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At the center of those backdoor games is what all legal casinos know and love, blackjack. Dozens of people strive to get as close of 21 in that popular game-show fashion, without going over. One of the quieter tables toward the corner of the basement shows an amazing amount of intensity.

Four men sit at the half-circle table as the dealer throws out a pair of cards. The four players, dressed in their finest clothes, wait attentively while the cards come toward them for play. They all gain and lose from their variable hands, depending on their hope from Lady Luck.

Seven, twelve, nine, and lastly sixteen pop up for the respective players, their fortunes lay out before them. The dealer himself shows a queen with its hidden card. The first player requests a card, a seven of clubs. With fourteen and pressured by the queen, he asks for another. A jack rears its ugly head. He busts him out of the hand.

The second player, with twelve, calls for a card. A six dealt to him. He has eighteen. The odds weigh too heavily for the man and he stands. The third man turns his attention to the dealer. His nine ranks stronger than it appears. He calls for his next card and luck shines upon him, a king and nineteen. He happily stands.

Now the last man has his turn with fate. Covering his mouth for a moment, he scopes his two cards. It is a totally heart-breaking number for any Average-Joe gambler, a must hit with few outs. However something different happens with the man. While one hand rests on his face, the other sits out under the table. Waving his open palm in circular motion, a blue glow emanates and covers both his palm and the table.

He removes his hand from his mouth and calls for his next card. The card lands face-up on the table. The five of hearts appears, twenty-one. The dealer turns his card, another queen and twenty. The man shows a pleasant, satisfied smirk on his face. The chips he bet suddenly double in front of him as the dealer hands him his money.

One player, the middle-right, explodes out of his chair in anger. He directs his attention to the sole winner of the hand.

“Damn it, Sam Brancazio that is the sixth 21 in a row for you. Nobody’s that lucky!”

Sam draws his hand, shushing him, “You’ll draw attention to yourself.”

“Get out of here! I’m tired of your cheating!”

“I’m fine.”

The disgruntled man launches up with a right hand toward Sam. With lightning reflexes, he blocks his punch and grabs his fist. Throwing him back, Sam pulls a card out of his sleeve and slings it at the man. The knife-edge of the card slits the throat of his unsuspecting victim. He falls to the ground as he gasps for air.

Sam turns to walk away from the table. The dealer, outraged by what he just saw, attempts to confront the man.

“Hey, you can’t just do that to customers.”

Sam faces the dealer who called him out. He pulls out four more cards, all aces. The brave dealer gulps in fear and quickly backs down from the sudden aggressor. Satisfied with his work, Sam turns around and exits into the back alley, fading into the vast network of trash and drug channels of Rocky City.

*****

Milo awakes from his long nap. All the action at the newspaper and at his former work tired him out more than he could have imagined. His normal routine continues, regardless of his level of fatigue.

Turning on the television, Milo eases into his comfortable chair. A quick search yields some poor and unfortunate results from the night before. The local news channel has extensive coverage of his events.

“A pair of vandalism acts at two major institutions occurred during the night.”

“Oh, dear,” Milo sighs.

“The Rocky City Tribune is getting papers out late today after their machines unexpectedly shutdown. A worker was found unconscious at the scene. Executives at the paper are still unsure on what the cause was, but vandals are the closet culprits local authorities can pin.”

“I sure dodged a bullet there.”

“However, workers at the Red Mountain Oil & Gas Company clearly pinpoint the vandal at their plant. Descriptions from harassed and battered employees point to the recent vigilante that appeared about three weeks ago.”

“Uh-oh,” Milo’s pulse steps up.

Barry appears on screen, “That shadow man, whoever he is, beat me and threatened to blow up the plant!”

“Authorities have no official leads pointing to this masked man…” The news anchor continues on, past the point of concentration for Milo.

“I can’t do stuff like that anymore. I have to stay true. I have way too much power to be edging old grudges all the time.”

Milo’s attention turns back to the television quickly when the anchor brings out a stinging headline:

“A man was found dead in an alley near the Interstate Neighborhood. The man had a knife-like slit across his throat. RCPD claim the death from mafia related activities, as the result of a dispute.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Milo smirks.

*****

Another time comes where the moon takes over for the sun. The darkness completely overcomes the surrounding mountains and the metropolitan area with a thick blanket of night. A perfect time for a man who likes hide in obscurity. Hopping on his motorcycle, Shadow Master rides off into the night. His bike rumbles as he heads east for the city. He seems eager to get into the thick of things and make up for his bout of mischief the night before.

Turning off from the bridge crossing the river, the shadowy hero finds himself in familiar territory. Instead of heading toward the madly popular nightclubs located along the western end of 32nd Street, he turns to the north. The dark figure rides for the neighborhood by the interstate, an area dominated by the lower-end businesses among the cheaper warehouses of industry.

If Milo knows anything from all the talk, the backdoor gambling businesses are very popular in this area. He knows better than the objectivity forcing a noose around the news, keeping the well-known hearsay at bay.

It does not take long for Shadow Master to find a back alley, where multiple forms of trash gather. This is the time for the trash collector to come for his bounty in his eyes. Finding a nice little nook to park his priceless asset in transportation, the shadowy figure finds a place to scope out the situation. Sneaking around a corner, he looks at the backdoor to one of the crummy adult stores that are abundant in the area. A burly man sits outside the door and keeps a watchful eye for any trouble.

About fifteen minutes pass and the man of black keeps his watchful eye over the prey that he cannot engage. His job is to keep watch over the bouncer. The action is boring. His glowing green eyes start to close in tedium. However, the action is about to kick up for the watchful eyes. A man dressed too nice for the area walks out the door. He tips his hat at the security man and throws a wad of bills at him, which he cordially accepts. The man takes off down the street. Shadow Master keeps an attentive eye from around the corner.

The nicely dress man takes about dozen steps from the bouncer when another man bursts outward from the door. He shouts whatever explicative he can mutter from his foul mouth. He cannot even burst out a full sentence of profanity before the sharply attired man turns his attention to him.

“You piece of scum, you cheated at cards for the last time!”

The man charges at his accused figure, but the snazzy man only stands there. In a flash, he pulls something from out of his sleeve. Shadow Master cannot distinguish what he has from the distance he perches. With lightning fast reflexes, the stridently clothed man slings his object at the attacker and the victim falls to the ground in matter of seconds. He clinches his neck, as he chokes to death.

The guard at the door is not happy. One of his customers is flailing on the ground. He calls to the suited man as he pulls out something from his own pockets. He too approaches the man, but the defender pulls out another object from his sleeve. He performs the same action he did to the angry man, taking out another pretending foe.

The satisfied man turns back to his previous objective and calmly walks away from the scene. Shadow Master waits patiently at the end of the alleyway. He makes sure the coast is truly clear of any possible backup, for both sides.

The suited man walks around the corner, onto the street, and into obscurity. Waiting for the inevitable backup to arrive for the fallen men, Shadow Master sits back and keeps his attention to the crime scene.

Five minutes pass and not a soul comes out to check the fallen comrades in the alley. The concerns of the moment do not seem to dawn on those feeding the underground gambling machine. Getting the idea that no one will come out of the back, the hero of the moment moves from his hiding place. He checks on those who are now dead, deprived of valuable air for far too long. The dark figure cannot help but have some guilt for standing back and watching the carnage that took place in front of him.

Checking over the two bodies, nothing seems to be out of sorts. Everything looks mostly normal for two dead men. Both their throats are thinly slashed, but enough to cause fatal injury. Searching around for any other clues, Shadow Master finds something very out of the ordinary for a crime scene. He finds a pair of playing cards, both aces.

The dark hero picks up one of the aces and looks it over. It is an ace of spades out of normal deck of cards. The only major difference is the small amount of the victim’s blood splayed across the edge of the card’s surface. He finds a similar scene on the ace of clubs.

Sensing that someone will be out to check on the fallen comrades, Shadow Master makes himself scarce of the scene. Riding his jet-black motorcycle around the block to where the attacker fled, he finds nothing. There is not a single inkling of the man that just murdered two people.

*****

After a valiant night of searching for the killer, Shadow Master comes home empty-handed. He is flustered that his efforts came up null. Spending whatever amount of time until the tinkling light of morning, Milo slept off his sorrows.

Once the sun comes overhead, he wakes up and begins his normal routine of figuring out the crime. The standard elitist networks work with their average and arduous news coverage. Everyone must know the weather and traffic every ten minutes before they head out the door. The morning newscasts is something that always annoyed Milo. It never helped him through his previous out-of-normal workday.

After a nice microwave breakfast and two glasses of milk, his search comes to a head. The more conservative of the networks shows the amazing travesty that occurred during the night.

“Another two people are found dead in the back alleys of Rocky City. Police believe these two haves ties in with another two bodies found last night. RCPD reckons that the murders are supposedly apart of a massive underground gambling organization,” the reporter states.

“Bingo.”

“Police tie the bodies to a trademark playing card found near the bodies, always an ace. They believe that the murders are connected to the notorious man known as the Card Shark, named for his ‘calling card’ left at the scene.”

“The Card Shark, aye?”

“Police have no lead on the whereabouts of the Card Shark.”

“Perhaps I should pay our Card Shark a little visit.”

*****

Waiting for the darkness to grasp its clutch onto the land of the day, the man who is Shadow Master sits and stews for his prey. Once he can survive the dwindling amount of light, the man sets off on the chase with his motorcycle.

Going over into the neighborhood directly adjacent to the major interstate, the dark figure begins his quest for justice to the dead. The search is no longer as simple as challenging the system. He now has a specific target, a hunt that will not be so simple. The chance to stalk his prey is now more difficult.

A couple hours pass and Shadow Master is still empty-handed. Looking through each back alleyway he can, he sees only a few people standing in different alleys. He cannot sit at one and take the chance of missing his quarry.

Another hour passes and the hero is starting to grow weary of riding around. After three hours of driving around the interstate neighborhood, people that see him more than once are starting to become suspicious of the man on the bike. Shaking his head in despair, the shadowy figure begins his trek toward home base on the west side of town. Few cars run along the roads of the cheap industrial zone at this time of night. Out of the small hand-full of cars that drive through and around the area, Shadow Master peers over and checks the driver every time in the hope that he gets lucky and finds the man he is looking for.

Only a half-mile is left before the interstate and the end of this night for the black-covered hero and the possibility of more lives coming to an unscrupulous end. Coming from the off-ramp is one more car, one last chance for the night. The car has that 1940’s appearance, a very sleek and dark colored vehicle.

The hero slows down to optimize his chances. Shadow Master glances over in the driver’s side window of the car and gets a look at the driver. At last, the glowing green eyes of the dark figure light up a little.

The man driving the car bears a similar appearance from the glimpse he saw the night before. He also appears to be wearing a similar style suit he adorned previously. Just before reaching the on-ramp for the ride home, the hero slips the motorcycle around one-hundred eighty degrees and follows from as large of a distance he can manage and still keep in pursuit.

Following on the prowl a predator likes on the hunt, the dark figure continues his chase of the potential suspect. His pursued man drives along for another ten minutes. The man with the glow-in-the-dark eyes does his best to keep a safe distance away. The sleek car eventually comes to a halt on a side street shortly after. Shadow Master hurries down another alley to hide away from his prey.

Off with the bike and on foot, Shadow Master hides around the corner. The man in the suit walks around the corner and down the alley. Another man similar to the bouncer stands in front of the back door to another business, the front for the real money.

The suited man walks up to the security and tries to tip him some sort of money. The bouncer looks at the money for only a brief moment before throwing it back in the nicely dressed man’s face. He picks up his money off the ground and gives the guard an insulting European gesture before walking back to his car. The dark figure shifts into his transparent form, out of habit, to hide himself better. Once the man clears his line-of-sight, Shadow Master heads for his crotch-rocket.

Back on the rugged and pothole filled side streets of the industry district, the hero continues his pursuit of the man he saw the night before. He keeps an attentive eye on the car. The dark figure seemingly licks his chops as he rides along.

Another twenty-minute ride passes by as the chase continues between the two parallels. The car parks again and the hero dives down another alleyway to hide. The shadowy man is less keen to letting the man get away. He waits at the corner of another business for the man to get out of the car.

Once the suited man’s back turns away from the lair, Shadow Master walks out the alley and closes in on his unsuspecting foe. Once he is in reach of man’s shadow, the dark figure switches into the transparency and absorbs the suited man’s silhouette.

The shadowy man keeps in check with the shadow as he walks along with his target. The hero is careful not to make an unfamiliar move that a shadow would not normally make. Walking up to the door of another place, he waits to pounce on his enemy. Another bouncer keeps that from happening.

A twenty comes the way of the guard. He looks over it with attentive eyes. Happy with what he sees, he motions the suited man into the room. The bouncer thinks he sees the shadow cast by the patron do something out of the confines of a normal silhouette. The guard thinks he is seeing things. He shakes his head and returns to watching for unwanted people. Little does he know, one already snuck in under his nose.

Thinking he has an opportunity to jump the criminal and put him in custody, Shadow Master quickly sneaks up on the man. He quickly hoes back at bay once he sees what sits in front of him. Splayed before the suspect and enforcer is a crowd of a couple hundred people watching the prizefighters in the boxing ring. The moment to grab his prey is gone. Noticing some dark areas to hide, he jumps off the snazzy man’s shadow and hides away. He remains in transparency.

Tucked away in the corner of the small warehouse, he keeps an eye on the crowd and the man he followed into the room. After walking up to a betting window, the nicely dressed man sits down and mixes in with audience as the slugfest matches continue among to the warriors in the squared circle.

Two more hours pass and a number of entrants in the ring fight themselves to the depths of exhaustion. Half of the combatants stay standing and half of them lying on the ground knocked out in the defeat. They do it all for the excitement of the fans. The Shadow Master keeps a watchful eye on the situation. The snazzy dressed man remains in seat, watching the fights go by. Round by round passes and the dark hero keeps his eyes peeled on the man he has been watching for a good sum of the night.

The last battle-scared face hits the canvas and the ten-count signals the knockout that closes out the night. The money-driven men begin to file out of the makeshift arena warehouse. The nicely dressed man takes his time, putting his jacket back on and cashing in his winnings. With his time at the cashier’s window, the sharp dressed man is one of the last people out of the warehouse. Running as quickly as he can and still in his transparency, he latches onto the shadow of his prey. Once he rounds his way back to the street to his parked car, the man made of the absent light runs off stealthily to his bike and waits for the chase to continue.

Another thirty-minute ride on the motorcycle takes him to the eastside of town. The chase leads them not too far to the airport. From the interstates to the boulevards and finally down to the side streets, the shadowy figure keeps his safe distance. This is something he has had a lot of practice in during the past couple weeks. The man parks at his dark and minuscule bungalow.

Parking his bike yet another time, Shadow Master walks his way over to the house. With the moon shallow on the horizon, the man covered in black blends in well with his background. He could not ask for a better cover in the dead of night. The hero sneaks up to the side window. He peers in to find his foe. The man sits in an easy chair and drinks from a glass of wine. Next to him sits a small box full of combination locks.

He pulls one lock and begins the normal twist and turn that many people in schools and gyms do. Like he knows the combination right off the bat, he turns to the last number and pulls on the lock, releasing the latch. The man of shadows is not impressed. Again, he pulls out another lock and performs the same action. He does this repeatedly, never missing a step. He opens every single lock he pulls out of the box. By the time he reaches a dozen, the dark figure peering through the window is both impressed and unhinged all at the same time.

The nicely dressed man peers over at the television as a commercial for a local bank plays. A smirk pulls up on the face of the miraculous combination man. Shadow Master takes quick note, easily putting two-and-two together. It is almost as if the he can read the man’s mind. The shadowy figure steps away from the window and back to motorcycle on to regroup at home base.

*****

Day once again spins its way toward the night. The cosmic circle of events continues like clockwork. This is when Shadow Master must act. Waiting will only force him to miss his opportunity. Leaving his meeting with the supposed Card Shark up to chance is a big gamble. If the dark, shadowy figure would have any chance at catching the man who has killed so many people, Milo needs to make the first move.

Milo cannot transform into the dark hero in direct daylight, his powers and even his energy levels will drain at a desperate rate. It may even be a rate he may not even recover. The only problem is that Milo is hesitant to ride the motorcycle. The hero helps him with that. He walks into the garage and ponders at the bike. He then notices the sleek black super-car sitting on the opposite of his small two-vehicle garage. Forgetting about his second creation from his days controlled by Shadow Master, he pulls open the goal-wing car door and hops in.

Driving his way over to the eastern side of town, Milo waits for the last few glints of sunlight to pass behind the high mountains in the west and his turn as the hero he needs to be. He has more fun than focusing on the upcoming task. Milo plays around with the powerful speed and acceleration of the car while looking at the occasional car full of girls. His mission is coming faster than he thinks.

Finally passing down to the neighborhood of his foe, Milo parks and watches the rays disappear. Light quickly gives way to the darkness. Almost as if he is beginning to enjoy working his new “job,” Milo smirks as he makes his transition into Shadow Master. The dark hero now waits in the around the corner from his alleged suspect’s home. He waits to figure out if his suspicions were right or wrong.

The sun went down just before hand and nothing happens at the bungalow residence. The glowing eyes of the dark hero drift shut slightly, clearly showing the boredom woes of the hero clearly wanting to go to work.

Not long after the eyes of the shadowy figures lightly shut, the blazing glare from the headlights of car force his eyes into a wide-open stance. The hero identifies the car in no time as the one he pursued from the other night. Waiting for a safe distance to follow his target, the dark man throws his fast car into gear and begins the chase.

A seemingly meandering trail flows from the starting point, almost as if the chased knows about the chaser keeping a safe distance behind him. The small homes and apartment buildings slowly give way to the taller skyscrapers where men and women fritter away their fun and games for the pursuit of money and power.

Passing into the central business district, the two cars locked into chase continue on their drive. Before too long, the nicely dressed man makes his way over to the front of the Federal Reserve Bank at the corner of Aberdeen Street and 36th Avenue, the central position for the countries’ regional Federal Reserve banks.

As the nicely dressed man pops out his car, Shadow Master runs down another back alley and exits out of his fancy super-charged bullet car. The hero of the hour checks on the status of the man he was chasing.

The sharply dressed man walks up the stairs of the massive building housing the vault for the region’s cash. Walking up to the door, the man holds out his hand. A blue glow emanates from it and lights up the doorknob. The jet-black man watches on with intuition and amazement.

The blue glow becomes stronger as he the nicely dressed man waves his hand in a circle around the both knobs of the doors. After another few seconds, he stops his waving and tries the knob. The hero keeps his glowing eyes fixed on the work of this unique handyman. Shadow Master keeps little odds that this interesting act can truly unlock the door. Then his eyes open up wide when the man pulls the door open and walks into the reserve.

Shocked and awed at the miraculous sight, the dark figure clears away from the pillar he was hiding behind and makes a mad dash to the door. The snazzy man notices the chaser from the whole drive over. He is a wiser man than the hero thought. With the man knowing about Shadow Master, he quickly waves his hand on the door, shutting it with a thundering slam.

Running up to the door, the black figure notices a glow fading away from the door. He quickly reaches up and tries to open the door, but notices the door locked as it should have, or as it was, before the two arrived at the reserve.

Trying his best to get the knob to turn all the way around, the shadowy figure becomes frustrated when it does not budge an inch. Taking a few steps back, he tries a running start at the door and gives a swift strike with his leg. The wince in his glowing green eyes gives a clear indication of his pain. The limp in Shadow Master’s step shows the futility in his lack-luster attempt at bringing down the door in dramatic fashion. Walking off the rest of his limp, the dark man steps away from the massive building, running back the way he came.

Inside the reserve, secure from the intruding interceptor, the nicely dressed man makes his way to the safe, finding the combination lock he spent countless hours practicing at home with its smaller cousins. Leaning his ear above the lock like a seasoned professional, he starts to run through the three stages of locks.

One lock clicks open, and then the second. Few would know that the man has no experience at safe cracking. Lastly, the third click comes in and pops the last lock open. He gently pulls the lever and the safe opens up with its entire green and lusty splendor inside. It is about then that a sharply pitched squeal grows louder.

In a flash, the front doors and its surrounding walls burst forward as the car of Shadow Master blasts through its barrier. The car power slides to a stop in the middle of the lobby. The goal-wing door flies open and out comes the jet-black hero.

The trebling clangs of the alarm sound. The authorities receive their dispatch and are on their way. The miraculous locksmith’s work must have also disengaged the alarm system. The car plowing through the wall must have clearly trigged the hair thin laser guide that runs across the center of the doorway.

“Who are you, pest,” the dark man takes no notice and closes in to apprehend his quarry.

Pulling out his weapon of choice, his quad aces pop out of his sleeve. Seeing he has only one competitor in this current situation, he hurls all four cards at the shadowy figure. Even with the lightning quick speed of the small cards flying at him, Shadow Master quickly shifts into transparency. The cards pass through him in a split-second. The sharply dressed man is shocked at what he sees.

“You appear to be someone who sticks around too long. Someone never told you to never mess with a Card Shark.”

The shadowy figure squints. He officially knows the name of his target. Still not afraid of the man’s feeble attempts to neutralize his threat, the dark figure continues his warpath on the Card Shark. The adversary shrugs at his failure to knockout the hero. He looks for something else to hurl at the defiant failure.

With an almost super-human feat, he pulls off the small bridge the workers lift up and pass through, separating them from the customers on their own personal island. Taking a step forward the Card Shark prepares to whirl the plastic wood straight at Shadow Master.

The small piece of wood sits well in the Shark’s hand. He begins to throw the square with his best discus impression he can make. The shadowy figure anticipates the move quickly shifts into transparency. However, the nicely dressed man himself anticipates the hero’s protection move and holds from throwing his object.

Continuing his push, the jet-black man returns to his solid-self. It is then that the Shark makes his move and flings the wood at the Shadow Master. The large block drops toward the shadowy figure’s shins. Unable to anticipate the move, the block shatters, bringing him to ground.

The next move would be very unsportsmanlike in any sort of game. The man in the suit walks up to his opponent and begins his natural taunting jeers. However, the hero has a trick up his own sleeve. Taking the man’s chance to gloat, he catches him off guard. Moving both his legs with a quick thrust, he sweeps the legs out from underneath his himself. Shadow Master takes his moment and starts to attack his adversary. He attacks him to the point of unconsciousness, leaving the Card Shark to dream of jail.

By the time that the Rocky City Police Department arrives to the alarm, they only find the blasted out door, shards of glass, a few sets of tire marks, and an unconscious man. The vault remains just a crack open, not a single cent missing. The police think the knocked out Card Shark is the obvious culprit, lying unconscious in the middle of the bank. They take him into custody and they are satisfied with their work.

Invasion and all characters contained within ™ and © 2009 Mark Oldfield.
Metahuman Press and all related content ™ and © 2003-2009 Nicholas Ahlhelm unless otherwise noted.
Some fonts by Blambot.