The flame on the wick of the ornate antique oil lamp flickered, casting a myriad of dancing shadows across the surface of the large mahogany desk on which it sat and lighting the face of the man who sat behind it. Max Malini tilted the wine glass in his large hand and studied the deep color of the burgundy liquid. He let out a deep sigh and melted back into the soft leather of his chair before taking a sip. He rolled the liquid over his tongue as his dark eyes settled on the ring which sat on the surface of his desk. Fire danced from the depths of the red-orange stone set deep into the ring's center as it caught the light from the lamp. Memories whispered from the dark recesses of his mind as he watched the play of color. Memories of a dark night long ago when death had looked him in straight in the eye before it had been thwarted by a mysterious man who had offered him a choice.
Max reached out and ran a finger over the cool surface of the stone. Thoughts of that night had faded in time. He had nearly forgotten about the ring, until tonight when Vince had dropped by with a warning that Kozmo had return and a story of a strange disturbance on the docks. The story had chilled him more than the knowledge of Kozmo the Unkillable's return. The man was a certifiable sociopath, one who had nearly destroyed Max's livelihood and his team when last they had met. But Kozmo was still just a man. A man who could be fought….a man who could be seen.
Max slipped the ring onto his right ring finger with a soft shiver as the cold metal slid over his coffee colored skin. The stone glowed warmly for a brief moment before fading. He raised his glass and took another sip of the soothing liquid. His gaze moved toward the orange flame of the lamp as it flickered beneath a soft draft from the silk draped entryway. The old ring master raised his glass in a mock toast as his trademark grin slid across his dark face.
"I wondered if you might turn up." His deep voice stated as he took a sip.
Soft laughter was his answer.
"Hello, Max. It's been a long time." A velvet voice replied.
Max set the glass down on the surface of his desk and folded his hands as his eyes focused on the darkness beyond the soft pool of light cast by the lamp. As he watched, a tall shadow separated from the rest and paused at the edge of the light.
"Five years." He replied.
The Shadow laughed softly. "You've been busy, Max." He accused lightly.
Max leaned forward, refusing to back down. "Is that what you came to speak to me about?"
The Shadow tipped his hat with a gloved hand in a mocking salute. "No. It's not." The hand lowered. "I need a little information regarding a man who calls himself The Cape."
Silence filled the room for a long moment as Max mulled over his answer. Finally he spoke. "What do you want with him?"
"I want to know if he is a liability or an asset." The deep voice stated.
Max sighed through his nose as he retrieved his wine glass and swirled the dark liquid gently. "He is a good man, Shadow. You don't need to bother with him."
The Shadow nodded slowly. "I sensed as much." He reached a gloved hand into his coat and tossed a fat envelop onto the surface of the desk. "A problem has emerged, one that I believe you might be able to assist me with."
Max reached for the envelop and flipped it open. His grin widened as he ran a finger across the large stack of bills nestled inside. "Tell me more."
The dingy streets swarmed with activity even at the hands on the clock moved steadily toward the early hours of the morning. Loud and grating music and strobe lights spilled out of dark doorways blocked by men the size of small mountains. Loud laughter sounded from a small group clustered near the edge of a curb near a taxi as one of them stumbled unsteadily on the pavement. Further along the dimly lit streets others plied darker trades, offering means of escape via chemical or company for the right price. A hooded figure wove a path deftly through the traffic of humanity that littered the streets before disappearing down a dark alleyway. He moved silently through a series of twists and turns before reaching a doorway set into the side of a large building. He paused a moment to look around him then opened the door and slipped silently inside.
A hand merged out of the shadows and caught the door before it could shut. The Shadow eased it open quietly and slipped through before shutting the door behind him. He moved quietly down the narrow hallway toward the light which spilled from large open doorway, keeping close to the shadows and out of the light. He had stumbled upon the man outside of Max Malini's tent and had followed him out of curiosity. The cape was gone and it is place an old hooded sweat shirt and jeans, but he was certain it was the man he had seen at the docks…the man known as The Cape.
Max's mind had revealed much about the man, more than he had been able to find through research on his own. Even Orwell's blog had limited information regarding the mysterious man who had appeared in Palm City only a short time ago. Perhaps that was due to a different reason though as it had appeared at the docks that the man knew Orwell. Perhaps Orwell was protecting him?
The Shadow moved closer to the edge of the doorway as the sound of low voices filled the air. He paused as his eyes settled on the pair seated at a table, a virtual computer consol hung above the surface of the table before them. The first was the man he had been following. The second figure made him pause. She was beautiful. A thin wisp of a girl with expensive taste, judging by her clothes, and fine delicate features shrouded by a curtain of long dark hair; her dark eyes spoke of great intelligence and her presence whispered strength beyond what the eye could perceive. He turned his eyes back toward the man as he pulled back his hood to reveal a head of light brown curls and a pair of piercing green eyes set into a strong face. As he watched, the man placed a hand on the girl's thin shoulder.
"I'm not going to let him hurt you." He said softly.
The girl slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth as her dark eyes flickered from the screen to the man's earnest face. She laid a small hand over his larger one and squeezed it gently. "I know, Vince."
Her hand moved from his to rub at her throat almost unconsciously as she turned her attention back to the screen. Vince's expression tightened in response to her actions as he released her shoulder and lowered his hand. The man's mind was a turbulent storm of thoughts and images. The Shadow sensed a strong feeling of protectiveness toward the girl and a strong feeling of hate for a man who had once nearly killed her.
"Orwell." Vince said softly.
The Shadow paused, his eyes moving back to the girl in surprise as she turned towards the man.
"It's late. Let me see you home." He stated firmly.
Orwell sighed softly but nodded. "Okay." She answered softly, as she shut down the computer and stood.
The Shadow watched as they moved past his hiding place and disappeared around the corner leading toward the door. So the girl was the elusive Orwell. A smile crossed the face hidden beneath the dark mask. Perhaps it was time to follow through on his plan to form an alliance with this Orwell. Something told him that it would be more interesting than he could imagine.
