The Mysterious Miss Direction vol. 02

Almost a week has passed since the battle with the Medium Madam. The heat wave has finally broken and you find yourself staring at the clock late on a Friday afternoon at the museum.

It was odd returning to normal life more or less like nothing had happened. Jonas took the rest of the week off, but is set to return on Monday. Occasionally you have heard whispered rumors between co-workers trying to connect the dots of why both Jonas and your father ended up captives of a super villain. Most write it off as mere coincidence, but that doesn’t stop people from gossiping.

There hasn’t yet been time to speak with Fortuna or Bailey. Your meet up with Fortuna is planned for tomorrow night and Bailey has been swamped. The Crowfall PD is even more understaffed than normal as they have to confirm each officer is no longer compelled by the Madam before they can put them back on the job.

You’ve visited your father every day in the hospital but haven’t had time to get in a real one on one discussion. Your mother hasn’t left his side this entire time. He is set to be released today and in an odd bit of coincidental timing, he just so happens to also be his birthday. Patrick and Natalie have planned a whole surprise party for him.

Quitting time finally comes and you head home to change before riding out to your parents' house for the party.

Patrick greets you at the door with a hug and asks, "You remembered to bring the cake right?" He can’t keep a straight face and gives you a shove. "Just messing. Nat’s adding the finishing touches right now. Admit it though, I totally had you going."

It is a small gathering and you appear to be the last to arrive. Patrick, Natalie, yourself, and a handful of old friends. You expect your mother and father to arrive any minute now.

Holly hits Patrick in the chest playfully with her open palm. "Don't scare me like that!" she chides him. "The last thing I need right now is to be the one that ruins dad's coming home party." She shudders at the thought for show, but smiles at her brother. "Come on, I'm late enough as it is," she tells him, pushing past him to get inside. "They should be here any minute, and we need to get into position."

She waves hi to a few people she hasn't seen in a while. Old colleagues from the carnival days, and a few regulars at her dad's pawn shop. All good people who have become or stayed close family friends over the years. Though, it wasn't hard for her father to make friends. He was incredibly charismatic, which is how he so thoroughly charmed her mother.

She all smiles and hushed laughter as she makes sure the cake is ready ("Just got to light the candles!" she was assured), before they turn out all of the lights and wait for the guest of honor. She waits behind the old sofa that smells slightly of cigarette smoke (even though her mother had forbidden her father from smoking inside years ago) while her brother stood guard at the front window as the spotter.

There was still some delighted giggling from the good-natured party goers when Pat gave the signal and they all fell dead silent. She could see the headlights briefly illuminate the window as Pat flattened himself into the corner so as to not be seen. She could hear the doors of the car open, first her mother's, followed by the click of her shoes rushing across the pavement to help her father, and then her father's.

She could hear them walking up the walkway, her mother fusing over her father, and her father urging her to stop with the fussing. She could hear the keys in the lock, and then...

"SURPRISE!!!"

Your mother nearly jumps out of her shoes in shock, but the exaggerated look of surprise on your father’s tells you that he suspected something like this might be coming. He plays it up even further, letting his cane fall to the floor. You, Patrick, and several of his closest friends know what is coming next and it induces a few eye rolls and whispers of "while in a cast?"

Imitating Willy Wonka, his hand opens and closes on thin air where the cane should be. He goes stiff as a board and starts to fall forward into what traditionally would become a somersault and applause. Your mother puts a stop to that. "Oh no you don't!" She grabs him by the collar and stops his momentum before the practiced fall can take place.

"You’re no fun," he pouts before turning to the party and giving everyone a smile. "Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to have all of you here." The lights are dimmed and cake brought out. Your father insists on joining in on singing happy birthday to himself. He and Patrick compete to see who can be more loud and obnoxious about it; much to the displeasure of their wives.

While the cake is being cut, Patrick pushes play on an odd mix tape of 80’s pop and carnival music. Everyone starts to spread out, mingle, and enjoy the birthday cake.

Patrick comes over to you and offers a slice. "So how much have you heard about Dad’s whole recovery process? I know you’re real busy, but the docs say he should off his feet as much as possible. You know how his shop hasn't always been the most profitable. The few employees he has have volunteered to work some OT at the normal rate, but Dad isn’t willing to do that. So me and ‘Ma are going to pick up some evening shifts. Natalie is going to be helping out with free physical therapy down at her gym, and thank god. His insurance is terrible. Any chance you can squeeze in a few shifts at the pawn shop until he is back on both feet?"

The party is going great, and it warms her heart to see her dad in such good spirits. She nearly joins in on the Happy Birthday contest, but highly doubts she can be as obnoxious as her father, and certainly not as much as her brother.

She accepts the slice from her brother, but his serious tone concerns her. She takes a deep breath as she pushes her cake back and forth in contemplation with a plastic fork. "I can try. I took on another job recently that takes up my evenings, but I'll try to make some adjustments, and I'll see if I can make it work," she tells him.

Pat looks a little surprised. "Another job? I didn’t hear-- ohhhh wait, you're talking about being a high society art dealer or something, right? Ma mentioned that. I guess you’ll be raking in 7 figures a year and supporting all of us pretty soon, eh?" For the second time tonight, Patrick’s face and tone gets real serious.

"Have you talked to your boss at all? The cops gave us so little information and dad hasn't offered any insight. I don't know if it is memory loss from the ordeal or if he just doesn't want to worry us by talking about what happened.... You’re the only one with access to both of them. You gotta have some idea of why all this happened. Come on, give me the real story?"

Holly shakes her head sadly. "I'm not allowed to say. I had to sign all sorts of papers and whatnot, and even then, I'm not even entirely sure what happened. I figured some things out about some artifacts we had come in, a couple heroes showed up and asked questions, and then a couple hours later, Dad and my boss (museum boss, not new job boss) had been rescued. As well as a bunch of other people I didn't know, but you know, I didn't really care so much about them," she lied.

"That's really all I can say. I don't think Dad is under the same legal restraints, or at least, they haven't gotten to him yet, but promise me you'll give him some time to relax at home before you start peppering him with questions," she requests quietly.

The mention of other heroes peaks Patrick's attention. "Oh dude, you are so lucky. What I wouldn't give to meet Fortuna. She is soooo hot."

"Excuse me?" Patrick's eyes go wide as his wife Natalie steps up next to him. He offers her a coy smile which contrasts her annoyed expression. You excuse yourself from the happy couple and wander back toward the rest of the party as Natalie starts asking if Patrick's infatuation with Fortuna has anything to do with him asking her to dress up in a corset and tri-corner hat the other night...

There is a knock at the front door just as you are walking past. It doesn't seem like anyone else has heard it, so you go to answer. When you pull the door open you are a bit surprised to see Officer Bailey standing there. "Hey, Holly. Good to see you again." For a moment, worry takes over as you question why Bailey is here. Has the Madam escaped? Is your family in danger again? He quickly clears up these worries.

Looking behind you, Bailey sees the party is in full swing and he lowers his head in frustration. "I'm sorry I'm so late. They are keeping me plenty busy these days. I'm not much for social calls, but when your mother invited me I felt that I had to stop by for a little while to at least see how your father is doing." He lowers his voice to a whisper. "Glad to see you are also recovering well."

Holly struggles to contain a snort of laughter at her brother's admittance of being enamored with Fortuna. A struggle she soon loses as Natalie overhears, and she excuses herself to be anywhere but in the middle of that argument. She makes a mental note to never mention her own alter ego to her brother. She doesn't know how she would react if her brother fancied Miss Direction as well. The thought doesn't exactly kill her jovial mood, but it does force her to take a sip of her punch to wash away a bit of the bile rising in her throat.

When Holly opens the door, she wears an expression quite similar to what her brother had only moments ago. The deer-in-headlights look only lasts for a few seconds until Bailey begins to explain. She releases tension in her shoulders that she didn't know she had.

"Don't worry about it, we're all just having a good time, and I'm sure everyone'd be happy to meet you," she tells him with a smile, stepping out of the way to let him come inside. He was still all dressed in his uniform, so he must have come straight from the station. He looked somewhere between run down and dead tired, and it almost hurt to see someone so overworked. "Can you get you something to eat or drink?" she asks, closing the door behind him. "We've already got cake and punch out, but I can make you some coffee if you need a bit of pep in your step."

As he stands by patiently, she whispers to him, "My brother has been asking questions. I've told him that I can't talk about it, legally, but he may try to corner you." She smiles again, glad that the music in the room was loud enough that really only he should have been able to hear it. "If you want, I can grab you some while you meet and greet. I'm sure Mom and Dad would love to know you made it," she offers at full volume again.

Bailey smirks. "I’m not too worried about your brother. He is... fairly easy to distract. No offense." He loosens his tie a little and even that small effort goes a long way to getting his tired muscles to relax. "Coffee sounds great. I’m pretty particular about how I take it, though. Why don’t I help you out?"

He follows you into the kitchen, which is currently empty of party guests. "Black coffee will be fine. I wanted to give you an update while I had you. She stopped mumbling and is responding to outside stimulus. Nothing major, but her eyes are at least tracking light again. Brain activity is... abnormal. Mostly what you would expect of someone in a catatonic state, but every once in a while everything spikes like she is in an intense deep dream. They’re not sure if it's her trying to repair mental damage or something else entirely. Either way, she’s not going to be harming anyone for a long time.

"They got her back inside her old lead lined cell in the Catacombs. Even if she regains full control of her powers, she can’t reach out beyond those walls. So at least there’s that."

Your father walks through the door just as you are handing Bailey his mug of coffee. "Why if it isn’t the honorable Officer Bailey!" Tom walks over and gives Bailey a big handshake. "I heard they're working you to the bone. Thanks for taking the time to come out. It’s really good to see you again." The two men share a long silent look that speaks volumes. They are doing their best to put on an appropriate mask for a surprise birthday party but these two men are exhausted.

Holly tries to get a few words in as she's making his coffee (and one for herself as well, since they were going to be talking business), but Bailey just keeps unloading information on her that takes more than a few moments to digest. It oddly makes her feel better than Lily is making progress. For all the pain and torment the woman caused her, she was still a human being, and Holly wanted nothing to do with having her live out the rest of her days in a vegetative state.

Live out her life in a top security facility, absolutely. But not like she had seen her last, as a convulsing, non-responsive mess.

Just as she sits at the table and hands Bailey his coffee, her father walks in. It also pains her to see just how hard these two men are working to help everyone else, when clearly they are the one's who need the help the most.

"You want to sit for a bit, Dad?" Holly asks from the table. "You should probably be keeping weight off of your foot. How are you feeling, by the way? I feel like I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you, you being swarmed by all of your fans and whatnot," she smirks after the last bit, knowing how her father loved to make a performance out of life, but also that he would scoff at referring to his old friends as fans.

"I hate to admit it, but it is going to be a while before I’m back to 100%. These old bones don’t heal quite as quick as they used to. Did I ever tell you about the time I messed up the catch a bullet with your teeth trick? So here I was--" you’ve heard the story a million times but don’t interrupt him. When he finishes telling it again, Tom gives you a smile and closes his hand over yours.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Holly. I am not going to pretend that I don’t like being the center of attention, but I think everyone can do just fine without me for a little bit." He turns to Bailey. "You got kids, Bailey?"

He shakes his head no and sips on his coffee. "Wife wants me behind a desk before she’ll even consider it. So I’m still a few promotions away from changing diapers."

"That’s too bad. You’re going to love being a father. Sure, you constantly feel like you’re screwing up everything for the first two decades or so, but then one day you realize that maybe you didn’t do such a bad job. At least with this one. Jury is still out on Patrick," he jokes.

Holly tries not to roll her eyes when her father starts telling his stories. Its not like she hadn't heard them all a million times over during her youth, but she couldn't help but feel that same mysticism fall over her as he weaved his tale. She smiles at him as he finishes, and finally remembers she has her own cup of coffee when Bailey takes a sip from his.

"Smart," she comments at Bailey's wife's stipulations.

She smiles at her father's sentiment, not just his round about way of saying he was proud of her, but also his assessment of Patrick.

"I don't know about that one, Dad. Pat's got a few things going for him that I haven't managed yet. The whole house, car, and spouse thing just isn't in the cards for me it seems," she argues around her mug, holding it in front of her face to both enjoy the aroma and hide her smile.

Your father waves off your comments. "What have I always told you kids? Life isn’t a competition to see who can accumulate the most toys. It is about experiences. You're smack dab in the middle of the perfect time in your life to be experiencing countless new and exciting things. You know I love Patrick just as much as I love you, but that boy would be satisfied spending every night playing cards or watching television.

"You have no idea how much I envy you right now, Holly. This would is full of great adventures for those that are willing to take bold chances. Don’t rush into obtaining what society says you should and end up missing out on some truly exciting and unique experiences."

Bailey smiles at this and offers up his mug of coffee for a ‘cheers.’ "He’s certainly right about that. Just don’t do anything too crazy. I don’t want to have to put you in a holding cell one of these days."

Your father playfully smacks the side of his head. "I can't believe I keep forgetting!" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the playing card you left for him as Miss Direction. He slides it across the table to you. "Pretty cool, right? It's a shame that I was all mind controlled through the whole superhero battle, but at least I got this souvenir for you.

"I really missed my calling, I think. Back when I was your age the villains weren’t so powerful. Instead of traveling with the carnival I should have added a mask to my magician costume and taken to fighting crime. That would have been a real adventure." His face gets real serious for a minute. "Not that I’m saying you should go out and fight crime, Holly. I don’t know if my heart could take the worry."

Holly shakes her head and smiles into her coffee as her dad talks about life experiences and whatnot. She even shoots Bailey a playful glare for taking her father's side in the discussion, but when her father presents her with the card, she's caught a little off guard.

Luckily, she's able to hide her shock at forgetting that she'd given her father that card.

Not so luckily, she does so by choking on her coffee mid-sip and sending herself into a coughing fit. When its clear that she isn't in any real danger of asphyxiation and her father delivers his warning, her coughs turn into strangled laughter.

"Come one, Dad! I almost lost a fight with a cup of coffee," she jests, "I wouldn't last one day fighting crime." She looks more closely at the card, now that her eyes weren't watering so much, and smiles. "Aww, thanks, Dad." She wraps Tom in a quick hug and sits back down, turning the card over to examine it. Not like she didn't know every intricate line on its back, or the unique designs on its face. Still had to keep up appearances.

"You know," she muses. "I know she's a pretty recent addition to the hero line-up, but doesn't seem a bit cliche to hand out autographs at a crime scene?"

"Just once I wish someone would ask for my autograph at a crime scene," Bailey jokes. It gets a good laugh out of Tom.

"Nothing wrong with being cliche," your father responds. "It’s just another word for classic. Now if she were to start wearing endorsements on his costume, that’d be going too far."

The three of you talk and joke around for a few more minutes before some of Tom’s friends come in pestering him to tell another old story everyone has heard a million times. "Sorry dear, I can’t keep my fans waiting." They all head back into the living room, leaving you alone with Bailey.

"Do you ever think about telling them?" Bailey asks. "I know he says he’d be worried, but he would be plenty proud too. Might not hurt to have someone to talk to about all the stress that comes with the lifestyle. I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but if you ever need to unload, you know where to find me."

Holly laughs and jests with her father until he leaves the room. It takes only a few short moments for her exhaustion to start to come out as well. She practically melts into her coffee as she nods along to Bailey's question.

"Several times. Every single time, the answer has been a resounding no." She rubs her hands over her face for a second, before continuing. "As much they worry about me, I worry about them too. And, knowing my father, my secret identity would not stay secret for long. He loves telling stories too much to be able to keep secrets." She huffs out a laugh ands idly begins flipping the card through her fingers, weaving it delicately along its path with the skill of a practiced magician. A skill she'd learned from her father that had translated rather nicely into her heroic persona.

"I may take you up on that, though. I want to make sure, especially after my run in with Madam, that few people know of my secret life." She puts the card down again with a sigh, and picks up her mug with both hands. "I'll try to keep our visits to a minimum, though. No sense in making your wife suspicious and/or alerting the tabloids and making them think that Miss Direction is some homewrecking heart-throb or whatever," she chuckles.

She chews on her lips for a second as she thinks. "Do you think..." she begins, working herself up to ask. "That I could see her? Lily?"

For a moment it looks like Bailey wants to avoid the question. "I’m afraid that request is a little above my pay grade. Personally, I’m a fan of what you guys do. Not everyone in the police force feels the same way, and that divide continues on up through every level of government.

"The Task Force that runs the Catacombs prison facility isn’t beholden to U.S. laws, but they do negotiate with our lawmakers. Those in charge seem to think it would be best if the worst of the worst in the superhuman community rot in deep dark holes with no contact with the outside world. It might be that they fear you guys having too much knowledge of how things work down there. God forbid you ever go evil, they don’t want you to have an upper hand." It is clear from the way he speaks that Bailey does not share these same concerns.

"A face to face meeting is pretty much out of the question. Talk to the right people and you might be able to get a phone call to her. When she is well enough to take them, that is. You’d have to talk to another cape, like Fortuna, to get details on how you should go about it. Sorry I can’t be of any more help."

Holly nods in disappointed understanding, looking down into her coffee cup. "I appreciate all the help you have given," she tells him. "I don't think I would have gotten nearly as far as I did without yours and Fortuna's help."

In reality, she knows that if Fortuna had not been there to defend her as Medium Madam's thralls swarmed them, she likely would have ended up under her control as well. Though, perhaps whatever force had allowed her to win that mental battle would have simply broken free sooner, and likely caused more than just Lily to become catatonic.

She exhales deeply, and takes another sip of her coffee. "I need to talk to her anyway, about that night. May just have to bring it up to her then."

Flashforward to tomorrow night. You are on a rooftop in the heart of Crowfall. Fortuna is sitting on the ledge of the building, danggling her legs off the side and humming a joyful tune. She hears you walking up behind her and turns to greet you with a smile. "Come grab a seat, partner," she says and slaps a spot on the concrete ledge next to her.

It is a little bit after 11 PM and the city is still busy with traffic. Fortuna looks like a kid in a candy shop as she watches the streets below. "A lot of people in our line of work constantly complain about how difficult everything we do is. They should slow down from time to time and enjoy the perks that come with the job. I know I’ll never get tired of the view from up here."

"Yo, Fortuna! You rock!" A fan from five stories below notices the hero and shouts up to her. She gives a wave and blows a kiss.

Fortuna turns back to you with a serious face. "How you holding up, kid?"

"I've been better," Miss Direction replies honestly, the morose tone a sharp contrast to her colorful outfit. She takes the offered 'seat', letting her own legs dangle over the ledge as she looks down on the myriad of colors brought to life by a sea of streetlamps and headlights. "I've been taking the last few days off to give my wounds some time to actually heal. I was running on fumes since Triple Heist Night, and that finale certainly took its toll mentally."

She looks over. "How are you? I know you've been doing this kind of thing for years, but its got to wear you down." Her gaze turns back toward the nightscape. "If not, I'd love some helpful tips from the master."

Fortuna looks at you with a somber expression which quickly transforms into a well rehearsed smile. "I’m doing great. Thanks for asking." She lets the smile drop and looks down below as she elaborates. "The longer you do this the more evident it becomes that this lifestyle is both the cause and the solution to all of your problems.

"Not everyone has the luxury of living two separate lives. Your average Joe doesn't have the option to turn into someone else and run away when everything becomes too much to handle.

"It seems like among us there are two types: The obsessive types that end up leaving the real world behind and becoming the mask. These are the dangerous types, if you ask me. And then there are those that get real good at compartmentalization."

Her voice drops almost to a whisper. "Villains like the Madam really wreak havoc with that whole separation of worlds thing. She took my sister from me. I’ve made a lot of bad choices since then. Hurt a lot of people. Burned a lot of bridges. Its been a long time since someone called me anything but Fortuna... Try to keep your worlds separate, Missy. It’s best for everyone."

Miss Direction listens raptly, drinking in all of this valuable information. Not just on what hero life is like, which really should be advertised to anyone who decides to get into it and hasn't read very many comic books, but on Fortuna's own stakes in this.

"I'm sorry," she tells her. "About your sister. I could have assumed that she had made things personal for you too. In fact, from what I've been able to tell in my limited dealings with her, she likes to make everything personal. She seemed to think she was untouchable." She wants to laugh at the statement, but her lingering guilt as to Lily's fate stops it in her throat. Clearing the failed laugh with a cough.

She kicks her legs idly for a moment, before getting into the meat of why she asked to meet with her. "I wanted to talk to you... about that night, and what really happened between me and Lily when I made that deal with her."

She takes a deep breath. "There's... something... in my mask. An entity of some sort. I heard its voice when I first became Miss Direction, but it had gone silent until I made that deal with Medium Madam. It urged me to do it. To pull her into some strange dreamscape so that we could beat her at her own game." She wraps her arms around herself. "It was a hard battle, and not only because Lily is an exceptionally strong super. Things got very, very personal, and... and in the end, I snapped. I didn't just want to see her defeated. I wanted her to feel as weak as she had made me feel."

She looks up at Fortuna, hoping she wouldn't see judgement behind that famous mask of hers. "I wanted to see her beaten and broken. And part of me wants to believe that the mask was influencing my emotions, making all of that hate and anger bubble up until I lashed out with all of my power at her... but I'm not so sure..."

She shrugs, not sure of what else to say other than, "In the end... it wasn't enough. Lily still got the better of me, but she wasn't expecting for the entity to take over. That's why, when we finally woke up, she was catatonic. It did something to her, and I have no idea if I can trust my own powers anymore..."

That was the reason she had taken so much time off as Miss Direction, though she hated to admit it. The idea of putting on the mask again scared her. But she did it anyway, because she would rather be scared of being Miss Direction than let herself feel like Lily won, regardless of what happened.

Fortuna is visibly uncomfortable. She keeps her eyes focused on the world below. "She certainly does. I tried putting myself in her shoes before. Thinking about how it would change you if you always had a leg up on everyone you meet because you can see their thoughts. It's a double edged sword though. You also know what everyone thinks of you and not many people have high opinions of her. Doesn’t excuse her actions but that has to be tough..."
Your words have Fortuna’s rapt attention. She doesn’t look at you with any judgement. If anything, she seems like she is studying your words very carefully.
When you finish speaking your concerns, Fortuna offers you a comforting smile and says, "Do you want the good news or the bad news? A lot of supers don’t like to talk about how they got their powers. You certainly aren’t alone in getting them from a mask of dubious origins. My life forever changed the day I put this mask on too. Luckily for me," she gives a wink when she says luckily as if her brand is so deep seated it is an involuntary reflex at this point, "this mask doesn’t talk to me. But you aren’t the first that I have heard say something like that.

"Have you ever heard of Elfshot? Probably not. She’s not well known. Spends most of her time in New Atlantis and most people like to pretend that place doesn’t even exist for some reason. But anyways, she also got her powers from an old discarded relic. We talked for hours about where these items might have come from before she hesitantly asked if my mask talked to me too... I thought she was joking at first but she introduced me to others that described similar experiences. Some well known supers, others less so. I was blown away by how many people were being talked to by the objects that granted them their abilities...

"Some of them got along swimmingly with... whatever these entities are. Others had more antagonistic relationships. Elfshot described her entity as acting much like you just described your own. We talked a lot about what we thought it was and, more importantly, what it wanted. I wish I could tell you that we ultimately landed on something concrete..." Fortuna shrugs her shoulders.

"She has this theory. Thinks that the entities are benevolent, even if it doesn’t seem like it. She thinks they are pushing us to make us better heroes. Forcing us to confront our fears and come out the other side stronger. She says that my mask probably had a voice inside it at one point but it must have been defeated by whoever had the mask before I did." Fortuna shakes her head. It is clear she does not agree entirely with these theories.

"I haven’t seen Elfshot in a while. Too long. To say I’m worried would be putting it mildly. I think she challenged whatever that entity of hers is.... I keep telling myself that she won. That she hasn't been around because she evolved into a higher being or whatever... If you aim to challenge whatever is inside your mask, please don’t do it alone. I don’t want to risk... not knowing what happened to another friend."

Miss Direction's shoulders seem to relax now that she knew Fortuna wasn't going to try and institutionalize her for hearing voices. She wanted to feel relieved that other heroes dealt with the same things she did, and, in a way she was, but that relief was overshadowed by the thought of other entities, as powerful or more so than the one that accompanied her, being out there.

"I'd consider taking a trip of New Atlantis, but, like you said, I have to balance both lives." She sighs morosely. "I don't have the luxury of taking off to look into it all without drawing suspicion."

"You know... I had actually thought of asking you about that. Taking a trip of New Atlantis, before I even knew about Elfshot," she mutters, segueing into part two of the meeting. "I had spoken with Officer Bailey about Lily's progress, and about wanting to see her." Looking pointedly at the streets below, she tries to push sincerity and purpose back into her voice, with minimal success. "I don't really feel guilty anymore... I don't think. I think I just want to show her that... that she didn't win. That I'm still going to carry on trying to protect people, despite what she put me through..."

"Maybe while I'm there, I can find out what happened to her after I blacked out, if she'd even tell me." She makes the mistake of looking at Fortuna again, and then right back down over the edge. "Not that I'd be able to do it any time soon. I mean, Bailey told me she had barely just starting coming out of her state..." she rambles, before stopping herself.

"Whoa, slow down there cowgirl. I wouldn't go hoping on the first weird portal thing to New Atlantis just yet. It's a weird place filled with strange people who don't play by the rules." She thinks for a minute and realizes that perfectly describes Crowfall as well. She shakes her hands to wave that thought off. "What I'm trying to say is, it would probably be best to have a little more understanding of what is inside your mask and what it wants before you go walking those cobblestone streets. There are a lot of... things that are far older than us puny humans in that place that would just love to take advantage of someone in your position in order to get out of there. Lilith can run a pretty tight ship and not everyone appreciates her watchful eyes."

Fortuna pauses as she contemplates how to respond to what you say about the Medium Madam. "I applause you on that, kid. That drive to keep fighting the good fight is hard to keep lit sometimes and if she wasn't able to extinguish it, then I doubt anyone or anything ever will. You think long and hard before talking to her though. I know you might want closure and it'd be nice to show you are the bigger woman, but it also plays right into her cards. It could fuel her if she learns that she is still on your mind. Lily sure has got some ego."

Something down the street catches Fortuna's eye. She stands up and places a hand over her eyes like she is a lookout on a ship who is trying to block out the sun. The sun that set hours ago. "I'll make a few calls, maybe trade in a few favors. It ain't easy to get a call into the Catacombs but it can be done. And I'll double down on finding Elfshot. I think it would be good for both of us if we could talk to her." Fortuna's gaze follows a pair of white cargo vans driving down the street one after the other. "I think it's showtime, Missy. Try to keep up."

Fortuna draws a pistol from her belt and fires a grappling hook across the street so she can literally swing into action and pursue the vehicles.

Miss Direction nods at all of the good advice Fortuna is offering her, but it takes her a few seconds to realize that something was happening. Shaking her head to get it on straight, sending a few bells tinkling away on her hat, she longing looks at the disappearing superheroine.

"I want a grappling hook..." she whines before taking off in a series of tumbles and leaps to try and keep up from the rooftops.

It is a little difficult to keep up with Fortuna and the van while making your way on foot. You watch as she dual wields grappling hooks to swing around the city like some kind of human spider. She makes absolutely not attempt to remain hidden Fortuna hoots and hollers, attracting the attention of just about everybody on the streets of Crowfall. Civilians passing buy reach for cameras and heads pop out of the windows of the van.

The driver puts the pedal to the metal. They have to swerve constantly to avoid traffic as they use both sides of the road to try and get away from Fortuna. She seems completely unfazed by the increased danger to pedestrians and other vehicles that the van very narrowly avoids contact with. Every once in a while you’ll read a article about a hero’s actions accidently causing harm to civilians. You’ve never heard a story like that about Fortuna though. Maybe it is that uncanny luck of hers.

Fortuna fires her grappling hook directly at the van. It crashes through the back door and quickly starts reeling her in like a manic laughing fish. "Hurry up, Missy, or you’ll miss out on all the fun!" she calls back to you.

Maybe its the adrenaline pumping through her system as she tries to chase down Fortuna and the White Vans (which she decides to write down later as a possible band name if the hero thing doesn't work out), or being called out in such a way by the heroine, but a smile finally cracks on her face as she gives pursuit.

Racing along the rooftops isn't working. She's fast, but not fast enough to keep an eye on both where she is going and where the vans are going. If she was going to catch up, she was going to have to think outside of the box.

Luckily, that was her specialty.

---

This was not a good night for the driver. They hadn't expected any resistance. The streets had been quiet since the capture of Medium Madam, and it almost seemed like the perfect time to pull off some dastardly deeds. God, the others hated it when he called them that, but he couldn't help it. It just gave him a chuckle to think of their crimes in the same light as those Saturday morning cartoons he used to watch when he was younger.

It also helped him sleep better at night.

What isn't going to help him sleep better at night is the whooping and hollering of a certain super heroine that they absolutely could not have afforded to encounter tonight. Her grappling hook bursting through the back of the window matched the cries of outrage from his companions as one of them tried in vain to work it free. His heart dropped as well, but mostly from the fact that he would no longer be able to get the deposit back on the rental.

That's when they hear Fortuna yell. Who was she calling out to?

A few seconds later, a strange sound catches his attention. Was that... carnival music? The strangely joyful tune poured in from the hole in the rear window, and when he checked the mirror he could see what appeared to be a jester chasing after them on impossibly long legs.

This night just kept getting better and better.

---

Miss Direction honestly didn't expect the stilts to work this well, but the extra length to her stride helped her make great time, as well as being able to follow directly along the road. The only problem was her cards. Every time her 'foot' landed, it would send cards flying out in each direction from the force. She kept shuffling and sending her cards to rebuild and reinforce, but she knew it would only last so long.

Within a few seconds she was just behind Fortuna, and a new problem presented itself. She couldn't step closer without getting in the other's way.

Well, its a good thing she wasn't too attached to her new legs. Stepping forward toward the side of the van, she allows the stilt to dissolve, but not before bringing the other one down to send her forward in a leap towards the roof of the un-hooked van.

You slam into the roof of the van with enough force to cause it to dent heavily. You wince in pain and think about how even your bruises are going to start having bruises if every night of super heroics continues like this.

The goon at the wheel panics and starts cutting the wheel back and forth in a desperate bid to shake loose the superhero on the roof. It sort of works. You leap from the van as it starts to roll. Sticking the landing on the sidewalk takes practically no effort and gives you a front row seat to the chaos.

The van you were just on top makes two full rotations before coming to a stop back on its wheels just in time for the second van to slam into it. Fortuna is launched into the air and fires her grappling hook around a nearby streetlamp. This allows her to redirect her momentum into a series of flips and she lands directly next to you on the sidewalk.

Crooks start to crawl out from the wreckage. Fortuna gives you a smile, cracks her neck, and charges into the fray. She socks one mook in the gut just as he was going to draw a gun. You can hear the sound of footsteps walking over broken glass on the other side of the wreck as everyone from the other vehicle works their way around to get a piece of the heroes that ruined their night.

Fortuna slams one of her pistols back into its holster, then quickdraws and fires at one of the wheelmen. A net rapidly expands from the barrel of the gun and completely encapsulates the man. She mockingly blows smoke from the barrel and puts it back into her holster.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5

Current HP
Miss Direction: 3
Fortuna: 3

Threat Rating:
Mooks: Petty Crooks - 10

Miss Direction brushes imaginary dirt from her hands as she stands to look at the wreckage her landing had inadvertently caused. Rolling her shoulders a bit, she approaches the goons coming out of the van at a slight jog.

Not to be outdone, Miss Direction gives the first goon a resounding kick to the chin as he makes his way to his feet, and begins to launch into a series of kicks, somersaults and twists to avoid any gunfire that might happen. Hopefully Fortuna's luck extends to her, so no onlookers get injured.

Both you and Fortuna move effortlessly around the petty thieves. Their punches and kicks don’t come close to landing and every second you guys are sending another one down the asphalt with solid strikes.

The two of you move in unison on a gunman and strike him across the face at the exact same time. The gun he was about to fire goes flying from his hand right into the middle of a puddle of leaking gasoline. You watch as it ignites and the fire races back toward one of the wrecked vans. "That can’t be good," is all Fortuna manages to say before the van explodes. You feel a rush of heat and concussive force that lifts you into the air...

---

Two nights before that explosion, you are standing next to your mother. She has your face held between both hands and appears to be inspecting you. The look on her face is not one of approval. "How have you been sleeping? I don’t know if it is all that time you spend in the dank basement of that museum or too many late nights, but these dark eyes make it pretty obvious that you need to take better care of yourself. I know the past few days have been stressful for all of us. Why don’t we do a nice relaxing spa weekend together?" Mary realizes she is still maintaining a deathlike grip on your face. She drops her hands after giving your cheek a little pinch.

---

Current HP
Miss Direction: 2
Fortuna: 2

Holly tries in vain to pull away from her mother's prying inspection. She knows how terrible she looks, and she tries not to let in on the fact that she's been working a full-time job on top of spending most of her nights prowling the streets to fight crime.

Well, she had been, but her tussle with Medium Madam had given her the incentive to take it easy and rest her aching body for a few nights until she could meet with Fortuna.

"I've been sleeping fine, mama," she whines, though her lie is ruined by a yawn she has to stifle. "Just been a rough week, putting in extra hours to help out since the directors been on leave. And what about the shop? Can't really leave for a weekend if someone needs to watch it."

Mary rolls her head and lets out a groan of frustration. "Don’t get me started on that shop. During the best of times it is barely staying afloat and I think we both would agree that this isn’t the best of times. Half the customers only come in to see your father. I honestly don't see the point in keeping it open." She looks across the room at your father as he jokes around with old friends. "Of course that isn’t going to stop me from putting in my hours. I just wish he saw this the same way I do: as a sign that it is time for us to sell that place and get ready for the next stage of our life."

The way she says this sounds ominous for the status quo of the Morton family.

Holly's expression melts into defensive sadness. "I know that it hasn't always been easy, but that shop means the world to Dad. I couldn't begin to think of what he'd do with himself without it." She tells her mother, knowing she doesn't really have to.

Her mother was probably the only person in the Morton family ready to move on to a life of normalcy. Patrick, of course, was still a party clown on the side. Her father would never hide from a chance to be in the spotlight, even if that meant being the owner of a pawn and oddities shop. Holly was probably the closest to normal, but even she couldn't get past all of the good memories she had of that shop.

But, Holly thought as she folded her arms, her mother did have a point. It wasn't her father's shop that paid the bills. It was her mother's talent as a seamstress. That was what kept them clothed, fed and under a roof with as few leaks as they could manage.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, and when she looked up, she could already see that self-satisfied gleam in her mother's eye when she recognizes that someone knows she's right. But there's definitely a hint of sadness there as well. "What would be the next stage? Do you guys even have anything saved for your retirement?"

Mary gives you a defensive look of mild shock. "Come on, Holly. Of course we’ve put away some savings. I know you and Patrick don’t exactly need us taking care of you these days, but that doesn’t mean that your father and I are helpless and senile yet either. We aren't ready to turn the tables and ask to move in with you because we can no longer support ourselves." She takes a deep breath. It is clear that the stress of this week has weighed heavily on her. It isn’t in her nature to lash out like this. Mary runs her hand across your arm and gives an apologetic smile.

"I’m sorry. I only meant that you don’t have to worry about us. We'll be fine. But it certainly would be a lot easier to make what we have saved up last if we were further from the city. A lot further. I hate to be so far away from you and Patrick, especially if grandkids are ever going to be on the way, but... this city has a way of wearing you down. Does that make sense?"

Holly is quick to hold up her hands defensively, clearly seeing that she struck a nerve. In fact, its helping her recognize how all of these people in the same house was just a powderkeg of emotions ready to explode at the first drop of a match, at least for those among her family.

"I get it, I know. I wasn't trying to imply you guys are helpless. I just know how dad can be with money, so I just wanted to be sure," she explains. "And I completely agree, this city can be a real drag, but, unfortunately, its where the work is."

"It’s also where the crime is. And the superheroes." The tone she says this with makes you think she holds both groups in the same regard. "Do you ever get the impression that the first priority of these costumed crime fighters is their own enjoyment and actually helping people is a distant second?"

---

"This is so much funnnnn!" Fortuna shouts while dodging the punches of two goons and quickly following up with a spin kick that puts them both on the ground.

Another van of thugs comes flying around the corner of the street. Fortuna reaches into her holders and draws both pistols. She crosses her arms over each other and fires steel cables from each gun. The cables intertwine with one another and embed themselves in the brick walls of nearby buildings. Fortuna dives out of the way as the truck collides with the unseen wire and comes to a very abrupt stop. Those that aren't knocked out by the crash throw up the doors of the van and rush out to enter the melee.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5

Current HP
Miss Direction: 2
Fortuna: 2

Threat Rating:
Mooks: Petty Crooks - 4

Miss Direction turns to face the newcomers to the party, a pleasant smile on her face as she lets two, card-woven whips form from her grip. She sends one wide, making a number of them focus on the end of it trailing up into the night sky as she flicks the other out to catch one of them by the ankle, bringing him falling to the ground as she rips his feet out from under him.

The other whip comes down with a crack to disable another goon, all while she keeps her eyes out for both onlookers and enemies. She didn't want anyone to get hurt.

The last goon falls with the crack of your whip. Fortuna twirls a gun around her finger, blows away smoke, and slams it back into its holster. "Not bad, partner." She gives you a smile and mimes shooting you with finger pistols. Off in the distance you hear police sirens. The citizens of Crowfall are well accustomed to alerting the authorities when superheroes business is happening outside their windows.

You look around and see the chaotic battlefield. Three vans are destroyed, a dozen or more men are down for the count, and there is no sign of what these men were fighting for. It is relieving to see that no innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire.

A trio of police cars round the corner. When they see you and Fortuna, they shut off the sirens but keep the reds and blues flashing. The officers exit their vehicles and get to work. The most senior officer walks up to you and Fortuna.

"So what do we got ourselves here?"

"Had a tip these boys were transporting something dangerous for the Court," Fortuna informs the cop. He shakes his head. You assume Fortuna is talking about the Order of the Eternal Court. The secret society of Crowfall’s elite who like to play puppet master with everyone living in the city.

"This is above my paygrade."

"Couldn’t agree with you more." Fortuna gives him a playful wink and a shove to his shoulder. The cop looks pleased to be getting attention from one of Crowfall’s most popular heroes. "So you wouldn’t mind it if we came along when you talk to these boys, would you?"

It doesn’t take much more arm wringing to get the officer to agree. Fortuna walks back over to you with the smile of a winner on her face. "It isn’t past your curfew yet, is it? What do you say to a race to the precinct?" Before getting a response Fortuna draws a pistol and is pulled into the air when her grappling hook grips the side of a building down the street.

---

Dice Pool Limit: 5

Current HP
Miss Direction: 2
Fortuna: 2

Threat Rating:
Mooks: Petty Crooks - DEFEATED

Side Objective:
Beat Fortuna to the police station - Most successes win

"Wha-?" is all Miss Direction manages to get out before Fortuna disappears into the night sky, propelled by her trusty grappling hook.

"No fair!" she calls out in mock outrage before pondering her options. The stilts had worked pretty well, but there was no way she could take them all the way to the police station. She was doomed on foot. Then her eyes look down at all of the shattered glass, reflecting the stars back at her.

Perfect. She smiles wide as she waves her hand and a number of glass shards pool themselves together, carefully avoiding officers and subdued crooks alike, as she turns back to the senior officer. "Its been a pleasure, sir. Keep up the good work!" she tells him, giving him a playful salute as she pratfalls backwards into the makeshift mirror and disappears into the image it has created of one of the women's restrooms at the precinct.

Try and beat this! she thinks as she vanishes into the puddle mirror, and it shatters back into its component shards.

You fly out of the mirror and land on the tiled floor of the women’s restroom. It takes a moment to collect yourself. When you exit into the hallway you get a look of mild curiosity by an officer, but they continue on like this kind of thing is a common occurrence.

Not far away, you hear at least a half dozen people break out into applause. You walk around the corner into the lobby and see Fortuna with her back to you; arms stretched out as she takes a bow. She is very obviously winded from rushing to get here first. The look on her face when she turns around and sees you is priceless. "How!? I think we have to call this one a tie, right? I mean you clearly cheated." She smiles and laughs. "I didn’t realize you were so competitive. Glad to know I have a friend I can count on to push me to my limits."

---

SLAM! Everyone gathered around the kitchen table breaks into cheers. Gregory, a former carnival strong man, gets up from his seat and shakes the aches out of his arm. Natalie leans back in her chair with a smug expression. She cracks her knuckles and says, "Anyone else care to step up to the challenge?"

For the past 15 minutes your CrossFit instructor sister-in-law has been arm wrestling anyone who is willing. So far, she has put away every challenger. Gregory was the only one to even get her arm to move toward her own side even a tiny bit.

A couple of the guys try to push Patrick into the challenger’s seat but he protests. "This is a real lose/lose situation for me guys."

"Not to mention I’ve beaten you about a 100 times," Natalie chimes in. She scans the room to see if there are any other worthy opponents. Her eyes land on you. "What do you say, Holly? Obviously you can't hope to beat me, but you could at least show up these guys by doing better than they did."

Holly holds up her hands at first to deflect the challenge, but Natalie was quickly running out of opponents, and she'd rather participate in this than in whatever other forms of entertainment they end up producing later on. She certainly wasn't going to try and beat Patrick in a drinking contest (though she thinks her mother would sooner die than let her two children try and drink each other under the table in her own kitchen), but the problem with this is that she could reasonably beat Natalie.

She ran across the rooftops of Crowfall and beat up bad guys on a regular basis. Not to mention being a "former" acrobat gave her incredible upper body strength. She concedes though, and takes a seat, bringing much cheering to those gathered. Natalie smirked at her in that overly self-confident way that had always gotten under her skin.

Wonder how long that'll last, she thought to herself as she brought her arm into position.

Natalie’s smile quickly fades as the contest gets underway. Her face becomes one of concentration and then worry. She was expecting another quick and easy win and is getting anything but.

Alternating cheers breakout in the kitchen which becomes more crowded as anyone that wasn’t watching makes their way inside to see what all the commotion is about. After a solid minute of struggle the tide of battle finally starts to turn. Natalie’s arm starts to waver and you slowly push it toward the other side of the table. She puts in every bit of effort she has left, but it is no use. You slam her arm down on the table and the room erupts into cheers.

Natalie leans back in her chair and gives you a look of begrudging respect. "You are deceptively strong, Holly. Next time I see you we’re having a rematch under fair conditions instead of having to face you after beating all these chumps."

Some of the guys she beat try to rub salt in the wounds and call her a sore loser. She waves them off as total losers.

---

Back in the police station, Fortuna has dropped her usual playful demeanor. She is all business as the two of you look through the two way mirror at the perp sitting alone in the interrogation room.

The lead detective agreed to let the two of you talk to the suspect. Their brief interactions with the men from the vans indicate that this is the guy that was in charge. The cops were unable to find anything of value inside the vans. Whatever they were transporting appears to have vanished into thin air.

"I know these guys are pawns of the Court; I just don’t know what they had, if anything. We might have gotten to them on the way to the pick up. I’m not sure. We need to find out what, where, and who. What they were after, where it is, and who they were getting it for. You want to be good cape or bad cape?"

Holly does her best to make a good show of struggling against Natalie. She even lets her sister-in-law gain some ground every once in a while only for her to get a second wind and bring it back to a stalemate. But in the end, it is Natalie who decides the victor, and Holly has to be thankful that most of the goons she fights don't go to Natalie's gym.

---

Miss Direction folds her arms as she looks at the perp. "I take no pleasure in it, but I should probably be bad cape. I mean, I do have a scary mask and the ability to mess with people's perception of reality." She purses her lips as her eyes refocus and look at her own reflection. "Then again, I am dressed like a jester complete with a jingly hat..."

She grits her teeth and gives Fortuna a sidelong glance, "What're the odds he's scared of clowns, do you think?" she asks.

Fortuna smiles. "The Order of the Eternal Court has a mask on at all times rules. Part of their shtick is that not even members know the real world identities of other members. More than a few of them wear jester masks that look a bit like yours. If this guy really is dealing with the Court then I have no doubt he’s scared of people that look like you. No offense."

Fortuna motions for you to follow her. She stops and fills two cups of coffee before heading into the interrogation room. The thief tries to play it cool when he sees the two of you walk in but it is clear that he is already intimidated by two superheroes being sent to question him.

"How you doing?" Fortuna asks with a sweet and sympathetic voice. She takes a seat across the table from him and places both cups on the table. She takes a sip from one and slides the other across the table. The crook eyes it with suspicion. "It’s good. Dark roast, little cream but no sugar. Hope that is ok." She takes another sip and really plays up how much she is enjoying it. "You know we’re the good guys, right? You really think I’m going to poison you? Inside of a police station, no less?"

The man caves and reaches forward. He is clearly thirsty and downs the cup very quickly. Fortuna smiles. "I told you it was good. You ready to talk about what you and your boys were up to tonight?" He still looks unsure. His eyes flick over to you for just a moment and then to Fortuna.

"Who's she?" He asks about you. Fortuna smiles and leans back in her seat, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

Miss Direction, having donned her mask and standing in the corner to observe from afar, hardly moves when she is addressed. On the outside, she is calm and collected, watching with a disinterested focus, while on the inside she is cursing herself for signing up to be "bad-cape". Why on earth did she think this was going to be a good idea? She wasn't threatening! She was entertaining! She was foolish!

"I'm not your concern," she says placidly, the dark eyes of her mask concealing her expression, and her flat tone contradicting the vaguely cruel smile of the Jester. "I'm just here to make sure you behave."

The man backs his face away and for a moment it looks like you have successfully intimidated him. Then he responds with, "Why are you dressed like a clown?" Fortuna has to bring a hand to her face to cover a laugh.

"Jester, honey. There is a difference," Fortuna informs him. "Please don’t ask me what it is, though."

He slumps down in his chair. "What do you want?"

"We’re just here to talk. You guys put up one heck of a fight. Why’d you run in the first place? What was the job?"

He looks uneasy and doesn’t want to maintain eye contact with Fortuna. It is clear he is thinking over how he should respond, or whether he should at all. Eventually, he raises his handcuffed hands and shakes the empty coffee cup. "Throat is still a little dry. Think I can get another?"

Fortuna smiles and takes the cup. "Sure thing. Be right back." She pats you on the shoulder on her way out and closes the door; leaving you alone with the suspect.

Miss Direction steps forward after the door closes, taking the seat vacated by Fortuna. She moves slowly. Languidly. Using her supernaturally enhanced acrobatic ability to move with a smooth grace that bordered on unnatural, all the while letting him look into the vacant pits of black where the mask hid her eyes.

Behind her, the door vanishes. There's no sound of locking, or supernatural chains to bar Fortuna's entrance. The door just fades from existence to become part of the wall of the interrogation room.

In reality, the door was there, and that can clearly be seen by the camera and by anyone on the other side of the door. In fact, to heighten the ruse, she mentally places a small sign, reading Do not disturb until this sign is gone. If you must, please bang on the glass so that he knows you are trying to get inside. Thanks! signed with a little smiley face at the bottom.

"It'll be some time before she gets back," Miss Direction explains monotonously, after letting him take in the fact that there was seemingly no escape. "Why don't you tell me what you know... in the meantime."

The man loudly gulps. His eyes keep flicking back to where the door should be, and then looking past you to the two way mirror as if he is pleading for someone to help him out. He tries to hold out but the beading sweat on his forehead makes it clear that you are getting to him.

"Alright, alright," he finally breaks, and kicks the leg of the table in frustration. "I don’t know who exactly hired us. It was one of you types though. They wore this whole weird get up at the handoff. Real big guy, or at least the suit made it look that way. Black billowy clothes with gold trim. A short top hat, if that is a thing, and you know those weird frilly collar things you see people wearing at like Ren-faires? This guy had one. Then there was the mask. Looked like it was made of metal and covered his full head. It was shaped like... like a happy fat guy? Ever see that overweight Buddha? He had a face kind of like that.

"They told us to bring three vehicles. In case of trouble we could split up... we messed that up, I guess. We met them inside the parking garage on 8th. I don’t know what the cargo was. They didn’t say. Big Fat Mask Guy had his men, they were all dressed like... I don't know, monks maybe? Long dark robes with hoods hiding their faces. It was a real freak show. They loaded a crate into one of the vans and told us to deliver it to this abandoned farmhouse a couple hours outside city limits. That’s all I know... Can you, like, bring the door back from hell or whatever?"

Miss Direction compiles the information she gave him, trying to commit it to memory as she continues to stare intently at him as he speaks. She hardly moves for the entire duration and is slightly shocked with herself at how easily this is coming to her. She's tries not to think on whether this guy is just already incredibly nervous, or if the mask is having some influence, but it reminds her too much of her battle with Matchstick, and his mental breakdown at the end.

She stares for a few moments longer, seemingly peering into the man's soul, but truly just lost in thought at all of the information. When she finally exits her own head, she can see just how much the poor guy is sweating and trying to look anywhere but at her. She stands smoothly, and the door begins to re-materialize as if emerging from a mirage.

"Since you asked nicely," she tells him coldly, as she heads toward the door. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

She exits the interrogation room, closing the door behind her and rips off her mask to take a few deep breaths.

Fortuna walks out of the observation room, sipping on coffee, a moment after you enter the hallway. She has a second cup and offers it to you. "Nice job in there. Glad to see that my intel paid off. This is certainly Order of the Eternal Court business. I have a sneaking suspicion that I was set on a wild goose chase though.

"The cops didn’t find a thing in those vans. No crate. Nothing suspicious. Nothing illegal besides a few unlicensed firearms the crooks had on them. I hope this isn’t one of those situations where I go to bed thinking we did a good job only to find out in the morning that the real crime was pulled off across town while I was punching two bit crooks."

The frustration in her voice is clear. You get the impression that Fortuna doesn’t frequently have to rely on sharpened investigation skills. Her luck based powers are a double edged sword and have ingrained some bad habits into her superhero work. She breathes out an exasperated sigh. "You think we should press him for more?"

Miss Direction puts on her thinking face as she sips her coffee. "I don't know. I don't know if he'll have anything more to tell us..."

A thought occurs to her and she smiles knowingly at Fortuna. "But you do," she giggles, and waves her fingers until a thick, golden coin can be seen rolling between them. "What do you say, Lady Luck? Heads we go back in and drill him for more info, or tails, we go with what we got?"

She lets the coin stop rolling and holds it out for Fortuna to take.

It takes Fortuna a moment to get what you’re trying to do. When she figures it out a smile spreads across her face and she unveils the coin.

"Oh come on! I thought we were done," the crook moans when he sees you walk back through the door. Fortuna sits down and places her half finished cup of coffee in front of him. He looks disappointed but downs what is left.

"You’ve been very helpful and I cannot thank you enough." Fortuna places her hands on the table and leans forward. "You’ve told us what happened but not how or why. You were hired for this job, right? Did you fill out an application? Were you hand picked? Clearly you had some means of communication with these people before the pick up." The man refuses to look anyone in the eye. He stares down into the empty coffee cup like he wants to crawl inside and disappear.

"I plead the fifth." He still will not look up. It’s like he has shut down. Fortuna looks at you expectantly. Time to do your thing.

Miss Direction looks at the crook, letting out a disappointed sigh that grows deeper, and deeper, and doesn't seem to end as the sound of her exhalation fills the entire room. As this continues, the fluorescent light begins to flicker, growing weaker as it threatens to plunge the room into darkness. All the while she looks at him, hoping that he will look up to see her staring at him intently.

Finally she lets the sound and the flickering pass, and calmly informs him, "I'd like for you to reconsider that."

The crook throws his arms up. At least as much as he can with the chains and all. "Alright, alright! I’ll talk." He shakes his head and sweat literally drips onto the table. He starts off with an address. The grounds of the original University of Crowfall.

The entire campus was relocated across town after a hurricane ripped through the state in the late 1960’s. Most of the neighborhood that the University was located in was damaged beyond repair. Even decades later, the water has never completely receded. The coastline was inexplicably changed during that storm. It is a Halloween tradition for kids to dare each other to venture onto the old campus grounds and explore the flood damaged buildings. There are so many stories. Some of ghosts while others warn of a vengeful sea god. Urban legends are rarely consistent.

The crook tells about a rumor that has been making the rounds telling of one of the dilapidated buildings being used by the mob to store illicit goods. His crew went in expecting to find drugs or stolen merchandise but instead wandered into a meeting of the Order of the Eternal Court. In exchange for allowing them to leave unharmed, the Court recruited them for this job tonight.

"That’s it! Full story. This is really messed up, you know. You’re breaking like so many laws pressing me like this."

Fortuna gives him a pouty face as she gets up from her chair. "I’m not so sure about that, honey. We’re just three private citizens brought in for questioning. I thought we were having a friendly chat before the cops come in to do their thing. Nothing you say to us can be used against you in a court of law." She looks to the two way mirror and then whispers to the crook, "I think you gave them plenty of ammunition though. Good luck."

The door opens and a uniformed officer waves you out. "Fortuna. Miss Direction. We have decided not to press charges for vigilantism. You are free to go."

You exit the room; leaving the officer alone with the slack jawed thief. "Feel like going on a school trip?" Fortuna asks as you fight to suppress a yawn. The sun should be coming up in another hour or so.

Miss Direction rubs her eyes as she skews her mask again. It was getting late, but that part of her that convinced her to even do this hero thing urged her forward. "Always," is her response.

Though she does lean in as they're leaving the station to playfully whisper, "You know, even if he did want to press charges, nothing that I did would show up the cameras. They saw a completely different image of a mentally unhinged man spurned by his guilt at his misdeeds to confess his wrong-doing to a couple of polite young heroes." She finishes this explanation off with a sleepy giggle, unsure of how much of her and the crook's conversation Fortuna overheard, but nothing she said could be really taken as a threat, despite her tone. She had not pressed for information, and, as far as the cameras had seen, simply stood or sat, until the silence around them made the man talk.

She contemplates creating another mirror portal to cut down on their transport time, but she had never been to the Old Campus district. She needed to be able to see a place, to really picture it in her head, to get herself there that way. She also decides that her bus pass was not going to be useful in getting them to one of the more run-down areas of town, and thus has to ask, "You wouldn't happen to have a good way of getting us both their quickly, would you? I mean, I'm always up for a race through town, but I'd rather not exhaust myself more than I am already without knowing what we might run into."

Fortuna laughs. "Do I have a way of getting us across town? Come on! Who do you think you’re talking to? Give me one minute." Fortuna walks back into the station. There is no way her connections and admiration runs deep enough that the cops are willing to turn over a cruiser to her. Right?

She walks back out and gives you a wink, but doesn’t say anything. For a few moments you both stand on the sidewalk. When you try to speak, she shushes you. A few minutes later, a cab pulls up. Fortuna opens the door for you as if she were a chauffer. "Our chariot awaits."

Fortuna introduces you to the driver named Travis. He’s apparently a fan of supers and is always willing to go out of his way to help flightless heroes quickly get around Crowfall during his overnight shifts. Twenty minutes, later after dropping you off just outside the campus, Travis rolls down the window and calls you over. "Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets," he mumbles at you monotonously. "Until then, we got to do what we can to back up folks like you." He holds out a card with his number on it in case you want to use his services in the future.

Travis drives away, leaving you and Fortuna alone on the dark street. Before you is the 10 foot floodwall that has surrounded the campus for decades now. Beyond the wall is a jungle of weeping willows which sprung up out of nowhere after the hurricane and now choke off any sunlight that attempts to reach the campus. The sun might be just around the bend, but you are looking at darkness for as long as your stay here lasts.

According to the thief, the Court met in the basement of the old library. This just so happens to be at the very center of campus. There is a considerable amount of water between here and your destination. Fortuna scrunches up her face. "Huh. I didn’t really think ahead too much. We probably should have rented a canoe or something."

Miss Direction is thankful for the occasional elbow nudge from Fortuna, who always seemed to know when Travis's monotonous voice was about to lull her off to sleep. She wasn't trying to be rude, but the minutes were ticking by closer and closer to sunrise. She was really going to pay for this tomorrow.

She stretches a bit when they stop, trying to get the blood flowing to keep herself awake, and she politely thanks Travis for the ride, sending a mile across his face as she makes the business card disappear before his eyes with a subtle flick of the wrist. She slipped it into her deck, knowing that she could easily pull it back out with a thought if she needed.

She feels a smirk of her own spread across her face as she folds her arms and assesses the situation with Fortuna. "Rent a canoe?" she asks in the same mockingly shocked tone that Fortuna had used with her. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Her smirk grows into a grin as Fortuna playfully scowls at her, and she casts her arms out and the cards start flying between her hands. A few quick gestures, and they are already forming into a small raft, growing more and more elongated until a beautiful gondola floats before them, the printed faces of the cards fading as the illusion takes over and it suddenly seems to be pristinely painted black.

She steps on as Fortuna tries not to gawk at her magic, but she knows the heroine had not seen Miss Direction's wardrobe change slightly, her mask replaces by a black hat with a thick red ribbon that matched the satin sash around her waist. Her Jester's uniform had suddenly become a black and white striped shirt with black pants. Gripping the oar that had just appeared in one hand, she mounts one half of the flat-bottomed boat and beckon's Fortuna foward.

"Vieni, bella eroina. Insieme cerchiamo la verità," she calls out in Italian. She tries not to let on that even she doesn't know what she just said.

Fortuna lays back and mimes sipping from a glass of wine like an old Venetian merchant prince. "I could get used to traveling with you, Missy."

The gondola easily takes you through the flooded streets of the campus. The eerie silence along with constantly shifting branches of willow trees quickly drains the joyous mood. Soon enough, both of you are on full alert and constantly looking over your shoulder for something to leap up from the dark water of this ghost town.

You steer the boat right through the missing front doors of the library and bring it to a stop along the staircase leading to the second floor. The entire first floor is flooded. It is a wonder these buildings are still standing at all. The longer you are here, the more it seems that magic is at play all around you. "He said the Court was in the basement. I don't suppose those cards can conjure up some scuba gear."

The two of you depart the gondola and start to look around a little. The floor is littered with mucky footprints from humans and animals alike. Many of the book shelves are turned over and graffiti covers large portions of the walls.

Fortuna pulls out a pistol and twists the barrel. It lights up like a flashlight. "I got a few tricks of my own." She waves the light around through the dark library with no clear purpose. The extra light does allow you to spot something. You have Fortuna redirect the light to the elevator shaft which has one door partly open. On a hunch, you slide it a little further and take a look inside.

Fortuna shines the light down the shaft. It is bone dry all the way to the bottom. The light next shines on a series of symbols written along the walls of the elevator shaft. Some you recognize as Celtic, Norse, and even Egyptian hieroglyphs. At least a dozen more ancient writing systems are represented on these walls, including some you have never seen before. You have no doubt in your mind that there is a magical purpose to these symbols being here, but do not recognize what the exact purpose is.

Miss Direction shakes her head with worry, the light jingling of the bells returning now that her costume has resumed its default appearance. "I don't like the look of this," she informs Fortuna, whom she can only assume is feeling the same way. "All of these symbols. Clearly they are magical, but for what purpose I can only speculate. An alarm? A trap? The best case scenario is that there's no purpose behind them and their just meant to scare off the superstitious, but I highly doubt that that's the case."

She looks around quickly, trying to discern any other routes to the basement in the dark, but she finds nothing. Not even when she asks Fortuna to point her light at a few things.

Sighing, she comes up with a plan. "Neither of us are going to be satisfied until we go down there and have a look around. Now, I think going down at the same time is a terrible idea. If it is a trap and it doesn't just vaporize us, we'll be stuck waiting for someone to come free us, which will likely be the Court... Now, normally I'd volunteer you, since your whole schtick is being lucky, and I don't want to do it, but I actually have experience with magic, and I'm a bit of an escape artist..."

She takes a second for Fortuna to absorb the plan, and nods sourly when Fortuna doesn't object. Bring her hands together, she pulls them apart slowly, her card whip suddenly appearing in the space between. With a quick flick of the wrist, she snaps it onto a support pole in the shaft and, provided nothing explodes, lowers herself down the shaft, allowing the magically extending whip to support her descent.

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.

Harriet looks delighted to hear this. "Shame on me for not inquiring earlier on this subject. I would very much like to meet your parents. They sound like wonderfully interesting and talented people. This shop of yours may even hold something Mr. Key would be interested in acquiring. He has a keen interest in entertainers through the ages. Gleemen, minstrels, jesters, and bards of old. Those that weave stories are his favorite.

"Do you have any knowledge of this subject, Holly? Do you think you would be able to spot an authentic jester costume from the 16th century?"

Holly makes the mistake of taking another sip of her drink when Harriet asks her about jesters. She's thankful that she doesn't spit the water in her employer's face, but the wracking cough that she hides behind her hand, and then her napkin wouldn't go unnoticed. Dabbing a bit at her now watering eyes, she smiles apologetically.

"Sorry. Guess my lungs were a bit thirsty too," she chuckles hoarsely. Clearing her throat to ease the pain, she composes herself enough to answer the question. "I'm sure I could spot a jester costume from a mile away, yes. But I may need to brush up on the history of court fools to differentiate the time period it came from," she lied.

Trying to quickly divert away from that line of questioning, she goes back to the idea of her parents. "And I'm sure my family would love to meet you. My father is always excited to talk off the ears of anyone who would care to listen, especially now that he's on the mend, and I'm sure my mother would love to share her knowledge of costume making, as well as a good deal of gossip about the industry."

"You know, they used to be part of the circus that closed down a while back." Now she was just rambling, and opening up the idea that she was also part of the old circus... but at least it got the conversation away from 16th century Jesters...

Harriet displays a wide range of emotions as you ramble through many topics in quick succession. She first seems impressed with your own appraisal of your knowledge of historical jester’s attire. Then she seems even more intrigued by your interesting and unique family. When you just keep on going, Harriet looks like a worried mother that wants to reach across the table and check your forehead for a fever.

"There is no need to be nervous, Holly. You already have the job and I wasn’t quizzing you. I want to impart knowledge to you. I won't hold it against you if you are unfamiliar with a subject we are looking into."

A server comes by with a large silver platter to serve your meals from. Once the server is gone, Harriet returns to the conversation. "One of my earliest memories is of my father taking me to the circus. It is a real shame that it closed down. I am sure having parents that were part of it could cause some stress. I hope you didn’t have extended periods of separation from them. But it must be nice knowing that your parents were responsible for bringing so much joy to so many people."

Holly dips her head down and smiles in a way to affirm Harriet's accusation of nervousness. "Sorry," she tells her. Glad, at least to be off of the subject of Jesters... for now. She takes a deep breath to visibly relax herself, just in time for the food to be served.

She really is trying to not think of the extravagance of it all. This wasn't the first time she'd been to Ronaldo's, but it was certainly the first time she'd gotten this kind of VIP treatment. And Ronaldo's was already an expensive place to eat at, which is why, for her, she had never agreed to come when it was coming out of her own funds.

She tries not to think too much on that as she responds. "The only stress came from it closing down, though I think our lives are better for it. Not entirely, but its allowed me to move on from what would have been entertainment to a wholly more satisfying career," she explains, smiling again at Harriet for her part in all of that. "Though I know most of my family misses it. My father in particular. He was one of the more notable performers, a magician. When I say he likes to talk people's ears off, its usually about the glory days."

Harriet looks delighted. "A magician! How lovely." She spots Ronaldo coming over to the table and quiet whispers to you, "I don’t suppose he taught you how to make people disappear?"

"How is everything?" Ronaldo says through a smile that looks plastered onto his face.

"Great. As always. I’ll make sure to tell Mr. Key." Now it is Ronaldo’s turn to look delighted. He bows and then is on his way.

Harriet watches you closely during this whole exchange. You’re not sure if she once laid eyes on Ronaldo while he was here. "Truth be told, I do not have any issue with Ronaldo. His behavior is understandable but Mr. Key has never been a very big fan of those who grovel at his feet like he is a god simply because he has a talent for managing money. Mr. Key has no room for yes men or women in his service. He expects to hear the truth from his advisors, associates, friends, and family. Most others on Mr. Key’s level surround themselves with men and women like Ronaldo and they are made weaker for it.

"When meeting with a buyer or seller, take a keen interest in those people that they choose to surround themselves with. It will tell you everything you need to know about how to approach the deal. Do you have any questions?"

Holly smiles politely at Ronaldo as he comes over to talk to Harriet, but, as she suspected, he only had eyes for Mr. Key's associate. But she tries to remain unperturbed at his ignoring her, even when she spots Harriet watching her instead of the restaurateur.

When Harriet finally speaks to her, she feels a tension she didn't know was in her shoulders release. "That's a relief," she explains honestly. "Not agreeing with my boss on most things is one of the reasons the restoration department was moved to the basement with storage." The more Harriet told her of Mr. Key only made Holly more curious. He was wholly unlike the caricature of decadence she had built up in her mind of Crowfall's wealthy elite. He seemed more like a benevolent king, doing his best to remain humble and wise, and not let the power go to his head. Certainly a good person to be working for for someone who tries to oppose immorality whenever she can.

She nods in understanding at Harriet's lesson, glad to be given so practical a lesson. "About a million, I'm sure, but I'll let you know when they finally decide to let me ask them."

Harriet smiles and nods her head before moving on with her lesson. Unfortunately for you, this means a return to the subject of jesters.

"Bonsoir, par sainte Nitouche et saint Pansard, patrons de la folie, je demande à mourir de vieillesse.

"Triboulet, as all good jesters should be, was too clever for his own good. He was warned again and again not to ridicule the Queen. These orders were ignored one too many times and the King was forced to order Triboulet’s death to spare the Queen further humiliation. But King Francis still had a soft spot for the jester. As a reward for his years of service, the king offered Triboulet the chance to choose the way in which he would die. And Triboulet responded--"

Harriet pauses to give you a chance to translate the French words she spoke earlier. ‘Good sire, for Saint Nitouche’s and Saint Pansard’s sake, patrons of insanity, I choose to die from old age.’

"Today we will be meeting with someone who claims to be in possession of the genuine costume worn by Triboulet. Personally, I am expecting a costume worn by a performer in the 1832 production of ‘Le roi s’amuse’ in which Triboulet appears as a character. Either way, the piece is quite valuable. It will be my job to determine the authenticity of the object. I want you to evaluate the seller and determine the approach we should take when we make an offer to purchase the costume."

Holly, for all of her skills, does not speak French. She has, however, heard of the story of Triboulet. How could she not? The same Jester who slapped the king on his rear, and when confronted, was spared for his witty response of "Sorry, I thought you were the Queen!".

So she responds with what she knows, "-I choose to die from old age." and nods sagely.

She can't suppress the excitement building inside of her. At least Harriet didn't seem to be throwing jester facts at her to get her to slip up. No, she was actually testing her knowledge because they were tracking a lead today! She thought that this was just a lunch to discuss details for later.

Man, did this woman move fast.

"That sounds great. When do we start?"

"There is no time like the present." Harriet gets up from the table. "I must say, I could not be happier with my choice in protege. Don’t go letting that go to your head though."

On the way out Ronaldo thanks Harriet profusely. He asks when he can expect to see Mr. Key. Harriet only says, "Soon, darling. Real soon."

Harriet leads the way back to the sedan that brought her here and the chauffeur holds the door for you. On the way to the destination she gives you a quick rundown of the situation. You will be meeting with Robby Mertens. He is the son of Gilles Mertens; a highly respected diamond dealer from Belgium. Robby aspires to become a famous playwright. Thus far no one has performed his plays unless he was willing to fit the entire bill. "If you ask me, his obsession with Crowfall’s nightlife scene, and subsequent hangovers, make it rather hard for him to get any quality work done."

When you arrive, the doorman ushers you to the private elevator which opens directly into Robby’s apartment. A butler wearing a leopard skin vest greets you and walks you to the sunken living room where Robby is enjoying a glass of vodka and watching television next to a baby chimpanzee wearing a diaper.

"Harriet!" He jumps off the couch to greet her. Robby is dressed in a silk robe worn over pajamas. His sunglasses slip low enough on his nose to give you a glimpse of bloodshot eyes. "It is so good to see you again. And who is this we have here?" he turns to face you and takes your hand in both of his.

The chimp starts howling. "Mr. Muggs! Quiet! We have company," Robby shouts at the animal. The ape frowns and goes back to watching highlights of European football.

This guy sounds much more like the rich caricature that Holly expected. And her expectations of opulence are exceeded when meeting him. He didn't seem like someone who wanted to take life too seriously, which in itself wasn't too bad. What was was his apparent expectation that his money would make up for any lack of self-awareness or... dare she say, [i]taste/i].

But she wanted to keep an open mind. At least, on the outside.

Taking, or more accurately, accepting, Robby's gesture, she smiles pleasantly at him. She was thankful for her talent as an actress that she didn't make a face at the strong scent of alcohol and body-over, which was pungent enough to make her want to faint. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mertens. Holly Morton. I'm an associate of Harriet's," she explains, hoping that Harriet will excuse her referring to herself as an associate, rather than an apprentice. It would make sense, given that this is a very specific piece, and its could be that Harriet would want an outside opinion on its authenticity. It also gave her a measure of power in the conversation, not being seen as the lesser of either of the other two.

Holly is able to fight off any adverse reactions or expressions from Robby's words until Harriet is able to get him moving. She allows herself a grimace and a slight shudder at the idea of marrying a man like that. She imagined that such a union would be only so that Robby could have another display piece to show off. She suppose she should be flattered at the dea, but it filled her with a slick, slimy feeling on the inside that made such musings short-lived.

Walking behind the others, she feelings like she's being watched. Casting her eyes about quickly to the only other person in the room, the butler, turns up nothing. The poor man is doing what he can to tidy up in the area that Robby had vacated while he had the chance, But that does bring her sight in line with the source of the feeling. The baby chimp, its almost human eyes peering at her with an unshakable gaze from over the top of the couch.

She stares back at it for a moment, unsure of exactly what to do. It did look a bit like a human baby, so she tried her usual tactic of smiling at it and giving a little wave to illicit a response. Nothing. Just a vacant stare. She didn't want the others getting too far ahead, so she used the excuse to quickly move away from the primate's unwavering attention.

She had to admit, the lights were a bit much. And the music was far too reminiscent of recent carnival fanfare to have any real historical value to the presentation. But given Harriet's reaction, and Robby's reaction to her reaction, he knew this. He was just having a bit of fun with it.

"About which part?" she replies flatly, trying to not shy away from Robby's incessant need to be right next to her.

Robby smiles and raises an eyebrow. "The whole package." Robby quickly raises a hand to the display case. "Have you ever seen anything so exquisite! I can only think of one other object I’ve laid eyes upon that even compares." He gives you a wink.

Harriet puts a hand on Robby’s shoulder to get his attention. "When we spoke on the phone you mentioned the play you were working on. I’d love to hear any new lines you have written." Robby’s smile grows even wider. He brings his hands together and bows before rapidly retreating from the room to find his manuscript. Harriet waves you over.

"I am truly sorry. I did not anticipate his behavior and would not have brought you along if I knew he would be such a lecher." She continues to walk around the display case as she examines the object. "This certainly isn’t 500 years old. The jury is still out on whether it is from ‘Le roi s’amuse’ or not. The craftmanship matches 19th century work but I’ll have to do some more digging. Either way it is best if we obtain the costume now before he realizes what he may have on his hands."

Harriet turns away from the costume and walks up to you. "I’m prepared to offer him $5,000. A sharp discount from the 500k he was interested in for the genuine article, and a steal if it is indeed from the play. But he doesn’t even know that is a possibility. Are you ready to make the pitch?"

---

A minute later Robby returns. In one hand he holds a loose pile of papers which must be his masterpiece. The other hand is grasped around the hand of Mr. Muggs. The chimp sticks it tongue out at you as he enters the room.

Holly chuckles incredulously at Harriet's apology. "It's fine," she tells her, "He's not the first man to treat me like an object, but I will say he is the first to lay it out so plainly."

She approaches the display to look more closely as well, glad for a moment to actually appraise the artifact and not be forced to gently deflect Robby's advances.

She does, however, feel her stomach drop at the prices Harriet is flinging around. She had certainly dealt with the restoration of artifacts worth quite a bit more than that, but she had never been the one signing the checks that give them that value. She tries to suppress that sinking feeling, by letting out a low whistle. "I'll try my best..."

---

She's feeling a bit nervous as Robby returns, though she does a good job of not showing it. She's doing everything she can to put on the airs of a woman of business who has no problem settling prices far above a few thousand dollars.

She continues looking at the costume for a few moments, seemingly admiring it, but turns to smile at Robby, trying her best to ignore the surly primate. "Mr. Mertens, I have some good news and some bad news," she begins.

"Firstly, this costume is not the one worn by Triboulet. However, I can attest to its craftsmanship. It is a close to the genuine article as I think one could get it, and regardless of its lack of authenticity, I am sure a cultured man such as yourself can appreciate the artistry that went into its creation." She does her best to lay the flattery on thick. Not a tactic she thinks a woman in her position would take, but Robby seemed very sure of himself in that regard.

"Unfortunately, with it not being a true Triboulet costume, I'm afraid we cannot offer you the full five-hundred thousand that was discussed previously." She folds her hands delicately in front of her as she says this. This would likely be the hardest part of the pitch, and suddenly she calls to mind a memory of shopping for her older brother's car with him and her father. Her father was adamant that you never started with the price you wanted to pay. Always lower, and cut the deal if you couldn't settle on your max.

"We are, however, prepared to offer you three and a half thousand dollars for the costume. We are certain that there are still those in the industry that would love to have it as a display piece. Entertainment halls and museums... theaters."

Robby’s smile droops further with each word that you speak. Mr. Muggs sees the sad expression on his owner’s face and mimics it. "It’s not the real thing?" He takes off his sunglasses and runs a hand across his sweaty brow. "That’s really disappointing. I’ve been telling everyone about this."

He walks up to the glasses and presses his hand against it. His head falls in defeat. Mr. Muggs reaches up and pats the small of his back. Robby seems much more hurt by the lack of authenticity than by the lower value of the item.

"Would Avery still be interested in making it part of the planned exhibit?"

Harriet steps up. "This piece still demonstrates the attire Triboulet wore. The average museum guest won’t know the difference. Of course we will want to use it."

Robby nods his head and stops sulking a little bit. "Perhaps I will make it a donation then? Maybe you could put my name on a plague? Generously donated by playwright Robby Mertens."

"I believe something like that can be arranged, Robby."

"Splendid. I will suggest that you get it dry cleaned... Mr. Muggs insisted on trying it on." Harriet, normally very much in control of her demeanor, cannot help but looked shocked for just a moment.

Harriet makes arrangements to have the item picked up and brought to the museum and then the two of you return to the car. "Well that could have gone worse. I sincerely hope he was joking about letting the monkey wear it, but at least we have the last item needed for the exhibit.

"Have I told you about it, dear? I’ll actually be spending some time at the museum setting it all up. A tribute to some of the finest jesters of the late middle ages. Avery has collected and donated pieces from Triboulet, Archibald Armstrong, and Jane Foole. I cannot wait until we get it up and open to the public."

Holly is frankly stunned at the exchange. She had done her best to make it seem as though Robby still had a useful piece on his hands, had offered a slightly lower amount that Harriet suggested to try and negotiate the price, and had even complimented Mr. Mertens on his taste to try and make him more agreeable... and then this happens. She had to admit, Harriet sure knew how to pick lessons for her protégé if her goal was to subvert expectations.

She does her best not to go slack-jawed at Robby just giving them the suit, or at the mention of some sort of exhibit that she seemed the only one to not know about. She just proceeds in silence as the transaction is made and details are arranged, continuing to smile politely to not let on just how thrown off she is by the exchange.

Until they get to the car. "I hope so too. Frankly, I don't think the monkey liked me all that much," she says, laughing lightly to relieve the tension.

"And I'm afraid that detail hadn't come up yet." She sits for a moment in the car, still put off by the whole scenario. Looking over to Harriet, she asks, "Did I miss something? Misread a cue, or some small detail during the negotiation?"

Harriet seems puzzled. "Not at all, dear. You performed quite well. Robby Mertens is a man child that craves adoration and attention. The man owns an ape, for goodness sake.

"You played to his ego well and made it sound like he might actually fit in with the artistic crowd he so desperately wants to be a part of. When you delivered the offer, it was made perfectly clear that he had an interesting find, but hardly a conversation piece, and thus had no reason to hold onto it any longer.

"Robby spent more money on the theatrical lighting in that room than the $3,500 offer. Lowballing him like that, on top of having a less than extraordinary item, made a plaque with his name on it the best possible outcome for him. In Robby's head, he thinks he just purchased a ticket into high society. He’ll be waiting by the phone for a call from Avery Key inviting him to exhibit opening. After that he probably expects to be side by side with him at every gala and fashion show that comes to town."

She smirks. "Was none of this taken into consideration when you developed your approach? Don’t tell me you simply lucked into making the right moves. In all seriousness, don’t tell me. Take credit for all your successes, no matter how you come by them."