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The wind blew off the Hudson with gusts that seemed to pass straight through the layers of clothing worn by most in the streets.

The Shadow trembled involuntarily and pulled his coat collar up higher – of all the shitty jobs he had done on the way up, this felt the worst. Even having to move that body for the boss, three weeks after death, seemed like less trouble than this – and that fucker stank. But this was really cold. He had been standing waiting for his mark for over four hours and in that time most of his limbs had gone numb. He smoked what felt like his millionth Marlboro of the day and when he had finished, just like all the others, he put it out and placed it in his pocket. No evidence ever.

A couple of bums walked up the road towards The Shadow, their loud, raucous, laughter – gruff with cheap booze and a hard life eating shit from others – startled The Shadow from his reverie and he mentally kicked himself for relaxing too much, four hours waiting or not he had to stay sharp. When his target showed it may be a nice quick kill, Please God, or involve a long chase to bring him down. He could not afford to be foggy headed and he was pissed at himself.

He watched as the bums stumbled up, giggling and burping, having a long conversation which seemed to crack both of them up despite, from what The Shadow could hear, them not listening to each other and just talking their own random shit.

For two weeks now he had been hunting a hunter. Some said his target was the most efficient killer in the US. A devious man with more tricks up his sleeve than Houdini and a colder heart than Satan himself.

His reputation had earned him a lot of fans, senior bosses from across the US had asked for his services. Unusually for this thing that we do, he was a loner. No family. Just went with the money job to job.

Now, to The Shadow, this was his weakness. A man aint nothing without his family he believed. Not the ones that spawned you, any fool can fuck a hoar, but the family that you choose when you start in this life of ours.

The Shadow could not imagine not having the people around him, and his boss was the only person in the world he feared. Because if his boss told him to cut his own throat he would do it. But he also knew, and had seen, a whole army waited in the background to die next to him if he needed. His brothers in this thing. He would kill anyone, anything, in this life – including himself, if his family needed it. A man needed a cause, a way to keep himself on target. For the Shadow this was his family. His adopted family. His real one was but a memory, one that would have been forgotten totally if not that his father was the first in a long list of people The Shadow had killed.

When his boss had found him he was a street bum, stealing and robbing just to stay alive. A skinny, cold eyed, killer but for the wrong reasons. The boss had seen the potential when this kid had tried to rob him on the street like some ordinary Joe, even when the bosses men surrounded him and had him with about four guns pressed in to his head the kid had just stared with cold impassion just waiting for the moment when he died or was given the chance to escape – no fear. The boss liked that a lot, he had seen that look in the eyes of a only a few men, including the one in the mirror every morning- he had forgiven the kid, a whim that any other day would have not happened but it did and The Shadow was born.

‘Have you got a light there pal?’

A thick Irish twang interrupted his thoughts, unlike before this was not a surprise. The Shadow had watched him approach knowing they would spot the clothes, the look of him and hone in. Desperation seeking solace.

As The Shadow reached out a lit zippo, the bum reached out his cigarette with one hand and reached in to his pocket with the other.

The Shadow cleared his throat and spoke ‘take the light and fuck off, if that hand comes out of the pocket and it aint empty I am going to kill you.’

The bum flashed an angry look, how could this dandy talk to him like that, the anger bled away when he saw the look in the Shadows eyes – a look the boss recognised all those years ago.

‘I am sorry mister, I did not mean anything by it, honest.’

‘Its ok, now scram’ The Shadow whispered.

They took off like greyhounds at the races and all the while swearing at each other for some unspecified crime until they were far enough away to lose their fear and they sat on a bench and re-commenced their drinking.

The boss had taken him in, like an unbroken stallion and had shown him something that nobody had done until that point. Respect, affection and concern. A year down the line The Shadow felt he had a home, then he felt part of the family, then he would do anything for the family – something his boss had tested a few times.

And now his boss, his family was under threat. The man he was hunting had been given a job. For him it was like any other job, kill a powerful man. But for the Shadow it was a threat to the only family he had ever cared for.

His boss had found out about the contract, and had put The Shadow on it immediately. The ones that had taken out the contract they were for the boss to deal with and he would but stopping this contractor was going to take the best of the best – The Shadow was honoured when asked and had set about the task.

Two weeks of the most intense digging around he had ever known had eventually led to this place. He has been waiting for four hours outside The Algonquin, some trendy arts hotel uptown, for the signal from the bell hop. The signal would tell him that the guest in room 116 had arrived. The man he was seeking.

As if on queue, the signal came. Window second floor, three windows in. The blinds opened and closed three times quickly. This was it.

Relieved to be finally on the move, he looked both ways, crossed the street, and walked in to the lobby of the hotel. Smoke - warm and welcoming was everywhere - and he took a moment to survey the lobby – force of habit. Within seconds he had dismissed 90% of the people, staff etc as no threat – easy to kill and unlikely to cause trouble.

He had made a few guys however that smelled of trouble. Two by the bar, still in coats so just arrived, had the tall, beaten look of men who know how to fight. Men who feel pain less than most and know how to cause it more than most too. They were not familiar but, hey, this was New York, they could be anybodys men. The Shadow memorised their faces and placed them in his internal radar – to be kept an eye on at all times. Three more men, clean sharp suits sat in the bar area. They were police, FEDs maybe – the clean haircuts and the fact they were drinking Cola alone gave them away. This was a complication but again, this was New York and they may not be here for him. Again  he noted their faces and locations in the room and moved toward the elevators.

His mind on overdrive now assessing each and every moment what around him could kill, could kill him, could be used in a fight or an escape – this is what he did best, hunting. And his prey was near.

He turned as he walked in to the lift, and pressed the button for the floor where someone was about to die. As the doors closed on him he looked across the lobby and in a split second saw a bum, a very familiar bum talking to the two goons at the bar.

He smiled ‘the plan was working’.

To be continued.....

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The Shadow Entertainment Corp would like to apologise to all of our patrons for the technical difficulties that meant there was some crazy interference or something just before the start of our latest presentation.