Mutants & Masterminds: Lake City Universe - HoH: The Early Bird Killer (IC)

[quotemyname]

"Show me," Russel responded.

In the Stacks:

Despite several cups off coffee, Det. Lisowski was soon snoring at his research station, the tedium of scanning the security tapes having quickly taken its toll. Gary, however, had better luck; shortly before the date of the first murder, he noted two things:

1. On September 9th, tens day before the first victim was found, a large truck backed into the concrete wall. It's hard to tell how much damage was done to the wall due to the resolution of the footage and the camera's distance from the incident, but the driver can be clearly seen getting out of the vehicle and rubbing his hand against the sopt on the wall.

2. On September 17th, two days before the first killing, a figure can be seen doing the artwork; he or she uses several cans of spraypaint in the early hours of the morning. The figure can also be seen brushing something on with a paintbrush, between layers of the spraypaint. It wears baggy hip-hop style jeans, backwards Ramblers baseball cap, hi-tops and a high school varsity jacket; the name of the school cannot be made out, but the colors are dark green and white.

When he saw the two segments of video that Gary pointed out, his eyes lit up. Russel may not have been the de facto leader that Gary was, but the lawyer in him certainly knew how to capitalize on even the smallest pieces of evidence or leverage.

"Well, now we know what caused the original leakage of power. Doubt anyone's going to press charges against that truck driver, and I also doubt that he can be of any help fixing this situation." Russell bit his lip, deep in thought, "But that tag artist... Superball, see if you can clean up those images. I want a positive ID on this guy. Give it to Lisowski when you get it, let's see if we can't find this guy and question him. Who here's a fan of local sports? How many high schools could there be in the area sporting a Dark Green and White color scheme?" He looked around the room, eyebrows raised, hoping someone would be able to throw a dog a bone.

[Superball]

"Just some video. Puts the mural in context, and maybe tells us what kicked this all off." He shrugged looking both tired and bored, "Honestly though, it doesn't give us anything of real value that I can see."

Naomi grinned as she moved some data around on her tablet, sending it to the lab computers. "Actually... I think I found the motherlode."

"Using my access to the police database, and some trivial knowledge, oh... and a new photo-enhancement plug-in I whipped up on the fly here I think I got more than I thought I could get out of this."

She tapped the stylus for her tablet against the larger screen pointing at the varsity jacket. "That jacket is for the St. Dominic's Academy Mustangs. I can tell by the colors. When my family moved here I went to a rival private school. Smacked down their quiz bowl team rather soundly."

The detectives in the room give her a look like "Is this relevant?"

She clears her throat with a drink she got from the refreshment setup nearby. "Now, once I clear the haze from that picture..." She points out what looks like a fancy Gu on the jacket. "Yes... two letters... not a very good start but, cross referencing what little hair color and the first two letters of the last name on the letter jacket..."

She snaps as a picture of a mugshot appears on screen. "I whittled the suspect pool down to one student... Francis Guzman, a sophmore at St Dom's with a few misdemeanors on his record, including shoplifting and property damage. Actually for tagging and graffitti. Seems that's his MO."

"Bingo... 1629 West Sebastian Avenue, Apt 3W."

She holds up the paint scrapings. "Perhaps this will be a record of his misdeeds?"

"Dissapointing really, a student of a catholic school being like this... must not rap his knuckles with rulers enough."

[Heritage]

Colby whistled in appreciation as Naomi spilled her info dump; for his part, Lisowski actually looked stunned.

"Well that was pretty fucking impressive." But it didn't last for long, and his sour expression soon returned. "So we can probably pick this guy up for a parole violation, but what does that really get us? Other than being a recidivist-" He said the word with great relish. "Can we actually book him on anything? Even if he did do some mumbo-jumbo, that's not a crime, at least the last time I checked." He looked to his partner. "You read all the trade mags; I just read the comics, the sports page and Playboy. For the articles, of course."

His partner smiled sweetly. "Of course, Linus." She folded her arms. "I don't think we want to charge him with anything, unless of course he turns out to be just plain annoying; sending him back to juvie most likely will just expose him to more gangbangers. But he must know something, or else he wouldn't have made that mural on that wall at that time. Picking him up for questioning could turn up something." Then she pulled out her notebook and waggled it. "As could a bit of research on all the weird stuff I scribbled in here during our brief trip to Hell."

Lisowski gently tapped a finger on his lower lip. "How was Hell, by the way? Did you, y'know, bring me anything?" Despite his flippant behavior, the veteran cop did shudder a bit even as he joked.

Colby waved a hand dismissively as she dropped her notebook onto a reading table and pulled out a chair. "Ah, it was okay; I'll show you the pictures once they come back from Walgreens." She slapped her hands down on the tabletop and smiled. "So, who wants to help Auntie Reena look through some forbidden texts?"

[z-Blitz]

Val looked just as impressed as Colby at the information Naomi found. She was nodding when the woman was done talking, looking not only impressed but eager to get started. Then Colby asked her question and distracted (not a difficult thing to do) her.

“Oh! Oh! Me!” Blitz looked enthused at the idea of going through forbidden tomes before dropping the act and going, “Kidding! I hate reading. I should be with the people who are picking up tagger boy. I’m pretty sure I can corner him. Maybe even get him started chatting.”

Blitz grinned at Russ, and her smile could only be called ‘dazzling’. “Whatcha think? If you were a high school boy, would you be willing to spend a bit of time talking to me?”

[Superball]

"I am not sure I took any correspondence courses from Hogwarts, but would I have any value in your research, Detective?" She adjusts her glasses.

"After all, if at the least I can grab the proper books, I could be of use, unless someone here can suggest a course of action? We do have to apprehend the delinquent. I am just as willing to help on that issue instead if I could be of more use there."

[quotemyname]

Russell raised his eyebrows and leveled Blitz with a disbelieving gaze. "Oh, Really? Don't even get me started," he couldn't believe she'd even asked, "Val, if I were a high school boy I'd want to spend my time doing a lot more than talking with you." He ignored the fact that her question might have been rhetorical and cracked a smile. A devilish mischievous grin that told her he was enjoying the back and forth, "Go pick this guy up."

"As for the forbidden texts, I'll stay and help with that. I usually go for the more action packed assignments, but to be frank this is my domain. No pun intended." He glanced at Superball, "And yea, I'd say you'll be a huge help here. You've pretty much just demonstrated this is exactly your area of expertise. Besides, I think Gary and Blitz will be more than enough for one high school jock." Russell balked slightly, realizing he'd made a Blitz-like, double entendre laden slip of the tongue. He shook a finger in her direction, "Okay, don't you touch that one."

"Can I see those notes, Colby? Hopefully I can learn something from all of this...My arcane knowledge is much worse than it should be."

[Heritage]

"Can I see those notes, Colby? Hopefully I can learn something from all of this...My arcane knowledge is much worse than it should be."

"Oh, sure." She pushed the notebook across the table. "My handwriting's fairly easy to read; I went to a Catholic high school, too."

Early on in the conversation, Lisowski fielded a call on his cell, and took a few steps away from the group to hear better. Finally he finished, and pointed at his partner.

"We have to get going; we still have to a lot of paperwork to finish up on last week's robbery." He waved a hand at the rest of the group. "We might have to call you guys later and verify a few facts. Hopefully we won't have to get full statements, but it might come to that."

Colby looked crushed. "Wait a minute, we have to do paperwork for the rest of the afternoon?" She looked at all the books on the wall, and then the faces of the special deputy team. "Well that just sucks." With much grumbling, she got out of her chair and put the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Have fun without us." She indicated the command center on the other side of the glass wall. "If you need a research assistant, Kiki's pretty good; at the very least, she'll keep you swimming in coffee and snacks."

With half-hearted waves, the two detectives headed out, though at the last minute, Lisowski stopped in the doorway. "Oh, I can call a judge and get a warrant for you guys if you plan on bringing Guzman in for questioning; I can have it faxed over in like twenty minutes. Happy hunting, fellas!" He gave them a nod and an almost sincere looking smile as he closed the door.

[quotemyname]

Russell cracked open the notebook to the last few pages. He used a nearby pencil from the table to underline one or two things he deemed important. His expressions changed from time to time from amusement to dour resentment, "Come on, Colby, I'm not that bad am I?" He muttered under his breath.

"Okay, SB," he turned the book so that Superbal could see it with his notes, "take a look."

The Notebook

The blue text is what's written in the notebook. Anything in red is what Russ has called attention to. If it's red, and italicized, it's something in Russ's handwriting that's been added.

1813 Fort Chapman Massacre. Strick kills 13 Indian families (sacrifice?) Who is Strick?

Fort built on previously tainted site or did it start with Strick?

Evil Beastie released by stupid Russ - is it patient or restless? Definitely restless!

Gary mentions history of violence on site - was EB trying to work its will, or is it merely a side effect of its presence? The 'Evil Beastie' mentioned he was waiting for his chance to escape. I think this is a result of him exerting his will on the site.

Spellwork traces on both inside and outside of fort. More layers on outside = binding? Done from our side or from their side? Yikes! Their side? Like in Hell? Never heard of that before, though I suppose I could ask around.

Many layers of spellwork, and left by different hands - this was not one spell! Probably needs renewal. That's why the spell weakened. That's why it was able to bleed into our realm. Someone forgot to renew the wards, or they did it badly, with spraypaint?

Willworkers, occultists or arcanists? Al-Kazar? Silver Sorcerer? Penumbra? Find any evidence of these XPs working specifically in this area of the city. Or being active in 1813. Perhaps it was Al-Kazar's predecessor that first imprisoned the thing?

At least one blood ritual was performed here, possibly more.

There are also a number of doodles and sketches; some of them are portraits of the team, others look to be reproductions of things she saw in the fort. The art is very well-done, and the portraits are frequently hilarious.

Lisowski looking pissed, with lightening bolts shooting out of his head, saying, "Where's my coffee?!"

Blitz standing in an exaggerated 'alluring' pose next to a Tex Avery-style wolf panting with his eyes bugging out. There are horn's on the wolf's head.

The same wolf man, standing next to a door gaping wide open, with a finger on his lower lip, saying 'What I dood?" Hoofprints lead away from the door into the distance. Whatever happened to "I'll huff and I'll puff"?

Gary, looking glum, holding a string that leads up to Superball, all puffed up and floating.

What appears to be Colby herself, or at least her feet, sticking out from her bag as knives, grenades and other objects fly out of it. The caption reads, "I know it's in here somewhere!"

He gave her a chance to look things over then said, "Where do you think we should start? There's a lot of points we could jump off here. You're the expert, what's the best way to do this?"

[Superball]

"If I may theorize, Russ, perhaps the reason why those in hell would create a ward from the inside is potentially to keep something they don't want to escape in? We in our society put the worst of us in asylums or prisons. One could assume that there are individuals that even Hell itself considers dangerous?"

She adjusts her glasses a smile crossing her face, giggling. "You should see my doodles... Although the equations framing them would... probably give most a nose-bleed. Although that also lets you into the mindset of the one who makes them. I mean... Am I that much of a burden to Gary? Colby sees that?"

Tapping her fingers in a four beat cadence she drinks some more of her favorite caffeinated elixir, snapping out of her analysis. "Now, any other theories?"

[quotemyname]

Russell placed the notebook on the table and leaned over it in an attempt to concentrate better, "Well, like I wrote I haven't heard of much of that happening. But I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the most educated on these matters. Still, the times I've heard of things being sealed in Hell, it's usually someone or something from our end, or if you believe Dante Alighieri, those in the heavens. Specifically like how Satan's been sealed in ice somewhere in the 9th level, which was God's doing. Still... If I can travel to hell as unskilled as I am in these dealings, I'm sure anyone powerful enough to seal something of this magnitude, speaking of it's level of pure malice, would be able to travel there as well. Perhaps they were down there just reinforcing the bonds?" At this point, it seemed Russell was talking more to himself than Naomi.

Finally, he addressed her directly once more, "But no, I don't think you're a burden. Just the opposite. Your earlier work just gave us the first real break this case has seen, before or since we were brought on to help out. I just think that Gary carries a lot of burdens. You've got to remember with that head of his, it's a constant workload just to keep from eavesdropping on everyone thoughts, even subconsciously. I think if Gary sees people as a burden, there are probably many higher on his list than you, but perhaps a Naomi-Balloon would be the easiest to draw?" It may have been a poor attempt to reassure their resident techie, but it was an attempt none-the-less.

"Now, come on," Russel said, staring at the pages once more, "See if you can dig up some info on this. Give me anything you can find," The index finger on his right hand came to rest on the word 'binding' from a scribbled by Colby: "Spellwork traces on both inside and outside of fort. More layers on outside = binding? Done from our side or from their side? Yikes!"

"Binding spells. I think we should start there. It's a good start, because what's the use of knowing who did this, if it really was Al-Kazar or whatever, if we don't know what exactly they did? Also, it may give us some insight into what those spells were even able to contain as well as some way we might reinforce, or recreate the effects of the spells." Russell's concentrated expression broke for a moment, he looked tired and upset about something, "I wish I was better at this. I should be better at this. Knew I was going to regret not reading as much as my mom and dad said I should have as a kid. Ah well, no help for it now." He smiled again, looking back up at Naomi, "Shall we?"

[Superball]

"Well, looking at this from a technical standpoint, it is far more efficient to keep your firewalls at the further most point of contact with the outside world, but to have a secondary set of firewalls close to your server only means what is in there is more valuable... But this doesn't fit if this is to keep something in."

Naomi snaps her fingers. "Wait... what if someone did this to keep something in by going to hell and making the seal? Of course the unfortunate individual that did this would have been asking for a one-way trip... unless the person in question was doomed from the beginning to some terrible fate."

"Whatever is bound by that seal has to be a tormented, cursed soul looking for release."

She blinked. "Wait... did I just get all mojo-wojo sounding?"

[Heritage]

Kiki poked her head back into the library, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Anybody need anything? I can order out pizza or something, if you need more brain food."

She also handed Blitz a Google Maps printout, indicating a section of LaMotte not far from their current location.

"Oh, here's the address for St. Dom's; I figure our 'perp' should be in school right now, unless he's living the true delinquent lifestyle."

[Superball]

"A Pizza would be great, Kiki." Naomi said. "We might be at this for a little bit."

[quotemyname]

Naomi snaps her fingers. "Wait... what if someone did this to keep something in by going to hell and making the seal? Of course the unfortunate individual that did this would have been asking for a one-way trip... unless the person in question was doomed from the beginning to some terrible fate."

"Whatever is bound by that seal has to be a tormented, cursed soul looking for release."

As Namoi spoke, Russ began to go pale. He wasn't sure how much Naomi knew about him, but he was at least reasonably sure she'd be smart enough to make a few educated guesses, "Yea, that's usually pretty much the only way to get back..." He laughed weakly and said, "Heh, tormented, right..."

Kiki's interruption broke him out of his slump,

Kiki poked her head back into the library, her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Anybody need anything? I can order out pizza or something, if you need more brain food."

"Yea, pepperoni, anchovies, and a side of eternal salvation would be nice." It was difficult to tell based on his tone of voice if that really was a joke...

[Special Agent Gary Samson]

Gary snapped out of his reverie, "Something tells me that I'm the better qualified for interrogating the tagger. We need to wait for a warrant though if we want to take him into custody and force the issue, without one we'll only get as far as he is cooperative." He sighed and nodded at Blitz, "You wanna go to the school and find him, then keep an eye on him until I get the warrant here? If he's not at the school I'm sure you can find him faster than I could in a car, and once you have him and we have the papers I'll meet you and we can bring him in. How's that sound?"

[Heritage]

"Yea, pepperoni, anchovies, and a side of eternal salvation would be nice." It was difficult to tell based on his tone of voice if that really was a joke...

Kiki made a disgusted face, then turned to the teen genius. "And what do you want on your half of the pizza, Naomi?"

Gary snapped out of his reverie, "Something tells me that I'm the better qualified for interrogating the tagger. We need to wait for a warrant though if we want to take him into custody and force the issue, without one we'll only get as far as he is cooperative." He sighed and nodded at Blitz, "You wanna go to the school and find him, then keep an eye on him until I get the warrant here? If he's not at the school I'm sure you can find him faster than I could in a car, and once you have him and we have the papers I'll meet you and we can bring him in. How's that sound?"

The young red-headed assistant gave Gary a thumbs up. "I'll call Linus and tell him to get started on that warrant." She tapped her chin with a finger. "I should probably mention that you're a federally-recognized telepath, too, right? In case you have to..." And then she put her fingers on her temples and squeezed her eyes shut.

[z-Blitz]

“Great!” Blitz barely had the word out of her mouth before she zipped off to her quarters. A moment later she was back, wearing street clothing. Balancing on one leg, she tied her sneaker as she said, “I’ll go and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Gary, just call me when you’re ready to come for him and I’ll letcha know where we are.” Then she was gone in a whirlwind of papers and bubbly teenage excitement.

There was a pause, then Kiki asked, “Did her pants say BOOTY across the ass?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

As a matter of fact, Val’s sweat pants did describe the part of her anatomy that they covered. It also meant that any looks she got from people were usually focused on her ass and not on the part of her that could be identified in a line-up. It was an old trick she’d used since she developed anatomy worthy of consideration.

Using the back paths she’d learned through the city, Val approached St. Dom’s on stealth mode, or as stealthy as someone moving as quickly as she did got. She slowed so that she approached the school at a normal, agonizingly-slow walk. Bright green eyes watched for a familiar young man in baggy clothing.

[Heritage]

Outside St. Dominic's:

It's a cool crisp day in early October as the young men begin to file out of the venerable old Catholic institution at lunchtime; they're laughing, joking, tossing around footballs and basketballs,...and almost all wearing Mustang green and white. They're faces are mostly Hispanic, but there are several that are black and a few purely Caucasian ones.

As they reach the sidewalk, several suddenly stop and do their best to look 'casual', as they form into small clusters and try not to be seen throwing glances over at the blonde knockout across the street. It's fairly obvious what they're now talking and joking about.

[z-Blitz]

“Wow.” Not only was the bombshell walking across the street, but she was looking right at them. All of them. And she was talking to them. Since they were too young to learn that in real life, pretty girls don’t wander up and talk to kids like them, the kids gave her their full attentions. Russ might have been annoyed to see how attentive some of them were. “So I heard that there was an all-boys school and I just had to come and see if such a nirvana existed.”

Val stopped, blinking and then asked in a giggle, “Am I allowed to say ‘nirvana’ at church?” Even as she played the hot, dumb blonde for her audience, she was scanning them, looking for one face in particular.

Perception roll

[Heritage] 11:06 am: I need a Percption roll for Blitz, madam

[Carver-working] 11:07 am: Heh

Carver-working *rolls* 1d20: 9+1: 10

[Carver-working] 11:08 am: I'm uh... gonna HP that puppy.

[Long6] 11:08 am: lol

[Heritage] 11:08 am: aw, what was that?

Carver-working *rolls* 1d20: 7+1: 8 = 18

[Heritage]

Val stopped, blinking and then asked in a giggle, “Am I allowed to say ‘nirvana’ at church?” Even as she played the hot, dumb blonde for her audience, she was scanning them, looking for one face in particular.

One of the boys frowned and looked at his buddies. "What the fuck is 'nirvana'?" One of them jabbed an elbow into his gut as he whispered loudly. "Dude, that's that band that my dad's into!" Clearing his throat, this same boy put on his most winning smile. "Yeah, I'm into retro stuff, too, y'know? Like the Cure, New Order; some of that old synth shit still can get you goin', right?" He crossed his arms across his chest as he took a step forward. "My names Rafael; what's your's?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Val finally spotted Francis Guzman, standing and staring at her from the edge of the crowd of boys that was startiong to close around her, all eager smiles and fingers run nervously through their hair.

[quotemyname]

Outside the Heroes Hall of Fame, it had been a pretty quiet day so far except for the occasional tour getting out. Suddenly, in a puff of logic and sulfur the silence was broken. Though the serene atmosphere returned quickly as Russ stood before the building getting his bearings. He couldn't help but feel like he was on the right track with his investigation, but that realization suddenly sparked an involuntary shudder. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't be chasing down the demons they were looking for, that was for sure. Russell ignored the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and entered the building to do the investigation he came for.

"Okay, Russ, just flash the badge, ask some questions, and then move on to the next lead. Standard stuff. Rookie police academy stuff. In and out."

He approached the front desk and put on his best 'devilishly charming' smile, "Hi there," he greeted the receptionist, "Russell Buchanan, Special Deputy," he introduced himself, producing his badge and announcing his job title. "We spoke earlier on the phone about a small private tour or meeting? Is there anyone available for me to speak with? If possible, I'm hoping to speak with an expert on the following individuals," Russell produced a small notebook. He'd decided to take a page out of Lisowski's book. "I'm hoping this shouldn't take long."

Geez. And I quit law school because I was hoping I wouldn't turn into a straight laced cop. Still, this could be fun.

[z-Blitz]

Val grinned at the eager young men. She admitted, quietly, that she enjoyed the attention. The blonde speedster tried not to let it go to her head. She gave Francis a little smile, but otherwise didn’t single him out for special attention. “I’m Valentine,” she told Rafael with a smile.

“Like Fay Valentine?” The kid who had asked immediately looked like he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.

“I don’t know who that is.” Val gave him a little smile, hoping to keep all the kids calm and distracted. “You can call me Val, though.”

“How old are you?” one of the boys asked.

Val’s reply was immediate. “Eighteen. You?”

“Eighteen.” The kid puffed up his chest and Val found herself doubting his age. He seemed a bit young for that. Several of his classmates started to jeer him, and Blitz hoped he took the lesson about not telling easily disproven lies to heart.

“So,” Val said easily as she moved over to a picnic table and sat down on the table, propping her feet on the seat. She purposefully sat so she was facing Francis and sitting like this gave her the height to see over the other boys. “What’s up with you guys? Know of any good parties a girl like me could attend?”

[Heritage]

Home Base:

Her half of the pizza order placed, Naomi dove into the Internet and began running a series of searches; unfortunately it seemed like a lot of the information she turned up on demons was repackaged pop cultural stereotypes that bloggers and posters confused with the 'real thing', a frustrating turn of events. She did, however, have a good deal more luck with the image-based searches based on Detective Colby's sketches; she found evidence that at least two different 'magicians' (for lack of a better word) had inscribed the symbols on the walls of the fort, using two different types of magic. The first was, rather bizarrely, a combination of ancient Hebrew and Celtic symbols, espcially the triquerta and the hamsa; the second appeared to be Chinese, including a pair of foo dogs, several dragons and large number of pictograms for 'protection'. The symbols never overlapped, suggesting each mage respected the symbols of the other, and had no desire to interfere with the other.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, Kiki proudly tracked down Gary and handed him a fax, still warm. "Here you go, Special Agent; you are now duly authorized to question, and if need be detain, one Francis Ernesto Juan Maria Guzman." Then she tilted her head to one side. "You want me to make you up a Thermos of coffee?"

Heroes Hall of Fame:

He approached the front desk and put on his best 'devilishly charming' smile, "Hi there," he greeted the receptionist, "Russell Buchanan, Special Deputy," he introduced himself, producing his badge and announcing his job title. "We spoke earlier on the phone about a small private tour or meeting? Is there anyone available for me to speak with? If possible, I'm hoping to speak with an expert on the following individuals," Russell produced a small notebook. He'd decided to take a page out of Lisowski's book. "I'm hoping this shouldn't take long."

The docent looked up and smiled professionally. "Not at all, Mr Buchanan." He indicated the notebook with a nod. "May I see your list?" Once he was able to scan the names, he frowned. "Hmm, well there are a few staff members you could speak to; Dr Thompson is our chief expert on the Guardians of Justice, of whom the Amazing Al-Kazar was an auxilliary member. Dr Emmett's specialty is superteams of the post-Reagen era, which would include Silver Sorcerer of the New Guardians...though of course, once he becomes Penumbra back in '97, he falls under Dr Wittenhurst's field of villain studies." The museum employee stroked his lower lip thoughtfully. "However, since all three fall under occult phenomena, and you mentioned that time is of the essence, it would perhaps be best if you met with Dr. Gaborchin. I'll call him."

- - -

In short order, Russell was escorted by an enthusiastic young volunteer to the office of Dr Rudolf Gaborchin; the door opened, and a great bear of a man stood before the investigator, with long grey hair and a matching bushy beard, a tweed vest stretched over a plump torso, and a rumpled pair of corduroy pants. "Mr Buchanan, it is a pleasure!" His accent was thick and vaguely Eastern European, and his breath smelled not unpleasantly of cherry pipe tobacco. "Come in, come in!"

The doctor's office was lined with sagging bookshelves, odd bits of statuary and heavy, dark furniture; the academic motioned to a highbacked leather chair as he sunk into one of his own. The only thing that looked newer than 1970 was an ancient Macintosh computer teetering on the edge of a desk piled high with folders. "What can I do for you, my friend?" He leaned over towards a small dorm fridge. "Can I get you anything? I'm having a Diet Coke."

St Dom's:

“So,” Val said easily as she moved over to a picnic table and sat down on the table, propping her feet on the seat. She purposefully sat so she was facing Francis and sitting like this gave her the height to see over the other boys. “What’s up with you guys? Know of any good parties a girl like me could attend?”

The young men appeared to be genuinely baffled by Val's prescence, not that they were complaining; Rafael cleared his throat. "Uh, you know they're doing the haunted house over at Old St Dom's starting this weekend." He laughed. "I mean, it's perfect; that place is creepy as shit all year 'round, so all they have to do is, like, throw a couple rubber bats in there, y'know?" He cast an eye over the group. "Most of us are going there; you could come, too, if you're not too scared."

One of the other boys called out, "Hey, I'd protect you, chica!" This lead to a lot of laughing all around, but the turn of the conversation to the ghoulish seemed to make Francis a bit uncomfortable, and he began to sidle away from the others, though his eyes never left Val's shapely form.

[quotemyname]

Russell quickly thanked the aide, and warmly shook Dr Rudolf Gaborchin's hand. Warmly, of course, being literal. Russell's skin was always warm to the touch, as if he ran a constant fever, "Please, call me Russell. And no thank you, I'm fine," Russell declined the offer for a refreshment.

Sitting in the other high backed leather chair, Russell took in his surroundings and observed, "I have to say, for an expert on the occult, I wasn't expecting someone so... Harvard Gentlemen's Club. But then, Indiana Jones and all." Russell shrugged as he made the comparison. Smiling, he determined, "It's better than having a meeting with Dumbledore, though."

"Anyway," Russell began his presentation once Dr. Gaborchin was seated with his Diet Coke, "I've a list of names. I was hoping you could tell me about some of their more obscure endeavors of the arcane persuasion. Things that wouldn't make the papers and all." Russell detailed the situation as well as he could in a concise manner, explaining what evidence they were going on and nature of their case. He explained all the information that Colby had collected, but not how she had gotten it. He left out their trip to hell and back, not wanting to divert the conversation.

[z-Blitz]

“Old St. Dom’s?” Val slipped off the bench and sidled around toward Francis, causing a minor stir among the boys as their proximity to Val rapidly changed. “What’s the matter?” she asked, challenging the boy as she stopped in front of him with crossed arms. “Talk of spooky stuff scare you? That’s normal, if you’ve seen spooky stuff.” Val had given him a way out of looking chicken—if he was willing to start talking about what he may have seen.

[Heritage]

Gaborchin's Office:

"I have to say, for an expert on the occult, I wasn't expecting someone so... Harvard Gentlemen's Club. But then, Indiana Jones and all." Russell shrugged as he made the comparison. Smiling, he determined, "It's better than having a meeting with Dumbledore, though."

The older academic smiled as he poured himself his Diet Coke. "Ah yes; I love the Harry Potter books! So entertaining!" He waved his glass around, vaguely indicating all the bookshelves. "When I was a boy, I always wanted to have an office like this." He gently thumped his computer monitor as he squeezed behind his desk. "Computers are okay, but a room full of books is much warmer; they inspire the quest for knowledge, yes?"

"Anyway," Russell began his presentation once Dr. Gaborchin was seated with his Diet Coke, "I've a list of names. I was hoping you could tell me about some of their more obscure endeavors of the arcane persuasion. Things that wouldn't make the papers and all."

The professor fumbled in his vest for a pair of reading glasses, then listened attentively as the hell-touched investigator told his tale, jotting down notes in a thick spiral notebook with a fine point Sharpie; once or twice he helf up a big hand to stop Russell and asked a clarfiying question before waving his on to continue. When at last the special deputy finished, Gaborchin set the notebook aside, folded his hands across his lap and sighed.

"Very, very interesting. It's good that you work with Reena; she has much field experience." Then he smiled. "She reminds me of my niece." The older man took a sip of his drink before continuing. "So, the Amazing Al-Kazar, born Ira Silbermann in New York, 1908. A cabinetmaker by trade, like his father before him; he was commissioned to make special pieces for Blackstone, one of the great conjurors of the day. Inventive and very ambitious, he began to design illusions of his own, and was eager to perform them. I have a picture..." He rummaged around in his desk, finally producing a still of young man dressed in Arabesque style, with turban, flowing robes and curled toe slippers, and handed it to Russell. "Here we are; like most Jews performing in those, he chose a stage name, colorful and evocative."

Once again, he folded his hands across his lap. "It's unclear when he first discovered the gifts of his bloodline, the ability to manipulate glamour, or what you might call 'solid illusions'; more than likely, he unconciously used them to cover up a slip during his act. But once he found them, it seems he began to practice them in secret, refining his skills, creating larger and larger objects seemingly out of thin air. Soon he became one of the highest paid stage perfomers of the day, with a New York apartment and a house and workshop across the river in New Jersey."

"If it hadn't been for outbreak of World War II, he may never have used his gift for anything but his dazzling stagework; but all that changed in 1938, after Kristallnacht." Gaborchin's face turned grave. "Ira Silbermann felt shame for not doing more for his people overseas; leaving his two young children in the care of a friend in Atlantic City, where he'd been performing on the Boardwalk, he look passage to London, and from there slipped into the Continent, to begin his war against injustice. Most of the details of his work in France and Germany are either lost or classified, which might be for the best; no one is innocent in war." He drained the rest of his glass, then rose to fix himself another Coke, this time with a small splash of whiskey. "As it did for many men, the War changed him; according to his son Louis's book and a few other sources, he was distant, cold and sometimes verbally abusive. But that didn't stop Wade Walcott from asking him to join the Guardians of Justice in 1945." The professor shrugged as he lowered himself back into his chair. "So, he moved his family here to Lake City and became part of Walcott's great experiment, although he passed on full membership; his real passion by then was tracking down Nazi occultists who slipped through the Allies' grasp."

At St Dom's:

“What’s the matter?” she asked, challenging the boy as she stopped in front of him with crossed arms. “Talk of spooky stuff scare you? That’s normal, if you’ve seen spooky stuff.”

The young man looked a bit skitish, like he hoped to slip past Val and make a break for it; he had a hard time making eye contact as well. "They all think it's a joke, y'know? All that stuff? But I know it's real." His voice dropped an octave. "The Devil is real."

[quotemyname]

The young man looked a bit skitish, like he hoped to slip past Val and make a break for it; he had a hard time making eye contact as well. "They all think it's a joke, y'know? All that stuff? But I know it's real." His voice dropped an octave. "The Devil is real."

About halfway through Gaborchin's presentation, the hairs on Russell's neck stood straight on end and he suffered an involuntary shiver. At Gaborchin's questioning glance and hesitation, Russell waved him off, "I'm fine, just a chill."

"So you were saying that Al-Kazar lived here toward the end of his career. That's good, I suppose, but I'm not so sure that he's really the one I should be concentrating on..." Russell considered much of what he'd just heard. A quick glance at his notes, and Russell poked at his notes with his pen as he spoke, "Between his continual witch hunt for Nazi sympathizers, and raising a family, would he really have even had the time to be involved in something like this? Unless, of course, I'm missing something?" His first question was rhetorical, his second was directed at Dr. Gaborchin.

[Heritage]

Heroes' Hall of Fame:

"So you were saying that Al-Kazar lived here toward the end of his career. That's good, I suppose, but I'm not so sure that he's really the one I should be concentrating on..." Russell considered much of what he'd just heard. A quick glance at his notes, and Russell poked at his notes with his pen as he spoke, "Between his continual witch hunt for Nazi sympathizers, and raising a family, would he really have even had the time to be involved in something like this? Unless, of course, I'm missing something?" His first question was rhetorical, his second was directed at Dr. Gaborchin.

The good doctor spread his hands. "From 1945 up until his disappearance in 1967, Al-Kazar was the only magician openly practicing in Lake City; if issues 12 through 168 of Guardians of Justice are to be believed, he was very active in Lake City during that time, and the team had to sign off on all storylines, per their agreement with Heritage Periodicals." He raised a finger. "Remember, his son Louis said he was very neglectful in this period; it doesn't seem like the concerns of his family were as pressing as you might think, at least not to him."

He turned to his computer and began to rapidly type. "Of course, many of the facts in those issues were intentionally distorted, both to protect secret identies and the innocent, but it is widely believed, and other archival sources typically confirm this, that approximately seventy-five percent of the events depicted in the GoJ comics actually occured." He finished typing and leaned forward to look at the screen. "Alright, covering our bases, we have thirteen stories involving time travel, mostly involving their old foe Chronomaster, and five issues that dealt with demons or their human servants." He printed out a sheet from an ancient inkjet printer, then rose and made his way over to a sagging folding table piled high with comic book long boxes, and began to fish out individual issues boarded in mylar bags, checking each one against his printed list. "Good, I have all of them!" Bringing his priceless treasures back to Russell, he pulled a low ottoman over by the special deputy's chair, balanced the issues on his lap and began to flip through them while idly sipping his Jack and Coke; he looked for all the world like any other comic book collecter.

After a few moments, he gasped and set his drink and all but one of the comics aside; holding up the mylar-wrapped collectible for Russ to see, he smiled like the cat who ate the canary. "Does this look familiar?" Issue 143 of Guardians of Justice from April 1964, written by Sam Dart and pencilled by the great Gene Invergo, showed Winged Victory, the Amazing Al-Kazar and Lantern Lass cowering in front of what looked like a giant US Cavalry officer from the frontier days, surrounded by a halo of flames as he rose out of a wooden palisade; his face was cruel and he brandished a huge flaming saber. The caption boldly proclaimed 'OUT OF THE PAST!'

[quotemyname]

The chill ran up Russell's spine again. Now he was very glad he hadn't gotten a drink; he would have spilled it when he saw the cover of that issue. "Yes!" Russell practically jumped out of his seat. He leaned forward, enthusiastically pointing out a few of the bits of artwork that corresponded to all the notes the team had collected so far, "The uniform is about right. Time period wise. The fort too. I think it was more of a stucco foundation, but the doors were definitely wooden. And the fire is definitely spot on. Everything was on fire." Russell looked up from the cover of the comic to look at the doctor. "Well," he prompted, "Aren't you going to open it? Please don't tell me that it's a shrink wrapped collectible and you would never dream of opening it lest it fall to pieces. Because trust me when I say I'd rather start spouting things about Subpoenas, and Obstruction of Justice than have to dig up another copy of this thing." Russell looked a little guilty and shrugged helplessly, "What can I say, we're kinda under the gun on this one. Open it!"

[Heritage]

"Well," he prompted, "Aren't you going to open it? Please don't tell me that it's a shrink wrapped collectible and you would never dream of opening it lest it fall to pieces. Because trust me when I say I'd rather start spouting things about Subpoenas, and Obstruction of Justice than have to dig up another copy of this thing." Russell looked a little guilty and shrugged helplessly, "What can I say, we're kinda under the gun on this one. Open it!"

The large academic laughed heartily. "Of course! This is my research copy, not my archival one; all of those are in the climate controlled vaults down in the basement! Here, let's read it together." Gaborchin pulled the ottoman closer to Russell's chair, then fished the comic book out of its protective sleeve. "As far as I'm concerned, any exceptional sciences professional who won't touch the books with his bare hands has gotten into the field for the wrong reasons." He gently rubbed the yellowing newsprint between his thumb and forefinger; a few dry particles wafted off the page, and the big man breathed in deeply through his nose. "Do you smell that? That is history! So, let us see how the Guardians faced this deadly peril, yes?" His wide bearded face glowed like a small boy's on Christmas morning.

Like most exceptional stories written in the early Sixties, 'Out of the Past!' was heavily dated; Al-Kazar was almost dismissive of his two female teammates, even though he was just an auxiliary member and their powers were equally formidable. Also several key facts appeared to be changed; the fort was identified as 'Fort Campbell' and placed in South Dakota, and the three heroes just happened to be on vacation visiting Mount Rushmore when the ghost of Captain Jonathan Strick rose from the dead to threaten a group of tourists. When word of the spectral menace reaches the team, they quickly don their costumes and Winged Victory carries her two teammates to the fort.

As far as the ghost of Capt. Strick is concerned, he is depicted with fairly standard ghost powers; he can fly, walk through walls and turn fully visible or invisible (of course, shown as drawing him with dashed lines), but a big point is made about his sword being very sharp and very dangerous. It's also claimed that his soul is eternally damned for the killing of Indian families.

At the end of the comic, after 'Vic' and 'Lass' are soundly beaten by the male villain (sigh!), Al-Kazar swoops in to save the day, casting a 'binding spell' (which looks like a big golden light show) that will keep the vile captain 'consigned to the darkest pits of hell for a thousand years'. The dénouement is a rather treacley message about the plight of the American Indian, and the team climbs back into their rented camper, looking forward to getting back home to the Walcott Building in Lake City.

Dr. Gaborchin sighs as he idly looks at the goofy ads on the back cover of the comic. "Well that was nowhere near a thousand years!"

[quotemyname]

Through the course of the reading Russell jotted down a few key notes that he thought might actually have some chance of being reliable enough to follow up on. He just had to hope that he didn't have to deal with the "names being changed to protect the innocent".

Notepad:

- Captain Jonathan Strick (Probably at least a Captain, probably some form of 'John'; Hopefully last name is the same, or at least sounds the same. Try searching for names that begin with 'S', most writers aren't that inventive...)

- "consigned to the darkest pits of hell for a thousand years." - Not fun as far as fate goes. Someone has to know a way to recreate this spell. It worked once, maybe it can work again.

- Comic heavily stresses Native American troubles. Try searching for a local shaman or something that remembers / or may have heard about this and know something about it.

Dr. Gaborchin sighs as he idly looks at the goofy ads on the back cover of the comic. "Well that was nowhere near a thousand years!"

"No, it certainly wasn't," Russell replied, finally looking up from his notes, "Though, it might have worked for the fully time frame if someone hadn't screwed it up. At the risk of divulging case information, Someone messed with the seal that Al Kazar placed on this ghost. Well, a lot of people, messed with it, it seems. But most of the interloping seemed to be an attempt to reinforce the seals placed there originally. That is, until some idiot high school hood tagged the damn wall that held all the glyphs or runes or whatever." A sour expression crossed Russell's face. He couldn't help but think this whole thing could have been avoided if some people just had a little more respect for their environment.

"So," Russell asked, "Regarding the names being changed and all, how likely do you think it is that Captain Jonathan Strick was an actual person, or that that was his actual name? Worst Case scenario, I could probably pinpoint him by checking up on captains that served in that fort (Which I can definitely tell you they changed the name on). Have you got any other input on the spell Al Kazar Cast? The Binding spell? Anyone else ever...'consign someone to the depths of hell for a thousand years'? And do you know any other occult experts, possibly Native American, that might have something to do with this?" Russell forestalled the Doctor's answers with a hand motion, "Oh, one sec, I should send this info out to my team."

Following his barrage of questions Russell opened the messaging application oh his cell phone. He'd gotten Blitz's number after their car ride back to headquarters, and he sent her a text message, thinking if she was undercover she could probably pass off a cell phone, but not a police radio. The message read, <We're dealing with an honest to goodness ghost. Spirit of "Captain Jonathan Strick", possibly U.S. Military, possibly an alias. Be careful! If you feel any sudden drops in temperature, watch your back!>

Russell radioed the same information to the rest of the team, but left out the second half of the message, ending with the possibility of an alias. His well wishes and warnings for Blitz were only for her to see. Once he was finished relaying his discoveries, he turned his attention back to the Doctor, "Okay, sorry about that. Whenever you're ready..."

[Superball]

Naomi puts her helmet on to use the comlink. Sliding back the face-plate to keep semi-comfortable.

"Guys, I got a lead on those murals. Guess what, the stuff on those murals we were at earlier? It's all protection-related. As in warding. Thing is by their layout it's purposely set up so that no one symbol interferes with the other."

She grinned as she pulled up all the information and prepped it for delivery. "I can send all the pertinent info over comlink, or just compile it here at HQ for everyone to go over."

She chews some more on a new slice of pizza. "And the Pizza is starting to get cold. What's the status report, guys?"

[Heritage]

Gaborchin's Office:

Following his barrage of questions Russell opened the messaging application oh his cell phone. He'd gotten Blitz's number after their car ride back to headquarters, and he sent her a text message, thinking if she was undercover she could probably pass off a cell phone, but not a police radio. The message read, <We're dealing with an honest to goodness ghost. Spirit of "Captain Jonathan Strick", possibly U.S. Military, possibly an alias. Be careful! If you feel any sudden drops in temperature, watch your back!>

Russell radioed the same information to the rest of the team, but left out the second half of the message, ending with the possibility of an alias. His well wishes and warnings for Blitz were only for her to see. Once he was finished relaying his discoveries, he turned his attention back to the Doctor, "Okay, sorry about that. Whenever you're ready..."

Gaborchin chuckled as a swatted Ruseell's concersn out of the air. "Not at all! And don't worry about me; I've been consulted by many members of the law enforcement community over the years!" He indicated the chair Russ was currently sitting in. "Silver Sorcerer, Detectives Colby and Lisowski, Grimalkin and Stalwart; all these distinguished backsides have graced this old thing. Well, distinguished and sometimes infamous..." He trailed off sadly.

With a grunt, he rose up from the ottoman, his joints popping audibly. "Oof! Time is catching up with me!" He held up the comic book as he began to shuffle back behind his desk. "You're not a Lake City native, I take it? Captain Strick was very real, though the stories about him do tend to dip into legend. He was a highly-decorated officer before he was stationed at Fort Chapman, but once he came here-" He shrugged. "Something changed in him. No one's quite sure what it was; what is known is he became obsessed with the Chihutniks, an Indian tribe that was once native to the area, but was all but gone by the time he arrived in 1811. He would lead 'scouting parties' out into the woods, looking for artifacts." He waved his hand in the general direction of the west side of the city. "The woods used to run almost all the way to the edge of the river, back in those days."

The older man slowly lowered himself down into his padded chair. "Ah, that is better! By 1813, he had learned to hate the Indians, all of them. His treatment of the tribes became worse and worse, leading to formal repremands from back in Washington." He held up his beefy hands. "But this was before the railroads, of course; Washington was very far away, and news travelled slowly. Strick apparently decided to deal a crushing blow to the hated Indians before he was recalled to face a court-martial." Gaborchin took in a long slow breath. "At that time, there were several tribes living near the fort; Fox, Mascouten, Potawatomi, Ho-Cunk. Winter came early that year, and several families camped outside the pallisade, hoping to trade furs for food. Thirteen families, freezing in thier crude shelters."

And now it was as though the old historian was looking right into the past, could smell the sad liitle fires and hear the wind blowing through the grass. "Strick ordered his men to go outside and kill every single one of them, regardless of sex, age or infirmity; when a few of them naturally balked at these savage orders, he shot one right in the face at point blank range, and said he'd do the same to any other soldier who failed to perform his sacred duty." Gaborchin finished off his drink and rubbed his face. "Is it such a surprise that man such as this would know eternal torment in death?"

[quotemyname]

An expression that was a strange mix of serenity and sadness crossed Russell's face, "No. No surprise. It's certainly happened to better people, that's for sure." Russell took down the names of all the tribes of Indians. More research fuel for Naomi, he guessed.

Russell flipped closed his notebook and stood from the chair-of-distinguished-backsides. "Well, Doctor, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a report to make. And I'd say we're probably straying from your area of expertise. But I think Strick is definitely the man, or ghost, we're looking for. If you dig up any more info on him, please let me know." Russell dropped a business card on the Doctor's desk. It was from his father's old Law Firm in NYC and had his cell phone number printed on it. "I'm a New Yorker." He shrugged and made his way toward the door.

He'd almost crossed the threshold of the doorway when he stopped stiffly, "Hey, Doc? You said you knew Grimalkin, right? What was she like? And what happened to her? We've heard her story a million times since we signed on for this gig, but it's always come from someone with a badge. It'd be nice to hear the other side of the story for once..."

[z-Blitz]

At St Dom's:

The young man looked a bit skittish, like he hoped to slip past Val and make a break for it; he had a hard time making eye contact as well. "They all think it's a joke, y'know? All that stuff? But I know it's real." His voice dropped an octave. "The Devil is real."

Val studied Francis for a moment before leaning forward and murmuring, “I know.” She straightened as the teen gaped at her, shocked by her answer.

“What… what do you mean?” Francis recovered with effort.

Blitz’s response was delayed by her phone beeping. She pulled it far enough out of her pocket to see the message, smiling a little as she read it.

Following his barrage of questions Russell opened the messaging application oh his cell phone. He'd gotten Blitz's number after their car ride back to headquarters, and he sent her a text message, thinking if she was undercover she could probably pass off a cell phone, but not a police radio. The message read, <We're dealing with an honest to goodness ghost. Spirit of "Captain Jonathan Strick", possibly U.S. Military, possibly an alias. Be careful! If you feel any sudden drops in temperature, watch your back!>

“Look, you wanna blow off school and go sit somewhere and talk about this?” Val asked Francis. She pulled out the phone and whipped out a fast—literally—message to Russell. <mkay chat up target but will keep an eye and other senses out for something spooky! Thanks see u later! *sexykissforu!*> Her message was typed and she’d hit send faster than human eye could follow. She dumped the phone back into her pocket and focused on the spooked young man.

[Heritage]

Gaborchin's Office:

He'd almost crossed the threshold of the doorway when he stopped stiffly, "Hey, Doc? You said you knew Grimalkin, right? What was she like? And what happened to her? We've heard her story a million times since we signed on for this gig, but it's always come from someone with a badge. It'd be nice to hear the other side of the story for once..."

The older academic looked like he was about to say something, then thought the better of it and switched gears. "She was...a sweet girl, but troubled I think, with a real passion for justice." He shrugged. "I don't know the full details of her life, but she had a lot of scars; invisible on a shapeshifter, of course, but you could sense them, you see? And I think something happened to her before she had these problems at the county jail." Gaborchin stroked his lower lip. "Some mission that kept her away for almost a year, very secret. Suddenly so quiet for such a chatty girl!"

Then the exceptional science professor thumped his hands on the top of his desk and rose to see his visitor out. "So, I hope I was of some use to you, Special Deputy. I know this case is important to you, but you have to take care of yourself; I think you're coming down with a touch of fever!" Just then, Dr Gaborchin looked like he'd been struck by lightening, and he slapped his forehead. "Aye-ah, I am just remembering a story about Captain Strick that might be of use to you! There was a girl at Fort Campbell at the same time he was there; a French girl, the daughter of a fur trapper. Little more than a prostitute, according to some accounts." The big man's face became somber. "They say he killed her."

At St. Dom's:

“Look, you wanna blow off school and go sit somewhere and talk about this?” Val asked Francis. She pulled out the phone and whipped out a fast—literally—message to Russell. <mkay chat up target but will keep an eye and other senses out for something spooky! Thanks see u later! *sexykissforu!*> Her message was typed and she’d hit send faster than human eye could follow. She dumped the phone back into her pocket and focused on the spooked young man.

Suddenly Francis' face went very pale, and he took a step back from Val. "You're one of them! He warned me about you!" His wide eyes flickered up and down her lithe figure. "The Tempter, She Who Would Lead Man Astray!"

The other students started to look at their peer like he was insane. "Dude, what is your problem? You're starting to freak out!"

And then Francis broke into a run towards the nearest alley, his Adidas loudly slapping the pavement as his backpack bounced from side to side.

[quotemyname]

Gaborchin's Office:

"Some mission that kept her away for almost a year, very secret. Suddenly so quiet for such a chatty girl!"

"You know what? I think I'm going to look into that." Russell extracted his miniature notebook again. This is actually starting to get fun, he thought as he took down some notes on Grimalkin, "There may be more to her story than the detectives have been telling us. If that's the case, and we can find her and, Hell, I don't know, fix her? Then she could probably be a big help on some of these cases to say the least. If nothing else, it'd be a weight off of all our minds."

Then the exceptional science professor thumped his hands on the top of his desk and rose to see his visitor out. "So, I hope I was of some use to you, Special Deputy. I know this case is important to you, but you have to take care of yourself; I think you're coming down with a touch of fever!" Just then, Dr Gaborchin looked like he'd been struck by lightening, and he slapped his forehead. "Aye-ah, I am just remembering a story about Captain Strick that might be of use to you! There was a girl at Fort Campbell at the same time he was there; a French girl, the daughter of a fur trapper. Little more than a prostitute, according to some accounts." The big man's face became somber. "They say he killed her."

"Great!" Russell exclaimed, jotting down a quick note about the potential ID of their victim. He had no clue what he would do with that tidbit of info. A seance maybe? Colby could probably help him there. But he felt like it was a step in the right direction.

Russell turned to leave, thanking the Doctor for his time. Before he let the door close he signed off with, "Oh, nothing to worry about with the fever, Doc. I just tend to run a little hotter than most people. You know how it is with this Hellish business. Comes with the territory." Russell placed a good deal of emphasis on the word Hellish. He hoped a smart man like Gaborchin would be able to put the pieces together what with everything he'd already said during their meeting. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like having Gaborchin know about his predicament could come in handy. If the man had had a soft spot for Grimalkin, maybe he'd be able to turn up a few favors for Russ down the line.

As soon as he was outside the building, Russ pulled out his comm link and set about alerting the rest of the team of his findings. "Naomi, I've got some more leads that I think would be worth following up on the research side if you're up to it." He fed Naomi everything he'd learned about Strick, the fort, the Fur Trapper's Daughter, and anything else that the internet had a possibility of turning up a hit on.

He directed his next message to their paranormal expert, "Colby, I'm not sure if ghosts can ever become solid or anything, but if our Jane Doe was one of Strick's victims, we could be dealing with two restless spirits rather than just one. While I'm not a fan of raising the spook count, I'm sure the spirit of this girl isn't a fan of being tortured at Strick's hands repeatedly. Is there any way you can fire up your spirit senses and contact her? Like a seance or something? She may be able to give us some insight into this thing. Worst case scenario, I could always go see if she's hanging around on the Ground Floor anywhere. Though I'd like to try to avoid three trips in the same day. I've already got a chill creeping up my spine like crazy and I feel like I'm pushing my luck as is."

"And the rest of you guys, keep a heads up. The graffiti this kid put on that wall could have been a random act of vandalism. But if Strick was able to contact him somehow and they're in league together now? Well, I don't want to think about it. But with the fact that Stick was pushing the boundaries of binding spell before he got released would mean that this is at least a possibility."

"Eyes peeled out there, guys. This is some spooky stuff we're dealing with. Don't let it ruffle your feathers. If you see something weird, tell someone. You're not going crazy. It could be a clue. I'm headed back to headquarters."

Finally having time to read Val's response, he smiled to himself and answered her, <Hey, business before pleasure! Strick may have contacted perp. You and kid may be in real danger. Ask kid bout 'french girl'. May be nothing, could get lucky>*

Asterisk

*I'm the master of 160 character messages!

[z-Blitz]

Val watched Francis run for a moment before she hung her head. “What happened to my feminine wiles!” After a moment of self-pity, she lifted her head and took off after Francis. She ignored the cries of the other boys, determined to catch up to the fleeing suspect. Val was mindful of her cover and waited until she’d entered the alley, running at super-slooooooooooooooooow human-sprinter speed. Once she’d left the other boys behind, she poured on the gas, appearing in front of the boy. “For god’s sake, stop running. You’re just going to get tired.”

“Gah!” Francis jerked back from her and started to run, only to stop when she appeared in front of him again.

“I can do this all damned day. Now, you wanna talk about a few things? Like who told you I was the Tempter?” Of course, that was the important thing to her.

[Superball]

Naomi looked like a harried librarian more than anything. More information seemed to fall into her lap even as she ate. Then, everything came together.

"Well... maybe we have a way to contain this issue..."

Naomi chirps up again on her comlink. "Guys? Naomi here... just had another breakthrough.

Seems our Strick the Ghost has been warded for quite a bit, sent up the river styx since he was such a nice guy for a penthouse suite in hell. Thing is we need a Native American angle on the ward. Do we know of any elders or shamans who'd know how to strengthen a ward or help round up a ghost? Finally, we may have to do some legwork and gather the components necessary to make this work." She sighed. "Can't believe I'm figuring this out. I'm not Hermione."

She sighed as she put a couple books back on the high shelf by hovering up. "Also, a little update on the wayward schoolboy would help."

[quotemyname]

Russell paused atop one of the buildings downtown in between one of his teleportation jumps to receive Naomi's radio transmission, "Ugh, that's the second Harry Potter reference this team has made in a day. This is gonna have to stop! But regardless, I'd rather have you and your mad internet skills than her and her stuffy old library's. That's one of the main reasons I got out of that whole Harvard Law School thing when I had the chance!"

"Here's a thought..." He offered Naomi, "Have you checked the yellow pages for any local Native American spiritualists and/or shamans or anything?" Though he was confident no one could see him, he still shrugged, it was a lame suggestion, but it was as good a place to start as any, "If you can get me a list of those, uh, ingredients, I can pick some up while I'm out. I'm already near the shopping district..."