Log:Night at the Museum: Revelation

Night At The Museum 2021/08/13 Carpenter Grimm Lennox 5

Carpenter steps into the bar with Grimm, "So...like I said, I had a thought. The weapons in here might indicate that the owner is...a bit of a specialized history buff. And worst case, we can just get a drink."

"Could be a win either way, then. Not bad," Gabrielle smiles to Jack as they step in. "Though if the museum experts can't figure it out, I wouldn't get your hopes up too high on this breaking the case."

Carpenter shrugs, "I'm lunging a little here. I'm not hugely optimistic, no."

Grimm smiles at Jack cheekily. "I think it's a brilliant excuse to get a drink on a case," she teases quietly to him.

The bartender -- has anyone noticed that the bartenders here are all female, and the floor waitstaff are all males? -- comes over as the two pony up to the bar. A couple of off-duty cops notice, recognize, and nod respect to Carpenter; that's what you get for being on the force and handling what's usually a colossally messy and paperwork-heavy job. "Welcome to Sentries. What can I get for the two of you?"

Carpenter shows his badge to the bartender, "Detective Carpenter, CBPD. Is the owner here? I'd like to ask them a couple of questions."

Grimm stays beside Jack and glances around at the weapons in the bar displays.

Arched over the bar is practically a history of weapons. From the most basic knapped-flint knife, through bronze-headed spears and iron-tipped arrows, to steel swords and polearms until gunpowder weapons come to predominate the display, the many ways people have developed the methods to killing each other are up there ... in reach of the bartenders. So be nice.

"Lennox? I know he isn't down here; let me call upstairs, see if he's home." The 'tender steps down to the house phone -- wow, real cords and everything!! -- and punches a few buttons. Sharp-eared people can hear her have a brief conversation -- 'a Detective Carpenter' being a notable phrase -- with someone on the other side of the line, and then she hangs up. "C'mon around," she calls out, and gestures for the two of you to head to the double two-way doors with the porthole windows and 'Staff Only' on them.

Carpenter nods. "Thank you." He then follows the bartending around, and through the doors.

In through the doors, thread through the back area a bit, with a glimpse into the kitchen, plus stairs down and stairs up. The latter do have a bit of a place at the second story -- it's where some of the finer liquors are stored -- and then around again to the stairs leading up to the third floor. "Just up there," she says, and gestures the two of you up a simple, one might even say old, flight up to a door at the top.

Grimm walks along with Carpenter, pulling her gaze away from some old weapons. She walks up the stairs, trying to get an idea of what they're in store for using her shadow sight.

Carpenter nods. "Thank you again, ma'am." He heads up the stairs to the door, and he goes ahead and knocks.

It is notable that while the literature around the bar does state that 'some of the weapons are real', it says nothing about which ones -- or the overall percentage of 'realness' to 'reproduction' to 'absolute fake'.

Grimm's shadow-sight will reveal a spacious open-plan area taking up the entirety of the floor-space of the bar below. While the third floor (the apartment's first level) has a kitchen, a half-bath, a dining area with a table large enough for six, and a couple of comfortable couches and the like, the majority of it is taken up by, well, wargaming -- armies, tables, and all that. The fourth floor is likewise open, containing a half-bath, bookshelves on one side, and an open martial practice area on the other, complete with a mat for 'safe' falls. The fifth (top) floor has skylights, and except for a bed with a few clothes-holders and a full bathroom, is otherwise entirely empty. With the exception of the tiled kitchen and bathrooms, all the floors are polished wood.

The door is answered mid-third-knock by Lennox Hardigan, who is barefoot and wearing loose pajama-like bottoms and straightening an equally-loose white rough-cut tunic; he looks like he could model for 'fashions in rural Africa' or something. "Detective," he says, then glances past. "Miss Grimm. Come in." He steps back, holding the door.

Carpenter smiles. "Thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, but we just had a couple of questions for you that you might be able to answer."

"Oh," Gabrielle murmurs like she wasn't expecting the person who answered. Or that she was surprised by his looks, more likely. She falls quiet and lets Carpenter do his job after that.

Lennox waits for the pair to enter, and closes the door behind them. "Certainly. Can I get you something to drink? Presuming you're on the clock, alcohol is right out for you, Detective, but I have water, milk, and make a mean fresh lemonade."

Carpenter smiles. "Nothing right now for me. Thank you. Once I'm off the clock, I'll probably get a drink downstairs, though."

Lennox nods. "You, Miss Grimm? I'm warning you though, Detective, they don't make the lemonade downstairs."

"I'm good," Gabrielle says, though the lemonade sounds tempting.

Carpenter smiles. "The questions we had for you revolve around what I suspect is a hobby...or interest for you. I'm guessing you have a keen interest in weapons, based on the displays downstairs?"

Lennox nods, then turns and leads the way -- in this case, back through the various wargaming tables (of all types), to the masterpiece: an apparently fully-electronic holographic one, set up as a zoomed-back view of Colonial Bay, with indicators of a surprisingly-near-complete roster of active heroes -- and villians -- with green circles around them, and 'enemy' indicators with red circles. "I hope you do not mind -- working on ... well, plans. None of which would survive contact with the enemy, but the more one prepares, the better one can react. What questions can I answer for you?"

Lennox, who had moved halfway around the table by that point, looks over at Carpenter with a touch of amusement. "You might say that, yes. Tools of the trade."

Carpenter raises a brow. "Well...we have a stolen Hessian bayonet from a local museum. But that's not the weird part." He pauses, and then says, "It was replaced with...not a forgery...but another Hessian bayonet from the same era. Just...not the same one." He watches Lennox's reactions as he says, "Do you know anyone with a keen interest in such weapons?"

Grimm raises a brow at the roster of active heroes and villains. She wonders if it's just a game, or somehow a live tracking system. She skims it to see if she's on it and her proper location marked.

It takes Grimm a minute or two -- have to scan through a surprising number -- but Grimm does locate herself in the center of a cluster of other heroes, ones she's publically known to associate with. Other greatly-capable people are in the center of similar clusters. (Porter, notably, is all on his lonesome -- perhaps a random factor too unpredictable to place.) Five seem to be predominant: Grimm's, Ellbeth Wyrd, Amelia Steinberg, Radical, and Harlequin, spaced around the city in ... what looks to be more-or-less the points of a pentagram. It is /definitely/ not a real-time display.

Lennox looks up at Carpenter for a long minute, then nods. "I do. Not many, but there are a few people." He gets a distant look in his eyes, then steps back around the table. "If you will, come have a seat at the table while I go get a couple of things that should help you out."

While the black man is relatively self-controlled, Carpenter /is/ looking for unusual reactions -- and Lennox /does/ have them. Neither guilt nor panic are amongst them, however.

Grimm is relieved not to see Night Marshal on the list, even if he's a hero. But the position of others and her place on it leave her suspicious. She sits down at the table slowly by Carpenter.

Carpenter nods, "Thank you." He takes a seat as well, and he finally takes a closer look at hte table. Of course he scans for his own hero name, but he does try to take in the full thing.

Lennox nods, and heads upstairs, his bare footsteps going up the old flight steady and regular. Though he certainly /does/ move quietly -- bare feet on bare wood, and all -- the floor is not new, and has its own little creaks and groans. He moves around on the second floor instead of heading up to the third.

Grimm makes a gesture in the air, like tracing a pattern once Lennox steps away. A red line draws in the pentagram pattern Grimm sees. It may just be a circle, but the five magical points around her just vibe for her as being a pentagram. "Interesting map," she murmurs quietly. The red lines fade. Then she spots Night Marshal's name elsewhere on the map.

It doesn't take long for Lennox to come back down; when he does, he sets the item he's carrying (looks like a box about a foot, foot and a half long, maybe a quarter of that wide) down on the dining table, then heads into the kitchen. "If you'll come over here?" he calls, going into the refrigerator for something, then rattling around the tools for something.

Carpenter nods, and walks over to where Lennox indicated.

Grimm gets up and strolls over, still thinking on why Lennox has a hero and villains map.

... more to the point, with the heroes and villains teamed up, what could the opposition be?

Lennox comes back out with a cup full of grey cubes and a blender he's taking the bottom off of. After managing to get the thing unseated, he quickly unscrews it, then puts both pieces onto the table before handing first Carpenter, then Grimm, a set of ... what appear to be perfectly ordinary powderless latex gloves, the kind you'd use to stay sanitary -- or at a crime scene. "If you'll put those on," he murmurs, then dumps a few of the cubes out of the cup and into the mixer pitcher, where they drop and rattle onto the table -- the pitcher having no bottom at the moment.

He then reaches out to slide over the latchless case, which seems to be old but without any particular decoration. He opens it, flips a couple of things away, then turns it to face Carpenter. Inside, sitting on a piece of linen in the somewhat-worse-for-wear-padded case, there is a spear-tip of 1710-1730's Hessian manufacture, capable of being used as a plug bayonet. "This is what you'd be looking for."

"Careful," Lennox adds, "it's sharp."

Carpenter blinks. "This is the item? Here? Why do you have it? And did you take it from the museum?"

Grimm pulls on the gloves, tugging on them lightly and releasing with a snap. She smiles a bit at the mild sting. Her eyes widen at the spear tip.

Lennox lifts a hand. "Take a couple steps back first, please? Your questions will be answered in ... the course of my explanation. Miss Grimm," he says, then slides the glass with the rest of the grey cubes forward, "can you confirm for your colleague that these are soapstone?" They are, in fact -- ice-cube-sized chunks of soapstone commonly sold as 'whiskey stones', used to chill alcohol without watering it down.

Carpenter pulls some gloves on as well, and steps back a bit.

Lennox turns the case around, then, to pick up the spear-tip -- undoubtedly why he wished both Grimm and Carpenter to be out of danger's way, so as to give the officer time to draw if he (Lennox) made a threatening move. "Right now, this is an ordinary weapon." Handling it carefully, he positions it tip-down inside the mouth of the blender, using it as a makeshift guide, clearly intending on dropping it point-first to strike either the soapstone cubes (likely) or the table (absolutely, once it bounces).

Grimm steps back slowly. "Ummm. I'm not too familiar with types of stone, but they seem harmless enough. They remind me of some whiskey stones."

Carpenter furrows his brow, trying to figure out the point of this. Pun intended.

Lennox smiles a little. "Two points for you, Miss Grimm; that's exactly what they are. Now --" And he drops the spear-tip, point-down, at the stones. That unique 'crack/tink!' of metal hitting stone sounds, and he removes the spear-tip, puts it back in the case, then removes the blender-pitcher to pick up the stone that had been hit, which he tosses to Carpenter. "Not much damage, right?"

Carpenter takes a look at the stone after he catches it. "Mmm."

It is the spear-tip that undoubtedly has more attention from Grimm; while it doesn't seem magical, it has at least been around sufficient magic to have a slight aura of its own. Oddly, transformative magic.

Grimm furrows her brow at the demonstration. "I mean, not much of a surprise. That thing is anc...ient...what." She tilts her head. "But there's something else about it. Transformative magic? It's been infused with some magic. Well...maybe absorbed is a better term."

The black man nods, and drops a few more cubes into the empty mouth of the pitcher, to rattle against the wood of the table. He lifts the spear-tip again, then his other arm, shaking back his sleeve before deliberately using the weapon to make a minor cut on the back of the other arm. His skin is dark enough for the subsequent blood to be all but invisible, but it's far more visible on the blade -- and there's a slight but definite flare of that magic. He moves the weapon back to the mouth of the makeshift drop-tube, and lets go. The sound this time is a distinct 'crack', and this time when he removes weapon and pitcher, there are two halves of stone which he tosses, one to Carpenter, one to Grimm. There's also a narrow but maybe deep hole in the tabletop.

Carpenter frowns. "Hmm. So...a power activated by blood?"

Grimm reaches up and catches the cube not with her hand--because her hand eye coordination is terrible--but with her powers. Dark energy surrounds the cube and floats it over to her palm.

"More in the nature of a concealment deactivated by it," replies Lennox. "This'll last about a day or so," he continues, picking up the cloth the weapon was wrapped in and using it to wipe clean both the blade and his arm -- the latter of which has no evidence of a cut. "I've been trying to find it for a while, but I only got a lead ... five years ago? About that."

Grimm looks over the cube, then up at Lennox. "What will last a day or so? The magical effect?" she asks, trying to analyze what sort of transformation took place. "Why were you looking for it?" She's more curious about the item, but Carpenter will most likely be more concerned about the theft.

"The effect, yes. And because it's mine," Lennox replies, putting the spear-tip back into the case and turning it back around to face the other two, sliding the case across the table, then pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I lent it to an acquaintance, and he left town before giving it back. I thought the one he had was the one that's in the museum now, but it turned out to be this one -- the important one. The others are just what they appear; this one is the important one."

There are some magical artifacts that are concealed -- usually a minor illusion of sorts, occasionally a lesser transformation like this appears to be -- often to prevent misuse or to conceal the truth of the thing. Under the right circumstances, usually something simple once you know the how of it, they reveal the concealed reality hidden within. Most of them also suppress the item's magical aura, though this one's revealed aura seems to be the same as it was before it was blooded ... which suggests there might be more to the magic.

Carpenter folds his arms. "Have any proof that it's yours? Aside from knowing about the enchantment?"

"That's a dangerous magical item...for the 1800's," Grimm says dryly. "It was safe and hidden in the museum. Why did you need it now?"

Lennox eyes Carpenter for a few moments, then pulls out a chair and settles down in it, leaning back and crossing his arms, his gaze going a bit distant as he thinks. "Well," he muses slowly, "it has my forgemark on it; if you want, I can take it apart to show you. The others do too, of course, so if you've had the other one inspected, you'll have seen them -- the stamp for the forge, and my personal mark. Most people don't recognize the latter as /being/ a personal mark, but." He nods at the spike-like blade in its nest. "You can look at it if you want; that's what I brought the gloves for, if you felt a need to handle it."

The black man's gaze shifts then to Grimm. "We have an enemy coming; I imagine you've heard. That's one of my more ... reliable weapons. I'd rather have it by my side -- but I'd rather have it by my side anyhow."

Carpenter takes a deep breath, thinking about it. He did have a conversation with Lennox that implied that the other man was immortal. Or undying. The distinction is still a bit lost on him, but the bottom line is, he's been alive a long time. So, it's plausible. Likely? Maybe not. But plausible. He rubs his chin. "Given the situation...I'm inclined to let the case drop."

Grimm betrays some surprise when he offers to drop the case. But she's also relieved, because she suspects it could turn into a nasty fight. "Yeah, I've heard. I don't think that little bayonette of yours is exactly helpful against unknowable horrors, but if it makes you feel better, and Carpenter is willing to drop the case? Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Lennox mmmms, a noncommital sound. "I would appreciate it. It won't," he adds, "happen again; that's the only thing I've been missing." He flicks a fingernail at the table, making a soft 'tok!' sound. "For almost three hundred years, now," he adds in a mutter, then glances at Grimm. "Oh, the Outsiders themselves are fought mostly with determination and an unyielding will. A weapon that refuses to be changed certainly helps, though, and that there is one such in my possession. Well ... except in certain circumstances. It's complicated," he concedes.

"However, in my experience they inevitably have minions that must be dealt with. That," Lennox gestures towards the holographic gaming table, "is what I've been planning for."

Carpenter nods slowly as he listens. The conversation is moving toward somethign he doesn't have a ton of connection with, but at least he knows what they're talking about, more or less.

"Right. You've been planning," Gabrielle nods slowly. "To what exactly? Predict movements? Recruit villains?"

Lennox sits slowly back up, then reaches out -- again, slowly, because startling a cop when you're a perpetrator of a crime is unwise, even if being shot to death IS a momentary inconvenience. "Let me take it apart, and I'll show you. It is," he adds, "going to be reconfigured anyhow, just as soon as I get back into the swing of things. Literally, I'm afraid -- forgework."

Again, Lennox looks at Grimm as he removes the weapon and expertly starts to disassemble it. "Bit of everything, really. Not recruit villians -- that I'll leave to more stellar and well-known heroes -- but only a complete idiot just goes to war. You have a plan, you have a goal, you figure out how to accomplish the goal. You and the mystics need to get together to figure out how to send them back, seal whatever gate lets them in; the rest of us will have to keep your heads attached to your torsos while you do that. A good commander games out the situation as many times as possible."

Carpenter nods again, "Makes sense." He keeps his eyes on Lennox, just to make sure he made the right decision.

"Some of the more traditional mages are already looking into what they can about this. It may not be as simple as casting the right spell to seal it up," Gabrielle says quietly, thinking about the rift cracks that were suffusing her and how they wouldn't just go away with a spell. "So...the research has to be a bit broad in scope until we know more."

The black man's hands work almost independently of his attention, undoing the bits and pieces, using the corner of one of the soapstone cubes to slowly but certainly press out a plug. "I figured a significant ritual with the most powerful mages," he agrees with Grimm, his head nodding towards the holotable again. "Placement, numbers -- it's all in the air, but I've been working with what information I can get to have some idea of how the battle might evolve."

What took Dr. Gutzu ten seconds with her powers takes the supposed-smith and -immortal about three minutes, using only what's handy (specifically, the soapstone, the wooden case, and the cloth inside) as tools, but the thing is in its component pieces -- cork, wood, pegging, leather, and some fair steel. "The core of this is dwarven-make with three goblin runes of transformation -- 'keh', 'nik', and 'gah', literally 'shift', 'remain', and 'blood'. Those are hidden by the fae concealment pattern, here," and he turns the bared blade-and-tang over to the 'blank' side, where the image of elegant fae script is momentarily revealed when he rubs the blood in the cloth over the tang.

After it fades, a matter of ten or fifteen seconds, he turns it back over to show the side with the maker's markings. "Kleinschmidt un Sohns," Lennox says, tapping the sigil hammered into the tang that Evan McMasters had identified, "Year of Our Lord seventeen-hundred and twenty-two." Another gesture along the prior sigil, 'scratches' that apparently reveal the year and, as he continues, the date. "Seventeenth of August. Fire six." And then, seperate and lower on the tang, a tick and a curve, resembling an apostrophe and a lower-case letter U, easily mistaken as mis-strikes or scratches. "'u," he says, a glottal click followed by an exhalation of sound.

Grimm jerks her chin toward the battlemap. "You may have made a bit of a miscalculation. You may want to gray me out. I could potentially be a threat or a weak link in this."

Lennox shrugs. "I've run that scenario," he concedes. "About three dozen versions. For every significant individual on that table. Given that information, however, who would you most trust to swiftly and decisively," and here he pauses to glance between the two, "and presumably non-lethally, to remove you from the field should you become an issue?"

Carpenter raises a brow, and looks to Grimm to see how she answers.

Grimm blinks at that question. "What...?" She hadn't thought of a particular person.

The ebon-skinned Nubian wipes his hands on the cloth again, and settles back. "You should. You in particular apparently should. Someone you can rely on to put a stun round into the back of your head the instant you give a key phrase, the last thing you manage to say when you find yourself, ah, turning to the Dark Side. Consider the question; find the person. Don't make it someone so powerful they're going to be at the core of some other combat group. Get used to the idea. Practice, if you can manage to stomach it."

Carpenter lets out a long breath. "Very...practical, I guess." He wonders if he'd be able to do it, if necessary. Maybe?

Lennox shrugs. "Most people have not the will to do it once, much less practice multiple times, but if you /can/ practice, the more you /do/ practice, the more swift it will be when the time is critical. No wringing of hands and wailing, and then it is too late, and disaster results."

Grimm winces at the thought. The mention of a stun round makes her think very specifically of...the Judge, first. Actually. A flash of trauma remembered when he shot her in the back. And then replaced with Night Marshal. She feels her stomach curn a bit. "I'll...think of it. I don't know about the practice part..." her voice wavers. Grimm swallows thickly. "I...might know of a person or two I'd trust who wouldn't kill me doing it." Her eyes drift to the floor and doesn't mention names.

"Think of it," Lennox adds, "as a martial art -- the one you work with," he directs his words to Grimm, of course, "practicing a takedown with you as the one to be practiced upon. Until it becomes reflex."

"If it helps," the black man adds in his peculiar never-quite-the-same accent, "exchange moments -- practice a swift takedown of them, as well. Because in this world of superhumans, mentallists, and magic, it would seem that there is always a chance for someone bad to seize the capabilities of someone good."

Grimm doesn't look comfortable with this talk at all. "I...I'll consider it. I really don't think I like the idea of getting hit in the back of the head several times."

Grimm takes a breath. "There's at least one hero I know doesn't use lethal force at all."

Carpenter nods slowly again, "Not exactly an appealing prospect, I'm sure."

"It does not /literally/ have to be that," Lennox says drily. "An example. But I imagine you might be a difficult target to take down, so outflanked and by surprise would likely be the best option.'