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The Break-In


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Outside the vault, Scarab's path down to the basement was a surprisingly easy one. Universities are liable to things like state building codes, and that means they can't use the toughest and most stringent security measures. It was an easy matter for her to open doors and locks, without so much as attempting to draw on the memories and thoughts of old criminous lives. The vault door itself was decorated with familiar arcane wards, some of them bearing the marks of familiar practitioners like Adrian Eldritch. In theory, there should be no barrier to Scarab's opening the vault door beyond the complicated, tricky lock. In theory, someone on the inside would have it easier.

As it happened, though, neither Dark Star nor Avenger were having a particularly easy time of it. Dark Star had successfully lit up the vault by flipping on the lights, but his interlocutor showed no signs of showing himself. As for Avenger, though it was a relief to see that this individual was not hostile, he was still left with the pressing problem of what to do about him. Crouching among what was left of a previous generation of superheroes, Avenger thought quickly. "Friend outside. Let him in slow, would you?"

As for Belphegor, there proved to be an unfortunate number of magical wards in place as he headed down into the basement. Fortunately, though, no one had evidently thought to protect the ducts (or they had protected them in previous years and been forgotten, there were several damaged wards in the climate control system.) Down here, at least, there didn't seem to be anything between him and his destination. It was hard to judge exactly where he was going, but the echoing voices inside the climate control system at least gave him a clue.

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Ah, sloppy Americans, always leaving things half-done, he thought. He honestly had no idea what the assorted wards -- broken by lines of rust or dead roaches lying across them, scuffed by the tracks of passing mice, and so on -- were specifically for, since he had no actual training in matters arcane. He did know enough from his studies of art and antiques, though, that it was believed that such symbols could be used to keep supernatural entities out of a proscribed area.

The great dark cloud zipped through the ducts, stopping at a position so that he could peek out through the grates/vents and see the people in the Vault. Alright, let's see what I'm up against here.

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Dark Star frowned at the disembodied voice, not that it showed. He still couldn't see the speaker, even with the lights on (not that it usually bothered him). He wasn't sure if he was dealing with a hero or villain, though the initial statement lent more weight to the hero argument. And while he wasn't worried about one, he wasn't sure he could take on two if it came to that. Especially without preventing all of this history from being destroyed.

But he could at least take a look. So he turned and pushed, not through the door, but through the wall. A quick turn and he poke his head through the wall of the hall in front of the door. Just in case someone was waiting. However, he when stuck his head through the wall, he actually paused a moment.

"I recognize you...sorta. You're a hero. Been away for quite a while so kind of fuzzy on the name. Hang on, let me get the door." He ducked back inside the wall and zipped over through the walls and back into the vault.

"Ok, I'll get the door. Looks like you're friend is a hero I kind of recognize. Makes me a tad more comfortable about the situation." He turned to the vault door, using his gravity powered telekinesis to unlock and open it. He was probably a little too quick to trust. But the person outside the door WAS a hero...

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Eventually Scarab got the door open and entered the vault, leaving the three heroes glowering at each other for a few moments before Avenger spoke. "Introductions. Avenger. You? He showed his face now that Scarab had arrived, a grim, menacing figure as he crouched amid the broken debris on the floor. "Suggest we search. Manifest?"

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Dark Star looks over at the now revealed Avenger. "I'm Dark Star, a new arrival." He looked around the room. "No idea what was supposed to be here but there are several odd items in here. Some don't seem to have any mass to them...strange." He moves to help search the room more thoroughly now.

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"Thank you."

"I am The Scarab. I have recently returned to Freedom City after a long absence."

"There are several items missing from Beaumont's collection. Most of them have disasterous potential in the wrong hands. Most of his pieces are merely mundane antiques and art objects, but a few are more than meets the eye."

The Scarab gives a brief description of the items she remembers which are unaccounted for, then kneels down on the ground, supporting herself with one arm while the other touches her forehead. "Pardon me for a minute. I'm going to find out what happened here. Avenger, if you would be so kind as to watch my back, I think you 'know the drill.'"

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The past opened to the Scarab like a flower, the dim and murky reaches of time peeling open to reveal a brightly-lit room and two black-clad figures inside. One is a slim, muscular man with a Roman nose and jet black hair; the other is tall and pale, with deep-set, cavernous eyes. Their demeanors are different, for all that they're both engaged in the work of looting a shelf full of antiquities. Scarab recognized a few of those old artifacts right away; the blade that made Nacht-Krieger, the ashes of Varney Orloff, and a legion of other artifacts collected by the Liberty League and Bowman in particular. "You have done well, Mr. Lockpick," said the big-eyed man as he lovingly placed a fragment of daka crystal in his bag. "I will make sure to thank our friend for this."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm real grateful..." In the vision, Lockpick pinched the bridge of his prominent nose, smearing a faint trace of dust there. "Thought all you wanted was the knife and the jar." He pointed to a small collection by the other man, where the ashes of a dead vampire and a shadowy obsidian blade lay across each other like a Jolly Roger of the Damned.

"It's a present for a friend, Mr. Lockpick," intoned the other man, an amused, toothy smile on his face. "No more, no less. If you really want this extra weight when we make our exit, be my guest. I am faithful, not a fanatic; I have not, for example, begrudged you that piece of golden metal from Envoy's staff..." The two men shared a professional argument about burglary and theft as they methodically looted the room, then Lockpick waved his hands and made the shelf they'd mostly emptied fall over without looking at it.

"Take that seriously! C'mon, let's blow this joint. We'll meet back up at my place and do our division there, kapsice?"

Outside of Scarab's vision, Avenger had divided his attention between watching Scarab and finding the vault's manifest. He paged through it slowly, carefully, muttering black, growly curses as he went. That left Dark Star, left temporarily without a job, to feel the terrible prickers on the back of his neck of some terrible alien intelligence gazing upon them from some unknown corner of the room.

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Dark Star nodded. "Pleasure."

He looked around, not really skilled at this sort of thing. "Oh, not sure what they were after but these," he pointed towards the objects he noticed before, "are anomalous. They have practically no mass or gravity as near as I can figure. Yet I see them here. Not sure if that helps us or not but..." He shrugged his shoulders.

Then he suddenly paused. "Head's up. We're being watched. Something rather different. Intelligent and I'm not getting a happy feeling here..." He reached out and focused with his enhanced senses, trying to locate the source. He nods towards the grating. Just because the shape was definitely not normal-human looking, Dark Star didn't assume anything. He'd made that mistake before and he preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt.

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"Don't be ridiculous!" Avenger spat back as he slammed the book shut with a sound like a gun going off. "You obnoxious little punk, coming in here and trying to tell us how to do our job!" Despite his angry words, he very clearly nodded at Dark Star, then at the floor-level ventilation duct that he'd come out of himself. No use drawing attention to that little fact, though, since in all the excitement he'd neglected to unscrew the blessed thing. He held up his fingers in a silent countdown as he walked towards the vent, three, two, one, then kicked the thing in.

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Damn, just when he'd gotten into a perfect spot, Belphegor thought, once more completely oblivious to certain goings-on about him. If that... walking nightscape said anything, I would've been able to see the full inventory.

Wait - he spoke because he spotted me! Perhaps I should move...

The thundercloud of black smoke crept down the ducts, trying to circle around to the other side of the room.

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Avenger's kick broke away the grate as if he'd hit it with a cannon, sending the fragile screen back into the duct itself with a screech. Avenger peered into the duct, trying to spot wherever that black cloud of smoke had gone.And I didn't even get a chance to see if that was anyone I know, dang it! "Dark Star. Saw in here when lights were off. Night vision?" He pointed to the duct, looking at Dark Star.

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The CRASH! of the pipe under Avenger's foot jarred The Scarab out of her trance.

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs as she mumbled. "Two men. One's a pro, goes by 'Lockpick.' He was a hired gun. Some sort of telekinetic. The other was his employer. Real Bela Lugosi looking chap. Mentioned some sort of faith. A cultist, maybe. But heavy on the pragmatism. Skimmed off the top for themselves. They got away with The Knife, the ashes of a vampire, a daka crystal, and a few other odds and ends. And those weren't impulse-buys. They knew exactly what they were after."

She stood up, then hesitated for a moment. *sniff* Is that sulfur...?

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Dark frowned at the grate for a moment. He kept his voice soft, hopefully so only Avenger and Scarab would hear just in case the could was not on their side. "It was some kind of cloud. It's moving away, not sure to where yet. I could always go in and ask the cloud. Anyone you folks know?" He shrugged his shoulders at Scarab's question.

"I think he might trying to circle through the vents, to other side of the vault." He continued to keep his voice low and stare at the original point to not give anything away.

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"It's no one I know. Anything worth taking is already gone, so if it's a thief, it's out of luck. If its intent is more violent, I'm not comfortable with leaving it in the hands of campus security. I have enough innocent blood on my conscience already. And the scent of brimstone is never a good sign."

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He looked at the grate again. "I might be able to stop the cloud. Never actually tried it before but it should be possible...but if it is leaving, I'm not sure it was a threat. It hasn't done much beyond observe and then depart. As long as it isn't a danger to the people, I'm inclined to leave it be."

Dark Star shrugged finally. "Well, we have two thieves after specific items, as well as a little extra loot. Not sure if the rest isn't valuable though but they certainly didn't overly burden themselves. Do we know anything about the items that were taken? Or the thieves themselves?"

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Dark Star had a pretty clear view of the demonic smoke inside as it creeps its way up and out of the ventilation system, the gravitic disturbances curving through space-time as it heads away from the library entirely. It was a disturbing experience, really; gravity simply shouldn't operate that way. It seemed that the demonic was as alien and antithetical to the laws of gravity as it was to the other basic, foundational laws of the universe. The important thing, though, was that the demon's flight (and it certainly seemed a demon, especially to Scarab's keen perceptions, who'd fought her share of fiends in previous lives) was by no means a subtle one: the 'damn'd' thing was gone, and in a hurry.

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"I guess it didn't like the odds. Save your strength, DarkStar. We should get a move on. I've never heard of this 'Lockpick' character, and I didn't recognize his employer. I can do more scrying, but I'd prefer to do it from a more secure location."

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Dark Star frowned as he watched it zoom off. "It was certainly odd. All of the reading on it were rather off. Completely negating various gravimetric laws. I certainly haven't encountered something like that before." His voice had a musing, thoughtful tone; he was curious. "I'll have to ask it if there's a next time," he said mostly to himself.

He shrugged and returned to the conversation at hand. He nodded to Scarab. "Very well. It's gone now. So where would be a better place for you to do this? Not sure how much help I can offer tracking this Lockpick down. I have some connections I could call I suppose if nothing else." While he waited, he couldn't help but look at the various items that seemed odd to his gravity senses. He had no intention of taking them but he was still curious.

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The Scarab pauses for a moment. "No. No need for us to meet in some condemned fleapit in The Fens. Not this time. I poured a lot of time, effort, and resources into building my palace in my previous incarnation. We may as well get some use out of it. Avenger, you know the way. I'd tell you to avoid being seen, but it would be redundant. DarkStar, if you can move under your own power, and do it without being seen, then follow me. Otherwise, take my hand."

With that, The Scarab disappears. One second she was standing there, the next she wasn't. DarkStar hears her voice resonate inside his mind. "I'll give you directions. Head south..."

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