Hideouts & Hoodlums: Justice Society of America

Game Master Scottenkainen

"New silver mine? Did everything work out with the old one?" Flash asks. "And what about this 'silver mine' in Michigan?"

"Thomas Acererak...no, I do not recognize the name..." Dr. Dykstra mused, "though my knowledge of Ojibwe history is perhaps not what it should be. Allow me a quick phone call. Agnes," he said into the phone to the campus operator, "put me through to Professor Goldenweiser....Ah, Alexander, will you be in your office long? I have a visitor I'd like you to meet. Good. Care for a walk, Mr...?" he asked Kent, hinting that he could use a name for introductions in a few minutes.

It was a nice morning for a stroll, which was just as well because the university campus was spread out over many blocks. Eventually, they reached the Sewell Social Science Building off of Observatory Drive and, ultimately, the office of Professor Alexander Aleksandrovich Goldenweiser.

The Professor, a 60-year old Ukranian, reacted gravely to Kent's request for information. "A Thomas Acererak? No...that is beink' quite impossible...for there to be a Colonial era figure of historical significance to the Ojibwe of whom I am not aware?"

But, when pressed, the Professor looked down and nodded his head. "Ya, ya...forgive me. It is presumptuous for me to be thinkink' that I would have heard all their people's oral histories. They go back very far, you see. In some 'vays better than our written histories, ya? To find answers, you must be seekink' their tribal chieftain, Orrin Erdrich. You 'vill find him in Odanah, at the Bad River Indian Administrative Office. I can phone ahead and let him know to expect you, if you like."

Wesley and Dian left Pipkin alone to ponder if he could leverage his information into a lighter sentence. Wes left the Tombs in silence, making plans in his head for how to use the information.

Jim Dane and the Flash were riding in a taxi south on Damen Avenue past local Chicago businesses, stopping frequently at stop lights, passing what seemed part of a maze of one-way side streets.

"The Mexico mine is doing fine," Jim responded warmly, as if glad for a momentary subject change. "I hired a new supervisor down there, a man I can trust to run it without me for long stretches."

But when pressed for more details about the new mine, Jim's mood darkened again. "Driver, let us off here," he said, pointing to a nearby bar & grill.

Once they were on the sidewalk and the taxi was gone, Jim said quietly, "There is no mine in Michigan; that's just the cover story I'm supposed to tell everyone. This is top secret, Flash, and I'm not supposed to be telling anyone, even you. But I figure I owe you both my life and livelihood, so...it's a factory. The government is setting up a factory and hired me as a consultant. It's about rearmament, gearing up for war, but...they want this factory to produce silver bullets."

"It seems they're preparing for some rather unusual enemy troops... Thanks Jim, your secret is safe with me. Be sure to contact me though if you have any problems or concerns with the new 'mine' after you get there, it's certainly unusual."

"Thomas Acererak...no, I do not recognize the name..." Dr. Dykstra mused, "though my knowledge of Ojibwe history is perhaps not what it should be. Allow me a quick phone call. Agnes," he said into the phone to the campus operator, "put me through to Professor Goldenweiser....Ah, Alexander, will you be in your office long? I have a visitor I'd like you to meet. Good. Care for a walk, Mr...?" he asked Kent, hinting that he could use a name for introductions in a few minutes.

It was a nice morning for a stroll, which was just as well because the university campus was spread out over many blocks. Eventually, they reached the Sewell Social Science Building off of Observatory Drive and, ultimately, the office of Professor Alexander Aleksandrovich Goldenweiser.

The Professor, a 60-year old Ukranian, reacted gravely to Kent's request for information. "A Thomas Acererak? No...that is beink' quite impossible...for there to be a Colonial era figure of historical significance to the Ojibwe of whom I am not aware?"

But, when pressed, the Professor looked down and nodded his head. "Ya, ya...forgive me. It is presumptuous for me to be thinkink' that I would have heard all their people's oral histories. They go back very far, you see. In some 'vays better than our written histories, ya? To find answers, you must be seekink' their tribal chieftain, Orrin Erdrich. You 'vill find him in Odanah, at the Bad River Indian Administrative Office. I can phone ahead and let him know to expect you, if you like."

Using plain old Dr. Kent Nelson for this jaunt.

"Thank you Professor, I appreciate you making that call. I don't suppose there is train service to Odanah? Or a car rental nearby? I am afraid I am not used to being away from Boston."

Wes apparently needed more time for plans. He drove around some time, sorting out details in his head.

Dian sat patiently beside him. "Do you need to bounce anything off of me?" she asked.

...

Dian sat patiently beside him. "Do you need to bounce anything off of me?" she asked.

Ah apparently we are pre-code.

What do you mean? Was there something suggestive there?

"Well, Dian, it looks like the Sandman needs to make two visits today. He'll have to have a chat with Jim Long. And he also needs to check out this address. Maybe I'll drop you off and then run a few errands."

Assuming Dian doesn't object, Wesley will drop her off at her house and then cruise out to the address, just to see what the joint looks like in the day time.

The Flash said his good-byes to Jim Dane in Chicago, then casually ran up the coast of Lake Michigan along U.S. Route 41. In Milwaukee, the weather turned and started to rain, so Flash picked up speed. But he still had to stop in Wausau, Wisconsin because he was hungry for lunch. There was an Appleton family restaurant, a smaller deli, the lounge in the Hotel Wausau, and the local Elk's Lodge (if Jay were a member) to choose from.

"Thank you Professor, I appreciate you making that call. I don't suppose there is train service to Odanah? Or a car rental nearby? I am afraid I am not used to being away from Boston."

"Ya, there is a car rental booth down at the railway station, but you will not be needink' it," Professor Goldenweiser said. "It would be my honor to drive you there myself. If there is anythink' to this legend, I wish to be there firsthand to be hearink' it."

Flash wants to get something quick to eat so he can continue on his journey. He finds a quiet location to change back to Jay, then heads into the small deli to order soup and a sandwich.

That afternoon, Wesley drove out alone to the Bronx and checked out Dr. Pipkin's address. It was a warehouse alright -- a furniture warehouse that doubled as a business place. If Mr. X was hiding out there, it was a case of hiding in plain sight.

"Ya, there is a car rental booth down at the railway station, but you will not be needink' it," Professor Goldenweiser said. "It would be my honor to drive you there myself. If there is anythink' to this legend, I wish to be there firsthand to be hearink' it."

"Then I am in your debt for the ride as well. Is it a long journey? It looks quite close on a map but such things can be deceiving."

Ready to move on towards the reservation.

Wesley returns home and tries to decide what to do first: visit Jim Long or check out the warehouse at night.

"Guess I'll stop by the warehouse and if it's a bust, I'll see about rounding up Mr. Long." Wesley dons the garb of the mysterious Sandman and races into the night, eager to torment the dreams of ne'er do wells everywhere.

After eating, Flash raced up Route 51, around the little town of Tomahawk, passed Tomahawk Lake, and hung a left at Trout Lake. Moving northwest and merging onto Route 2, Flash sprinted the last of the distance, reaching the Bad River Indian Reservation at 1:30 in the afternoon. There was no sign yet of Doctor Fate, so Flash spent some time finding the lay of the land.

The reservation, or at least 80% of it, consisted of forested hills. At least 10% of it was wetlands. That left the Chippewa Indians clustered into close communities. Its small towns, of which Odanah was only one, made up Sanborn Township.

The Indians lived much like other Americans living in poverty. Relics of their past were available for sale in roadside stands or available for photo ops. Fishing seemed to be the main industry, both for locals and tourists, with a state-of-the-art hatchery near where the township met Lake Superior.

Odanah had, not only the cultural and administrative offices for the reservation, but was closest to the Indian burial grounds.

The drive was a pleasant one for Professor Alexander Aleksandrovich Goldenweiser and Kent Nelson. They were able to have far-ranging and learned conversations about American history, with Kent's observations leavened with many personal experiences.

"You speak of it as if you were there!" Goldenweiser exclaimed more than once.

The drive was almost a straight shot up Rt. 51 and flew past, though perhaps not as fast as Kent should have liked. He realized, with a start, that they had been driving and talking for 6 long hours -- minus a half-hour lunch break in a local diner -- and it was now 4 in the afternoon when they pulled into Sanborn Township and the Town of Odanah.

Later that same night, the Sandman returned to the Fulton Furniture Warehouse in Brooklyn, an hour after closing.

Flash heads for the cultural offices first, hoping to find out more information.

Continuing my previous post for Sandman; I was interrupted before I could finish it.

The two-story warehouse was a rectangular building, longer north-south than east-west. It stood shoulder-to-shoulder with only one other building, a cannery on its south side that stood at the same height. There was a three lane street on the east side of the building, a two lane street on the north side, and a one way street behind the building, on its west side. There was a main entrance on the east side, a delivery entrance on the west side, windows all along the upper level, and a fire escape on the west side that ran up to the roof.

Flash had some more time to kill, so he did a quick pass through the Chippewa Indian Cultural Office and found it a mess of disorganized papers. Indeed, he would have thought it had been recently robbed, had the three old Indian men sitting out on the front porch smoking not looked so undisturbed.

Before the Flash could go back out front and talk to them, one of them appeared in the doorway to the main office, still calmly holding his pipe.

"So, which superhero are you?" the old man asked. "Superman? The Flash? You don't look like Silver Scorpion..."

"They should know at the Cultural Office who to talk to for the oral history you need, Mr. Nelson," Dr. Goldenweiser said as they exited from his car in Odanah.

"Thank you Dr. Goldenweiser. So you have run across no mention of a colonial era figure that could fit the person Dr. Fate is looking for? That is disappointing."

The Sandman spends a few moments watching the area, seeing if anyone is coming and going. Assuming nothing interesting happens, he will attempt to silently climb the fire escape, trying to find an entrance to the building, beside the front door.

The Sandman watched the warehouse for 10 minutes and was about to head to the fire escape when he spotted a thin, bearded man in a dark suit walking towards the front door of the warehouse. The Sandman was hiding in an alley on the side street, around the corner from the main entrance. He would not be able to see or hear the man at the door without creeping closer.

Flash had some more time to kill, so he did a quick pass through the Chippewa Indian Cultural Office and found it a mess of disorganized papers. Indeed, he would have thought it had been recently robbed, had the three old Indian men sitting out on the front porch smoking not looked so undisturbed.

Before the Flash could go back out front and talk to them, one of them appeared in the doorway to the main office, still calmly holding his pipe.

"So, which superhero are you?" the old man asked. "Superman? The Flash? You don't look like Silver Scorpion..."

Flash smiles at the old man, "I'm The Flash," he informs him, "Nice to meet you." Flash extends his hand.

Flash walks out onto the porch and sits beside the other old men. He figures he may be able to get more information, and faster, out of these three guys rather than the mess of paperwork inside. He sits silently for a moment, relaxing. He then starts some small talk about the tribe, their current circumstances, before moving on to their past. Eventually, he brings up the topic of the 'White Magician' Thomas Acererak.

By one of those amazing coincidences, Kent Nelson and Dr. Goldenweiser pulled up outside the cultural office just in time to see the Flash sitting out front on the porch, jawing with some old-timers.

More on this tomorrow.

At the mention of Thomas Acererak, the look on the old Indians' faces soured and they shared glances back and forth to each other.

"We thought some of your kind might come back," the man who had met Flash at the door said at last. "It was a year ago that a group of heroic men and a woman came here and, we believed, destroyed the spirit of the White Shaman. But we have seen ill omens that the Shaman, or something else, might have returned to his tomb.

"The tomb you seek is in our burial grounds. I will lead you to it if you want, but neither I nor any of my people will ever go in there again."

"Of course not, I would be most grateful for your assistance." Flash replies.

He looks up towards the two newcomers, "Are you expecting further company?" He asks the old men.

((OOC: Would Flash recognise/know Dr Fate as Kent Nelson?))

"No, I was not," the old man who did all the talking responded.

"Allow me to be introducink' myself," said the driver of the car who had just arrived. "I am Professor Alexander Aleksandrovich Goldenweiser of the University of Wisconsin at Madison. My, er, associate here is Mr. Kent Nelson. We have come to be askink' about a legend of your people. It may be a rarely told one. We would ask of...Thomas Acererak."

"Coincidence?" the Indian asked, looking to his two elderly companions. The old men took their pipes from their mouths, seemed to think long and hard about it, then shook their heads. "I didn't think so," the first Indian said. "It must be destiny that the White Shaman would be asked about twice in the same hour.

"The man you call Thomas Acererak was one of the first white men to approach our people 200 years ago. He was a powerful shaman, more powerful than any our people possessed. He enslaved our people for a time, but he was old when he came to us and his time was nearly spent. He ordered our ancestors to build him a burial tomb on our sacred ground and gave instruction on the building of devious and deadly traps within. And, upon his death, our ancestors thought they were free of him. But the spirit of the White Shaman never passed on, but stayed waiting in his tomb and cursed our people with his presence.

"It was only last year that a group of heroes came and vanquished the White Shaman's spirit before our eyes. Or so it seemed, but the curse has not yet lifted. The White Shaman might survive still, retreated into his tomb."

Taking a chance, the Sandman creeps closer to the man. "Hmm . . . do I know you?" The Sandman thinks to himself, trying to figure out how the thin man fit into all of this mess.

The Sandman was able to creep up close without being noticed.

While the thin man at first looked familiar, when the Sandman got a good look at the man's profile he saw the face was different from anyone the Sandman knew. The beard was shaggy and flecked with white.

The thin man gave a special knock on the door and waited. When a slot opened in the door, the man said "Equinox," and was allowed to go in.

"You wouldn't happen to know the nature of any of the deadly traps?" Flash asks, not holding out much hope.

He turns his attention back to the two new men. "What's the nature of your interest in Acererak?"

Professor Nelson stares slack jawed...

"Are you the.. the Flash? Dr. Fate didn't tell me you were looking into this as well. I mean I just got a telegram asking me to help with some research but I did not expect to meet such a famous hero."

"Equinox," the Sandman thought to himself, "I better keep that in mind. Well, I suppose I can't just knock, especially in this get up, so up and in I go!"

The Sandman scuttles up the fire escape, hoping to either find a way inside or at least a vantage point on what salt and pepper beard is up to inside.

"I regret that the nature of the traps was never passed down to us," the old Indian said. "I will lead you there whenever you are ready."

"Oh, you're working with Dr Fate?" Flash replies to Prof Nelson, "Pleased to meet you," he shakes Profs Nelson's and Goldenweiser's hands. "Yeah, I came out here to get a bit of a head start. And it seems I've struck gold already."

Flash nods at the Indian's reply. "I suspected as much, could never hurt to ask though, right?" Flash smiles.

He turns back to the Professors. "Are you gents up for a little field trip out to the site? We could give it a preliminary lookover from the outside."

It was easy climbing up the fire escape. The Sandman even took his time to climb it silently.

The fire escape led past a second floor window, but the glass was thick and glazed so that he could see nothing through it except to tell it led into a large, open space with light in it. The fire escape continued on to the roof.

On the roof, there was a roof access door and a skylight. The skylight glass was clear and Sandman could see through it to the warehouse room below.

The main room of the warehouse was 50' wide and 70' long, and almost half-filled with stacks of crates. Though there was plenty of room for someone to hide, the 7 people in the room 20' below the skylight were not trying to hide at all, but were moving slowly about the room and lighting big candles. All of the men were wearing hooded robes now, concealing their identities and preventing the Sandman from telling which one was "salt and pepper beard" from the front door.

Currently, the men were scattered so far that, even if the skylight was open, a gas grenade would only catch no more than four of them at once.

"Hmmm . . . These fellas look more like like Dr. Fate's sort of foes. Not the usual sort of riff-raff that I have to deal with."

The Sandman considers blasting them with gas, but remembers that he is here to figure out what is going on, not to just bust criminal head, so he tries to quietly open the roof door and slip into the building, hoping to not only see what the fellows below were up to, but to also hear what they were up to.

The old man, Orrin Edrich, got in his old pickup truck and prepared to drive out of town. Flash was free to follow him on foot, while Professor Goldenweiser and Kent Nelson drove in the Professor's car behind.

It was not a long trip, as Odanah was not far from the Indian burial grounds. A lone dirt road stretched deep into the sacred grounds, between a more modern-day cemetery and grass-covered burial mounds of ancient times.

"We have to walk from here," Edrich said after they stopped and exited their vehicles. Edrich had a walking stick now that he'd pulled out of his truck. "The mound you want is a good hike north of the road."

Once the tiny, eclectic group of hikers had reached their destination, it suddenly seemed obvious that there was something off about the hill-like mound in front of them. This mound was taller than all the others and, instead of being grassy, was buried under dead brambles.

"The entrances are on the north side," Edrich said as they continued around the mound clockwise. "There are three tunnels. We know the ones on the left and right to be trapped false entrances. You will want the middle tunnel."

Flash nods, and follows Orrin around the mound to the north side.

The Sandman jimmied the lock on the skylight as easy as pie. He left it cracked open just enough that he could rest his ear on the crack and listen through it.

Down below, the robed men gathered around, surrounded by all those candles, and began chanting. Most of them didn't sound very melodic and it wasn't fun listening. There was a chance, of course, that they were casting a spell, but Sandman had heard Doctor Fate casting spells and if they were, it didn't sound like they were doing that very well either.

"I hope no one is expectink' me to be goink' in there," Professor Goldenweiser said as they rounded the mound. "I am unaccustomed to field work..."

"Don't worry, professor, we're just here to take a look from the outside. I'm not planning on going in until we get some more heroes here, especially Dr Fate."

"Well, there it is..." Orrin Edrich said. He pointed into the middle of the weed-choked north side of the mound. "Even from here, you can see where the bramble has been pulled away from the tunnels if you look closely."

Flash moved closer to the middle tunnel and peered inside. It was dark in there, but there was definitely a stonework tunnel behind the bramble, slanting down into the interior of the giant mound.

"Don't worry, professor, we're just here to take a look from the outside. I'm not planning on going in until we get some more heroes here, especially Dr Fate."

"Who knew something like this was in America... Thank you Mr. Edrich. I am humbled that you trusted me enough to let me see this."

"Well gentlemen, I am afraid this is as far as I can go without a skilled dig team, proper funding, and formal permission from the tribe and the BIA. Besides I think I owe Dr. Fate a telegram letting him know what has happened. I did promise to contact him as soon as I learned anything. He gave the impression that this tomb might not be entirely safe."

"Might I borrow your car Professor Goldenweiser? I would hate to drag you away from this find so soon."

Assuming a yes from Goldenweiser Kent hops in drives out of sight and earshot. Chances into the Dr. Fate gear and drives back.

Dr. Fate explains the fact that there was nowhere near enough time for Kent to reach the nearist telegraph/telephone with a cryptic Well I cannot compete with the Flash for speed but there are ways to speed things up a bit. You have a fine automobile Dr. Goldenwieser."

"Dr Fate, I didn't expect to see you here so quickly! You didn't happen to bring Sandman with you?" Flash leans over sideways to peer behind the mystic Doctor.

"Wait, but he...my car...was where now...?" Professor Goldenweiser sputtered, trying to piece the puzzle together.

"Well, since I don't understand what they are saying, I guess I should slip in a get a better view."

The Sandman finds a way into the building, using the skylight most likely and tries to maneuver himself in position to get a closer look at the ceremony.

There was nothing below the skylight but the robed men and crates below. Off to the side was a second floor catwalk. The Sandman could lower himself down on a grapple line from the skylight and try to swing over to the catwalk, or he could try to lower himself behind some crates down below. Either way, there was a chance of being seen by the robed men.