the shadow man

shadow. he/him. fifty-five. tier five. points:865 crimes:

[theshcdowman]

prcdigalsc-n​:

It’s strange, to hear pieces of his great-great-great—however many “great”s it takes to get him back to the early 1900s, he always forgets—uncle, from Mathias’ point of view. The family story was pretty set in stone, the way he’d heard it from various other Courtneys as a kid: that The Shadow Man had kidnapped and seduced a beloved member of the Courtney family to villainy, a family disgrace that the Courtneys would never forgive Mathias, his family, or the Collective for. It had been a warning story, when he’d first heard it: how easy it could be, to fall onto the wrong side of things, if you weren’t careful, how you could never trust anything a villain said, all of it lies designed to try to pull you away from the side of the good guys. 

He remembers when Nightingale had looked at him and, voice gruff and utterly charmless, said you shouldn’t have to suffer like this, and it’s the fucking story of his however-many-greats-uncle that had stopped Jase from trusting him instantly, caving to the first adult who had ever shown him anything approaching kindness. It wouldn’t have made all that much difference, if he’d joined the Collective sooner than he did, the damage already done, but it did take him almost a year to stop feeling like every time he met up with Nightingale, he was going to be kidnapped by a super villain. 

Mathias’ story obviously has a different tenor to it, and it’s even more apparent when Jase can hear his voice explaining it, rather than Shadow’s, can hear the fondness, and the longing, and the heartbreak of loss all lingering in Mathias’ tone as he looks off towards the trees. And it’s hard to imagine any Courtney doing something like planting trees. They’ve always been a family that tended to destroy, rather than create—at least, when it came to anything other than legacies. 

     “Yeah, I don’t think anyone would take that well on either side of the equation,” he replies, looking up at the sky through the flowering branches of the crabapples. And it’s weird, too, to feel a connection to relative he’s never met, to stand here and know that this place that he’d found as a refuge of his own had been made to be one for someone else, another man running away from the Courtney family and looking for some other way of living. He wonders, if generations down the line, another Courtney will stand here, too, thinking about him, his reputation, his legacy, his own broken link in the chain of Courtney heroes. 

     “Can I… can I ask what he was like?”

The pain that came with the catharsis in talking about Jules, is still one that threatens to swallow him whole. Even a century later it stills pains him just as badly as it did all those years ago, if not more somehow now, now that he’s lived long enough to see the effects of Jules’s decision play out generation after generation. Jules’s decision, and the impact it had on both of their lives, had always been the main source of his pain. It wasn’t losing Jules to death, that he managed to come to terms with, and had hoped that wherever the rest of himself was out there, he managed to find Jules there too. 

After taking another step forward his eyes land on an old stone bench, nestled amongst the trees, and its another remnant of a life long gone. Taking a seat on it, he spots his own phantom version of Jules again, staring back at him from a tree across the way. There wasn’t a lot of evidence left of the true life the two of them lived together, outside of this small grove of trees, but he figures they could have done worse than leave this behind- something beautiful rather than painful. 

“He was...” he draws out as he looks over to the phantom, almost wanting to ask him how he’d want to be described. “I lot like you, frankly. His father was a general, and had enough sway and political power to make sure his children who were born with powers didn’t have to go to the state-run schools like everyone else. But that didn’t make their lives any better, just a different kind of hell.” 

“His father was the first one to bring forth the idea of utilizing the oldest of us to fight in the next war- and that was the early makings of The Guardian Program. I along with a couple dozen others were drafted into our own specialized unit, when it became clear we were to go to war with the Spanish. He wasn’t drafted,” he adds, glancing from Jase back to Jules where he was still standing a few yards away, the phantom’s features slipping into a weak smile, encouraging him to go on, “he volunteered, I think partially to prove his worth to his father, but also for the chance to get away from him and the rest of his family. Even if getting away meant going to war.” 

He huffs a weak laugh at the first memory he has of Jules, all green and clearly not knowing what in the hell he’d signed himself up for when he walked into the den of neglected beasts that was the Superhuman Unit. “I hated him at first, thought he was just some spoiled brat of the general, who was there to play soldier. But that changed after a while, he was different than I thought he was, he looked after us in a way he didn’t have to. He wasn’t a fighter, even though he was a hell of a good one, but he made sure that we were actually treated like human beings for once- made sure we got the supplies and rations we needed, but made a point of not letting the others know he was doing it. That was when he and I became friends, and eventually more.” 

He could honestly sit there all afternoon, and go over everything from the first time when he saved Jules out in the battlefield, taking a musket ball through his calf in the process, and when Jules saved him when he came down with yellow fever and had nearly died himself. He doesn’t though, figuring there could always be time for those stories later should Jase want them. 

“He tried to do what you managed to do in the end- to leave, and make a life of his own here. And for a good while we did just that,” he’s mad at his younger self for how naïve he was back then, to think they would actually get away with it, and how often he tried to downplay Jules’s own fears, until they eventually became a reality. The phantom’s smile wanes then before what he says next, and shifts back into the all too familiar weight of grief he’d grown so used to seeing Jules wear in their later years. “He had a sibling, much like yours, that through threatening my life managed to get him back into the fold. The rest would become history, and eventually what came before would fall victim to that history as well, to better fit the narrative of the Courtney name. And as for me... well, every story needs its monster.” 

[theshcdowman]

dulcectdecorum​:

He’s still in such shock, he’s glad that Shadow picks up where he’s stuck immediately, assessing if whoever gave Claudius his list had the intention of involving Shadow or his family any deeper than as bait. And he’s not exactly surprised to hear that it’s not the case, even if he is relieved that it seems he’s not in any added danger here. Dulce hates to admit that Claudius has a very valid point, that whoever it is knew what to do to bring him in without question. He catches Shadow’s eye when he glances at him, shakes his head slightly as if to say he should be apologizing for bringing him into this mess inadvertently. Despite himself, he reaches out and catches his hand under the table, giving a brief squeeze to say as much silently, as he listens to Shadow bring things together.

And it feels like the answer is right there in exactly what Shadow is saying, if they only just look hard enough. 

“Yes, I do. If whoever is behind this knows me well enough to use Shadow to get me to accept, and knows Claudius well enough to know he wouldn’t have possibly told me about things first, that he’s stubborn enough to want to take care of it himself and not worry me, certainly whoever it is would have realized I would do everything in my power to make sure Claudius knew he was in danger,” Dulce reasons out loud, frown only deepening with the assessment. It doesn’t make sense, considering where they are now, considering how close they are at this point in their lives. “Someone who knows that much about us should know that neither of us would kill the other.”

Claudius, finally growing serious, seems to easily pick up on the thought that is brewing in his own mind. “Someone who knows that much about us would know that we wouldn’t kill each other for money now. They would know that they’re a few years, a few bottles, and a rather grand, internationally recognized fight too late,” he corrects, before leaning back in his seat, clearly thinking deeply. “I’m not so certain the point of this is the killing. Nearly makes me feel bad about the names I’d already crossed off my list…”

He could scold Claudius for being enough of an idiot to start his assassinations without having a concrete plan to get his name off of that list, but he’s well aware now isn’t the time to police how he does his freelancing, when he knows how different their tastes are anyway, despite the whole law and order schtick. That’s the thing that sticks in his mind, though, because there aren’t many people at all who could possibly know all of those things about both of them. And it makes him sick to his stomach, considering how right the possibility feels, how him the theatricality of it all would be, something that runs through Dulce’s blood himself enough so that he can practically see the plan unfolding in his mind.

“Perhaps the intention wasn’t for us to see the assassinations through, but it would have been a not entirely unwanted side effect if it did come to that between us. But perhaps the desired effect was exactly this, a covert meeting turned to a mission to hunt down whoever gave us these jobs,” he explains slowly, feeling the headache brewing already. He can’t help but reach for Shadow’s knee under the table, needing to hold onto something, in search of the grounding feeling Shadow always provides as it all hits. 

“Defeating Dulce et Decorum and Fiat Justitia together after we were the ones to send him into retirement is a very good headline. And the Shadow Man, a Collective legend––the Collective, which he hates nearly as much as this one does––joining the fray would simply be an added bonus to Bête Noire.”

.

The general mood grows increasingly more somber, as the three of them work out the plot they’ve all been pulled into. Whoever it is that’s done this had to be close to both brothers, known them somehow during their youth and still to a certain extent now to know that pulling Shadow in would leave them successful in getting Dulce. It’s just as the list of possible names in his head begins to narrow down when he feels Dulce’s hand land on his knee, and he sees he’s worked it out. Covering his hand with his own and giving it a small squeeze, he encourages him to go on, whatever enemy this is, he’s certain the three of them could face them together. 

The thought that Ducle’s father could do something like this to his sons is a hard pill to swallow, to imagine that someone could ever put their own family through this was difficult for someone like him- someone whose family had always had a tight loyalty amongst each other. He doesn’t question Dulce’s conclusion though, not in the slightest, it all made perfect sense when laid out now, even if the answer was such a dark one. 

“I do have to hand it to dear old dad, he really outdid himself this time,” Claudius sighs, before looking up to the two of them. “So then, now that we know whose behind this, what should we do about it now? I suppose simply ignoring him won’t do this time.” 

Shadow remains quiet as the question lingers in the air, because he doesn’t feel like its his move to determine. This was Dulce’s and Claudius’s father, this is their decision. No matter what they choose he would go along with it of course, which is a sentiment he tries to convey silently as his thumb strokes the top of Dulce’s hand where it still laid on his knee. 

“It’s your decision- both of yours,” he says after a beat, although his gaze is fixated on Dulce. He was not afraid of a fight with Bête Noire if it came down to it, but he’s Dulce’s father, he wouldn’t move against him unless Dulce asked him to. “I’ll be by your side no matter what you decide to do.” 

[theshcdowman]

firebrcnd​:

It’s still hard to wrap their head around the whole thing: that the man they’re talking to isn’t so much a man as he is a set of superpowers currently occupying a man’s body. That he isn’t Mathias Thatch, as close as he might be to him, the same way Clara’s shadow isn’t quite the same as the old woman Kaz had known briefly when Shadow first came into their life. But it’s kind of a relief to hear that the process hadn’t been instantaneous, that Mathias and his shadow had needed to put in work to learn how to work together, to agree with one another. That Mathias hadn’t instantly known what to do, and been able to do it flawlessly. That a learning curve was normal. That it’s normal, to have to work at it—and Kaz can work, Kaz can train, Kaz has always been good at putting in the work to get what they want, practicing and studying, whatever it takes.

They’re not expecting Shadow to jump into the conversation, as they pick up their own food and start to eat while they listens to Mathias’ explanation. They’d given Shadow a fairly perfunctory explanation of what Cas had done for them, when it first happened, because it hadn’t felt like there was all that much to explain. 

     “No, we haven’t really,” they admit between bites. And with the amount that they and Cas share with one another, it’s kind of surprising that they haven’t. That it hadn’t occurred to Kaz to test something like out. 

But they hadn’t really thought of it as drawing from the same source as Cas’ power, before the Tower; they’d thought of it as something that was their own. Because Cas had rewritten the universe such that Kaz had powers, which felt like it should have been something different from him lending Kaz access to his power, or something like that. But Shadow has a point; it couldn’t hurt to experiment. Could it be the case that Kaz’s own power flickers have happened when Cas was using his powers? That maybe the moment on the roof that Kaz’s powers had failed them had been while Cas had Mind Master in his head downstairs? 

And what did that mean, for Kaz’s powers, if they were still tied that closely to Cas’? 

     “He’s been sort of busy lately. He and Lazarus are dating now, apparently,” he adds, which is a convenient excuse, more than anything, to make it sound like the only reason they haven’t been spending hours in the training room trying to get to the bottom of Kaz’s powers is that Cas has been preoccupied, when Kaz knows full well that he’d drop everything the second they asked if he had a minute to spare. 

He’s worried at first, that Kaz might take his question the wrong way. He always tried to be careful during discussions like these, uncertain if his input was really wanted unless Kaz directly asked for it. They didn’t ask for it here, but considering the discussion at hand, he figures it didn’t hurt at least posing the question. And it sounds like it was one that didn’t go without merit, considering what Kaz’s answer is. He’s surprised that the two of them hadn’t looked into how each other’s powers might affect the other, granted, he knows that the night Cas gave them said powers was eventful enough already. 

“It might not hurt to look into it,” he shrugs, not really wanting to push the idea on them, but rather just offering it up to them as something they could think on. “It could very well be the case, that any lapses you experience are just the routine bumps and hurdles anyone experiences when they’re first working out their powers. Cas is the only reality warper I’ve encountered, so I admittedly don’t know much about how far his own powers can go.” 

 “Well whatever it is, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself and your powers,” Mathias pipes up, once again doing so with his mouth half full, “everyone else back at the manor has a good decade worth of experience on you when it comes to their powers, but that hasn’t stopped you yet. You should be proud of yourself.”  

“He’s right,” he pipes up, figuring Mathias’s sentiment was a good one to end his half of the discussion on, “and you know I’ve always been proud of you. No matter what happens, I always will be.” 

.

[theshcdowman]

dulcectdecorum​:

He has to admit that he has imagined this exact fantasy before. When they were both much, much younger, after those nights of Shadow visiting him, there to kill him, but ultimately unable to complete the job, he had considered it more than he likely would have said. And he’s perhaps teased about it a time or two over the years, what it might have been like had the convincing he had done to keep Shadow from killing him, instead making the choice to turn that on someone else, had ended very differently instead of in them not seeing each other for a good while afterward. His heart is still beating fast from waking unexpectedly, thinking there was danger to face, but it’s turning into a very different sort of racing pulse now, as Shadow just stares at him, before suddenly becoming a cloud of smoke, moving towards the bed. 

And it’s much better than he could have imagined it might be, odd of a sensation as it is when the wisps of smoke start under the sheets, moving up his body. It sends an intense chill through him, has him letting out a little gasp at the feeling despite himself, as he leans back on his elbows. It makes it very hard to keep up any coherent thought, as he makes it to his chest, the wisps of smoke moving against his skin. In an instant, though, he’s back to the more humanoid shadow form, weight bearing down on him pleasantly, the exact sort of sensation he had been craving as he fell asleep hours earlier.

For a moment he just stares up at those glowing eyes, adjusting to this new feeling, but wholly unable to keep his heart from racing, a little bit thrilled by the unexpected gift Shadow has decided to give him tonight. Even without words, he can tell what Shadow is suggesting, telling him that he can touch, too, and that has him raising an eyebrow, curious as to what that’ll feel like for both of them. And he does so, reaches a hand up to the smoky tendrils of his neck, watches as his hand half disappears beneath it, surprised to find it lands on something much more solid. Cold to the touch, but certainly there. Dulce lets out a satisfied hum as he lets his hand trail down to his chest, fingertips ghosting along the more solid shadow beneath, as curious as he is utterly unscientifically interested.

Because he has imagined this before, but it was all much less solid, clearly not fully knowing what Shadow’s powers made him into, only having seen this shadow form from at least a little distance in the past. His mind is practically reeling with the possibilities laid before him, and he has a feeling that Shadow is just as interested in exploring them. “I have wondered before,” he hums softly, unable to keep from licking his lips at the thought, hand moving down the cool expanse of his chest, lower, “If kissing a shadow would be possible or not. What it would be like.”

.

He had no set plan when he came to Dulce’s that night, no concrete idea of just what all he’d do once he got there. So right now, he’s going off pure gut instinct as he stares down at Dulce, waiting for him to make the next move. The hand that eventually meets the more solid aspect of his shadow, trails slowly down his chest- the sensation isn’t quite the same as if he were in his natural form. He can feel him still him, although it feels more like a ghost of a touch, something featherlight that he has to concentrate on to notice. It isn’t an unpleasant sensation, not in the slightest, in fact if he had hair it’d certainly be standing up on the back of his neck as Dulce continued. 

His glowing gaze shifts from Dulce’s hand, still half immersed in tendrils of smoke, to his own when he speaks again, voicing his next desire. He finds himself just as curious as Dulce is, in how that’d feel like for the two of them. Generally when he made physical contact with someone in this form, it was during the midst of a violent fight. His shadow wasn’t used to this, being touched with care rather than anger, and he can feel the urging tug of it to have him follow through with the request. 

Tilting his head, he moves his hand to brush against Ducle’s cheek, before his clawed fingers move to scrap lightly at the side of his head, as his palm cups the side of his face. He couldn’t speak in this form, but he still had lips, and the control to move them. Bending forward, he slips his thumb under Dulce’s chin, using it to tilt his head upward before he meets his ghostly lips with Ducle’s own. The kiss is forceful, because he wouldn’t be able to feel it at all if he allowed it to be featherlight- which he doubts Dulce minds. 

Moving his lips hungerly against his, he lets the two of them linger in that moment, exploring just what they could and couldn’t do while he was in this form, as his free hand falls onto Dulce’s forearm, where it was still braced against his abdomen, rubbing it encouragingly. 

[theshcdowman]

dulcectdecorum​:

He gives Shadow a little smile, grateful in a way he can’t truly put into words just now for his desire to be apart of this mess that he had gotten dragged into because of his family. The squeeze of his hand in enough to calm some of the anxiety, perhaps a tiny bit exacerbated by annoyance with Claudius, and he follows Shadow to the table, taking a seat next to him across from Claudius. 

Rolling his eyes at his expectations for this meeting, he gives Claudius a look that could cute through glass, even as his brother gives Shadow the up and down. It’s positively ridiculous, but he wouldn’t expect anything less of him, even in circumstances he’s about to realize are rather dire. This is just how he’s always been, and perhaps Dulce’s a hint of the same, although he likes to believe he’s slightly less of a prat. 

It’s a blessing that Shadow is more than able to deal with Claudius’s usual attitude, and less than pleasant comments immediately. It wouldn’t be meeting him, if he had played nice, in truth, never one to turn on the charm that they had both inherited if he was put out by something, which he often was. If the members of the Collective thought that he was insufferable, they never would have been able to deal with the antics of a younger version of Dulce raised to believe he could do no wrong. At least he has the decency to act humble at times. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to matter to Shadow, easily dealing with the comments he makes without even batting an eye, before Dulce needs to interject himself.

Mercifully, he’s able to curtail the speculation, and the call for personal stories, just now to the topic at hand with expertise, and it makes him all the more grateful to have Shadow at his side for this, to make it simpler all around. And he does it well, catching Claudius’s interest in one fell swoop, offering a hint of that story, as well as the entire reason they’re here in the first place. Dulce takes a sip of his tea, savoring the warmth, before following up on Shadow’s start, perhaps only slightly distracted by Shadow calling him Tiberius, rare as it is.

Best to push past and jump straight into things, especially with Claudius silent for once. The sooner he knows, after all, the sooner they can start making plans.

“I don’t know who we’ve pissed off, but the job was clearly requested knowing that Shadow would ask me to play handler to investigate, because when we went to do just that, I was given a list of name for the Shadow Man to assassinate, and yours was amongst them,” Dulce says, frankly, setting his cup down, looking at his brother. 

He’s silent for a moment, frowning at him, before looking at Shadow, seemingly searching for confirmation that this is the truth. When he realizes they’re being serious, the frown turns to surprise, and then he laughs, a bark that nearly makes Dulce jump for how unexpected it is.

“You’re taking the piss,” he says between laughter, out of breath from it all.

“Why the fuck would I joke about something like this, Claudius? Why would I bring you here for a prank, we’re not teenagers,” he scoffs, utterly taken aback by his response. 

“You’re not listening to me. You’re right, we must’ve pissed someone off well, because I was offered a freelance contract to kill you, along with a few other names, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck to get your name off whatever list it’s on,” Claudius explains the laughter dying down to little giggles. 

Dulce looks at him in shock for a second longer, processing his words, what the hell this means for them, before he manages anything at all. “Why didn’t you mention that sooner? We could have figured this out already,” he shakes his head, although he’s well aware that’s not the concern here. 

Claudius, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be taking anything they’re saying seriously. Which on one hand he can’t entirely fault him for, it is a rather bizarre story, and hard to believe that someone would purposefully dupe Dulce into receiving a kill list with his own brother’s name on it. But shortly after Claudius laughs at Ducle’s continued assertion that this all is indeed very much real, he reveals something just as bizarre. 

“You received a list too?” He repeats, although he isn’t really looking for confirmation per say. He hadn’t realized Claudius was a freelance mercenary of some kind, which is his fault for not asking Dulce more about his brother, he assumes. Still though, the fact that Claudius also received a list of his own with Dulce’s name on it, made this plot they found themselves in all the more difficult to determine what the motive is. 

“Was the name Alex Thatch on that list?” He finds himself asking, curious to see his part to play in this was any further connected other than luring Dulce in. “Or a Karim Kazemi?” 

“Nope, sorry, sounds like you were just pulled in to get dear old Tiberius to play along,” he lets out another short burst of laughter before he glances back over to Dulce. “Man, whoever did this knew precisely how to get you involved, huh? All it took was tall, dark, and brooding here to ask you to make the jump, and all you needed to know was how high.” 

He can’t help but glance over to Dulce apologetically as Claudius airs out his own theory just why he was chosen. It made sense, considering Dulce would have never even considered the job if he hadn’t asked, but it didn’t make him feel any better about being the puppet in all of this. 

“So then whoever did this, at least knows Dulce well enough to come to me first,” he starts, trying to piece together what info they now had, “do you think they expected for this meeting to happen between all three of us? I mean they couldn’t have seriously thought that you two would have killed one another.- would they?” 

.

[theshcdowman]

prcdigalsc-n​:

He knows that this is probably weirder for Mathias than it is for him—having his body back suddenly, actually getting to roam freely and in person around the place that had been his home a century ago, and had surely changed far too much for comfort since then. The Manor has always felt distinctly old-fashioned to Jase, but he knows, distantly, that even Medusa had found it changed almost beyond recognition in many ways, and she’d first called it home almost thirty years after Mathias had left it.

But even knowing that, he can’t help but find it a little funny, the annoyance and frustration. Not because he doesn’t sympathize at all, but because hearing all of that in Mathias’ actual voice, instead of just seeing it reflected in the posture of his giant shadow-figure, really drives home the way in which Mathias is… kind of just a grandpa, an old man who thinks things were better back in his day. Bitching about everything changing since his time. 

Weirdly enough, he reminds Jase of his great aunt, who had still been around when Jase was a kid, old as shit and with no patience for anything—including Jase’s dad, who she’d always seemed to find ridiculous. She’d been a bitch, but Jase had always liked sticking by her side at family events and listening to her running commentary of how much she hated everything. 

     “I didn’t take you for a gardener,” he says, surprised to hear Mathias talking about the trees he planted. He knows the crabapples, knows exactly what he’s talking about—he’d spent enough of his own time around the gardens back when he lived at the Manor, always desperate to find somewhere quiet he could be on his own in the too-crowded home, not used to being around other people all the time. He never would have guessed that the same gruff old man who had randomly decided to be fond of him had been the one who planted them all those years ago.

He’s already moving in that direction, though, glad for the distraction, for something to do. To get out of the Manor which still feels like somewhere he doesn’t quite belong anymore, especially now that he’s spending what little time he once would have spent there at Dulce’s instead.

     “But no, god no. Not busy at all. i mean, I was thinking about taking my weekly browse around the Shadow Man museum, but I guess that can wait…” 

He simply rolls his eyes at Jase’s comment, or rather, comments at his expense. And he’s glad that now the kid can actually see him doing it, instead of having to figure out another more visibly apparent way to show his annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah, you coming or not?” He asks, a fond smile seeping through his grumpy exterior.

Motioning towards one of the doors leading to the back patio, he leads him out, enjoying the smell of the fresh spring air as soon as it hits him. The back gardens have changed since he last walked through them, some things have been removed and altered completely- others have simply grown and flourished with age. The gazebo has changed, and there are a few statues missing, which he assumes fell victim to some young villain or several over the years.

“Your… relative and I planted them the crabapples,” he answers once the trees are in view, their vibrant blooms standing out brightly against the green surrounding them. He doesn’t call Julian Jase’s uncle, not liking the idea of participating in that rumor himself. Jase had assumed the connection based on what he likely heard from his own family, but Mathias had never gone out of his way to correct him over the years.

As they move closer, he sees Julian for a moment, as a small breeze picks up a gust of flower petals, and swirls them into the air. He’s standing under one of the trees, smiling at him in that soft way he always had before he vanishes again. He wants to tell Jase the truth about what happened all those years ago, he knows it won’t change the narrative the world has already assumed and accepted as fact, but he can’t help but think it’ll do Jase some good to know how it all began.

“We started living here together before this place was anything but Clarissa’s uncle’s old house. We’d just gotten home from the Spanish American war, and had nowhere else to go- well, he did, but he didn’t want to go back to his family. That’s when the idea of this place started to form, with all of us here needing a refuge. Technically, a Courtney should be among the names, of the Founders, but you can imagine how that would have gone over.”

He fears for a moment that he’s oversharing, but he can’t be bothered enough to care any further quite frankly. It’d been some time since he was able to talk about that side of his history, not since Clarissa and the others were around who knew more intimately how things had unfolded.

When they finally reach the small grove of trees he comes to a stop, to admire at least for a little bit the blooming spring beauty of the trees he planted over a century before.

[theshcdowman]

firebrcnd​:

They slip into their chair as Shadow starts passing out food, and Rocky settles down at their feet, pressed against their leg as she curls up and lies down, and they reach down to give her another scratch behind the ears as Mathias sits down and starts to ask them about their powers. And they see Shadow shoot him a look, and let out a breath of a laugh—it’s an unexpected topic, but not one they have any problem talking about. 

And as he goes on, they find themself feeling a little relieved, at the mention of feeling like he didn’t know what was going on. Because everyone else in the Collective, Cas, and Lazarus, and Fortune, and Zenith… they all seem so at ease, with their powers. Even if they’ve had moments where they didn’t. Even if Mind Master had fundamentally shifted the way Cas’ worked for him, even if Lazarus had no memories of how they’d gotten theirs. They still all seem to know what they’re doing. And no matter how much Kaz practices—and they have been practicing, about as much as they can stand do, thanks to Zenith’s rather threatening encouragement that if they’re going to do this, they aren’t allowed to half-ass it—they still don’t fully understand their powers. 

Especially when, when they need them most, sometimes they just don’t work. What had happened at the Tower, when they’d tried to stop Hourglass… it’s been eating away at them a little bit. A lingering feeling, there, that something isn’t quite right. That that tiny flicker was only one symptom of something much larger, the beginning of a problem they were going to need to figure out how to solve. 

     “Um, yeah, yeah I did,” they start their answer. And it does feel strange to talk to Mathias, who feels simultaneously like a stranger and also like someone they’ve known for half their life. Which, technically, is true, both ways. “It’s definitely been an adjustment, trying to figure it all out. I mean— probably not as weird as it was for you. They’re pretty straightforward powers, in the scheme of things.”

They glance, for a moment, at. Shadow, who is putting the last few take out containers out of the bag over at the kitchen counter. And they haven’t talked to him much about their new powers, really, since it happened. Every time he asked, they said the usual, it’s fine, I’m great, because they don’t want him to worry about them. They are fine. It is great. They’re happier than they thought they ever could have been again, after what happened with Fortune, after realizing how little of their capability actually belonged to them.

But it seems kind of stupid to pass up on an opportunity to actually talk to Mathias about what it was like, to find himself with powers and have to figure it all out on his own, just because Shadow’s there too. 

     “What was it like, for you?” They take just a second, trying to put into words the way they’ve been feeling, wondering if it was the same for him. “I mean… did you ever feel like they… I don’t know, had a mind of their own? Like they weren’t so much a part of you so much as…” They glance down, where Rocky has shifted against their leg so that she can yawn, and scratch behind her own ear. “Like a guard dog. Something that cares about you, but on its own terms.” 

Shadow is monitoring the conversation closely, as he wraps up handing out the rest of the takeout containers. He’d been nervous at first when Mathias brought up Kaz’s newly found powers, worried that he might press a conversation Kaz didn’t want to have. When he had touched on the subject with Kaz himself, they usually waved it off with a simple “I’m fine”. Mathias seems to know intuitively, though, the way to bring up the topic that will have Kaz open up more than they had before.

He sits in his own seat quietly, keeping himself as a silent observer to the conversation for now. He hadn’t really considered it before, how he’d had it so easy with his own powers, since he had numerous generations behind him who had them as well. He feels a stab of regret for not considering how Kaz may be struggling with their own unknown, but he’s grateful that at least Mathias may be able to help them through it.

“Well, that’s the rub in all of this, right?” Mathias answers, his mouth half full of his reuben sandwich. “Because technically, I am the guard dog in this scenario. As much as I feel like Mathias Thatch and have his same memories, even breathing through his lungs, I am actually his powers and not the man himself.”

Mathias takes a drink of his soda before continuing further, seeming to think back to something before he continues, “By the time we helped start the Collective, Mathias and I were one unit working seamlessly, but that didn’t happen overnight. It took years of us figuring each other out before we got to that point- and became more of an ‘I’ than a ‘we’.”

“Have you and Cas done much experimentation on how each of your powers affect the other?” Shadow speaks up, the topic of Mathias and his shadow’s relationship reminding him of how Cas and Kaz were connected. “Since you both draw from the same source, any fluctuations you might experience in your own powers could have something to do with what Cas may be experiencing with his own.”

.

[theshcdowman]

dulcectdecorum​:

For the first night since everything that had happened at the Tower, exhaustion wins out over anxiety, and Dulce finds himself able to fall asleep with relative ease. It feels like it’s been too long since a moment of real peace, even if he’s been doing his best to keep himself occupied while keeping a watchful eye over his houseguests. But even the moments sitting reading, or playing his violin he was constantly on his guard. On his guard, and keeping a constant command over Specter so that they were all safe, along with him, of course. He’s kept commands going for extended periods of time before, but it’s been years since he’s done so for days at a time, and he’s never done it over someone with conflicting orders that would fight against Dulce’s. Even without Judgement’s influence, the programming hasn’t changed, after all, and he’s finding that it takes more effort to maintain his control over him than with someone…more in touch with their humanity.

But having gotten to speak with his brother, finally having a clearer picture of what was going on, and who was behind it all, as disconcerting and concerning as it is to know, seems to give his mind space for a moment of rest that he hasn’t been able to find the past several nights.

There’s much to do, still, even more, perhaps, than before they had gotten all of the information they have now, but he’s always done well with order, after all, and with a clearer path forward on one front, the personal front, he finds it easier to accept the other on-going situation, and his ability to keep it under his control, too. Still, even as he lets that exhaustion take over, he wishes that he wasn’t alone, wishes that he could drive to Shadow’s and fall asleep with his arms around him, instead. Soon, he tells himself. They both have such enormous responsibilities, but he knows Judgement well enough to know it’ll all come to a head again sooner rather than later, and then maybe, they’ll have all the time in the world, even if they still need to deal with a few other things before things are truly peaceful. 

It’s wishful thinking, he knows, that things will be so simple, that something like peace will come so soon, but it’s more than enough to send him to sleep. And for a while, it’s a nice, blissfully dreamless sleep, until he wakes up suddenly, the distinct feeling of someone watching, making him stir. He doesn’t move immediately, heart racing, trying to brush off the feeling of sleep to prepare for whatever fight might be waiting, but when he does finally move, sitting up all at once, ready to fire off a command, he’s surprised by what he sees. 

Shadow, in the most literal sense. Shadow, taking the form he had been in when they had first “met,” in these exact circumstances nearly twenty years ago. Dulce lets out a breath, relief, but also amusement, as he considers just what Shadow is doing, what he’s giving him. 

“Well, well, well,” he hums, voice still thick with sleep, even as he smirks as the looming figure, teasing, “Are you here to finish that old mission at last, or is it perhaps to finish something else?”

.

He almost feels bad, by just how quickly Dulce had bolted up at the feeling of the disturbance, clearly ready to fight off the intruder his body had sensed. He sticks to character though, which he’s rewarded for soon enough, once the alarm that had frozen Dulce’s features melts away into something more endearing. They both know he can’t answer him in the state he’s in, so he plays out his role a little longer, as he stares intensely back at him, before suddenly he dissipates into a cloud of smoke. Breaking loose from the man-like form, he hovers the ground before slinking up the front of Ducle’s bed, and slipping underneath the sheets that were draped across it. 

His smoke-like form blankets both of Dulce’s feet, before he slowly makes his way up the length of his body, the cool wisps of his form lapping against Dulce’s bare skin before he makes it to his chest. He’d never done this before with a partner, so he’s fully just following his gut on how he’d assume Dulce had once imagined this, before they actually became intimate with one another. 

He shifts his form again, once he reaches Dulce’s chest, and soon enough he’s back into his shadow man-like form. Placing each of his clawed hands, on either side of Dulce’s head, he distributes his regained weight between them, as he looms above him, continuing that unblinking stare of his as he looks down to him.  

He realizes then, as he stares down at him, that this was the closest they’d ever been with each other when he was in this state. When they were at Preston’s he’d been standing behind him a good foot or so away, and even back to the first time he’d come to Dulce’s in this form, he’d never made it any further than the base of his bed. And so he casts the glowing silver specs of his eyes down to his own chest, before looking back at Dulce, encouraging him to explore how he saw fit. On appearance alone, he didn’t look like anything solid at all, let enough bear any weight given the smoky appearance his shadow form took. If Dulce did press past the smoky tendrils and to solid form beneath, he’d find it still cool to the touch, and taking on the general form of the shadow rather than the real man beneath it, but far more solid than he looked. 

[theshcdowman]

dulcectdecorum​:

mid morning, a few days post tower, a nice balcony at the back of the manor ( @theshcdowman​​. )

With the manor at least temporarily less than ideal as a safe, neutral meeting point with his brother, Dulce has been fretting over options of the best course of action regarding his brother and the target on his back since everyone (relatively) settled in his home after the Tower. The issue with that, besides being utterly stretched thin between playing house dad to four guests, making certain they’re safe and fed, but also not breaking anything in his home, and keeping the man-slash-robot who shot him twice under his control at all times until Dr. Green can come and figure out how the fuck to deprogram him or something, he doesn’t have a lot of brainpower for critical thinking. 

He’s exhausted, which is why, in the end, as it feels like time is growing thin to take care of this before Preston and his mysterious benefactor send someone after Claudius who will actually kill him, he settles on risking the meeting at the manor, and sucking it up to face White and her displeasure head on, should she find out he’s around and call him into a meeting before he can leave again.

And so they plan the meeting, knowing it’s best if Claudius comes separately, to continue keeping whoever might be watching off the trail that they’re not going to follow through on the list of names for the Shadow Man to kill he’s been given. He arrives early, of course, wanting to make certain they can have privacy––or as much privacy as is possible in a mansion full of eavesdroppers––and tea, knowing how deeply unpleasant Claudius is going to be able having to come here, a place he swore he’d never set foot in, after what it made their father into.

Dulce is already out on the balcony, tea and a very generous assortment of baked goods waiting for Claudius and Shadow thanks to Jay, when he turns to see the very same leading his brother out to him. He gives them a thank you, before stepping forward to meet Claudius. But, of course, the bastard doesn’t even offer a hello in greeting, launching into his complaints immediately, as he steps out onto the balcony.

“You know you owe me. Forcing me to stay with Mum for a week straight, and then asking me to come here. Really, Tiberius, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to send me to an early grave,” he hums, as he goes to sit at the table, clearly not impressed in the least with any of this.

“Oh, I am,” he says blandly, rolling his eyes. “But I have a strong feeling what I’m trying to do for you in that regard is going to cancel that out. Eat a piece of coffee cake, it’ll calm you down. I don’t want you acting an arsehole when Shadow gets here; I happen to like having him around, and I’d rather you not make him regret choosing to spend his time with me.”

Claudius doesn’t look up as he pours himself a cup of tea. “I don’t like coffee cake. Too sweet,” he corrects. “What a way to meet your first boyfriend in fifteen years.”

“Then eat a bloody scone, Claudius,” Dulce hisses. He’s about to go on, object to the fifteen years part, and to remind Claudius this is serious, even if he knows full well his brother will stop with the theatrics once they get down to business, when the door opens again, and he looks up to see Shadow. He heaves a sigh of relief, and crosses to him. “Speak of the devil.”

He doesn’t bother tempering the need for touch here, even if he knows Claudius will, indeed, be a littler brother about it. But he needs the brief moment of contact, pressing a kiss to Shadow’s cheek, giving a small embrace. “I apologize in advanced for him. Our family has never been good at first impressions,” he mutters, as he pulls back, hands staying on his upper arms just for a second. He can practically hear the eye roll behind him. “Thank you, for doing this now. I know it’s still not a good time for any of us.”

. 

As hectic as things were lately, between the Tower attack and everything that followed, he’s grateful for the small reprieve he gets from the numerous other stresses in his life, to focus back in on the mission he and Dulce had started months ago. It’d been a long time coming, finally getting together in a room with Claudius, but he’s glad they’ve finally managed to pull it off- and with seemingly no questions from Preston yet on just when they were going to start checking off names from the list he’d given them. 

He can hear the small squabble between the brothers through the glass doors that led to the balcony, and he hangs back just a moment, as he lets the two of them sort out whatever they needed first. Once his name is mentioned though, he knows there was no use in waiting any longer, and soon enough steps into the small fray himself once he closes the door behind him. 

He smiles briefly as Dulce leans in to press a brief kiss against his cheek, before his gaze shoots over to Claudius where he was still sitting, looking somehow more annoyed than he already had just moments before. 

“I wanted to do this, it’s alright,” he glances back at Dulce. Covering his hand with his own, he gives it a small squeeze before taking a seat and returning his attention back to their guest of the hour. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Claudius,” he greets, “I’ve uh, heard a lot about you.” Which was the understatement of all understatements, given everything that he and Dulce had uncovered when they first jumped into this thing, but he supposes it was somewhere to start. 

“Well that’s one of us,” Claudius replies curtly, with a tight smile. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be meeting a seven foot tall smoke demon, or some decrepit centenarian, after Tiberius told me his new main squeeze was none other than The Shadow Man.” Claudius gives him a brief once over which he doesn’t bat an eye over. He’s grateful, suddenly, that Roxana had somehow prepared him for a conversation such as this one, where so much of what was really said was spoken between the lines. He’s certain Dulce had filled in on Claudius on what was necessary when it came to him and Dulce, especially since he seemed to have no reservations in displaying his affection to him. Claudius’s frustration, he would guess, likely stemmed more from not knowing just what precisely this was all for in the first place, than anything else. 

“Although I must admit, I am curious just how this little match came about anyway,” Claudius adds before taking a sip of the tea in his hands. 

“Well, I guess that kind of has to do with why we’re all here in the first place,” Shadow offers him, and shrugs his shoulders in Dulce’s direction, figuring it was as good a segue they were probably going to find. The response has certainly seemed to have piqued Claudius’s interests though, as he leans forward slightly, curious as to just how this all was connected. 

“I used to do mercenary work, before I joined the Collective. Which was how I met Dul- Tiberius,” he starts. “I’ve been retired from that work ever since though, that was until a couple months ago when I was contacted about a job- a job which we’d eventually learn had your name attached to it.” 

.

[theshcdowman]

firebrcnd​:

It’s nice to have an excuse to get away from the Manor for a little bit, after everything. They used to not really understand why Fortune was so eager to move out, why he seemed so ready to pack up and run the second he was allowed. But with the way the past few days have gone—the frenetic energy, the overwhelming way emotions seem to be running high with everyone after all of the various traumas dredged up by the attack on the Tower—well, they get it. It’s a lot to be around, when they feel so emotionally exhausted, still. 

So when Shadow had asked them to stop by for dinner, they’d breathed a sigh of relief and gotten the fuck out, taken their time making the familiar trip to the home they’d spent so much of their young adult life drifting in and out of. They show up early, walk around the neighborhood with their headphones in, just because they can, because they can’t really remember the last time they were alone and wanted to be. And then, when they’re sure they won’t be inconveniently early, they pull their keys out of their pocket and head for home.

Rocky greets them first, practically knocking them over with her enthusiasm, and they crouch down as they slip their keys back into their pocket so they can scratch either side of her head, letting her lick their face for a minute.

      “Hey, girl,” they mutter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before finally standing back up at the sound of Shadow’s voice. “I missed you too.” 

She follows them into the kitchen when they go, close at their heels, and it really says something, they think, that meeting the zombie of their dad’s great uncle is somehow set up to be the least stressful thing they have planned for this week. They’re weirdly looking forward to it, though when they finally enter the kitchen, their first glimpse of him is of him looking extremely grumpy.

     “And here I was hoping this family dinner would involve less fighting than the ones I grew up with,” they joke lightly, though even though they can tell that the two Shadow Men were arguing about something before they came in, they can also tell from the feel of the room that neither of them is quite as invested in starting and subsequently winning arguments as Roxana had always been. 

.

It’s still a fucking weird feeling, realizing he was about to “meet” the kid he’d actually known quite well all these years. But Mathias understands the need to make an official thing of it all, or at least as official as lunch that came in the form of disposable containers could be. When Kaz enters the room he has to resist the urge to greet them with a hug, like Alex soon does, after he huffs a laugh at the comment about Alex’s ex. He’d told him from the moment Alex had met the woman, that it was a bad idea jumping into a marriage because it seemed like the right time in his life, but he figures the kid he got in exchange for it all, was worth the trouble in the end. 

“If you think this is bad, you should hear what the inside of his head sounds like, when he’s got both me and your grandmother’s shadow in there,” he greets, deciding that a handshake would suffice for now until both of them got more used to the idea of him being more than just a shadow Kaz would see on occasion. He’s actually surprised Clara hasn’t chosen to split herself from Alex for this little get together of theirs, given Kaz had known her for a handful of years before she passed, but he could understand how that might be a little overwhelming for Kaz to have to deal with both of them at once. 

While Alex goes through the take-out containers, and passes them along to their rightful owners, Mathias slips into the chair opposite the one Kaz was standing in front of. “So, Alex mentioned you found yourself with powers after that shit back at the prison we all went through,” he starts and finds Alex quickly shooting him an annoyed look, like he somehow wasn’t supposed to bring that up, even though that was the last time he saw Kaz. Waving off Alex’s pointed look, he focuses his attention back on Kaz. 

“How you faring with ‘em? This one over here had the advantage of knowing exactly what he’d be in store for,” he continues, pointing the plastic soup spoon in his hand towards Alex before continuing, “but I remember what it was like not knowing a damn thing about something that’s suddenly such a big part of you- and hell, that was back when the first wave hit, when no one knew what in the hell was going on.” 

[theshcdowman]

prcdigalsc-n​:

Once Jet had pulled him out of the Tower, once Nightingale had healed his unfortunate self-inflicted hypothermia, once he’d found his way back to Dulce’s and fallen into bed at Ian’s side, there’d been a lot to catch up on. Most of it, he heard through the other various villains stopping by to talk to Ian, or Overload, or any of the others staying safe under Dulce’s protection—whispers of everything that had happened, the various dramas and surprises each team of them had faced on their various floors of the Tower.

But he’d barely seen anyone, in the few days that had passed. Hadn’t come back to the Manor yet, until today. And so it’s only when he stumbles across Mathias in the hallway that he sees him for the first time, after having heard that the former Shadow Man, rather than being rounded up with the rest of the zombies and returned to his grave, was walking around, back in his own body, acting like he owned the place. 

And literally everything about it is weird. To see Mathias in the flesh, instead of as a giant ghostly shadow puppet. To hear his voice, instead of his words filtered through Shadow’s, or guessed through an elaborate game of charades. He’d known, intellectually, that the shadow Mathias was the same person as the man in the portrait of the Founders—or, at least, a fragment of him, a memory of him, a piece of him that had outlived the rest—but seeing him here, living and breathing and talking, is weird.

     “You know, I thought you’d be taller,” he replies, blithely, to the thawed out comment, all but rolling his eyes. But there’s a fondness to it, as well—it’s kind of amazing, actually. To see him like this. To get to talk to him, like a real conversation. As fast as his mind is racing to process all of it, he can’t help but think about how cool it is. 

     “I’m fine, though, yeah,” he answers, sincerely, when Mathias reframes the question into a genuine one. And he is fine, all things considered. He’s spent a lot of time feeling the adverse effects of his own powers; when he was first training, he’d pretty much been taught to ignore whatever damage it did to him, and he’s never really moved past that mindset, as hard as he tries. “Not my first experience with hypothermia, funny enough. What about you? Still following Shadow around like a lost puppy dog, or are you taking advantage of literally the wildest possible outcome to a rogue necromancer trying to steal your body?” 

He truly has to give himself a moment to marvel at the situation he’s suddenly found himself in, as Jase throws back a quip of his own. Despite the limitations confronting them, they always managed to communicate with each other fairly well, but being able to simply say what’s on him mind, rather than worry about how to physically express his words, or utilize Shadow, was truly something he’d never thought they have. And he was content with that, considering there were no other options, but the simplicity of just talking for once was fucking refreshing. 

 He’s grateful to both hear and see the kid seems to have gotten out on the other side of the whole Tower affair largely unscathed- and if anything, he seems better than he was before. Which makes sense, he knows, considering just who all was brought back after it was all said and done, but he’s grateful that for once things seemed to go Jase’s way, rather than Robert’s or Clint’s. 

“Well, seeing as how I can’t leave my body without it going full mindless killer again, and haven’t driven a car since Roosevelt was in office, I don’t have all that much of a choice when it comes to being ferried around by Alex like I’m the stepchild he’s begrudgingly taken in,” he huffs a laugh. Honestly though, it’s probably for the best that he is staying at Alex’s, rather than back at the manor, he thinks distantly as he briefly looks around the hallway they were in. The place didn’t feel like the home to him that it used to, not after so much else had happened in his life and “after life”, but it was still nice to see the old girl again though. 

“He’s off having his chat with White about the whole Tower business, so I figured I’d look around to see what sort of pointless renovations have been made to this place since the last time I had a chance to walk around it. Did you know that they turned my bedroom into a damn museum of some kind? It’s the most ridiculous waste of a good room I’d ever seen.” The idea had to have been Tartarus’s, he thinks, because wasting a room that could be used to house additional superhumans, for self glorification, seemed like exactly something he’d do just to piss him off. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, before letting the anger recede entirely. This was the first time he and Jase actually had the opportunity to actually talk to one another, and wasting it on bitching probably wasn’t the best use of their time. 

“I was going to head to the gardens next,” he offers, his scowl melting away. The gardens were a favorite of his and Julian’s back when he did call this place home, especially during this time of year when life was beginning to return to them in its full glory. “There are a handful of crabapples back there, that somehow no one has managed to kill since I planted them. You’re free to come along, if you aren’t busy.”  

[theshcdowman]

time / location : nighttime, dulce’s home

status: closed to @dulcectdecorum​

The days following the events at the Tower were ones filled in addressing the various problems that arouse in its aftermath, as well as babysitting his hundred and fifty year old great uncle, who still was adjusting to a life occupying his own body again. In all of that chaos, he and Dulce had only managed to see each other fleetingly, what with Dulce having his own brood to babysit. They managed to pick up back where they left off on their other mission, but even then they found themselves too focused on business, rather than the still blossoming closeness they’d been exploring with each other in the last couple months.

It’s late in the night, as he’s trying and failing to find some sleep, when he realizes suddenly just how long now it had been since he and Dulce last shared a bed. He generally wasn’t one that needed someone else in bed with him to sleep easier, but he finds himself thinking anyway how much he wished he could reach out behind him only for his hand to land on Dulce’s arm. And it’s with that thought, when a plan suddenly comes to mind, a plan that soon grows fully formed when he reminds himself that currently his mother’s shadow was with Mathias- and for the first time in quite a while, his shadow form was solely his own. 

Slipping into his form, and immediately enjoying the rare quiet that came with the transition, he soon leaves his room, and eventually his home entirely. When his wispy form reaches Dulce’s, the house seems largely at rest. Few lights seemed on, except for the blue glow from a labtop screen in one of the guest bedrooms, and a reading light turned on in another. Dulce’s room, though, is one of the few that seem completely dark. 

He slips in through the seams of one the windows, much like he did the first night they ever met. And like that first night, he soon shifts from a dark hovering mist, to a tall and looming figure, standing quietly at the end of Dulce’s bed. The first time he’d done this, his motive had been far more nefarious in nature, with Dulce’s name just another on his list to quietly exterminate. This time though, his motives are far different, and much more mutually beneficial nature. 

He stands in the darkness and waits for Dulce to stir, just as he did before, and soon enough he sees the sheets covering him shift, as Dulce’s body seems to alert him to a possible danger looming in the room.   

[theshcdowman]

time / location : a couple days after Tower event, the manor

status: closed to @prcdigalsc-n​

It felt strange being back in the manor again, walking through its various halls now in a fully formed body, rather than as the black wispy phantom he’d groan so used to being. Alex was off in his meeting with White that afternoon, and while Mathias very much planned to talk to the woman himself, now that he had the chance to, he holds off on the meeting for now. Instead he opts to walk through the halls filled with far more ghosts than residents, as he aimlessly wanders from one room to the next, giving the curt nod to those villains who happened to look in his direction. 

White had made an absolute mess of this place in her time, but he knows that mess really began back with Tartarus and his views he had for the Collective. He tries not to think of Tartarus though, even though he can’t help but wonder who he’s hiding in, as he passes by face after face, looking for any kind of recognition in them outside realizing he was the stern looking man in the portrait in the hallway. 

Eventually, he does come across a face that clearly recognizes him for more than just being the old not so dead founder. The eyes that meet his aren’t those of Alex, but rather Jase. 

“Finally managed to thaw yourself out I see,” he greets, his words are teasing but the wide grin that pulls at his face reveals how glad he is to see the kid after that nasty bit of business back at the Tower. And he can’t believe he’s fucking taller than him, he thinks with a small chuckle as he goes to clap him on the shoulder, having to reach up slightly as he does. 

“You fully recovered then?” He asks after a beat, wanting to know in all serious if he really was doing okay. He was worried something awful when it took so long for him to get back, not that he’d admit that out loud or anything. 

[theshcdowman]

time / location : day or two after tower attack, shadow’s

status: closed to @firebrcnd

The days following the attack on Guardian Tower, are crazier than the ones leading up to it. White is back to filling her time with interviews, it seems, although this time instead of calling in every wayward villain, she’s going through the list of villains who had shown up at the Tower. She hadn’t called him in yet- which he figures has a lot to do with the fact that he had a Founder suddenly living with him.  

“I should just kick her out of that damn office, and finally take control of that place again,” Mathias grumbles as he fidgets with the coffee machine, trying and failing to turn the thing on. Kaz was due to arrive soon, and Mathias had taken it upon himself to brew some coffee before he arrived, which at the rate he was going, wouldn’t be ready until dinner later that night. 

“You sure that body of yours is going to hold up that long?” Shadow asks him, glancing skeptically at his uncle’s human form, as he steps in and flips the switch on the back of the machine, causing it to finally come to life. Mathias’s body certainly seemed living in every sense of the word, given how much the man had cleared out his fridge in the last day, but there were still so many unknowns with how long Morrigan’s “spell” would hold. 

“I haven’t started rotting yet, have I?” Mathias groans back as moves away from the machine, and it’s still strange arguing with him in this fashion, when before the back and forth had always been inside his own head. “Besides do you have any better idea? You weren’t exactly biting at the bit to take over the last time. I mean hell- my damn portrait is in the hallway, seems if anyone should be kicking her out and taking her place, it’d be me.” 

“How about we let the disaster that was the last coup attempt run its course first, before we plan another,” Shadow replies with a sigh. He knows Mathias is right to a certain extent, after everything that’d been uncovered regarding White’s role to play in this, her role as their leader wouldn’t last much longer. But he wasn’t so sure Mathias would be the best replacement for her either. 

Luckily Kaz saves them both from having to argue the point any further, as soon enough he can hear the front door open, and Rocky goes bolting to it like she was a pup again. 

“We’re in the kitchen,” he calls out to Kaz, before moving back to the carry out containers he’d just brought home moments before. 

[theshcdowman]

zenith-moi​:

Zenith doesn’t waste time worrying about the Shadows. She learned a long time ago that Alex was someone she could trust, to the ends of the earth, someone who didn’t need as much protection as other people did. The three shadows would be able to hold their own in a fight, even against someone as scary as the zombie they were currently fighting. Her job was to keep Morningstar away from them too, so that they definitely wouldn’t get overwhelmed. 

Distantly, she thinks she watched a documentary about Morningstar once. That kind of shit was all over the place, for the superheros who made their name fighting in WW2. Her golden weapons, the beaming light of her, she was an intimidating presence. And she’s a hell of a fight, now. Zenith has been pulling her punches, during the fight. They weren’t supposed to damage the zombies too much, after all. They were never supposed to damage much of anything. But Morningstar clearly doesn’t have the same qualms about causing damage. The golden blade of light she’s summoned sears into Zenith’s cheek, in a flash, damaging her mask. 

The world narrows down, into those flashes of action. Trying to disarm someone who can’t be disarmed. Trying to knock out someone who isn’t actually alive. She won’t remember half of it, later, when she’s looking back on the fight. It ends as things usually do, with Zenith. Her enemy subdued, her on top. And she spares a moment when the fight is done and Morningstar has been knocked out, to lay on the ground and pull ragged breaths into her lungs. 

She’s scrambling up again holding on to her side where the pain is the worst and blood is still slowly seeping out, at pretty much the same moment that the Other Shadow Man looks around for her. 

She feels dazed, for just a second, before she takes in the scene and plasters on a smile. “That was fun.” 

Once the fight- or fights, seem to have finally ended, Shadow immediately slips back into his normal form, his mother’s shadow rejoining with his just as the transition is made. Between Zenith being injured, and Mathias suddenly having his own body back, he’s torn between just who to rush to first. Zenith wins out in the end, given how much more pressing her issue is than marveling at whatever in the hell was going on with his great uncle. 

“Looks like you had a little too much fun,” he greets with a faint laugh, knowing that humor was the better option here than showing his genuine concern over her. Looking back at Robert, still unconscious in the corner, then over to Mathias, he realizes quickly just how they should proceed from there. Mathias seems to understand immediately the plan beginning to form in his head, which he figures has something to do with the two of them coexisting for so long. 

“We’re going to have to leave the undead here- well, other than Mathias,” he says to Zenith, before motioning over towards his uncle. “Unfortunately, Robert is the most important asset to try to get back. Mathias and I can deal with him. Zenith, if you want to, you can lead the way out of here.” 

Zenith’s pride was one easily bruised so he was deliberately trying to avoid the fact that her injury was the reason why he gave Mathias the role of helping him than her. He can tell how pissed Mathias is at the idea of helping Robert Courtney of all people, but for once he seems content with keeping his mouth shut, and just going along with whatever plan is laid before him. 

After the two of them secure Robert’s dead weight between them, he looks back to Zenith, waiting for her to give them the go ahead to move forward. 

[theshcdowman]

zenith-moi​:

tw gendered slur. 

The bat thing has a name now, thanks to… she wasn’t sure what to call him. The Other Shadow Man. And it’s almost annoying, because it reminds Zenith that it was a person. Someone who had lived and breathed and died once upon a time, who had been a member of the Collective and probably had a family, people he loved and people he wanted to keep safe. Immanuel. 

She doesn’t like to get sentimental. But she thinks she must have it her head, just a little bit. That would explain the slight ache in her chest. But that’s an easy feeling to force away, because she has a really fucking big gun and a job to do. Having a big gun could fix pretty much any problem, Zenith had always thought. It’s one of her go too moves. No one can really challange you if you’re got some determination and more firepower than they could possibly get their hands on. And she’s grateful, suddenly, that she was so close to her lab. 

It’s a pro, of her double life, because it means she can help. Because she can take down Tin Soldier before he does any more damage than they can fix. Because she can take down Stoker before he kills one of them in his fury and his rage. Because she can keep Shadow safe, and help get him out of this sticky situation they’ve found themselves in. 

She watches as Stoker falls. And she wonders if everyone else was facing as much as they were. The onslaught of the dead. 

Zenith spares a moment, just a moment, to worry about Night Hunter. Hunter, here in this den of snakes, the people that she’s been scared of and running away from, the people who had hurt her so badly. An ultimate kind of betrayal. And things were just looking up between them, the door of Hunter’s attention opening up just that crack. Zenith hoped that she was okay, that she was getting through whatever the world was throwing at her. She hoped that Lazarus was protecting Hunter the best they could.

But her attention is dragged back to the here and now by The Other Shadow Man, in so much pain. He’s fighting through it, whatever is affecting him, but it must be one of the most painful things in the world, with the way he’s acting. Then again, he could be over sensitive. 

The thought leaves her mind when she feels a wave of pain flood over her, as well, in turn. It almost makes her fall to her knees, almost makes her want to crawl up into a ball and cry. “Fuck,” She hisses, holding herself up against the doorway, crying out in pain. “Fuck, fuck. Fuck her, what a fucking bitch, what the fuck.” 

She manages to recover, to hear what The Other Shadow is telling her. The second two shadows were fighting Mornightsar, with her resplendent glowing weapons. She fights through the pain, tries to heft the gun up, and when she sees an opening she tries to fire it at Morningstar. But it sparks, instead of firing. She must have worn it out, it will take time to recalibrate, recharge. And the Shadows were probably in the way, anyway. She didn’t want to know what would happen if she hit one of them by mistake. 

“Shadow,” She calls out, through her pain, pushing herself up again. “Duck.” It’s an order, and there isn’t any hesitation in it. She needs to distract Mornightstar, so that Shadow can deal with the bigger danger. And she launches herself without waiting, across the room, flight taking her and barrling her in to Morningstar’s strong body, knocking her away from the Shadows. She keeps the gun with her, so that she can knock the woman out semi-humanely when the time comes. 

He and his mother’s shadow were not going to subdue Morningstar on their own, that had become painfully clear, as the two of them coordinated beating back her strikes, and hammering her with their own. At the very least they were distracting her, which was all they could do while Zenith and Mathias did what they needed to do with the others. 

It’s not too much longer though, when he hears Zenith call out for him, her voice pained as she shouts her command. Whipping his head back, both he and his mother follow her orders without question, both shadows leaving Morningstar- and its then does he see the source of both Zenith’s- and now he realizes Mathias’s, source of pain. 

Femme Fatale- another Courtney, although this one was much more closely related to Julian than Robert was. He’s not sure she’ll be able to inflict any of her powers on him in his current state, and so he barrels towards her without much hesitation, pulling her attention away from the two other living villains in the room and centering it on his and the other shadow. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Alex and Clara reach Jeanne, Mathias can finally stand again, the pain that was coursing through his body finally subsiding. With both undead temporarily occupied with the others, his gaze quickly surveys the room, looking for anything that could help take down either undead hero. Eventually his gaze lands on a weapons walls, full of varying guns, knives, explosives, and- stun batons. 

Walking over to the wall, he quickly picks up the baton, and gives the trigger a few short clicks to make sure he knew how to operate the damn contraption before he heads in the direction of Jeanne, where she was currently battling against the other two shadows. 

He keeps his movements slow and discreet as he moves closer to Jeanne, not wanting to alert her to his presence. It really was a damn shame, that out of all the Courtneys he could have fought against that day, it’d be her that he’d have to take down. He held a certain fondness for her, she had been different from the rest of her siblings, much like Jase was in a way. She was whip smart, and was not afraid to distance herself from the likes of her brother, even though she would one day follow in his footsteps. 

Keeping himself carefully hidden behind Clara’s shadow, which was currently taking on the form of a massive wolf, he edges closer to the fray, until finally his baton was only a few feet away from where Jeanne was standing. 

With a deep breath, he squeezes the trigger of the baton, its end lighting up as he dives forward, and presses it sharply into Jeanne’s side. She doesn’t go down easily, which of course she doesn’t, she never was one to fall easily. But as Alex and Clara entangle themselves around her, keeping her pinned in place, he’s able to hold the baton against her long enough until she finally drops. 

Once all is said and done, he glances back to where Zenith is, uncertain if she’d managed to take down her own hero yet. 

[theshcdowman]

zenith-moi​:

It’s hard to get a good shot at The Bat Man when it won’t stop coming at her. It’s a brutal fucker, and it’s fast too. It keeps launching itself at her with its wings, and she keeps missing the chance to stun it. It’s frustrating, to say the least, and part of her just wants to hit it with her laser vision. But that would almost certainly damage it beyond repair, and that was one of the few things that they had been told not to do. These poor fuckers desevred a chance to be reburied in more or less the same shape they had been in before. 

Zenith gets caught by one of its wings when she’s going to take a shot at it, and it throws her across the room. She lands hard against a glass case of supplies, and she thanks god that this isn’t her lab. She’s only lucky something didn’t explode. She can feel a jagged piece of glass digging into her side, when she gets up again, something that managed to slip through a weak spot in her armour. A one in a million chance, but something she doesn’t have time to deal with right now. She pulls it out instead, lets the blood just stream out. She doesn’t like the look of her stun gun, where it lays on the floor with her. The impact of her armour against it must have caused damage. Fuck.

But she has more important things to focus on. Like the way Tin Soldier has found a gun and is now shooting at the giant bat. The bullets don’t do much damage, only seeming to make the creature more and more angry as he shoots. She’s about to do something about it all when she gets distracted by… The Shadow Man. The Shadow, entering something else, and taking control. 

She takes the second to stare in disbelief at the zombie that… isn’t really a zombie anymore, it looks like. The wobbling figure, like a baby deer that’s still figuring out what it means to have legs. Breath pulling in and out of his lungs. Living and breathing, and talking. 

“What the fuck?” Comes out of her before she can really even think about it, because holy shit. She didn’t know shadow could do that. “Okay, nevermind. I’ll find out later, I guess. Hello Zombie Guy, welcome to the team.” 

The bat lets out a loud scream in Tin Soldier’s direction, and she remembers what she was going to do before. He needs to be dealt with. She could just stun him, but she looks at the gun again, and swears. Before she looks across and spots the entrance to her own lab, brain whirring. She’d been working on a prototype for the guardians, the same as the one’s the collective had. But she’d run out of time and was not able to finish it before the attack. Still, it would probably work. 

“Keep the zombie busy for me, and keep the idiot alive.” She calls out to the stranger-shadow. “I’ll be right back.” And with that, she kicks off the ground and propels herself as fast as possible into her own lab. It doesn’t take more than a minute for her to find her own prototype, hefting it into her arms, and cringing when the movement pulls on the wound in her side. She takes a moment to steady herself, and then marches back out into the thunderdome everyone has made for themselves. And she can’t help but smile, because she always did love holding a massive gun. 

She whistles, to get their attention. Tin Soldier looks up from where he’s still trying to fight Stoker. She sends him a wink, and indulges herself in a quip. A dully spoken: “Say hello to my little friend.” 

The stun gun sparks a little, when she fires it at him, and he goes down like a sack of bricks. She can see he’s still breathing, so she lets out a huff of satisfaction. The strange altercation seemed to have stopped Stoker in his tracks for a second, so she shifts targets and fires at him too. Once, twice. He doesn’t go down, so she tries for a third time, and feels a swell of satisfaction when the creature falls it its knees, finally feeling the effects of the weapon.

Shadow’s attention is divided between the fight he was still entangled in with Morningstar, and Mathias. Keeping the undead hero distracted was all he could do, considering he didn’t have a stun weapon on his person while in this form. So he does his best to continue to bait and evade her, and try to carry on the act long enough that Zenith could eventually get a shot in with her as well. 

But it was difficult to keep up the game, when his attention was already so divided, but Mathias wins it over long enough that he realizes what he’s done- he’s hopped back into his own body somehow, and managed to take control away from whatever hold Morrigan had on it. It’s a mind altering sight, seeing the shadow that had only resided in him suddenly be back in his own body again. As much as he wants to rush over to him though, and see how he was doing, Morningstar was the bigger issue at hand. 

And so he continues his battle, his mother’s shadow splitting from his in that moment as well to better help keep Morningstar away from the others and the rest of the action in the room. 

-----------------------

It takes Mathias a moment to get his bearings, as he adjusts to the body that he once called home. Even when it was his home though, he never was its main driver while in this form. As much as he felt he was Mathias Thatch, he knew that technically he wasn’t in the true sense of the word. He was only a remnant that the real man left behind, a reflection of him imbedded into his shadow that had now taken on a full life of his own. He’s lived as Mathias Thatch longer than Mathias technically had, but it makes it no stranger a sensation to suddenly be in control of the living and breathing body he once slumbered in. 

Zenith is talking to him, and so he tries to focus in on that and her. She doesn’t seem to realize he’s known her and fought beside her this whole time, just like she had with Shadow, but now was far from the time to start getting into the specifics of that particular piece of information. 

“You better have something a hell of a lot bigger than these things to take down Immanuel,” he shouts over to her, before looking up to the villain in question, seemingly frozen in his bat form, despite the hour of day. Rushing over to a wall of firearms, he figures he might as well do what he can to distract Immanuel though, even though the sight of him pulling apart Robert Courtney limb by limb would be an all too satisfying one. 

Picking up one of the larger weapons, he fiddles with it for a moment, struggling to get the damn thing to fire, until finally he finds where to click off the safety. And from there, it’s just as simple as pointing and shooting, doing his best to keep Immanuel away from Robert without pissing him off too much. Immanuel was the only one in the manor whose temper near rivaled his own, although considering the lot in life he was served he absolutely fucking deserved it. 

 When Zenith finally reappears he can’t help the loud laugh that spills out of him at the sight of her, he’d told her to find something bigger than what they were working with- and by hell if she didn’t deliver. 

He simply stands and watches the scene unfold for a moment, enjoying how satisfying it is to watch Robert slump to the floor. But soon enough, he finds him crumpling to the ground himself, as an intense pain begins coursing through his body- at least it feels pretty fucking intense. He’d never really felt pain before, but this took his breath away.

Even if he could look behind him, which he couldn’t given the amount of pain every move made in him, he knew it could only be Jeanne Courtney- Robert’s aunt, and the Courtney who haunted his every waking minute’s daughter. 

“It’s Femme Fatale,” he grunts to Zenith as he fights his body to stand, even though every newly revived nerve in his body screamed at him to stay down. And Jesus fucking Christ... if he knew that being back in his body was going to feel like this, he would have never bothered hoping back into it in the first place. 

He glances up to Alex and Clara then, who were still wrapped up in trying to keep Morningstar away from him and Zenith. 

“If we take Morningstar down next, that should free up the shadows to help distract Femme.”