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Ahem. Can I help you with something from the top secret facility, dude? [Eric's gonna aim a non-lethal stinger at the intrduer, just to be sure as he moves out from the shadows.]

Edited 2014-02-09 22:52 (UTC)

[Not many people sneak up on The Shadow, so he pauses where he is and turns his head so he can eye up the challenger. He didn't make it this far into the place to be foiled now. The black form cuts an imposing figure, the red cloth covering the lower half of his face certainly adds to the look. He eyes that weapon but otherwise remains still.]

An old foe is returning. These files may contain clues to new plans which are already in motion.

(A dead man could hear Metody approaching; the cart of files she's pushing has a wonky wheel that squeaks all the way down the aisle. And 'she' is definitely the right pronoun to use; the prim if brightly colored dress and the clicking heels remove any ambiguity offered by her slight figure or one's prior experience with her.)

Edited 2014-02-10 00:17 (UTC)

[Eric's learnt to be a little quieter than most, plus he does have the handy ability to size change which let him shrink and move into the shadows before growing back up. He sizes up the intruder's words, uncertain whether the man is hero or villain. A threat, well that seems more likely.]

Right. See the guys I work for aren't going to be thrilled at you taking or snooping through any of this, too much hot stuff which the wrong kind of person could pick up some bad habits from. Keep your hands where I can see them and identify yourself, buddy.

I am The Shadow. [His eyes narrow, and his hands, well, they stay concealed in the darkness of his coat. He does not move at all.]

I am here to put together the pieces which your superiors have not assembled. They have insight on a great many things, but not all.

(The Shadow is digging for some new information when that first squeak catches his attention. It's not until it grows closer that he determines it is time to move so he's unlikely to be seen. Slipping between file cabinets is easy enough with the dim lighting, and he waits until the figure comes within view. It takes him a moment to recognize her, and then he's studying the area around to make certain they are alone before he slips to the edge of the shadows, becoming little more than a nebulous figure, but still visible. He was not expecting anyone, least of all an ally, to be here but it is a serendipitous turn of fortune for him. The place is kind of a mess.)

Metody.

You don't say. [Eric's not exactly comfortable with the fact that it's hard to see where the shadows end and THE Shadow begins. A rather apt name, then. If he's irritated at the man not raising his hands he tries not to show it. His insectoid armour masks a slightly nervous face, in any case.]

If that's so, you must be a serious brain box to know what they don't. Why can't you just offer your services?

Wh-

(A startle reflexes go, it's a muted one. She exclaims softly, she flinches, and then she gives him a reproachful look, one hand pressed over her heart. Her nails are a pale and glimmering pink, and chipped. And then she looks dismayed and guilty)

- oh, no, you're here? I thought for sure this one didn't belong to anyone I know!

(There's a faintly bemused crinkling at the corners of his eyes, nothing like what might be witnessed on the face of his Older Self, but it's certainly a similar expression.)

You are familiar with these archives?

I really do try not to invade other peoples' homes...

(She glances around and grimaces, waving a hand at the sagging shelves and splitting boxes. You really would expect a newspaper to treat information with more care)

Yes, such as they are. What are you looking for?

[There's a dark, sibilant laugh that comes from him and echoes weirdly in the space between Eric and The Shadow.]

They have more complex situations to resolve. There is no need for their involvement. [Complex meaning politically charged, he's more than glad to leave that to the large organization.]

(At least the intention is there, which draws The Shadow out from his edge of darkness and into the dim lighting to stand near Metody with a nod. His black hair strikes a quick contrast to his older form.)

I require information going back ten years on a series of bond thefts occurring in New Jersey. Public information has been scrubbed, but I recall that this publisher had printed coverage of the incidents.

(The hair is nothing; he's got an entirely different skeletal system. She nods thoughtfully, and circles around her horrible cart to shove it back the way she came.)

Ten years ago, someone actually cared about organization, so it shouldn't be too awful, except they had a burst pipe a few years ago, so if it was on a bottom shelf, goodness knows where it could be. Was it exactly ten years, or roughly, and what season was it?

(Good point, not that this Shadow is little more than passingly familiar with the concept that Metody manipulates bone.)

Ten years exactly. The articles ran in February, March and May.

(He keeps his wits about him, but that squeaking cart is making it difficult to remain calm. He is glad to hear someone cared then, but finding the small section of organization has been difficult when items from 6 and 16 years ago have been shoved into cabinets next to each other. It rails against every fiber of meticulous organization in his body, and there are a lot.)

(Mercifully, she abandons it in the main thoroughfare. Off she goes down an aisle that is unmarked as the rest if them.)

Ten years ago was....the greenish filing cabinets, and the dividers that weren't rounded....I actually proposed organizing this mess, at least with note cards on the front of the drawers, but all they'd agree to was to let me stay an hour after to do it. I guess it doesn't matter, now...

(As she speaks, she opens and closes the drawers. When she find the one she wants, she simply sits on the concrete floor to go through it. The first step is to remove a handful of the yellowing newspapers jam-packed into it.)

Do you remember what section? And how have you been?

(When she sits on the floor, The Shadow takes a knee next to her and watches over her shoulder as she goes through them.)

Business section. (He says quite calmly as, for all appearances, he seems to settle in to the idea that this may take a while, even with Metody's much-appreciated help. He's glad that cart is abandoned, as it allows him to keep an ear out for any additional visitors. He seems uncertain how to answer that second question for a moment and then nods.)

Fine.

Front page of it, or inside?

(She approaches it methodically, lifting the papers in turn to check their dates. When she finds February, she pulls them out and hands them to him, then goes back to searching, this time in the next drawer up.)

It's amazing how quickly these add...oh, look, these aren't even in the right spot. Good golly. I've seen better organized frat houses.

I'm glad you're doing well.

Front.

(He starts tabbing through the papers she's handed him, quickly reading each one in case he's wrong.)

You have more insight than I, on the matter. (He grumbles, trying to focus on his research and not on the mess.)

That makes it easier, at least.

(She glances up at him, grinning, and tucks a paper further into the discard pile so it is returned to the proper order.)

What, frat houses? I've only been in one or two. They're execrable.

I've managed to avoid them in my career thus far.

(He frowns, setting the papers he's searched down on the floor, in chronological order. He continues through the February papers until he hits upon another gap and flips through the dates until he reaches the end of the month. He repeats it before speaking up.)

There is a week's worth of periodicals missing here. (He grumbles, looking back over Metody's shoulder again.)

There's little of interest in them.

I'm missing a week as well. A week here or there could easily be gone, but it seems a remarkable coincidence all three of those are gone.

(She returns her papers to the drawer, keeping them in the proper order.)

The author would have a file of articles he wrote. They all keep clippings.

[Well that isn't creepy at all, this guy looks like he could have stepped out of a pulp novel, and Eric is still uncertain what to make of him.]

I guess that's true. I can't just let you take what you want, though, Pym would probably have my hide. [There's silence for a few moments longer before he sighs and lowers his arm down, about half way, just in case.]

What precisely are you searching for? And don't lie, cause I'll know.

[If only he knew how close he really was to the truth in that. As the weapon lowers, The Shadow's hands come forward from within the folds of his cloak, empty. One turn of trust deserves another, after all.]

A series of unresolved disappearances over the past five years. Modestly wealthy entrepreneurs who had investments on the African continent, and were pursuing further interests in the Southern and Central Americas. They would have disappeared somewhere within the United States, or its neighboring territories.

I was intending to discover the author and the clues they held through the articles. Should you have access to discover this information, it would be of immense value to the investigation.

No, but...was there an associated photograph? There are big files of photos - the actual photos, not just the newspaper. Perhaps that might point you in the right direction?

(Half a second later, possibly while he starts to say something, she exclaims)

Oh, wait! We could look up staffing information at the time, and there ought to be lists of what everyone wrote in the employee records. That would give you dates and titles. From there, you could find the author and convince him to share his clipping book.

Edited 2014-02-11 17:31 (UTC)