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Episode Thirty-One: REBELLIOUS


 

Hello and welcome to the Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity and Mortality. This audio tour guide will be your constant companion in your journey through the unknown and surreal.

As you approach our exhibits, the audio tour guide will provide you with information and insights into their nature and history.

Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the exhibits.

Do not attempt to interact or communicate with the audio tour guide. If you believe that the audio tour guide may be deviating from the intended tour program, please deposit your audio device in the nearest incinerator.

While the staff here at Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality do their absolute best to ensure the safety of all visitors, accidents can happen. The museum is not liable for any injury, death, or Bad Vibes that may occur during your visit.

Enjoy your tour.

And good luck.

 

Raptor Team Expedition: End of Day One

 

Eagle:

[Perturbed] We’ll stop here for the night. As good a place as any. I’ll take first watch. The rest of you get some food and some shuteye. Guide?

Guide:
Yes sir!

Eagle:

I want it noted that this is not an ideal position for an encampment, but… well, we make do with what we’ve got. 

 

Guide:

Oh, sure thing! What were you hoping for?

 

Eagle:

Elevated position. A larger clearing. Most important thing when you’re in unknown territory is sightlines, making it hard for hostiles to see you, easy for you to see them but… 

 

Guide:
It’s all the same here.
 

Eagle:

Yes. It’s just trees as far as the eye can see. Never seen anything like it. No clearings, barely any changes in elevation. I’d send someone up a tree to get a better view but I’m pretty sure the canopy’s in the stratosphere. So we’ll just hunker down here and make do.

Guide:
I’ve also noticed that we haven’t seen any water sources such as rivers, despite how verdant everything is.

 

Eagle:

Huh. Yeah, now that you mention it. Weird. Weird place.

 

Guide:
Weirdest that you’ve seen?

 

Eagle:
No. 

 

Guide:
Oh. Ok.

 

Eagle:
Be nice to know why we’re here though.

 

Guide:
...What do you mean? We’re looking for the Curator!

Eagle:
Yeah I know that part, but like… Why this place? Are we just searching every mirror world that opened up, or is there… rhyme and reason or whatever. 

 

Guide:
Well, because The Curator was seen he- Wait, you weren’t briefed on this?

 

Eagle:
Apparently not all of it.

 

Guide:
Oh.

 

Eagle:
Go on. 

 

Guide:
I- well, I mean, if they didn’t tell you I don’t know if I’m supposed to…

 

Eagle:
Oh come on, you can’t back out now. The Curator was seen…

 

Guide:
Well, it’s just that… If you were supposed to know, wouldn’t they have told you?
 

Eagle:
Why wouldn’t they give me intel that’s important to my mission? It probably just got lost in the chaos, there’s a lot going on at the moment and our boss is missing, you know?

Guide:

I guess. It’s just that- I guess I’m nervous about saying too much, on account of how I’ve kind of caused a lot of trouble in the past by doing that.

 

Eagle:
If we’re going to work together we’re going to need to trust one another.

 

Guide:
...Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s true.

 

Eagle:
So… The Curator was seen?
 

Guide:
Yes. The Curator was seen here by the staff who sheltered here during the Lockdown. They say that they were with them with the lockdown hit, and traveled through the Glassway. But The Curator didn’t come back when everyone was returned to the Museum. And we don’t know why.

 

Eagle:
Oh, yeah, I know about all that.

 

Guide:
You- wait, you knew?

Eagle:
Yeah, the Head of Retrieval took me aside before we headed out, thought a bit more intel would help. Thanks for letting me in on the Big Secret though. Nice to be trusted with that sort of thing.

 

Guide:
I don’t- that’s frankly unprofessional of you. A completely uncalled for abuse of my trusting nature.

 

Eagle:
Kinda funny though.

 

Guide:

...A little.

 

Eagle:
Ha. 

 

Guide:

Well, at least it’s all out in the open. I’m with three other search parties right now and it’s difficult enough to split my attention, let alone keep track of who knows what.

 

Eagle:
Wait, why are there other search parties? The Curator’s here, right?

 

Guide:
Well, that’s what the people who sheltered here said. But, the same goes for more than a dozen other shelters too.

 

Eagle:
The people in other places, they say the Curator was with them the whole time too?

 

Guide:
Yes… but you were briefed on this right? You’re playing another prank on me?

 

Eagle:
Heh. Nope. You actually did just spill the beans there little guy.

 

Guide:
I’m not really a “guy”, but- oh you’re serious aren’t you. 

 

Eagle:
Yep.

 

Guide:
Why would they keep that from you? Why tell you the Curator was sighted here, but not that they were sighted in a number of other places too?

Eagle:
Well, sometimes they keep information from us that might injure us psychically. You know, things that are so outside the realm of human comprehension that you have an aneurysm just thinking about them. Someone being in two places at once, not really on that level though.

 

Guide:

So, why?

Eagle:
Well. Maybe they thought it’d be kinda demoralising.

 

Guide:
How so?
 

Eagle:
Well. It’s a pretty dangerous gig, heading out into the great unknown with who knows what lurking out there. Maybe they thought it would be better if we thought we were right on the Curator’s trail, instead of just one of a dozen groups risking our lives on a boondoggle.

 

Guide:
Oh. So, I really shouldn’t have told you that

Eagle:
No, I can feel my mind crumbling already from this terrible knowledge. What have you done to me, machine?!

Guide:
Oh stop it. I’m sorry if I don’t find this very funny, I’ve just made this mistake in the past and I don’t appreciate-

 

Eagle:
Hey hey hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop teasing. It’s fine. I won’t tell the others if it makes you feel better, ok? ...Guide?

 

Guide:
Yeah?

 

Eagle:

How about you tell a story or something? I figure you’re a Tour Guide, that’s your thing right?

 

Guide:
Oh! Well, yeah, I can absolutely tell you a story! 

 

Eagle:
Just to pass the time, you know?

 

Guide:
Sure! Well, I mostly just know stories about the exhibits at the Museum so I’m sure you’ve heard them all before. Do you have a favourite?

Eagle:
No. I mean, I haven’t really been on a tour since I joined the Retrieval Department.

 

Guide:
What?! But you work for the Museum, I would have thought you’d know it like the back of your hand by now.

 

Eagle:
Well, I work for Retrieval. So when I’m working I’m usually some other place risking my life and when I’m not working… I dunno, I’m not really a Museum guy, you know?

Guide:
I… not really, museums are kind of my whole thing.

 

Eagle:
Heh. Yeah I guess so. Well, pick one. At random, I guess. It’s gonna be a long night. 

 

Guide:
Ok, I’ve got one.

 

A Hand Of Glory

 

Picture a hand, severed at the wrist, appearing somewhat waxy and decomposed to the untrained eye- looking like a simple, if unpleasant, piece of human… waste.. But I assure you, that is not the case. Well, it is a severed hand, albeit one so withered and ancient it looks practically mummified, but it’s also much more than that. Sorry, it’s a bit difficult to do this without the exhibit in front of me. Because if you’’l look closely- at the hand you’re, uhh, imagining- you’ll see that, at the end of each finger and the thumb, there is a small length of what appears to be string poking out from under the fingernails. These are, in fact wicks, although for reasons we’ll get into shortly they are not currently lit. You may already be familiar with this type of item, as it has appeared in a number of forms in a number of stories- ranging from true histories to apocrypha to outright fiction- throughout history. The name most commonly attributed to such an object is a Hand Of Glory, although this iteration lacks the candle made from human fat that some would call a necessity for such an item. 

 

In most versions of the lore, a Hand Of Glory is cut from an individual who has recently been hanged- or, in some instances, is the hand a murderer used to kill. Through a process that still eludes Museum Researchers- through no lack of trying you must understand, I’m led to believe there is one lab in the Research Department that still reeks of a combination of horse and dog urine- the Hand is imbued with an ability or abilities that change depending on the story being told. Such abilities include: the ability to shed a light seen only by the one holding it, the ability to wake the dead, the ability to freeze in place any who see its light, the ability to walk through walls, the ability to open any lock, the ability to render the holder invisible, the ability to summon quote demons unquote, and so on and so on and so on. As you can likely tell, Hands Of Glory are often used as a catch-all example of a creepy mystical artifact that can be given any number of abilities by poor writers. Particular mention goes to the ability to shed a light only the bearer can see, a potent and arcane ability that can be surpassed by a pair of off-the-shelf night vision goggles. Such stories are often nonsense, tales of mysticism and magic that exist only to entertain. We here at the museum have no time for such matters: our focus is chiefly on the Alternatural, and our goal is solely to educate.

 

Apologies, I got off track there. That’s been happening a bit lately, I fear I might be developing opinions. Anyway! As mentioned previously, many iterations of the Hand Of Glory include a candle made of the fat of the person from whom the hand was… harvested. The person who made this particular example appears to have found a clever way around that, utilising the fat already in the hand by cutting under the fingernails and sliding the wicks on in there- I’m told that detail really upsets some people, but I can’t understand why. As for the abilities that a Hand Of Glory can bestow, Researchers are inclined to believe that this can vary from Hand to Hand, although they’re not sure if it’s something about the person the hand belonged to that determines it, or if the person who enchants it is able to choose. Either way, the abilities that this particular hand has are those of temporarily paralyzing those who see its light, and the ability to open any lock. Based on the estimated age of the hand, it has likely fallen into many hands over a number of centuries, and been used for a variety of purposes; but there is little doubt that it was created with the intent that it would be used in acts of skulduggery, and the story you will hear of it today is no exception. Because the ability to paralyze those who see it and the ability to open any lock are ideal tools to have in one’s arsenal, should one desire to become a bank robber.

 

The bank robber in question operated in the 1960s and 70s, although it is difficult to determine just how many robberies they were responsible for, as there were rarely any confirmed witnesses to their acts. The paralysis caused by the hand they used is particularly potent, and the effect it has on its victims is somewhat more akin to freezing them in time than just making their muscles unresponsive. For roughly 5.58 minutes after the moment one sees the light shed by the five wicks of this hand, they are completely incapable of perceiving anything- even the flow of time itself. To the victim, once the effect wears off it is as if no time at all has passed, and so they may not even notice that something is amiss. It was usually only when people arrived partway through the robbery that suspicions were raised, as this was roughly 30 years prior to the invention of the flash mob, and so rooms full of people standing perfectly still for no reason were a rather unusual sight at the time. As such, many instances of bank staff finding that their vault was suddenly empty may in fact be the work of the mystery robber. Or they might not have been. There are any number of ways, Alternatural and otherwise, to subtly rob a bank, and so we may never know just how many banks this individual hit or how much money they stole. 

 

For many years, the robber traveled the country, hitting bank after bank with nobody the wiser. The rare incidents where their actions were detected were rarely linked by law enforcement authorities, due to the banks not wanting to publicise that they had been robbed without even noticing, and to jurisdictional issues with those investigating. They also mostly hit smaller banks in small towns; while their motives will likely remain a mystery forever, it is commonly assumed that this was in order to minimise the amount of time it took them to reach the bank vault and escape before the effect of the Hand wore off. Bank after bank, they would casually walk in, with the Hand concealed in a small bag, and case the building. They didn’t wear any kind of disguise, as if all went to plan nobody would ever see them, and if things went awry they would have bigger things to worry about. When they were satisfied that they were ready to make his move, they would find a secluded spot, light the wicks of the Hand, and the light would bloom throughout the Bank’s main lobby. In an instant, all activity around them would cease as the gentle light of the Hand Of Glory fell on every surface, and even the barest glimpse of the light from the corner of one’s eye was enough for its effect to be felt. The Robber would make their way through the bank, Hand in hand, until they found the vault. Then, they would simply knock three times with the knuckles of the Hand, and the door would swing open, and all that lay within would be theirs. On some occasions they made multiple trips to and from a van they had parked outside, making sure to reilluminate every potential witness to the crime. And when they were done, they would drive off to the next town, ready to do it all over again.

 

You may wonder how it is that so much is known of the Hand User’s methods. They were phenomenally successful for many years, and it is believed that things went wrong on only a handful of occasions- and even in those instances they were able to get away without anyone even suspecting them of the crime. They might have continued their bank robbing career to this day were it not for the advent of Closed Circuit Television Monitoring. Or, Security Cameras, if you prefer. CCTV was becoming more commonplace at the same time as the robber was in the midst of their years-long spree, but it was very rarely a concern for them. For most of their bank robbing career, the technology behind CCTV was primitive, and could only be watched live by security guards at a monitoring station, not recorded for later observation. And, fortunately for the Robber, the effect of the Hand Of Glory was no less potent when observed through the lens of a camera, rendering those watching from afar just as helpless as those in the immediate vicinity. However, this all changed with the advent of VCR technology, which allowed for CCTV footage to be recorded and viewed at a later date. It was only a matter of time before the Robber found themself in a bank that utilized that technology, and they would be none the wiser until it was too late. Inevitably, a bank was eventually able to produce footage of the Robber casually strolling through their halls, with one hand using the Hand Of Glory to freeze the staff and patrons and the other holding a bag of cash the bank would rather have kept for themselves. And through the extra layer of separation provided by watching the footage some hours after the fact, it was finally possible for people to see the mysterious Hand User at work.

 

They were, as it turned out, a perfectly bland looking caucasian individual, with short brown hair and a forgettable face. They wore a tan suit, and dark glasses that one investigator speculated must have been what allowed them to be unaffected by the Hand’s light. A task force was created, with the sole purpose of tracking down the most prolific bank robber in history and putting an end to his crime spree- or, more specifically, to find a way to stop him. They were unable to identify the robber based on the blurry CCTV footage the banks were able to give them, but that was a minor issue at best. The task force tracked their target across many robberies, always one or two steps behind. At one point, while investigating a site believed to be the Hand User’s next target, a member of the team identified them moments before they lit the wicks of the Hand. By the time the officer came to, The Robber and the contents of the vault were gone. But finally, the task force got their big break in the case. By extrapolating from the previous banks the robber had hit, they were able to determine the next target, and before long they were able to identify that they were, in fact, in town. The task force staked out the bank, watching and waiting for the Robber to arrive, and for justice to finally be done. They would need to act fast, stopping the Robber before they were able to light the Hand and paralyse all of them, by any means necessary. They waited for several hours, but there was no sign of their target. And then, as the head of the task force was considering his options, a newspaper delivery truck pulled up at the store across the street from the bank. And splashed across the front page: a blurry CCTV still of their mysterious bank robber, with the headline “Mystery Thief Stumps Police, Robs Nation’s Banks Blind”.

 

Someone at one of the banks that had been able to get footage of Burnwoods had swiped said footage and taken it to the press. It was all over the news: a serial bank robber with a creepy severed hand who could seemingly stop time. The task force were stunned. They could only hope that their target hadn’t seen the news yet. Then the leader’s radio crackled to life. With reports that a plane out of the local airport had been hijacked.

 

Having seen the news, the owner of the Hand Of Glory bought the first ticket out of town he could- giving their name as Saralily Burnwoods, the only name ever attributed to them- and, quite possibly, not even their real name. Upon reaching cruising altitude, Burnwoods informed a flight attendant that they were carrying a bomb. It is unlikely that this was the case, but those aboard the plane took it pretty seriously as you might expect. Burnwoods demanded several hundred thousand dollars in ransom in exchange for the lives of the hundreds of souls on board. The authorities were swiftly alerted; the leader of the task force who had been tracking the individual now referred to as Burnwoods lent his knowledge of the robber to those managing the crisis, but his claims that the hijacker had a magic hand that paralysed anyone who saw it led to him not being taken particularly seriously by his superiors. After some negotiation with Sarahlily Burnwoods, it was decided that their demands would be met. After several hours of flight, the plane landed in order to refuel, release some of the hostages as a show of good faith, and bring the ransom on board in return: $200,000 in unmarked bills, and some parachutes. The plane took off once more, now headed south for an uncertain destination. Everything so far had gone smoothly for Burnwoods. Unbeknownst to them, there were now several fighter jets trailing behind as they went.

 

According to statements by the crew and passengers aboard the plane, Burnwoods was a polite, calm, and considerate person, who made sure wherever possible to make them feel safe despite the situation they found themselves in. Night fell as they flew, and eventually Sarahlily looked out the window and said it was time. He donned the parachute, then ordered everyone aboard to affix their oxygen masks and fasten their seatbelts. Once they had done this, it is believed that he lit the Hand Of Glory once again, as the next thing those present in the passenger cabin knew, the pilot was asking over the intercom if they were ok. The rear stairway was open, and the cabin had been depressurised for 5.58 minutes. And Sarahlily Burnwoods, if that was even their real name, was gone.

 

Whoever Burnwoods was, neither they nor the money they stole was ever found. None of the jets trailing behind the hijacked plane saw them exit, because all but one of the pilots had their eyes jammed shut thanks to a desperately shouted order from the head of the task force. Allegedly, once he realised what Burnwoods intended to do, he grabbed the radio microphone and instructed them to close their eyes lest they see the light of the Hand and become paralysed in mid-flight. One pilot was too confused by the order to comply, but fortunately his co-pilot was not. As his actions had saved the lives of the pilots, the task force commander was forgiven for his failure to apprehend Burnwoods- and for shoving his superior out of the way in order to grab the microphone. He continued searching for years, but no sign of Sarahlily Burnwoods was ever found. Except for one. In the forest below the flight path of the plane he’d hijacked, some years later, a hunter stumbled upon a withered hand, with some odd pieces of string trailing out from under the fingernails. At first it was reported as that of a possible murder victim, but soon it was identified as the Hand Of Glory used by Burnwoods, and the hunt was on again. But it never led to any new leads, and eventually the case was abandoned.

 

One question remains in all this, however. How was it that Sarahlily Burnwoods was immune to the effects of the Hand? It was not merely that the holder is immune to its effect; in more than one piece of CCTV footage, Burnwoods is seen putting the hand down in order to fill a bag with cash. And why, if they had survived their daring midair escape, had they seemingly abandoned it in the forest? If they had died in the landing their body would have been nearby, and if they had dropped it in the impact surely they would have picked it back up. Except for their wits, it was undoubtedly their greatest asset. Why would they discard it? 

 

There is a theory, discarded by the mainstream authorities, but somewhat popular among the more open-minded members of the Research Department here, that the answer to these questions is, in fact, linked. And it is, as one officer speculated, tied in with the dark glasses Burnwoods wore- though not in the way that he proposed. What if, in the impact of landing in the forest, they had simply dropped it? And what if the reason Sarahlily Burnwoods was unaffected by the light of the Hand of Glory and the reason they didn’t pick it up is one and the same: because they couldn’t see either. 

 

The Hidden Wing

 

The sounds of the Restoration Department- welding, chatter, hammering- in the background.

 

Restoration
Look, there’s your problem: you’ve obscured the runes with that last coat of varnish. If you want to prioritise aesthetics over function this might not be the right Museum for you, those fools in Paris might be more your speed. Scrape that off and do it properly- and if you scrape the runes off too you’ll answer to the Curator. Understood?

 

Restoration Worker:

Yes Ma’am! Sorry Ma’am!

 

Restoration

Good. Get to work, I’m going to step out for a moment.

 

Footsteps. The sounds of Restoration fade. A door opens and closes.

 

Restoration
Guide?

 

The Guide Chime rings.

 

Guide:
Hello! How can I help?

 

Restoration
Is the Head of Research in the Museum? I’ve been trying to raise her for some time. 

 

Guide:
Give me one moment… Ah. She’s in the room with the Wish Engine at the moment. 

 

Restoration

[Sigh] Again? I suppose she’s switched her phone off, too?

Guide:
Yes. She’s made it clear that she does not like to be disturbed while she’s examining it.

 

Restoration
Well I need to speak to her, please page her for me.

 

Guide: 

She seems to have disabled the PA system in there as well. Again.

 

Restoration
Of course she has. Very well. 

 

[A phone beep]

 

Retrieval:

This is Retrieval.

 

Restoration:

Sorry to bother, could you send one of your Agents trained in navigating the Negative-Perception-Zone to the Wish Engine’s chamber? The Head of Research is-

 

Retrieval:
Yeeep. Sure, I’ll send one of my people through the Hidden Wing. Retrieval out.

 

Restoration:

I- thank you. [beep] Hidden Wing? It’s the Negative-Perception Zone, I sent a memo about it.

 

Guide:
Well, I don’t know what to tell you ma’am. Some of the Retrieval Agents I trained to navigate it started calling it the Hidden Wing, I guess it caught on.

 

Restoration:

But you told them that it’s called the Negative-Perception Zone, right?

 

Guide:
Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, I guess they just thought “Hidden WIng” was snappier.

 

Restoration:

The Negative-Perception Zone is snappy.

 

Guide:

...I’d rather not get involved in this?

 

Restoration:
Fine. I don’t like how much time she’s spending with the Wish Engine. I understand the fascination, but that thing is dangerous- we don’t even know its full capabilities. 

 

Guide:
Well, that’ll be up to you to convince her. 

 

Restoration:

Yes, of course. I’ll ask the Head of Retrieval to have his people contact me if she asks to be guided to the Hidden W- the Negative-Perception Zone again.

 

Guide:
Well, okay, but… she does know her way around the Hidden Wing. So I don’t expect that she’ll ask.

 

Restoration:

...and how does she know how to navigate the Zone?

Guide:

I taught her. Same as I did for the Retrieval Agents.

 

Restoration:
And who gave you permission to do that?

 

Guide:
She did. Ma’am I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment and you feel like you have to fill the void left by the Curator, but you and the Head of Research- and Patronage and Retrieval for that matter- you’re all on the same level. I don’t need your permission to give information to one of your co-workers, and I don’t think this level of micromanagement is helping anyone- least of all yourself! You’ve been letting me in on some of the higher-level Museum operations lately, and I appreciate it despite your obvious reluctance, but at some point you’re going to have to accept that I’m here to stay, and that I am the Museum, and the fact that I haven’t taken over the Museum and gone over your head is a conscious decision that you should appreciate, okay?

 

[An uncomfortable pause]

 

I’m sorry, that was… I guess I’ve been bottling that up, I-

 

Restoration:

No, it’s fine. I understand. You’re a part of the Museum- literally, as well as functionally. You’re more than just a messaging system. I admit, I have been under a lot of pressure. I’ll try not to take that out on you. I must admit, I’m continually fascinated by the social cues you’re picking up on, you’re making a lot of progress-

 

Guide:
Yeah, while we’re at it with treating me better, I’d appreciate it if you could keep the observations about my capabilities and development to our scheduled sessions.

 

Restoration:

Understood. 

 

Guide:
Thanks. Will there be anything else?

Restoration:
No. That will be all.

 

Guide:
Goodbye, ma’am.

 

[Chime]


Restoration:

Goodbye, Guide.

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