As soon as he put the pistol under his chin and squeezed the trigger the darkness that descended was total.
There had been a momentary sensation of heat and pressure then nothing; no sights or sounds but the awareness of being, a consciousness floating in nothingness. For what felt like a life's span there was nothing but silence and stillness until, light years away, a small point appeared to puncture the blackness. With frustrating slowness the pinprick appeared to be growing, getting closer and brighter. Then realisation hit home, the light was not moving closer. Rather there was a sensation of movement, of unimaginable speed.
As the velocity increased further, flashes of colour began to appear, speeding past so quickly it was impossible to identify what they might have been. Panic started to set in as the flashes grew in intensity, a whisper split the total silence and grew slowly until it became a screaming whistle, adding to the fear. Getting closer to the ever-enlarging point of light, the flashes and sound became so furious that comprehension was lost and sanity began to slip.
Then blackness, soothing quiet and soft stillness enveloped.
***
"Where is it?" The question was fired angrily across the scene of devastation with an edge of panic.
The room was in chaos with charred, blasted remains laying scattered on the blackened floor. Pieces of metal chair jutted from one wall like the shattered rib bones of a prehistoric behemoth, twisted and even melted at the edges.
The explosion had been massive, tearing the room, which had been a multi-purpose living space, laboratory and prison cell to pieces. Even the steel and titanium door, as strong as any bank vault, had not withstood the blast and lay buckled and twisted in the corridor outside. Not a scrap of fabric, plastic or wood remained, only the strongest of materials had survived and even those were ruined. Twisted hulks and frames which had once formed large pieces of furniture had been slammed into the walls with such force they were unrecognisable. The many computers that had stood inside the room had been reduced to pools of solder hardening on the floor, an occasional globule of melted glass sparkling in the mess.
"I can't see anything!" The second voice was shrill with fear. "There's no sign of him anywhere."
"It's entirely possible there might not be."
This newest voice was calm, quiet and composed. The owner of it stood at the very edge of the devastation, just far enough away so that not a speck of dirt could contaminate his impeccably polished, black leather shoes. A black suit, dark grey silk shirt and black tie completed his outfit. This mode of dress combined with the quiet manner and bearing with which he conducted himself had earned him the nickname of The Shadow.
The two men who were sorting through the waste snapped up as the voice spoke, looking at the newcomer.
"S-Sir?" The first man asked in a quavering voice.
In contrast to the immaculately presented figure at the doorway, the two men inside the room were dressed in dark blue boiler suits smeared and spotted with black, sooty marks. As the heat from the explosion and resultant fire had only recently dissipated enough to allow access, the two were also bathed in sweat, their skin dark with smoke and soot. The man known as The Shadow let his icy, dead gaze roam around the room, momentarily taking in the complete destruction before letting it come to rest on the technician who had addressed him.
"I said there might not be a scrap of the Dumar Project left," his eyes shifted to the second man who paled and looked away. "It was fitted with a termination device," he added.
A termination device, triggered in the event of the project running out of control, falling into the wrong hands or in case of malfunction would ensure complete vaporisation of the project. The device itself, an almost microscopic nuclear device, would explode, making the possibility of duplication or retrieval impossible.
Both men looked shocked.
"We weren't told," the first said almost accusingly. "Why weren't we told?"
The Shadow brought up his right hand to examine his manicured nails and in an almost offhand manner asked.
"Why would you have been? You only had to monitor it and report anything unusual," the Shadow's hand dropped almost lifelessly to his side and he held both men with a piercing stare that that flicked between them. "You failed," he added flatly.
As the Shadow turned to walk along the now dimly lit corridor, his eyes met those of another man a silent command passing between them.
The Shadow paced slowly along the hallway as the other man stepped into the doorway and calmly executed both men inside with gunshots to the head.
Director of Project Dumar, Alan McCabe, also known as The Shadow, considered his life's work as he entered the plushly furnished office which had been his for years.
The surroundings, while being luxurious, were impersonal. No clue or hint about the occupant could be seen. No photographs of family or friends adorned the massive, highly polished oak desk, there were no framed certificates on the walls demonstrating the owner of this office had qualifications in this or that subject. The entire office was bare apart from the furniture and could have belonged to any executive of any company in any city in the world.
Alan McCabe strode purposefully across the deep pile, dark blue carpet, around the green leather-topped desk and sank slowly into the high backed, black leather reclining chair.
Throne like, the chair was positioned just before the floor to ceiling glass wall of the office which gave McCabe an all-encompassing view of the city. Leaning his elbows on the arm rests McCabe brought his hands together, prayer like, and rested his jaw on his middle fingertips. Lips pursed in thought, tapping either little finger against the other, Alan McCabe allowed his eyes to roam across the landscape.
He did not see the city below however, with its myriad vehicles only small points of colour and its pedestrians just a blur of movement. Rather, the Shadow cast his mind back.
The Dumar Project had been his and the Company's greatest achievement, while at the same time being a massive failure. McCabe remembered a conversation he had held with it.