Shawn read the first small scratches of the letter written in cursive script on yellowed-paper.

"Crowley,

It is your job to sell this idea to Shawn, not mine. It is you who have requested my help, not the other way around. If you want to be spared the total destruction of the Circus and not become fodder for Proprietor, I suggest you convince him to follow you to the mountain. Little Stone is not aware of our plans...."

---

Shawn opened up another black briefcase and...


OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure

Shawn slips the letter into his pocket for later, just in case. Then he keeps looking.

OOC: 07:41, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,10(+2),5,8.  Wits + Composure.

It was a doll. A doll in the suitcase. All round-face and white porcelain. It was wearing a China doll dress and sported two rose colored dots on its cheeks. There was not mistake about it. This was another Ventriloquist dummy. Perhaps not one that Shawn had seen Bradford use before.

Shawn manages to control himself long enough to set the doll down on the floor next to Tiffany. He still didn't like dummies much, and seeing it had made his heart skip a beat. He tried to go back to his search, though he had to stop and turn the doll around so it wasn't looking at him.

Tiffany patted Shawn on the shoulder, signaling to him that she wanted something. Then she pointed towards the ceiling. It appeared that she was interested in getting a boast to see what might be on the upper shelf of the closet.

She pointed to the shelf where three, separate black briefcases were.

Shawn looked up at the shelf, gauging the height of the closet shelf. Then he looked around at what was in the room. Were there any chairs to stand on? Could the other, already opened briefcases stack on top of each other? If so, how solid were they?

Shawn gazed around the room and found a large chair. It might be heavy to move (Reflexive Roll Strength.) Then there was the chance that the suitcases might be able to be stacked up against one another (No roll.)

Shawn didn't want to move the chair, lest it make a bunch of noise. So he started stacking up the suitcases - there were plenty around, so he basically turned it into an improvised staircase. With a few gestures and careful miming, he tried to get Tiffany to stablize the structure, as well as someone he could pass the suitcases down to. When or if it seemed stable enough, he carefully climbed up, and one by one started pulling down cases.

Tiffany held her hand out for the case as Shawn pulled the first of three down.

"That's it...easy...easy..." she whispered.

Shawn carefully eased it down into Tiffany's waiting arms, not letting go until he was certain she had a proper grip. Then he slowly straightened up and waited for Tiffany to set down the first case before grabbing the second one. Though part of him wondered if they'd really find Mr. Clayton up here. Bradford had to be able to access him regularly, right? Why would he be on a high shelf in a closet?

Tiffany placed the briefcase down on the floor, her hands on either side of it. Then she looked up at Shawn with a tentative look as if to say 'Should we open it?'

Her face was dirty. Mud-streaked smears on either side of a haggard, tired face. Her hair, once blonde, was now caked with old mud and there were several rips in the flower-patterned dress.

Shawn slowly climbed down from his staircase of suitcases and crouched down next to the box with Tiffany. He nodded grimly, ready to see what was inside.

Tiffany opened the briefcase. The hinges made a slight, squeaky noise. She pulled on it, opening the case strong and wide.

Inside, Mr. Clayton's eyes were closed and his arms were folded across his chest. He just sat there, tucked against the white-satin fabric with flower-pedal designs on the inside of the briefcase. His closed eyes revealed remarkably long, eyelashes. Gone was the puppet who pranced around and held a terrific sway over Bradford's life, imbuing him with anger and a lust for revenge.

Instead, Mr. Clayton looked surprisingly like just a plain, old puppet.

Shawn reached into the case very slowly and very carefully, like he was sure Mr. Clayton was going to suddenly move or bite his fingers or something. His hands were trembling as he did, but assuming nothing crazy happened, he'd reach down and lift the dummy out of the box.

Tiffany gasped...

But that was it. Shawn held Mr. Clayton like a small child. The arms crossed against his chest unfolded, gravity pulling them down to where they hung listlessly by his sides. Feet dangling. And there were no strings to be seen.

Shawn searched the dummy's back for the bit that was used to open and close the dummy's mouth and jiggled it a few times. If that didn't have any consequences, he'd try to take it a step further. He pinched his lips together at the middle of his mouth and left the edges open. Then he whispered "Hello." in a quiet voice without moving his mouth, just his tongue. He opened Mr. Clayton's mouth in time with it.

"What are you doing?" Tiffany cautioned, placing a nervous hand on Shawn's shoulder as she whispered. "You know what could happen. You know what he's capable of." Tiffany commented.

The Puppet didn't respond to Shawn's gestures. It did not animate into a maelstrom of horrendous giggles as it had before in the Underworld. It's eyelid didn't open nor flicker as they had previously. There wasn't even the sound of Mr. Clayton's high-pitched, jovial and maniacal laugh, the kind that Shawn had heard in one of the Puppet's many diatribes.

Shawn eyed the puppet almost...disappointedly, though if Mr. Clayton had suddenly come to life, he would no doubt be terrified. He stopped to think, and while he had a few ideas, one seemed like something they should pursue. He leaned in close to Tiffany, practically touching her ear so his whispers wouldn't be heard. "He has tapes that teach him how Mr. Clayton works. We need to find them."

"but what are we going to do when we find it? I was just going to burn and bury Mr. Clayton. What are we going to do with the tapes?"

Shawn shook his head. "That won't work - Bradford's got too much of his power now. We've gotta get the tapes and figure out how to break their connection." Shawn was oversimplifying a little - it'd take too long to explain why he needed Mr. Clayton to free Eddy and maybe stop Bradford without killing him - but he knew burning Mr. Clayton was a bad idea. He looked around the room for a tape deck, or even a Walkman.

Tiffany got up without saying anything, but it was understood all the same that she had, in fact, agreed. She gestured to Shawn the small make-up desk. It hat a mirror on top of it the kind that Mom would used to magnify her own image while plucking her eyebrows.

But more importantly, Shawn saw several drawers. The kind of drawers that might tuck away tapes perhaps. The kind of tapes that would teach Bradford the secrets of Greater Ventriloquism.

Shawn also got up, and went to the makeup desk. He'd actually spent a bit of time at desks like these - smaller movies didn't always have those big fancy makeup setups, so he'd occasionally been made up for the cameras at similar desks. He checked the drawers where he remembered the makeup artists usually storing stage makeup - that was what ventriloquists used, right?

"Did you find anything?" Tiffany whispered the question into the silence.

The first drawer held nothing of interest. The second drawer was littered with papers that had been crumpled up and thrown inside of it as if it was a waste basket.

The third drawer...

And then something happened.

A sound.

A creaking sound.

Someone had opened the front door to Bradford's house.

Shawn shook his head, shoving a few of the papers into his pockets before moving on. When he heard the door, he glanced to the window, gauging the distance, and then quickly opened up all the remaining drawers as fast as he could.