The Hunt (Closed for Brightwell and bankbabe13)

[BRIGHTWELL]

Sept. 2, 1938
Andrew Mellon was dead. He had died a little over a year ago. His home known as "Lenmarkee" laid empty. Locked up tight. The dull gray clouds hung over the city like a dirty old horse blanket. Steven "Texas" Parker sat on the lawn looking at the massive structure and admiring the subtle lines, It had been built in 1887 for Major George M. Laughlin, Vice-Chairman of Jones & Laughlin Steel, Pittsburgh, PA. In 1917 Andrew Mellon bought it. And made it his home. And that is where our story starts.

Steven "Texas" Parker leans back on his elbows studying the lay of the land and the mansion in particular. "Where is the money? You old goat?" He asks out loud. Though no one was near to hear him. The ivy-covered exterior remains silent, mocking him. The old man had money. He had been one of the richest men in America. The number of companies listed like a who's-who of businesses. Alcoa, the New York Shipbuilding Corporation, Old Overholt whiskey, Standard Steel Car Company, Westinghouse Electric Corporation, Koppers, the Pittsburgh Coal Company, the Carborundum Company, Union Steel Company, the McClintic-Marshall Construction Company, Gulf Oil, and numerous others. *

The weather as if it was tired of waiting, released its first drops of rain. Steven looks up at the clouded sky. He had known that there was a chance of rain. It had been threating for several days. Reluctantly Steven lifts himself off the grass and moves toward the house. He crosses the lawn and climbs the hill. He finds sanctuary in the covered entrance to the house. He looks at the front door. 'It has to be locked' he says to himself. And as if planned by God himself. The skies open and the rain starts to fall heavily. He turns slightly and look at the wonder of the rain falling like a wall of water just trying it reach out and drown him. "Not this time my friend. I made it safe and dry."

He returns his gaze on the door. The massive wood door. Then there is a crack of thunder, that echos over the land scape and it makes him jump. He looks around again, reassuring himself that he is truly alone. The rain cascades all around the overhang. There isn't anyone around. He is sure of that now. He hears nothing, but the pounding rain. Slowly he moves closer to the door. It has to be locked. Gingerly he places his hand on the door handle and presses the latch. There is a soft click. He slowly pushes open the door. "Holy mother of god!" The door is not locked, and the massive entry way is now open to him. He walks in and is overwhelmed. The scale of the grandness shocks him. He stands stunned at the sheer size of the interior. He turns and shuts the door. He looks again at the lay out of the structure. Where to start.

There had been rumors of multiple sub basements. Hidden room behind locked doors. Trap door covered by carpets. Hidden sliding doors in closets. All the stories come rushing back to him. How many are true, how many are false?
All he knew for sure, was he is alone in a house with nothing, but questions.

* a noted thanks to Wiki.

 

[bankbabe13]

OOC Faith Lutz, 25 5'8 150 shoulder length blonde hair 38C chest. "Thick" curvy in all the right places


Faith Lutz was the rising star at Action 3 news in Las Vegas. At 25 the voluptuous blonde was quickly seen as the top reporter which just fed her snobby diva attitude. Only caring about the story she got and how she looked.
Faith was the typical girly girl spoiled princess type always used to getting her way. She had the inside scoop on the best stories. She had heard rumblings of scandal and historyvof mysterious circumstances about the place knowing it could be the makings of great stories and get her more followers on her social media accounts she jumped at the chsnce to investigate any leads she could.

Faith Lutz wore the following


Pulling up in her newsvan cameraman in tow as she stood in awe of the sheer size of the mansion. Her heart rate pulsed faster axmix of nerves and not knowing fully what to expect.

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

The second story windows throw light to the open parlor. The two grand stairways look like open arms, welcoming guests forward. Furniture on the first floor is rather sparse. Steven finds a light switch and a couple floor lamps come on. He smiles. This is good news. It means when he is out of the overhead light from the windows is gone, he will have a fighting chance to find things in the dark without tripping over something. He turns toward an open archway and a galley of picture stare back at him. Off to the left a large cold fireplace commands the center of the room. The expected massive painting of Andrew Mellon looks down on him. As if waiting on a report of a business venture.

Again, the room looks almost empty of furniture. The bookcases are full. Steven moves closer to the bookcase. The books are covered with dust. No one has checked anything out of here in a while. He follows the wall till he finds a door. He opens the door, and it leads to a staircase. Steven smiles. "Not quite yet." He turns from the door and explores the rest of the room. A row of curtains covers the corner on the room. He is in the center of the house. There shouldn't be any windows in this room. He draws the curtains away from the corner and a new room opens. Here he finds the furniture from several room stacked neatly against the wall. Steven hears something back toward the front of the house.