undergrounds | The Case of Blackthorn Mansion [closed to Apollo, Stiles, and Heiji]

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The Case of Blackthorn Mansion [closed to Apollo, Stiles, and Heiji]

"Dear Mr. Justice,

My family has recently suffered a great misfortune, of whose exact manner I am loathe to discuss by letter. An acquaintance of mine suggested that your law offices may be able to provide some remedy. I pray that this is the case.

Enclosed are instructions to the family estate. I hope you will forgive me for this impersonal manner of address, but if you can at all find it within your heart to lend an ear to my troubles, you would have my eternal gratitude. I shall be waiting for your visit on the date provided.

Best Regards,
Violet Blackthorn."

Heiji looked up from the letter and the swirl of the writer's signature. After a moment, he folded it up, and handed it back to Apollo. "Hey, I've actually heard of these guys. Real old family, used to make a lotta donations. High-society, but now it's down to two or three people."

The neighborhood of Viola Blackthorn's house certainly seemed to be a storied one. One particular house, grey, stately, and slightly dilapidated, rose at the end of the street. It was to this house that they'd been summoned, and it was indeed quite large -- practically a mansion. A heavy oak door served as its entrance, with a lion's head door knocker mounted on its face. The lawn was immaculately kept.

Oddly, they'd been directed to the service entrance, not the main one. Or maybe this was by design and Miss Violet Blackthorn simply didn't want Mr. Apollo Justice and co. using the door meant for high society. In any case, they'd arrived just in time; the sky was darkening with the rain clouds that promised quite a drenching...

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He looks back at Heiji for a moment, his own arms crossing slowly.

"Ma'am, if you were blinded, how could you tell it was a man?" If the voice was raspy, then...? Well, time to find out.

Violet sounded doubtful. "Well, I suppose it could have been a woman, but... thugs like that are usually men, aren't they? I... just assumed it had to be." Interestingly, only the last sentence was a lie. And was that a hint of hesitation in her voice?

"And besides," she said almost to herself, "That door is terribly heavy. I should think even a man would have had a spot of trouble with it..."

While Stiles might not have found a lot of information on the incident itself, there was across an interesting article written by an ambitious investigative reporter concerning the Blackthorn family. It mentioned that while the current two remaining members of the family lived in the old Blackthorn mansion, neither had full access to the Blackthorn lineage's dwindling fortunes and real estate, which was being divided. Violet was set to receive title to the mansion, and Grey the family bank accounts...

Edited 2015-05-28 02:08 (UTC)

The Blackthorn name is indeed the next stop in terms of google searches, though it does take a few adjustments to find anything of relevance. He stiffens visibly as he reads the incriminating headline of the article, before diving in to skim it rapidly. Interesting. So, the nephew is going to inherit all the money. But then why the hell would he endanger that future by getting involved in a crime like this? No, surely the old woman is right—it couldn’t have been Grey. He must have been framed.

That naturally leads to the question of who would benefit the most from Grey being hospitalized or convicted of attempted murder. Stiles darts a glance at Violet, thoughtful.

"You opened the door for us," he points out with a shrug. "And I know some pretty strong ladies, let me tell you."

... Stiles is surprising him in all kinds of ways tonight. This kid's sharp, but he's more focused on the pulse that just happened on his wrist. Not only that, it seems like all three of them were on edge and it was time to find out why.

"That's true, you seemed to move the door no problem. So why are you assuming it was a man at all?"

"Well... I suppose..." was Violet's answer. She fidgeted a bit with the corner of her sleeve. "I'm not sure I like your tone, young man. I hope you're not casting aspersions. I was in this room, as were my guests -- we've all vouched for each other!" No lies there.

"Lemme get this straight," said Heiji. "The lights went out. The man or woman, whoever it was, came to the door. They opened it, shone a light into the crowd, and fired twice."

He crossed his arms. "How 'bout a little thought experiment? You said yourself the door was heavy. You're suggesting the same guy pulled open that door, trained a heavy-duty flashlight around, and still had a hand free to fire that handgun? What was he doing, fumbling for the light while he got the door open? Maybe he asked you politely to wait a second while he set up a doorstop?"

Edited 2015-05-28 02:34 (UTC)

Heiji’s nonchalant but confident accusations pull Stiles up short, and he turns to regard the young man with a new, bright admiration. Feeling that now is the best time to bring up his findings, he crosses the room to join Apollo and wordlessly holds up his smartphone for the lawyer to read. He doesn’t say anything out loud, since he’d rather leave that up to his companions, but he’s hoping it’ll give Apollo the edge he needs to get the truth out of Violet. Something isn’t adding up.

Apollo was just about to open his mouth and tell Heiji off for being rude out of nowhere, but he's stopped short when he feels the weight of the phone being placed in his hand and he looks down to read instead and use his thumb to scroll.

His eyes scowl for a moment, and he looks back up at Miss Blackthorn, head swimming and trying to work out whatever the hell was happening.

Thanks, Stiles.

"Ma'am, could you think of any reason why your nephew would try to attack? No doubt the police are trying to dig up a motive."

Violet walked slowly over to the sofa, where she sat down heavily. "You know, Mr. Justice, when my acquaintance suggested I contact you to help me defend my poor, bedridden nephew, I thought it was an excellent idea. And I can see that you have at least two brain cells to rub together."

There was a rustle of her long black skirt as she pulled a shotgun from between the couch cushions.

"That's two more than you vultures usually have, you pointy-haired little cockroach."

Boy, that sure didn't sound like a little old lady. Heiji dove behind an end table as the gun went off, impossibly loud in the closed-off space of the waiting room. Little bits of wood exploded everywhere, pelting him with small splinters and dust.

Um. Run for it?

There are a number of reactions to a gun being pointed right at your face, and Apollo doesn't pick any of them.

... "A COCKROACH? LISTEN, LADY—"

— Oh.

He quickly shuts up and ducks just in time when the gun is shot, shocked for a total of three seconds before he grabs Stiles by the sleeve and shoves him towards the exit, following close behind.

Okay, no, an old lady with a gun IS NOT WORTH THE MONEY.

Heiji, meanwhile, took a moment of time to recoil from the shotgun pellets embedded into the wall on general principle. Their opponent had apparently loaded the gun with iron ammunition and nope nope nope.

"Not so fast, you little pest!"

Violet yanked on a wall sconce just as they reached the door. Somehow, impossibly, an actual trap door opened under their feet, sending them hurtling down into the darkness to who knew what down below.

Heiji turned instinctively back into a fox as he descended; in this form, he was roughly the size of a loveseat. If he hit bottom first, he might at least break someone's fall...

Edited 2015-05-28 06:16 (UTC)

What the hell is even happening anymore. Stiles hardly knows—once the lawyer had finished reading the brief article, he’d returned to googling the Blackthorn name. This is why there are laws about texting and driving; maybe the Night Council should push a vote for no texting and dealing with supernatural creatures. That sounds reasonable. Or maybe Stiles should stop wondering about inane things like this and focus on the fact that the little old lady is pointing a loaded shotgun at them. Screaming shrilly, he clutches to Apollo as they head for the door (don’t worry, he’s still holding onto his cellphone, he hasn’t lost all his senses, heaven forbid).

When the floor gives way under their feet, his screams turn into a shrieking mantra of “oh my god oh my god oh my god” the whole way down. Hopefully Heiji’s fox hearing isn’t too sensitive.

Said fox does, in fact, break his fall. Small miracles. Incoherent yelling cut off in surprise, Stiles pushes himself up onto his arms to appreciate his continued existence. Then Apollo lands on him.

“Oh my god,” he whines, burying his face into Heiji’s fur and not even bothering to question how the hell Heiji had managed the feat, “this is just like the Exorcist and that grandma is going to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.”

"Hurgh," said Heiji, helpfully, as Stiles fell on him in a manner that may or may not have been like a sack of potatoes. His fur was nice and soft, but that didn't solve their current problem. Which was that they were in a dimly-lit room in the basement of some lady's creepy haunted mansion with no immediate way of getting out.

"The heck is this?" Now that he was looking around, it looked like the room was rather... eccentrically decorated, to say the least. There were what looked like coffins in the center of the room, raised up on stone platforms. In the far corner was an old metal chandelier with a few candles in various stages of guttering out, casting weird shadows as they did so.

Apollo, landing right next to Stiles, quietly stumbles off of Heiji in a shock (this is the first time he's ever seen Heiji transform too, and he makes a personal note to ask about it later) and he doesn't even have the mind to take in these stupid surroundings yet.

"What the heck is this...? What the heck WAS THAT!?" Apollo nearly screams, frantically pointing upwards.

"Some weird coffin room? Old lady pulling out guns? Weird monster voices? A trap door!? What kind of house uses a TRAP DOOR."

Heiji wriggled out from under Stiles and reverted back to his normal appearance, so hopefully Stiles had let go of him by now or he'd be grabbing Heiji's shirt. He looked back up at the top of the trap, but the door was rapidly closing. It was now just a little sliver of light from up above, though they could still hear the dry cackling of whoever it was in Violet Blackthorn's body.

"Serves you right, you little meddlers! Let's see if you can Stiles yourself an escape route!"

Insult to injury.

"...Hey Stiles, you got any cell reception down here?"

Stiles, being Stiles, has not released his fistfuls of fur by the time Heiji transforms. Squawking, he loses balance and almost crashes into the other boy’s chest before hastily letting go of his shirt with an apologetic look. There’s a faint tremble crawling up his limbs, because they all nearly died and it was awesome. The pun from above nearly goes over his head since he’s too occupied patting himself down for injuries, but then he realizes what was said and—

“Hardy haw haw!” he shouts up, rolling his eyes so far into the back of his head it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck there. “Real original, you creepy old bat!”

Mocking their captor is likely not the best course of action. Turning to Heiji, Stiles makes a little “O” with his mouth and then hurriedly goes to check.

“Yeah, dude, I—oh, no.”

Well, there goes that. With a noise of disgust, he flips on the flashlight app to the phone and peers into the darkness around them.

“Hey, uh, Apollo. Wanna check to see if the coffins are occupied?”

WE VOLUNTEER APOLLO AS TRIBUTE, OH VAMPIRE LORDS. PLEASE ACCEPT THIS SACRIFICE.

Apollo snorts at the pun, despite himself, but politely covers his mouth even though it's too late. On the upside, at least they were sent down together as a group, and that seemed to be first mistake this lady made. Well, besides the bad put-together plot on this nephew with... whatever was going on.

—Oh okay thanks Stiles.

"... You did not just nominate me for coffin duty. You seriously did not," Apollo bites back, taking out his own phone and turning on the flashlight.

"Alright, j-just have my back." With that, he steps forward, hands already shaking and ready to fight when he walks up to one of the coffins, and realizes he has to use two arms. Well, fuck.

"Stiles, shine your light over here," Apollo instructs, pocketing his own phone before putting full strength into pulling the farthest coffin's lid open.

The coffin's lid didn't so much swing as explode open, spewing its pressurized contents freely out at them. Chunks of thick red, mixed with writhing white tendrils, and...

It was spaghetti. It was like 50 gallons of pressurized spaghetti. Had she planned this.

High above them, a speaker crackled to life. "Did you hear about the Italian chef who died?"

A slight pause. "HE PASTA WAY!" This was followed by loud, high-pitched cackling; clearly their adversary was enjoying herself. "It's too bad I couldn't take care of you with the birdshot, but don't worry. I'm sure you'll find plenty down there to keep you company."

Heiji spotted a hint of a reflection, fumbled around in the spaghetti, and brought out a small key. "...Anyone see a door or somethin' we can unlock?"

Offering light as requested, Stiles almost has a heart attack when the lid slams open at Apollo. In that moment, he is so relieved that he didn’t venture any closer. RIP lawyer dude, it was nice knowing you. Except no vampire comes springing out to suck their blood. Once “Violet” has made her announcement, he slowly approaches and picks a piece of spaghetti off of Apollo’s head.

“Wow.” Shrugging, he dangles it over his mouth before dropping it. “…Could use some serious reheating.”

Thank you, Stiles. Your observation will undoubtedly be critical in helping to solve the current dilemma. As if aware of this fact, he sheepishly begins to look around, phone flashlight leading, for a door. There are none that he can see, so he turns his attention back to the other coffins. Maybe there’s another trapdoor somewhere under them? He tries to push one out of the way with his knees, but it’s totally ineffective. Grunting, he puts the phone between his teeth and uses both arms.

“Nebbermind,” he says around a mouthful of phone. “Nut habbening.”

When he straightens, the phone’s light hits another reflective surface—in the corner of the room, a particular coffin has a keyhole. Stiles glances over at Apollo and Heiji, uncertain.

"Hey, don't eat that stuff," said Heiji. "You don't know where it's been!" Yes, that was the problem, possible food poisoning. He made his way along a wall, looking for seams that might betray another door, but when Stiles spoke up again, he came forward with the key.

"...Well, can't be any worse than sticking around here, right? Here goes..." Heiji shoved the key in the lock, took a deep breath, and shoved the lid off. Inside was a body.

Well... a body that had been dead for a while and was now just a skeleton covered with rotted cloth. A yellowed, brittle piece of paper was clutched in one hand.

"I know that the family has its traditions, but she is far too unstable to remain at liberty, even in death. That is why I commissioned the spirit bottle. Take care to hide it away somewhere safe. And for god's sake, don't let anyone open it!

Yours Truly,
Aloysius"

... No one even bothered to offer him a napkin.

It's a good thing Apollo always comes prepared, as he pulls a package of napkins from his back pocket to hopefully wipe most of this mess off. And he's not saying a lot of nice things under his breath, either.

It looks like Heiji's find was a lot more interesting and saved them from another bad ghost pun, but he still makes a face once he sees the corpse. He's seen dead bodies before, but... not skeleton.

He spots the paper however, and cautiously creeps forward before he swipes the paper in a flash and shoots back to a safe distance.

Apollo takes a deep breath before opening it, reading the contents, and trying to make sense of it.

"... We haven't even been here for a half hour and I'm already going crazy. Did they stick that insane lady's soul in a bottle?"

While the other two men are distracted with the note, Stiles stares long and hard at the skeleton in the coffin. There’s a furrow to his brow, a pensive look that doesn’t fade. Something isn’t right here. A handful of spaghetti later, he’s turning around to beam at Apollo and Heiji; he literally just decorated the skeleton’s head with spaghetti hair. Why does anyone take this child anywhere.

“It usually takes a few years for a body to decompose,” he remarks, thinking of what he knows from his father’s line of work. “If that Aloysaurus guy—” It isn’t a dinosaur, Stiles. “—was talking about her, then either she’s been free for ages or someone recently opened it. Maybe. I guess it’s dependent on what the hell a spirit jar actually is.”

Stiles.........

"I think someone woulda noticed it if she was out sooner," said Heiji, brushing a noodle off his shoulder. "I mean, she ain't exactly low-key. I bet that bottle was hidden away somewhere, and someone found it without knowin' what it was. Probably opened it and let her out and then she staged that 'accident'."

Then he brightened. "But if that's true, that bottle might still be intact! Ghosts can't pick up them jars, or they'll get stuck in them all over again." Yeah, maybe if they found it, no one would have to punch Stiles...

As if in response to their conversation, there was a small trickle of dust from one corner of the room. Part of the wall had swung inward just slightly, revealing a tiny crack of light beyond.

No, our goal tonight is to punch Stiles. SOMEHOW.

"So... we have to find this bottle, get to the top floor again, and seal away the ghost? Sounds easy enough." It doesn't.

Apollo carefully pockets the note into his ~~court record~~ pocket, fishing out his phone again for the flashlight. This is the last thing he needed, he had some other work to get done at home.

"Stiles found an interesting piece of information," Apollo starts as he searches for a door. "Miss Blackthorn and her grandson are the only two left. So who the hell is this ghost?"

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"That's two more than you vultures usually have, you pointy-haired little cockroach."

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"Not so fast, you little pest!"

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