Chapter Text
He ran, vaulting and flipping as he went. A smile graced his lips behind the mask, his brown eyes shining brightly. This was the way to hunt criminals, at least in his opinion. It felt good to be out of the office, out of the suit he wore almost everyday. A leather hooded jacket and black skinny jeans along with solid but comfortable boots replaced the sharp, slightly restricting clothing. No one knew he was up here, that he was working behind the scenes in the darker areas.
He paused, sitting on the corner of the top of a building. He had started as a teen, doing simple free running and stunts. Then came the power. That's where it all started. He learned to fight soon after. None of his team mates or friends knew about this. They didn't have to know. Only the moon, the stars and the city knew about him out here.
He slipped off the roof of the building, pushing off and grabbing onto the drain pipe across from him. He moved down slowly, keeping quiet on the rusty brackets that held the piping to the brick wall. He continued down until he hit a window sill that he could stand easily on. He stood there for a moment, looking over the city he loved before taking a few steps and throwing himself at the railing of the fire escape on the next building. Gently, he hauled himself over and trotted down the stairs.
He stretched out his limbs when he got to the bottom, rolling his neck. Dawn was only an hour or so away and he needed to sleep, even if it was only two hours he managed to catch. He turned and began to walk down the alley when a scream pierced the night.
'Great. Just flipping fantastic.' He thought, biting his lip behind the mask. He could just leave, carry on on his way home or...
He took off, sprinting to the opposite end of the alley and pushed off the wall, following the scream. He reached an intersection, head swiveling back and forth. Where was it coming from? The sound rebounded down the alley to his left. He sprinted, guessing he didn't have long.
A woman was huddled against a wall, screaming her head off. Her boyfriend lay next to her, a bloody hole in his forehead. A snarling man stood in front of her, gun pointed at her chest as she trembled, pleading and crying. Her purse was on the ground with the gunman snarling at her for her jewelry.
The black, masked figure darted around the corner. He kept to the shadows, out of the sight range of both the woman and the gunman. He adjusted his mask, making sure it covered the lower part of his face. The black face paint around his eyes did a good job of blending in under his hood.
He took a deep breath and stepped out, keeping a light tread. The gunman was still snarling and barking at the cowering woman. Neither noticed him.
He stepped up quickly, wrapping an arm around the gunman's throat. He gagged, flailing and hitting the masked man in the ribs. He grunted but kept a firm grip.
"Go..." He growled, eyes flashing as another elbow hit him in the gut. "Get to safety..."
The woman hesitated and stared for a moment before grabbing her purse and running, her high heels clacking on the cobblestones. He felt himself being thrown against a wall, his head jarring back against the concrete. He lost his hold and gasped, seeing white spots dance before his eyes. He ducked, barely missing a solid punch to the side of his head. He stumbled back, giving himself room to move. The gunman lashed out with a sloppy right hook. The masked figure stepped in, catching his arm and sweeping his feet out from under him. The gunman hit the ground with a hard thwack, his head bouncing. He raised his arm, trying to aim the gun through his blurred vision. The figure grabbed his wrist, twisting it and getting a sharp yelp as the gun fell to the ground with a clatter. He punched the unarmed man one last time, knocking him out successfully.
He stood, hearing the footsteps of people running towards him. He bit his lip. It would have to be a quick job then. He waved his hand, using the multiple shadows around him to lift the attacker and tie him up to the fire escape above them. He figured he had enough time to climb the wall and get away cleanly without many people seeing him. Little did he know a small group was closer than he thought. He commanded the shadows to wrap around the gunman securely so he wouldn't fall until he was cut down.
"They're down here!" A voice yelled from behind him. His eyes widened.
'Shit, shit, shit!' He thought, spinning around to face the men at the end of the alley. They stared at him and he stared back. Blood racing through his veins, he began to try and think of a way out, a way to get away from the crowd without using his power. No great ideas came to him and forced his hand.
He brought his arms in tight and clenched his fists, drawing the shadows into a solid mass and disappearing into them. He felt the changes in temperature and smell as he let his body break down and reconstruct itself on the roof above. He heard the astonished shouts and yells of alarm.
"Where'd he go?!"
"He vanished!"
"The bastard!"
"What?! What happened?! I can't see!"
He smiled, crouching and looking down. He remembered that same feeling of awe, a feeling he still got. One of the younger men looked up at him. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.
"He's on the roof!" The man yelled, pointing at the figure sitting on the roof. Everyone looked up, staring at the hooded and masked figure on the roof. He reeled back, falling on his behind.
He sat there for a few seconds before getting up and jumping the substantial gap between the buildings. He heard them all gasp as he stuck the landing, rolling and running far from the site. He needed to get away.
He stopped a few blocks away and checked his abdomen. No cracks or breakages. Just heaps of bruising. He winced. He'd have to be careful of that at work. Sighing, he started jogging towards his flat, already imagining his warm bed that he could retreat to for a couple of hours.
The monotonous blare of the alarm clock sounded in Detective Inspector Joseph Chandler's ear as the hour changed to six o'clock. He lifted his head off the pillow, staring at the glowing red digital numbers before huffing. He had been having such a nice dream. One that kept returning and made him feel safe and comfortable, no matter what atrocities London threw at him the night before.
He rolled onto his back and smiled at the fading memory of his dream. One phrase from it continued to drift through his head.
'I'm never leaving you behind...' It curled itself through his thoughts, settling itself deeply in his subconscious. His smile lingered a few minutes more as he stared at the ceiling.
Shutting off his still blaring alarm, Chandler pushed himself into a sitting position. He stretched and looked over his bedroom. Neat and tidy. Everything in it's proper place. He sighed, feeling in control and safe here. It was the same feeling he got in his office when it had been a particularly stressful day. Getting up, he stretched and ran a hand through his now messy blond hair. He watched as a few locks fell into his eye line. He squinted, reaching up and brushing them back only for them to fall back in front of his eyes. They'd be dealt with soon enough, he decided as he settled into his normal morning rituals.
After completing his usual tasks, he grabbed his keys and walked out of his apartment. Pausing for a moment before the elevator, he checked his pockets. His phone. He was missing his phone. Chandler jogged back to his apartment, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door. He hurried into his bedroom and found it sitting on his bedside table where he always kept it. Flicking through any new messages, Chandler jogged back to the elevator and waited.
The elevator dinged, signalling it had arrived and Chandler stepped in. He sighed and swayed on his heels, trying to keep the classic elevator music from getting stuck in his head. As he waited for the ground level he began to wonder what the day ahead would present. Possibly a murder or two. Something interesting hopefully. Things had been quiet recently, since the fake Kray twins had been killed. He grimaced at the memory. They had been so close to prosecuting them. So, so close. Especially after what they did to Kent... Chandler grimaced at the memory of Kent being rushed to hospital.
The doors opened, revealing the lobby of his apartment building. Chandler pushed off the back wall of the elevator and headed straight towards the car park. It was still dark out in the car park, the buildings surrounding it blocking out the sun light. Chandler nodded to a few business men who were also up early on their way to work. Reaching his car, he slid into the driver's seat, turning the engine. It purred quietly and he drove to work, thinking the whole way.
Chandler was slightly surprised to see Ray Miles, his DS, waiting for him in the Whitechapel Police Headquarters car park. He parked his car and got out, taking the key out of the ignition.
"Miles? Rolling out the welcome mat now?" Chandler raised an eyebrow at the older man.
The greying man scoffed, his cockney accent showing through. "Not on your life. We just got something in. Several calls to police early hours this morning. The Commander wants to know if you're interested ASAP."
Chandler frowned. "Unusual?"
"More than that."
Chandler sighed. "Lead on then."
Miles nodded and pushed open the back door, holding it for his boss. Chandler nodded a thanks, heading to the stairs.
"Any idea what it is?" He asked, climbing up the stairs.
Miles shrugged. "Whitehchapel's got itself a vigilante now, at least according to several calls at four this morning."
"A vigilante?" Chandler smirked slightly.
"Yep. Could just be a kid in costume or something." Miles grimaced, finding it easy to disbelieve.
"Any witnesses?" Chandler asked, looking at the shorter male.
"Just one that saw him appear. Darcy Blackborn. Says he saved her life." He grumbled. "And then we have a group of people who seemed to have scared him off."
"What makes it something for us then?"
Miles stopped outside a door and looked at him. "They all said that he used shadows to tie up a guy. Daniel Guiness attacked Darcy and shot her boyfriend. Vigilante comes in and takes Daniel out, giving Darcy a chance to run. She gets the attention of some guys who stayed late at a couple of bars. They go running to the scene to help our vigilante and find him apparently using the shadows to string the guy up. He then turns and stares at the accumulating crowd before disappearing. They look around, find no trace. One looks up and sees him standing on the roof. First responders didn't see him. He was long gone by the time they got there."
"So he's using mirrors or smoke?" Chandler suggests.
Miles shrugs. "Could be. Could be something else... She's in here."
Miles opens the door to a small room, more like an office than an interrogation room. The side wall was lined with books of varying age. A young woman with auburn hair tied back in a messy ponytail sat in one of the chairs, seeming very small. Her mascara had mixed with tears, leaving black spidery lines down her cheeks. She looked like she hadn't even gone home to get changed as she was still wearing a cherry red dress with matching red stilettos. She looked up as they entered, green eyes puffy and red from crying.
Miles shut the door, giving them privacy. The woman stood, straightening herself out. She swallowed, nodding to both men.
"Darcy Blackborn?" Chandler asks kindly, gesturing to a seat for her to sit. "I'm DI Chandler and this is DS Miles. Can you please tell us what you told the first responders?"
Darcy nodded slowly, swallowing. She took a deep breath before delving into her story again. "M-my boyfriend, Matt, and I were out partying with friends last night. We had had a few beers like you do when you're out with mates and decided to head home at about three, maybe half past three? Matt said he knew a shortcut to our apartment. It went along the alleys between the blocks. He said no one uses it... At first I didn't want to go but it was late and I was a bit drunk so we took the shortcut... If I hadn't of drunk too much we wouldn't have had to go that way... It's my fault..." She sobbed, another round of tears falling down her cheeks.
Miles coughed awkwardly while Chandler patted her knee, trying to be comforting.
"Miss Blackborn? We really need to know what happened after." He tried gently to get her talking again.
"H-huh? Oh... M-Matt and I only got a few streets over when some guy pulled a gun on us... Matt tried to stand up to him, you know, all tough and macho. So th-the guy shoots him! In the forehead... H-he then turns the gun on me and demands all my je-jewelry and money... I say n-no and he threatens to shoot me too so I scream." She manages to speak, stuttering every now and then with tears building in her eyes. "T-that's when he showed up. He came out of nowhere and took the mugger on. H-he told me to run so I did. He saved my life..."
Chandler looked up at Miles who's face turned grim.
Miles took the silence as an opportunity to ask their victim a question "Darcy? What'd this guy look like? The one who saved you."
Darcy hiccupped and took a few breaths.
"In your own time." Chandler added.
"He was medium build." Darcy started, struggling to remember. "Thin, like a runner but stronger..."
"What about his face?"
She shook her head. "Couldn't see his face. He was wearing a mask of some sort that covered from his nose down... I could just see his eyes under his hood. They were brown."
Miles sighed exasperatedly. "What was he wearing then?"
"All black. I couldn't see properly..." She whispered, more tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I can't be more help."
"It's alright, love. It's enough for now." Miles soothes. "If you remember anything, don't be afraid to call."
Darcy nods, standing up. Chandler did the same, motioning towards the door. "We'll have an officer take you home."
Darcy left the room, escorted out and down the stairs by Miles to get a uniform to take her home safely. Chandler lingered behind and pondered the case. He could see why Commander Anderson would hand them this one. It was strange, interesting. He had kept his promise. Chandler smiled, walking out to find Miles already back outside the door.
"So, we taking it or not?" He asked, falling into step beside Chandler as they walked to the incident room.
Chandler grinned and nodded. "Yes, it's everything we've needed. It's interesting and for once, it seems we're not chasing the bad guy."
Miles snorts. "How does leaving a man in hospital after nearly asphyxiating him not make him a bad guy?"
"He saved a woman's life," Chandler reminded him. "And he didn't kill him. He isn't a killer."
"As far as we know." Miles muttered, pushing open the door to their team's incident room.
Everyone looked up, already at work. Three whiteboards had already been set up on one side of the room, ready for names, pictures and any other information to be put up. Chandler turned to look at Miles, raising an eyebrow.
"I knew you were going to take it." Miles shrugged. "You would never turn down something like this."
Chandler looks around at the others, Mansell, Riley, Kent, and Buchan. They all looked at him expectantly, waiting for orders.
"Alright... As you've all guessed, we're taking this case. I want eyes open for anything and everything. We don't know if the press has got hold of it yet, but if they have, we may have another Ripper scenario on our hands. Which means we have to move quickly. I want possible names and if there are any previous occurrences, I want to know about them.You know what to do."
Everyone nodded, not needing to be told twice. Mansell went on to look through online newspaper articles and other websites for possible leads while Buchan scurried off to his basement lair of criminal cases from around the world. He was still fairly new to the group and still buzzed happily at the idea of delving into the world of historical crimes again. Riley began researching their databases for possible suspects. Miles joined Mansell in scraping over the internet searches for anything of use. Chandler went to find the file for the new case.
This left Kent sitting behind his desk, slightly paler than usual. He rubbed his middle, feeling the slight twinge of his bruises. Things just got a hell of a lot more serious for him. He slipped down a bit in his chair, swallowing and closing his eyes. If they found out he would be screwed.
He bit his lip, thinking quietly. He couldn't just stop, could he? No, he couldn't. He had made a promise to himself after being 'striped' by the Krays and then the incident when he was a teen... He really couldn't just stop. That he knew. If he did stop, it would catch up with him and then there was Chandler. He shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts from drifting more than he could help and decided to focus on finding false leads.
The day dragged with very little progress being made. Chandler stood in front of the boards, rearranging the few photos that had been pinned up with blutack. Considering they had very little to go on, he reckoned they had done well to find some information. He stared at each of the photos as he pushed them back onto the board. Whoever the figure was, he had done a good job of hiding his identity, he had to give him that.
"Coffee?" Miles asked, stepping up beside him and holding up the coffee pot.
Chandler glanced at him, startled at the sudden voice. "Pardon? Oh, yes please."
Miles nodded, pouring two mugs. "Tricky bastard, huh?"
"Yeah... How has no one noticed someone being a superhero on the streets of Whitechapel?" Chandler asked, completely stumped. He gazed at a photo from the night before. It was faintly grainy, obviously from a phone but still gave an okay picture.
Miles shrugged. "Well, if he was standing in an alley in the shadows next to you would you notice him?" He asks. "And how often do you go on the roof of your apartment building at night?"
"Good point..." Chandler sighed, exasperated.
"You're not gonna start counting pins again, are you?" Miles asked with a wry smile, ribbing him gently about his condition.
Chandler chuckled lightly, recognizing the older man's attempt at humour. "Not yet. Wha-"
He was cut off by Mansell yelling across the room. "Boss! You need to see this!" He had turned up the volume on the t.v., catching everyone's attention. A news report was broadcasting from outside the alley where Darcy had been attacked and then saved.
"...The mob apparently saw the man use what they called darkness to tie up repeating offender Daniel Guiness. The people who witnessed this hooded and masked figure have started calling him Shadow and rumours have now begun to circulate about what this masked man can really do." The reporter stated, using an alarming amount of hand gestures. "We have set a Shadow Search in motion and anyone with information is urged to call our hot line scrolling across the bottom of your screen."
Miles growled. "Great. Just great."
Chandler sighed. This was going to be a long case and everything just got more stressful. "Let's just all try and get this guy before the press." He murmured as he entered his office, closing the door behind him.
Kent flopped on his bed, groaning. Things were messed up. Really messed up. It had been two weeks since they were handed the case and the team had found more and more. He'd had a few close calls, bare misses along an alley, over a roof and down fire escape. He was on edge now. Every time he came so close to using them, the shadows, to get away.
He turned his head, glancing at his wardrobe before standing and stretching. Kent pulled open the doors, taking out the box hidden at the bottom. He set it on his bed, carefully opening it. Inside sat a black mask with white lips and a faint white pattern on the cheeks. It was cut off just under the eyes, leaving them visible. He smiled, picking it up and holding it fondly. Tracing his fingers over the light designs, he grabbed another box, placed under the first.
Within five minutes, he was outside and a completely different person. He sat on the top of his building, breathing in the cool night air. He stayed there for a while, thinking and looking out over the city. London really did look breath taking at night. All lit up and sparkling like far off stars.
He stood slowly, feeling a gentle wind at his back before jumping and spiralling through the air. He landed in a roll and came up running. He felt free, happy, alive.
Little did Kent know, this night was going to go down hill quickly. Very quickly.