The Mysterious Miss Direction vol. 02

Foot by foot you descend down the elevator shaft. Fortuna continues to shine the light to assist you. When you reach the same level as the magical symbols something unexpected happens: nothing. You instinctively hold up for a moment but there is no change. They don’t light up. Nothing explodes. You aren’t sucked into a parallel dimension. You look up at Fortuna and she just shrugs her shoulders.

Another minute later your feet touch down on the floor of the basement. Fortuna gives you a thumbs up and call outs to let her know when she should follow you down.

You take a quick look around. There are no doors closing off the basement entrance to the elevator shaft. While it should be pitch black, you aren’t actually having too much trouble seeing. The basement isn’t lit, however. It is odd. It feels like being in an open field during a full moon. Just enough light to see by.

There are a number of old styled sofas arranged around a circular carpet displaying the symbol of the University. Beyond that you see a few tables with chairs and personal study nooks. Looking further out there are dozens upon dozens of full bookshelves. Nothing down here looks water damaged. There are no signs of water having seeped into the walls. The furniture looks old, but there is no mud or mildew. This place looks pristine.

'Definitely looks like a secret clubhouse,' Miss Direction thinks as she scans around, looking for any sign of traffic or use or really anything out of the ordinary. Strangely, she assumed something a bit more extravagant for a meeting place of the Crowfall elite, but she wasn't one to judge. Well, not too much anyway.

With nothing immediately standing out as out of the ordinary, you pick a direction and start to walk. Walking down an aisle books you start to recognize a pattern.

Destiny of Souls
The Mothman Prophecies
Moonchild
We Don’t Die: Conversations with the Other Side
The Rise and Fall of the Nephilim
Journeys Out of the Body
Hollow Earth Enigma
Spirits of the Civil War
Hunt for the Skinwalker
The Complete Book of Witchcraft
The Amityville Horror
Encyclopedia of the Strange, Mystical and Unexplained

Every single title you look at is related to paranormal studies. There doesn’t seem to be any order to their arrangement. They are not alphabetized or grouped by subject. It is as if someone has collected every book they could find on high strangeness and tossed them onto these shelves at random.

The sound of of soft footsteps one aisle over catches your attention in this otherwise dead silent library. You stealthily creep to the end of the shelf and peak around. All you find is a pile of books stacked from the floor nearly to the ceiling. The shelves nearby are full. It does not look like whoever did this used books from this area.

The air around you suddenly chills. There is no breeze or obvious reason for it but you feel as if you have stepped out into a cold winter night.

Every cell in Miss Direction's body feels like now would be a good time to cut her losses and get out of the obviously haunted basement, except for one. Luckily for her, its whatever cell controls suppresses her good sense so that she can continue looking around, which she does a bit more frantically.

She debates for a few moments on taking a book or two as evidence, but... evidence for what? She knows something has been down here, and often enough to amass this collection of books.

Maybe she should get Fortuna, and have her take a look. She'd be more familiar with all of this Court stuff anyhow. Moving over to the elevator shaft, she calls up just loud enough to be heard. "There's a whole bunch of creepy stuff down here. Climb down and take a look with me. We'll have better luck finding something if we look together."

"Creepy like bugs or creepy like a man with his face melting off? Cause I don't deal with bugs." A minute latter she leaps down the elevator shaft. Fortuna slides down the wall and launches into the basement in a diving roll; every bit the showman that you are.

She starts shining her gun-light and looking around. She reads some of the book titles as she walks down the aisle. "Creepy is certainly the correct word for this place." She shivers in the exact same spot that you suddenly got cold and takes a step back. She looks at you, steps forward and shivers again. You follow forward and are hit by the wave of cold just like before.

Fortuna stares at the tower of books in the center of the aisle with a suspicious look on her face. "Is it me or this all a bit much? If there were lights on down here, I would be expecting them to flicker right about now. I feel like we've walked into a... like those Halloween side show things where people hide behind the corner in zombie make up and jump out at you to yell boo!"

A skitter of several tiny footsteps is heard a few aisles over followed by the quiet laughter of children. Fortuna's eyes go wide for a moment before she tilts her head to the side and says, "See what I mean? A for effort but this is pretty over the top, right?" It doesn't stop Fortuna from shining the flashlight in the direction of the laughter to make sure demon children aren't about to attack.

"You mean a haunted house?" Miss Direction asks, wondering if Fortuna had never actually been to one or just blanked on the name due to the stress of the situation. Regardless, she approaches the sound of laughter, wanting to see for herself if any source could be found, but suspecting nothing tangible to be seen.

"Maybe if we had a ouija board, we could ask a few questions," she laughs nervously. "But, yeah, this is definitely over the top." Without thinking, she makes a gesture over her heart, an old superstition her mother had taught her to ward off evil that she had brought over from Europe.

Fortuna shakes her head, yes. "Technically, yes. ‘Haunted House.’ But I don’t mean a real spooky ghost filled haunted house. In situations like this the term could lead to confusion." She looks around confused.

She follows you around the corner as you chase after the sound of laughing children. You find no children but there is an old baseball rolling across the carpet. It comes to a stop shortly after you spot it.

There is a room to your left with shades drawn over the windows. You hear the sound of electrical machines firing up and light creeps through the blinds. The door to the room slowly opens, accompanied by a the sound of a drawn out creaky door joint, of course. You peak into the room and see a line of microfiche readers rapidly scrolling through old newspapers. One by one they come to a stop and you are greeted with the following article headlines.

"Crazed Stalker Breaks into Sorority House"
"Skeletons in the Closet. Literally: University Groundskeeper Admits to Creating Altar with Human Bones"
"Gas Leak in Cafeteria Kills 9. Foul Play Suspected"

Miss Direction rubs the back of her neck and closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them, and the mircofiche readers are still there, she shakes her head and looks back at Fortuna. "Someone seems to be going through a lot of trouble to make this place seem scary,"she explains, leaning against the doorframe to keep the news articles in her periphery while she talks.

"First we got the magical symbols that did nothing. Then we've got the whole spooky book collection with its ghost curators. And now its just been a steady influx of spooky noises with no discernible source, and this whole thing with the murder-time slideshow." She pinches the bridge of her nose lightly as if trying to stave off a coming headache, before she continues.

"I know this is rich, coming from me, but I feel like someone is trying to make fools of us. That, or we're dealing with a ghost with a love for theatrics, but I really don't buy that explanation. Like you said, this seems more like a Haunted House than a house that's haunted."

"Now, if my theory is correct," she says quietly, as if concerned about being overheard. "Then we need to start keeping an eye out for how whoever is pulling the strings is keeping track of us. There's got to be surveillance around here, though it might be cleverly hidden. We could also try backtracking and looking for audio devices and transmitters and the like, but between you and me, I kind of want to get home and in bed before much longer, so why don't we just start barreling through and either get attacked by an angry ghost, or, more likely, trigger the big scare and figure out exactly whose behind this?"

Provided Fortuna agrees, Miss Direction puts on a look of casual disdain, and continues to investigate, doing her best not to react to any supernatural noises or ill-conceived attempts to get reactions out of them. She'll also keep an eye out for obvious surveillance cameras, but will also look more closely at photographs and paintings (because she could absolutely see someone hiding a camera in the eyes of some creepy Dean portrait or whatever).

Fortuna nods her head and holds her hand up for a high five; because being a superhero is oddly similar to being a kid in some ways. "Let's get to work."

If this were a more visual medium this would be the perfect place for a montage. It would be filled with shots of the both of you getting increasingly more annoyed with the scare tactics of the university basement and a complete lack of finding anything useful. No cameras, no audio equipment, no clues. The eyes on a painting of the old Dean follow you down a hallway, but you are unable to find anything like a camera behind them.

Frustrated and tired, the two of you make your way back toward the elevator shaft. Fortuna flops down into one of the chairs and lets out a long sigh of frustration. "I really thought we were going to find something here. My luck doesn’t usually lead me astray like this. I keep thinking there has to be something we’re missing but we’ve covered every inch of this stupid place."

You follow her example and collapse into the chair opposite of her. You don’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but Fortuna sure does. She suddenly sits bolt upright and points at you. "Missy, what the--"

Someone behind you clears their throat. You turn around and find yourself standing somewhere new. The dark basement is replaced by bright rays of sunlight pouring through windows in every direction. The carpet is gone. A fine marble floor having taken its place. The shelfs no longer hold books. Scrolls of papyrus and vellum are stacked upon each other instead.

You glance back over your shoulder and Fortuna is gone, along with the chairs you sat in. In their place are small raised platforms of marble. You step off yours as another throat clearing gets your attention.

Standing before you is a man in a mask and a toga. The mask is a mixture of Venetian style with an Ancient Egyptian motif. It depicts a jackal, with long golden ears and an Egyptian headdress. On the center of the forehead is an ankh. The toga is made of fine turquoise silk with a golden sash and belt.

The man takes a step back when he sees you. He looks you over from head to toe. "Archy? We thought you were dead." He takes a few steps forward, as if to embrace you in a hug, but he suddenly stops. Even with the mask obscuring his features you can tell that he is doubting whether you are who he thinks you are. "You know I have no tolerance for your elaborate tricks, Archibald. What are you doing here? Where have you been all this time? And why would you take on this form?"

Of all of the things she might have expected, this would have ended up on the crumpled list she'd thrown in the bin for being too out there. But she realizes that revealing that she is not Archibald is probably the last thing that she should let happen, or, in the least, she could capitalize on the new man's confusion to get some information.

She lets her face fall into a playful, knowing smile. "Oh, you know I can't pass up an opportunity to play with your head," she tells him, extrapolating that this Archy must be a bit of a trickster. She takes a few steps forward, making a show of looking around the ancient looking library. "And really, what kind of a welcome is that?" she asks him, still not looking at him as she browses the shelves with no clear purpose. "This form. How rude."

The man keeps his distance; preferring to watch as you move about the room. Each footfall on the marble floor echoes loudly. "I am sorry, Archibald. Had I been informed you were coming I could have been more prepared. The next meeting isn’t even until Friday. I wasn’t expecting anyone to walk through the gate, let alone you."

The man continues to talk but for the moment his words are lost to you. You are preoccupied with the reappearance of a familiar voice inside your head. ‘He is suspicious, and rightly so. Archibald was a well known misogynist and would only don a feminine appearance when absolutely necessary. You are going to have to spin a pretty good lie to explain why he would appear here while looking like you.’

Why am I not surprised that you would know all about this? Miss Direction accuses internally. It was good information though, and something she could certainly use to try and get herself out of this situation.

She leans against one of the sturdier looking shelves, looking at the mystery figure with a world-weary expression. "I cam here to give you and the others a warning," she lies. "The authorities are on to me, which in itself is not so bad a problem, but its attracted the attention of some heroes. I borrowed this form because I know the police wouldn't report on her snooping around one of our hideouts, since she's on my tail." She shakes her head and makes a face of indignant distaste.

This was so strange, but the danger of the situation could not be denied. She had to keep up the appearance of being Archibald until she could get some information. She looks back to the mystery man. "You say the next meeting is Friday? Perhaps I should return then..."

With the jackal mask covering most of his face, it is a little hard to tell if the man in the toga is buying into what you’re saying. "I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. You may not be everyone’s favorite around here, but you know you can always ask for help."

Just as you move to turn around you feel a tug on your wrist. When you look, the man is no closer than he was before. At least 10 feet separates you. "I suggest you do return at the proper scheduled time. I will let everyone know to expect you. Is there anything you would like to have passed along?"

Another tug on your wrist. Harder this time. Then it shifts to your ankles. It is as if someone is pulling on your legs with all their might. There is time to reply to his question, but not by much.

Another tug rips you from whatever that place was and lands you back to the basement of the old university. You tumble out of the chair and on top of a very winded Fortuna. "Are you ok!?!?" she asks; eyes wide with both concern and shock.

Miss Direction tries not to let too much worry show in her face as she answers the mystery man's question. "No. I will pass what I know along myself," she tells him, before suddenly blinking out of the room.

Miss Direction takes a few deep breaths as she lies on the musty floor, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know," she tells Fortuna.

After a few more seconds, and still not moving from the floor as she realizes just how exhausted she was, she begins to go over the details of her meeting. She thinks she understands the room now. These chairs must project your likeness to whatever that place was so that the Court can meet from varied locations. She would guess that the room was in New Atlantis, given the antique look of everything, but never having been there, she had no real idea.

She described the strange man, who seemed to think that she was someone named Archibald (whom he called Archy). She explained that he thought Archy should be dead, and that he mask explained some further details, which only furthered her concern.

She explained everything that the two of them had said, only realizing that in her attempts to not be discovered, she may have given the masked man more information about herself than she should have.

Finally finishing things off with the promise that she would return to explain more on Friday, she props herself up on an elbow to look at Fortuna and see what she had to say.

"Well that is really weird. And really disappointing. All the spooky stuff must have been a red herring. Or a way of scary off nosy people... I sat down in the chair, same as you. How come I didn’t get to make the magical trip with you?"

"Why indeed?" your mask says with a chuckle before going silent.

"I guess we have to sit on this until Friday." Fortuna stands up and brushes herself off. "What a bummer. I really wanted to punch something but it looks like we have to play the waiting game. Oh god. We might have... do research." The very idea sends shivers down her spine.

You make your way topside and do a repeat of your canoe trick to get back to civilization. "So we meet back up here Friday around dusk? I’m going to continue to stake out the area just in case they have any impromptu or unscheduled meetings. If you find out anything, you know how to reach me."

By the time you finally reach your apartment it is just past 10 AM and your bed is calling your name. Just as your head hits the pillow you remember something important.

---

It is back to Friday night and your father’s birthday party is at its end. You are gathered on the couch with the rest of your family for a picture to celebrate the occasion. You say your goodbyes and are thanked for taking the time out of your busy schedule to hang out with the family.

When you return home there is a red 1 lit up on the display of your answering machine. You press play. "Holly, it’s Harriet Morris. I got a lead on an artifact Mr. Key is interested in. I’d like to meet with you to discuss the matter. How does lunch at Ronaldo’s sound? Afraid I’ll be occupied tomorrow. Meet me there Sunday at noon."

Miss Direction agrees, though she has to wonder if anything she might have said would put Fortuna in danger of discover by the Court. She can't help but worry, despite knowing that, whatever happens, Fortuna's luck will most likely prevail. Its her gimmick, after all.

As Holly gets home, shedding her mask and reaching her bed without bothering to take off her day clothes, she can feel every muscle and bone in her body cry out for release. She had really pushed herself tonight, after a (for her) long break of inactivity. She already yearned to get back out there, but she had to remind herself not to push her luck. She hadn't done this to herself since she first started and realized just how painful it was to crash through a window, or land on a lower rooftop without setting your feet properly.

That's when she remembers the call. She had really hoped to be able to just take tomorrow off and recuperate, but she couldn't miss out on an opportunity to speak with Harriet.

Sometimes she really wished she had Fortuna's luck...

---

Holly was thankful in times like this that she worked at the museum. Being required to maintain a certain level of professionalism in her wardrobe meant plenty of options for a semi-casual lunch date with her new employer. Or... the contact of her new employer? Their agent? She felt that she needed to start taking notes. So much happened in her life that it was difficult to even remember names anymore.

Not that she could forget Harriet Morris, or the party in which they had met. It was more due to the sheer anxiety of the situation than anything else, but those types of memories did tend to stick out.

She pondered exactly what the job offer was going to be that Mr. Key was interested in as she tried desperately to hide the dark circles under her eyes under a bit too much makeup. The idea of being a treasure hunter of sorts for one of the wealthier men in Crowfall was exhilarating to say the least, but she can't help but curse the timing. Fortuna had all but pulled her into her business with the Court, and the thought that hunting for this artifact could conflict with that...

She'd rather not think on that.

Despite the 'reliability' of Crowfall's public transportation system, the important of Holly's meeting today forced her to loosen her purse strings and actually call a cab. She couldn't trust the bus system to not get slowed by something unforeseen on its trip across town to Ronaldo's. Besides, a cab could basically get her right to the door, and she'd have to deal with all of the bodies and the ever-present heat of summer in Crowfall... She felt she'd already be sweating from nerves, no need to add heat on top of that.

You arrive at Ronaldo’s with time to spare. It is an upscale Italian cuisine restaurant owned by a retired Brazilian football superstar. He apparently gained quite the liking for this type of food while playing in Milan. It is something of a joke nowadays that he should lay off the pasta, as Ronaldo has put on a good bit of weight since retiring.

The hostess shows you to the reserved table when you mention Harriet’s name. She has yet to arrive, however.

A minute later Ronaldo himself shows up at the table. His wide smile shrinks a little when he realizes Harriet has yet to arrive. Nevertheless, the boisterous celebrity gives you a warm greeting before heading off.

He arrives at the entrance just as Harriet walks through the door. His eyes light up and he thanks her profusely for coming by and tells her that he hopes Mr. Key can visit again soon. Harriet does her best to humor him for a bit, but it is clear she has no interest in speaking with him.

Ronaldo is still in tow when Harriet takes a seat across from you. He bows three times and thanks her once more before letting her know that the meal is on him. She doesn’t respond vocally and only waves him off. Ronaldo looks a little dejected but thanks her one more time before hurrying off.

Harriet exhales in annoyance. "That man is insufferable." A warm, almost grandmotherly smile spreads across her face. "I am so glad to see you again, Holly. How have you been?" Her face turns to one of worry. "Busy, by the looks of it. Late night?"

Holly shrugs in response. "I thought he was pretty nice, but he did seem like he was trying to get something out of you, as opposed to genuinely happy that you swung by," she comments. She smiles at Harriet though, since she felt like the old woman was genuinely glad.

"It's good to see you too," she responds, though before she can answer the next question, Harriet makes her own assessment. Maybe she'd have to be more heavy handed on the makeup to cover up her tiredness next time. 'Or sleep like a normal person,' she chided herself internally. "Yeah... My father injured his leg, so I've been helping him out at his shop at the expense of a good night's sleep the last few nights," she lies. "Other than that, I have been well. How have you been? I'll admit, I was a bit surprised to hear from you so soon."

"I have been very good. Thank you for asking." A staff member comes by the table and leaves several plates of appetizers and drinks for each of you. No one has bothered to offer a menu. "An unpredictable schedule is the nature of the job, I’m afraid. If we hit the snooze on a lead, an artifact can slip through our fingers and into the hands of another buyer. I refuse to let that happen.

"I’m sorry to hear about your father. Us old folks have to learn to act our age and be careful. At least that is what I am told. We must make way for the next generation to take over the reigns." As delighted as Harriet is to have someone to pass her knowledge on to, the sorrow in her voice makes it clear that she loves her work and has no desire to slow down as she enters her twilight years.

"Tell me again. What type of shop does your father own?"

Holly can't help but feel sympathy for Harriet. Despite this being a wonderful opportunity for her, she can see just how much the idea of having to end what must have been an adventurous career pains her. Even as she nods her thanks at Harriet's sympathies towards her father and tries to partake in some of the appetizers while Harriet talks.

After taking a drink, she answers the woman's question. "Its kind of a this-and-that store. Technically, its an antique store for tax purposes and all that, but very little of what my father sells is actually antique," she punctuates with a good-natured chuckle. "Really its more of a pawn shop for performers. Old and unique instruments, kits for stage magic, costume resale and repair, which my mother takes care of. The dress I wore to the party was actually sown by my mother."

Its only when Holly notices her hand shaking slightly that she realizes how nervous she is by all of this. She takes another sip of her drink to stop her rambling and give Harriet a chance to comment.