ic A Legacy of Crime

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

 

The Hunter Museum of Natural History
Midtown, Freedom City, New Jersey
Thursday, December 21st, 2017

1:30 AM

 

Shortly after midnight a roving guard in the the Hunter Museum of Natural history discovered that the World Wart II exhibit had been broken into.  Despite the building's nineteenth century roots, its security system was as modern as it came.  Which made the fact that the crime occurred without so much as a blip on any of its systems all the more questionable.  What made matters worse what that no one on site could identify what was stolen, the criminal having completely erased the listed contents in the museum's possession (signifying an arduous period of work ahead for its curator).  Police officers had cordoned off the building as they prepared to conduct their investigation.

 

A decision that both Trevor Hunter and Erick Sloane managed to overhear with their computer's access to the FCPD police feeds.  For both parties, it was the first they had even heard of the robbery.  The thief( or thieves) managing to avoid even their notice, despite Foreshadow's precognitive abilities or Mignight having direct access to the National History museum's security feed.

[Gizmo]

The Night Cycle only ever made as much noise as suited Midnight's purpose and in the early hours of the still dark morning it suited him best to be completely silent as he pulled up to the mouth of an alley from where he could observe the museum and the patrol cars surrounding it. In the deep shadows one might have walked right by the black clad vigilante and his similarly dark vehicle without ever realizing they were there.

 

"You suspect more than simple brigandry?" Redbird asked from within the Night Cycle in as soft a voice as the autonomic machine intelligence ever managed. Midnight merely made a quiet sound of affirmation as he dismounted. This thief had taken far greater pains to cover their tracks than could be justified by someone merely looking to turn a profit. Whatever had been stolen had some specific value and he intended to find out what that was. With a curt gesture that instructed Redbird to hold steady but remain vigilant Midnight disappeared into the night.

[Brown Dynamite]

Foreshadow's gravbike rarely had to contend with traffic as it were.  But, when it came to the wee hours of the morning, or night depending on how you looked at it, the prescient acrobat found even less of a need to take advantage of the fact that his bike could float over any commercial vehicle one would find in the road.  It allowed him to travel without so much as a second's thought given to turning on his bike's headlights.  Not that he needed them to find his way through the dark.  Pulling up directly in front of the museum, Foreshadow stopped to take a moment to consider his options.

 

Really who goes to all this trouble to steal from a museum, this is going to be some stupid magic thing I bet.  Alright, do I go in with all flash and pizzazz? See if the cops'll give me the red carpet treatment of the crime scene.  Or sneak in, eeny meeny miney mo.  It didn't take long for him to settle on announcing his prescience.  Reminded that the last guy who came under his radar while avoiding his powers was a precognitive villain.  One without Lady Tarot's aversion to killing.  Although he couldn't confirm whether this was a similar situation.  It did at least lean to the fact he had to rely on doing his investigation the old fashioned way.

 

With a confident stride, Foreshadow began to approach entrance.

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

"Area's closed off buddy."  One of the officers called out as Foreshadow neared the entrance of the museum.  "Oh, sorry didn't realize you were the Midnight."  A second officer cleared his throat.  Attempting to alert the former of the mistake he had made.  Not that Foreshadow said anything to correct the situation either, figuring it best to not open up by correcting the people who might be letting him inside.  Plus it spared the officer some embarrassment, even if it did nothing for Foreshadow's own with the mix up.

 

"Don't worry about it.  Heard, there was a party thrown here earlier?"  Foreshadow inquired.

 

"Craziest thing, just wait til you get a load of this."  The officer responded acquiescing to the implied request to enter.  The pair of officers led Foreshadow inside.  Providing the opportunity for an unseen figure to follow after.  Upon arrival, it was hard to tell that the World War II exhibit had even so much as been touched.  Pacing in the center of the room was a tall woman with a jet blue blazer, all while a short man with a receding hair line and a full bodied patchwork pajama suit. The man repeatedly made a tch, noise.

 

"Is this the man who stole from us?!"  The woman loudly questioned.

 

 

[Gizmo]

While Foreshadow opted for the straight forward option Midnight remained hidden, moving from shadow to shadow, always carefully in the precise spot where no one was looking as he followed the other vigilante and the police into the museum. Not having to explain himself left him free to take a closer look at what was evidently the crime scene despite the lack of any obvious signs of intrusion. The tidiness was almost conspicuous; not so much as a layer of dust sat atop the exhibit. He expected to find it similarly devoid of fingerprints, fibers or other material evidence as well judging from the immaculate clean up. The alarm certainly hadn't been tripped but as he slipped past the curator to get a closer look he noticed that the built in timer was flashing 12:05, an hour and a half behind the actual time. It said something about his life that he had to consider some sort of time manipulation as seriously as electronic tampering. Mulling that over he found a spot behind another exhibit from which he could continue to observe.

[Brown Dynamite]

"I make it a habit to try and not leave a woman screaming in anger by the night's end.  I can assure you, I had nothing to do with the stealing.  I only mean to offer my services in tracking down your missing exhibits."  Foreshadow answered.  Scratching the back of his head while thinking of tackling how to express the prehistoric elephant in the room.

 

"First I'll have to know what was actually stolen.  Some sort of animatronic Hitler statue, ancient nazi magic tomes, a tank?"  Although he told almost no one of his abilities.  Preferring to sell himself as a detective who relied solely on his investigative prowess.  The fact remained, Foreshadow absolutely hated being in the dark.  One just gets comfortable with knowing what was going to happen next.

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

"Ration packs.  Well at least that's how we had it listed on the docket."  Upon seeing Foreshadow's expression to the statement the woman waved for him in.  Leading the way through the exhibit they stopped by an old World War II Jeep.  "Yana Logniova. I am the curator for this exhibit. This gentleman, Jaques Munstermann, is one of our research associates."

 

"Pleasure."  The short man called out as he walked behind the pair.  His voice quickly drowned out by the motivated woman.  

 

"A box of rations was supposed to sit in the bed of this jeep. It was one of the first donations to the museum after war.  Fascinating history these jeeps.  Ford unsuccessfully tried to-"

 

Jaques cough, and the curator quickly gathered her thoughts.  "Right, that's not why you're here.  You see, most combat rations aren't designed with healthy diets in mind, let alone lasting forever.  Despite that the museum was under strict instructions to never open the package.  And...when I first took over this curatorial department I had a few wines.  Curiosity got the best of me and I opened a package.  Just one, I swear. It wasn't freeze dried rations I found inside."

 

"A code!"

 

"And not a Comanche code.  I have never seen any record of this code in any of my studies."  She added excitedly.  "I theorized perhaps the Allies of Freedom...but no matter.  I shut the ration up and never thought up the code again.  That is until the rations were stolen."

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

February 1945

 

Travis Hunter was sitting by the fire with a newspaper and a coup of coffee, despite his role on the war front even the man known as Midnight had to occasionally retire to the comforts of home.  Lest people question why Travis was never around.  Not that he expected any prying eyes.  It was raining outside, and the well off chemist was not dressed to entertain.  

 

And yet, as soon as the man was perfectly comfortable there was a loud knock at the door.  Despite the perfectly available and working doorbell the visitor was insistent on knocking on the door.  So insistent that they had not stopped since the moment they began knocking frantically.  Clearly insistent on having an audience with Mr. Hunter.

[Gizmo]

By the time Travis had risen from his armchair to a rather imposing height for a chemist he could already head clipped footsteps against the foyer's hardwood floors. The woman who opened the door wore a beige and crimson plaid jacket fastened up the front and belted at the waist over a skirt in a matching deep red. Dark chestnut tresses fell in curls to her shoulders, framing and intense glare and lips pressed into a thin line, prepared to tell off whomever had forgotten their basic manners. "Now see here," she began with a distinct English accent before frowning slightly at the rain soaked woman before her. "Why, you're Jean Mongan, are you not? The curator? Goodness me dear, get in here out of that weather, I'll fetch you something dry!" She ushered Mongan in without waiting for an answer and closed the heavy door behind her.

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

Jean Mongan was wearing a soaked tailor grey suit jacket with a matching skirt that went up to her knee.  A red bowtie sat upon her white top which complimented the red bowler hat that otherwise looked as if it had seen better days.  Much like the redheaded curator (one of the first female curators in the country at that) herself did.  Gasping for breath the woman was quick to mind her manners.  "How do you do?  I would not wish to impose, a spot of tea would be all the warmth I could manage.  If it would not be too much trouble that is."

 

Jean Mongan's rise to curator of the Mystery Museum of Mystery, New Hampshire cause a bit of a stir.  Having been originally given a meaningless title of Keeper of the Arts, she achieved the title upon the previous curator's untimely passing.  The story becoming a bit of national scandal as certain outlets all but accused Mrs. Mongan of perpetrating a crime up until it was ruled that the man died of natural causes.

 

Obviously not trained in the arts of subterfuge, Jean would look behind her shoulder at the closed front door.  As if she was expecting someone behind her.  If that was the case she had yet to say a word.  Let alone mention the reason for her hectic visit.

[Gizmo]

While Margery moved with long strides to one of the other rooms adjacent to the mansion's foyer Travis appeared from the first floor's main room, dark brown vest over an ochre dress shirt and jet black hair impeccably in place despite having evidently been lounging at home. "Mrs. Mongan. Please, come in. Had a pot of tea on already." Despite the terse speech patterns his soft tone and the way he gestured for her to take a seat by the fire spoke of the wry socialite known for throwing extravagant theme parties, though less so in recent years. That wasn't so strange; there were fewer parties altogether in recent years.

 

By the time the curator had settled by the fireplace Margery had returned with a heavy blanket to wrap around her, clucking her tongue softly in concern. Travis sat back down across from Mongan and observed her face carefully with clear eyes. "When you're ready."

[Brown Dynamite]

GM

 

Jean nodded as she sat there silently taking in the warmth of the fire place.  It was a moment before finally speaking once more.  "Now, Mr. Hunter.  I was approached by these German fellows.  Barbarians really.  One put his hands on me when I refused his request."  Shaking her head in obvious disgust at the memory of being physically threatened.

 

"Which brings me here.  Now, Mr. Hunter, I have heard that during your lavish parties you enjoy fascinating your guests with fabulous scientific displays.  I don't know if you've heard the fabulous strides Williard Libby has made in the sciences.  But...perhaps it's better if I show you."  The curator reached into her gray suit jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a small tone tablet.  Clearly broken off from a larger tablet, the cuneiform writing was clearly visible.  The tablet was kept dry, with the curator taking special care to protect it from the elements.  Clearly, far more than her own skin as the fireplace continued to have its work cut out for it.

 

Although she hadn't so much as said so out loud, it was clear that Jean wanted to know if Travis had the means to use the newly discovered radiocarbon dating technique to test the legitimacy of the tablet.