Disclaimer: I do not own the Cape or the Shadow…I'm only borrowing them for the story.

Author's note: This story is in response to whitwolf06's challenge to write a Cape/Shadow crossover. Davis Cranston is my creation. Please ask if you would like to borrow him. Hope you enjoy the story.

What evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.

New York City 2011

A tall hooded figure moved quietly down the dark alleyway. He paused as he reached a dead end. He turned slightly and cast a look back over his shoulder at the quiet street at the far end. His lips turned upward in a smirk as he turned back to the wall before him. His eyes narrowed as he studied the worn soot smudged bricks for a moment, then a gloved hand reached out and passed over a set of bricks at chest level. The sound of grinding wheels broke the still night air and the man stepped back as the ground where he had been standing a moment before sunk downward and morphed into a set of stairs. Before it where the wall had once stood was an open doorway. He glanced down the alleyway once more before moving forward through the door.

The room beyond the doorway was dark and still. The man paused for a moment and then reached out a hand and whispered a phrase under his breath. Instantly every lamp in the room leapt to life, washing it in a soft yellow glow. The man grinned and moved forward down an iron wrought spiral stair case to the floor below. The room was fairly large and furnished as if it belonged in a mansion and not in a hidden room at the end of alley. A thick burgundy carpet covered the floor, accented by an odd assortment of Persian rugs. The walls were lined with tall polished hardwood bookcases and oriental tapestries and a large stone fireplace which dominated the back wall of the room. A pair of plush arm chairs and a matching sofa were clustered before it. A large polished desk stood silent sentry on the opposite side of the room, the high back chair behind it empty.

The man paused at the bottom of the stairs as his eyes swept the display cases set into the book cases. Oriental daggers, old yellowing manuscripts and the odd curio were quickly dismissed as his eyes settled on a carved box resting in the center of the stone mantle. He moved forward quickly and reached for the box. It shimmered as his hand passed through it. He let out a low growl and spun around a deep mocking laugh filled the room.

Did you really think it would be that easy? a disembodied voice mocked.

More laughter filled the room. It seemed to be coming from every direction. The man closed his eyes and cleared his mind, focusing on the voice and the laughter.

You are well trained, young one, but foolish if you think you can take the dagger from me.

The smirk returned as dark eyes opened. He raised a hand suddenly and jerked it in a circle. The air in the far corner of the room seemed to ripple and shimmer. As he watched, a shadowy figure in black appeared in the large black chair behind the desk. His face was shadowed beneath the rim of a large black slouch hat.

"You cannot stop me, old man." The man challenged. His voice lit with a soft accent.

The figure in the chair laughed harshly. "I had such high hopes for you, Gregor, but you have let the darkness consume your soul. I will not let you destroy the rest of the world because of your greed."

The man crossed his arms and smirked. "It is a little too late for that now. My plans are already in motion and you cannot stop them."

"I wouldn't underestimate me if I were you, Gregor." The dark figure stated coldly.

The smirk faded from the hooded man's lips. "Oh I don't intend to."

He flicked his right wrist toward the man behind the desk and waved his left in an arc toward the lamps which rimmed the room. The room exploded in a roar of flame and broken glass.

The hooded man paused at the end of the alley before turning onto the quiet street. He smirked as he tucked the box closer under his arm.

Farewell, old friend.

He turned and headed out of the alley. One piece down.

Time to return to Palm City.