men split up.

Moe put his radio back on the dashboard, and gave Spiderman a wide grin. "I don't mind telling you, I was petrified when I heard the words 'Nuclear Weapon.'"

"Imagine how I felt when I saw him bashing it with his gun." Laughed Spiderman.

"MOE!" the Shadow's voice roared. "Get me to the Kingpin's tower. NOW!"

Spiderman practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of an angry shadow, but decided not to ask questions when he saw his partner storm out of the building, looking as mad as he had ever seen him.

The cab tore into late afternoon traffic, as the sun started to set. The cab moved in silence, until finally Spiderman couldn't stand it. "What's going on?" he asked.

The Shadow handed him a small piece of paper. "From Tular's office." He said.

Spiderman read the paper, and understood. "That scum!" he cried indignantly.

"He played us!" hissed The Shadow.

The rest of the cab ride went on in silence.

Kingpin took a sip of scotch and pushed his finished meal away.

"Somehow I thought you'd have bigger portions Kingpin." Hissed the Shadow's voice.

Kingpin jumped a foot in the air and spun around. The Shadow was standing an inch behind his chair. Before he could move, he felt a cold blade against his throat.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" whispered the Shadow, and he tossed a small slip of paper onto the dinner table. The kingpin read it.

Tular.

Transaction complete. Scavenger teams have agreed to terms. Bomb is on its way to you. Long live the Sacred Sword!

Kingpin.

"You funded them." Hissed the Shadow. "You made the deal that got them a nuclear weapon: The same nuclear weapon that would have vaporized this city less than an hour ago. What did they give you?"

"It was just business." Protested Kingpin, with great dignity.

"What did they give you?" demanded the Shadow.

"All the information on terrorist cells. Do you think I bothered to infiltrate all those organizations when I could just buy the information? The members of the Sacred Sword all belonged to a few other terror cells."

"And in return, all you had to give them was a doomsday weapon. And after the attack, when terrorist were suddenly too hot to handle, you thought that the Sacred Sword might be found. And if they were, your name may have come up. So you sent me after them, hoping that I would wipe them out. That's low, even for you Kingpin."

"I do what I have to." Answered kingpin. "So. Are you really going to kill me now?"

The Shadow considered it. "No, because I am in a good mood. I HAVE wiped the Sacred Sword off the face of the earth. So here's the deal. I have left Tular alive. Maybe he talks, maybe he doesn't. If you go and let it slip to all the terror cells you have contact with, exactly what happened to the Sacred Sword, then I wont ventilate your face right now."

Kingpin did not have to think long. "Deal."

"Good. I'm leaving now. Remember Kingpin, if you cross me again, we may not be able to remain such good friends." The blade left Kingpin's throat. "By the way Kingpin. I got in by breaking a window, just like last time. Just to be sporting, it's a window on the ground floor."

The voice fell silent, the iron grip left his shoulder and by the time Kingpin looked, The Shadow was gone, a whispered laugh echoing behind him.

"And you let him live?" Peter was surprised.

"I would have given him the ear-to-ear grin boss." Agreed Moe from the front seat.

"And I was tempted." Admitted Stephen. "But we went after the Sacred Sword because we wanted to send a message to the Terrorists of the world: America is not safe for you, you do not target our civilians and get away with it. But if the Sacred Sword was such a secret and subtle group…"

Peter nodded, suddenly getting it. "Then how would the other terror cells find out, and get the message."

"Precisely. But the Sacred Sword was made up of members from all these cells, and the kingpin has contact with all of them, thanks to his deal with Tular."

"So they would believe it when he tells them: New York is our town, not their target." Finished Peter.

"Right."

"Very smooth." Commented Moe.

"So." Declared Peter. "Once again we've saved civilization as we know it. And the good news is that this time, we aren't getting the blame for risking it."

Stephen lit himself another cigar, since he never got to finish the first. "Have you quit yet?"

"Yep." Confirmed Peter. "But I'll join you in a drink." He held up a silver flask and a pair of travel mugs.

"You read my mind." Said Stephen as he took a mug.

"Now you know how it feels." Joked Peter; taking a sip of his own.

"To victory." Toasted Stephen.

Peter started to return the toast, when the cab turned the corner, and Ground Zero came into view.

"Victory." He finally whispered reverently.

Stephen looked back at the disaster zone, a tear rimming his eye. "Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you."

"Then it seems we have some bear hunting to do." Said Peter.

"I'll drink to that." Agreed Stephen, and the men shared another toast.

The cab turned again and vanished into the shadows of the towering city.

THE END.

* This story is dedicated to the people of New York. You don't need powers to be heroes. *