Palm City
The docks were quiet…a little too quiet. A shadow shifted and a hooded figure eased closer to the edge of the top of a stack of large shipping container. A strong square jaw tightened as a pair of shadowed eyes swept seemingly deserted pilings once more. Instinct told him that something was not right and his instincts were seldom wrong, and so he watched and waited. From his position he could see the Emperor's Star sitting silently in her berth. It had arrived right on schedule earlier that evening. Orwell's 'eyes' had followed as it was maneuvered into the docks by a pair of tug boats. With the exception of the initial inspections, no one had been seen entering or exiting the ship and its decks appeared to be empty. A patrol was out of the question as Orwell's network of sensors and cameras had detected a highly sophisticated security system lacing every entrance and exit of the large vessel. Whoever owned the cargo was going to great lengths to protect it.
Green eyes swept back to the empty docks. The best (and only) opening left would be to strike as the collection was transferred between the ship and the transport vans. Once in the armored vans, the collection would be untouchable. The Ark Corporation was putting extra care into maintaining their corporate image lately. Once the collection was under their control it would be under heavy guard until its departure from the city. According to Orwell's intel, the transport was scheduled to arrive sometime within the hour. There was nothing to do at the moment but wait.
Vince shifted back onto his heels restlessly. After days of endless nothing, it had been almost refreshing to get a chance to actually do something. The downtime had given him a lot of time to think….almost too much. Max's words had struck him more deeply than any physical blow….mostly because he knew his friend spoke the truth. He was just an ordinary man with an extraordinary accessory and a 'bag' of magic tricks….but then again how different was it really from the days when he faced the same evil with nothing more than a gun and a badge. He was becoming the very thing that he had once looked down on, a vigilante….masquerading as a superhero from a comic book….but then again maybe it wasn't so far fetched when super villains who looked like rejects from a Dick Tracy comic roamed the streets.
Initially The Cape had been a way to reconnect with his son, but lately he had to admit that it was slowly becoming a part of who he was. Each time he donned the mask and the cape he felt the weight of what it was beginning to stand for to those who were slowly becoming aware of his existence. Hope. What had begun as a crusade to regain his life and to destroy the man who had taken it from him was slowly becoming more…..and lately Vince had found himself wondering if he really wanted to cross the line from playing superhero to actually becoming the protector the city needed. As a cop he had taken an oath to serve and protect….but then again that man was dead, buried beneath the wreckage of a train and under the weight of false accusations. The cape brushed against him as a gust of wind blew in from the water and Vince shook himself from his thoughts and shoved them back into the deepest recesses of his mind. Now was no time for distraction. Vince shifted his position and scanned the docks once more as he let out a slow breath.
"Well this is fun." He muttered.
Soft laughter trickled over his com unit. "Weren't you a cop? I thought cops were used to sitting for hours doing nothing but staking things out."
Vince grinned. "Yeah well that was back when I had access to coffee…and donuts."
Orwell paused. "Cape, my sensors are picking up a weak heat signature in the northwest corner of the stack of containers opposite of your position. Can you see anything?"
Vince swept the area she indicated slowly, pausing on the far side of the docks for a moment as he thought he saw a flash of movement in the shadows. He let out a soft chuckle as a cat darted out and then disappeared around the corner of the adjacent container. "Cat."
He practically hear Orwell's frown as she replied. "Hmm. Must have been it….Look sharp, transport is in route toward your location, eta ten minutes."
"Finally." Vince muttered as he shifted deeper into the shadows. "Showtime."
Across the dock, a pair of cobalt blue eyes watched the caped figure with interest from beneath the brim of a black fedora. A shadow separated from the rest and a tall figure in a long dark leather trench coat slowly materialized out of the darkness. From what he had read, Gregor Molotov had once spent time traveling with a circus act. His attire of choice had been a hooded cape….like the one the figure wore. The Shadow projected his mind toward the figure on the roof opposite him. Confusion faded to curiosity as he failed to sense the darkness he had been expecting. Whoever the caped figure was, it was not the man he was looking for. A further sweep of the docks revealed little more than the sleepy thoughts of an ancient night watchman.
A wave of impatience drew his attention back to the caped figure. The man's attention seemed fixated on the ship berthed across the wide dock; the ship carrying the collection. The Shadow projected his mind further, attempting to get a fix on the thoughts of the man. It was difficult but not undoable, much like tuning a radio to a station on the edge of its limit.
Cape. Cop. Donuts.
His lips twitched upward in amusement. The man appeared to be speaking with someone over a com; his grin froze as a familiar name crossed the man's mind. Orwell. The next word made him pause.
Heat signature.
The Shadow tipped his head downward, hiding it beneath the brim of his hat as the caped figure turned in his direction. He signed internally. It was child's play to manipulate a man's mind into believing what he wanted him to see, but sensors on the other hand…..they were harder to fool. His hat, clothes and coat were lined with a fabric designed to hide his body heat. The rest of his knowledge for dodging security systems had come from assorted knowledge provided by his network of agents. The most beneficial knowledge had come from a jewel thief he had saved from death at the hand of his traitorous partner.
The Shadow smirked as a cat sauntered out of the darkness. The cat paused, its ears pricked and eyes alert. The shadows along the bottom of the container rippled around the corner, the cat hot on its trail. His grin widened felt the caped figure's attention shift away from his hiding place. This man deserved further consideration in the future, but for right now The Shadow did not perceive him as a threat. He turned his head and gazed deeper into the shadows cast by the maze of containers lining the docks as a familiar presence brushed against his mind. He strengthened his mental shields and probed deeper into the darkness toward the man. Molotov was here, hidden in somewhere in the darkness…waiting.
The soft throaty purr of powerful engines broke the relative quiet of the docks as the transport vans began to arrive. The Shadow eased closer as five armored black SUVs came to a stop at the foot of the gangplank leading to the ship. As he watched, a pair of large and heavily armed men emerged from each of the vehicles and extended a perimeter. The ship came to life as a group of men began to move large wooden crates on trolleys down the gangplank toward the waiting vehicles. Everything moved along in a well oiled manner for a couple minutes…before the men on the outer perimeter began to show signs of a disturbance. They began to shout and move closer to the vehicles, their movements erratic and confused. The Shadow frowned as he felt Gregor's presence grow stronger….blue eyes flicked upward in time to catch a sight of a long narrow crate moving down the gangplank toward the dock, its carriers unaware of the commotion stirring up beneath them.
The Shadow smirked and moved forward.
My turn.
Author's note: In light of the recent episodes, this story is becoming slight AU – this story takes place after Goggles and Hicks but before The Linch.