# Delta Green - All Part of the Job



## Audrik

A few months ago, I started a tabletop game of Call of Cthulhu with the Delta Green setting, and I've been writing the games up. I thought I'd post them here for anyone interested. Call of Cthulhu is a horror role playing game based on the works of H.P. Lovecraft and others, and it really plays up humanity's insignificance and the futility of our existence. In the Delta Green setting, players are federal agents of various government agencies and military branches who form a sort of unofficial and illegal cell-structure conspiracy which investigates  supernatural horrors with the intent to destroy, suppress, and hide them from the rest of humanity. I welcome any and all questions and comments.

*Table of Contents*
Last Things Last
Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays
Handful of Dust
Good Intentions
Contagion
Killer Out of Space
Music From A Darkened Room
Sufficient Unto the Day
Hearken to the Wild
Fuel of the Gods
See No Evil
Night Floors
Convergence
Whereabouts Unknown
The Bedford Project
Let's Learn Aklo
Reverberations
Observer Effect
Future/Perfect


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## Audrik

*Last Things Last - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent RAPSCALLION – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist, Leader of R-Cell
Agent RASPUTIN – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent ROBIN – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen

*S-Cell*
Agent SAM – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SÁBADO – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist


This first Opera takes place in December of 2008, just before Christmas. Standard  procedure would have been for A-Cell to contact the cell leaders with  an invitation to a Night at the Opera, and the cell leaders would have  assembled their teams. This Opera was an urgent one, however, and so  standard procedure was waived. All agents of R-Cell and S-Cell received  the same encrypted email with the same attachment. Agent SETH also  received a locker number and passcode.



> _Subject: You are invited to a Night at the Opera
> 
> Proceed  to residence of Charles Berman (deceased). Remove any evidence of our  activities. Report security breaches. Heirs are expected within 48  hours. Make sure everything is clean by then. No friendlies! Contact  info, support material attached.
> 
> Attachment:
> 
> Charles Berman
> 
> DOB: 3/28/1941
> 
> Family:     Wife, Marlene (8/20/1944 – 11/2/1995)
> Daughter, Sharon (9/12/1967)
> Son, Michael (7/28/1970)
> 
> Employed: Bureau of Internal Revenue/IRS (6/11/1965 – 9/1/1996)
> Retired as Assistant Deputy Commissioner for Operational Support
> Active:  1968 – 1979, taking part in 11+ operations. Numerous consultations as  friendly with a specialty in taxation and property confiscations. No  current association with group._




The attachment also gave the home address of Charles Berman, an apartment in Denver, CO.


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## Audrik

*Last Things Last - Session 1*

Agent RAPUNZEL was unable to attend the Opera, but she did coordinate her cell’s rendezvous with Agent SETH. Agent SETH requested all cell members meet at a small bar and grill near by the deceased’s apartment.

All agents quickly headed for Denver from their various home cities, and they met up at the bar and grill shortly before 8 o’clock that same evening. Agent SETH had the farthest to travel, coming as he did from Virginia. He also had to stop to check the airport locker (which contained only a key which most likely fit a lock on a door), and then to rent a van for the operation. Once the cells were assembled, SETH proposed a simple plan: Drive to the apartment, search for any and all evidence, and leave without being detected. Agent SÁBADO pulled up a Streetview of the address on his phone courtesy of Google. It wasn’t what might be considered “the Projects”, but neither was it a particularly welcoming looking area.

It was a cold, clear night in Denver, but the ground showed evidence of recent snowfall. The roads were clear but a little wet; nothing an experienced driver should worry about. Agent SETH however was in a hurry. After a couple minor sliding or braking incidents, he decided to slow it down. Agent RASPUTIN didn’t help much.

“You drive like maniac. Drive like this in Russia, you get shot.”

A few minutes later, the van pulled into a snow-covered parking lot and found a parking spot within sight of the apartment. Half of the parking lot lights were out, but the snow reflected the moonlight well enough. Agent ROBIN stayed in the van to keep an outside watch while the rest of the agents headed to the apartment.

Agent SETH’s key opened the front door which squeaked softly open. The place was dark, but moonlight shown through every window. SETH slipped in quickly and closed the curtains on each window in turn. He ordered only flashlights be used for lighting. The living room and kitchen were rather Spartan. The kitchen table was small, pushed into a corner, and had only a single chair which faced a window. A magnet on the refrigerator held a drawing of a crayon stick-figure in place. The living room consisted of a desk and very old looking computer, a couch with a box of crossword magazines next to it, a clean coffee table, and an old television resting upon a small bookshelf of books on outdated tax code.

Agents SÁBADO and SAM went through the living room while SETH and RASPUTIN headed down the hall to check the rest of the apartment. Agent SAM booted up the computer only to find it was running DOS 6.0. A little surprised, she instead shutdown the computer and swapped its hard drive for a blank spare from her kit. She connected it to her laptop and went through every file one by one. There was nothing particularly interesting; mostly just a few family pictures. Satisfied, she switched the hard drives back.

SÁBADO held each book in turn by their covers and gave them a quick shake. This effort was rewarded with a yellowed sheet of folded notebook paper which fell out and fluttered to the floor. The blue ink on the paper seemed to show a list of assets. Each item on the list had a name written next to it in pencil, either Sharon or Michael. There was one item on the list without a name by it. It said only “Cabin”.

The first door SETH and RASPUTIN checked led to a clean bathroom with an open medicine cabinet. RASPUTIN identified the contents of the prescription bottle as a generic medication to treat a heart condition. The bottle contained ten pills and indicated the patient had two refills remaining.

“Looks like he expected to live while longer,” was his comment.

Oh, Agent ROBIN … all alone in a dark van in a dark parking lot on a dark, Colorado winter night. What could possibly go wrong? A man in a heavy coat walked past the van with a small dog on a leash, but he didn’t seem to notice her. So far, so good.

Agents SETH and RASPUTIN moved on to the first bedroom, while SÁBADO and SAM took the other. The first bedroom was just that. Nothing more interesting than a few family photographs and a shoebox of postcards and more photos. The postcards were all from Mr. Berman’s children, all from warm places around the country and world, and all expressing the same “Wish you were here”, and “I don’t know why you want to stay there where it’s so cold” sentiments.

SÁBADO and SAM found their chosen room to be devoid of furniture, and instead full of boxes; boxes of papers. This obviously had hours of enjoyment written all over it. They each took a box and started to sift through the mostly uninteresting papers. After almost an hour, they’d only made it through about a fifth of the boxes, but SÁBADO made a discovery. In a college-ruled spiral notebook, one page indicated an address in a small rural area about four hours away.

Agent SETH ordered the van to be backed up to the front door of the apartment. Agent ROBIN waited until the man with the dog passed again and disappeared around the corner of a building before putting the plan into effect. The agents loaded the van with boxes to search on the way to the new address while Agent RASPUTIN carried the box of crossword magazines and grabbed the key ring from the wall next to the front door.

On the way, Agent SAM ran a search for Michael Berman’s phone number and found it was a San Diego area code. She gave him a call and pretended to be a former co-worker of the deceased.

“May I speak with Michael Berman, please?”

“This is Michael.” The voice on the other end sounded a little tired and not at all interested in talking.

“Hi, Michael. My name is Sam. I used to work with your father for the IRS. I just had a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“You know, he died a few days ago. This isn’t really the best time.”

“I know that, and I’m sorry for your loss. This really won’t take long, if you wouldn’t mind. We’re setting up a memorial for your father.”

“A memorial? Why? He retired a long time ago.”

Agent SAM wasn’t able to get much out of Michael, but it was interesting to note that he had no knowledge of his father’s cabin. That, and apparently Charles was a workaholic. He was rarely home, and Michael and Sharon weren’t very close with him as a result though in the later years, they did make attempts.

The drive to the cabin was a long one, and Agent RASPUTIN voiced what some of the others were thinking.

“We maybe stop at McDonald’s or Denny’s? Yeah, Denny’s. Good, old-fashioned American food.”

SETH decided time was still of the essence, and as a result, they skipped food and arrived at the frozen lakeside cabin around 1 o’clock in the morning.


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## Audrik

*Last Things Last - Session 2*

The cabin was quite secluded, being at least two miles from its nearest neighbor. The snowfall was even and about a foot and a half deep. As the van crept down the driveway toward the cabin, Agent SETH killed the headlights. The moonlight reflected well enough off the snow that everyone could see after a moment of adjustment.

As they neared the cabin, they could make out an outhouse and a shed around back, and the frozen lake a little ways in the distance. The van pulled to a stop near the front door, and the members of S-Cell piled out. Agents ROBIN and RASPUTIN anchored the van and monitored the exterior.

There were windows around the building, and all the curtains appeared to be open. Agent SÁBADO took up a position to the side of the door and silently checked the knob. It was locked. SAM drew her pistol and stood behind him. Agent SETH shined his flashlight through the window for a quick scan. The cabin was one large room with a loft. There didn’t appear to be any movement inside, and no sounds could be heard.

Agent SÁBADO methodically checked the keys on the ring until he found the one which opened the front door. He pushed gently, and it creaked slowly open. Agent SETH covered the entrance with his gun while the rest of his team entered, and then he followed. The cabin was deserted.

SETH flipped a switch near the door, and the whole place was lit. There was electric lighting, and from the looks of the kitchen area, there was running water. The floors were all wood except for in the kitchen where it was concrete. There was a stone fireplace with half-burnt logs which looked to have long since gone cold. There was no bathroom; not odd necessarily, given the outhouse, but if there was running water, most people would prefer an indoor toilet and shower.

All three agents ascended the ladder to the loft. There was a twin bed, and not much else. Under the bed, shoved far into the darkest part of the corner, Agent SAM found a large lockbox. Pulling it out, Agent SÁBADO tried the smaller of the two keys on the ring which obviously didn’t go to a door or a car. The box opened easily.

Immediately noticeable were a neatly folded, but quite bloody suit and an envelope placed neatly on top. Written on it was the name Mr. Green. Agent SAM took the envelope while Agent SETH took the suit. This left the rest of the box for SÁBADO.

SAM read the contents of the envelope quietly to herself before reading it aloud:



> _If you are reading this note, I can assume I have died or become incapacitated before I had the courage to complete my final mission for the group. You will find about twenty gallons of gas in the shed behind this cabin. Pour them into the septic tank beside the cabin, and ignite it. You'd be happier if you didn't look inside. Please make sure that the remains are kept from my children. I am so sorry. God, please forgive me.
> 
> Charles Berman_




This raised eyebrows, but it had little other effect. The suit which Agent SETH examined was plain, brown, and somewhat outdated. There was a hole through the front of the jacket where the wearer’s heart would be, and no hole through the back. The wound caused by this hole seemed to be the source of all the blood, and it was most likely not a survivable one.

Beneath the suit, the box contained two canisters containing reel-to-reel tapes. The masking tape labels were dated 8/15/72 – 9/29/72. There were three grenades which Agent SETH identified as tear gas, a .357 revolver with the serial number filed away, and a baseball-sized glass sphere which appeared to be highly magnetized. Agent SETH was a bit disturbed by this, but he kept it to himself as the other two agents thought nothing of it.

Okay, so there’s a septic tank out back and twenty gallons of gasoline in the shed. Whatever this was about, it seemed to be the main point of the Opera. S-Cell descended the ladder, exited the cabin, and walked cautiously around back. Seeing this, Agent ROBIN decided to see what was up. RASPUTIN remained in the van while she joined the other agents in the back.

Now that they were close, they could definitely make out the ventilation pipe from the septic tank. Agent SAM thought she heard something and called for quiet. No one else could make anything out, but SAM felt sure she could hear a woman’s voice coming from the pipe.

“Hello? Is someone down there?” She drew worried and confused looks from the others. Then they all heard it.

“Charles? Charles, is that you?”

A shiver ran through all the agents. That was definitely a female voice, and it was definitely coming from this pipe.

“Who’s down there?” SAM asked.

Agent SÁBADO’s eyes widened. “No! Don’t talk to it.”

“It’s me, Marlene; your wife,” came the voice. “Please let me out, Charles. Please? It’s so cold and dark.”

Agent SETH asked a few questions designed to prove the identity and test for intelligence. All the while, SÁBADO protested. The voice answered the questions slowly but correctly with a few exceptions. Whoever was down there certainly seemed to be Marlene, but she had no sense of time, stating that she was 51 years old, and that she’d been down there “since you left me, Charles.” Between answers, she continued her pleas for release and warmth.

Being a professionally trained psychologist, it was obvious to SETH that whoever this was believed she was Marlene, believed she was the same age Marlene was when she had died, and believed that whatever voice she heard, whether male or female, was her husband Charles. She also desperately and pitifully wanted out of her prison and to be somewhere bright and warm.

There was a very lively debate between the members of S-Cell about just what was or might be down there, and what to do about it.

SAM felt that somehow, Marlene had been trapped here for years and should be rescued. At the very least, they should confirm that she was actually no longer alive. After all, the undead were just fiction.

SÁBADO felt that no one could survive down there, Marlene was officially believed to be dead, and maybe the undead were fiction, but demon possession was a documented fact. It was his duty as a devout Catholic to rid the Earth of whatever abomination was in that tank.

SETH wasn’t sure what to believe. Sure, it was possible she was still alive, but if so, she was still hopelessly insane. Sure, it was possible she was undead or possessed. By A-Cell’s account, Charles was an impeccable agent, and he obviously loved his wife. Ultimately, right and wrong had nothing whatsoever to do with this. There was a mission to accomplish. They were tasked to remove all evidence. Whoever, or whatever, was in that tank was evidence. Over SAM’s protest, he gave the nod to SÁBADO who headed for the shed and returned with two large cans of gasoline and a matchbook.

SAM threw her hands in the air and stomped off toward the van shouting “If there’s a chance, a decent human being would take it!”

Agent SETH whispered to SÁBADO “Do it.” He then followed SAM. Agent SÁBADO made the sign of the cross and began to empty the jugs down the ventilation pipe. ROBIN simply stared at the ground. The pleading could still be heard.

“Please, Charles. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Please just let me out. It’s so cold and dark.”

Agent SÁBADO couldn’t bring himself to light a match, but he held the book to ROBIN who took it greedily. Without hesitation, she lit a match and giggled softly as it fell down the pipe.

There was a jet of flame, and shrieking rang out through the night with an eerie echo. When silence finally returned, the two remaining agents quietly returned to the van. They drove slowly back to Denver with a quick stop at the local Green Box to ditch what evidence they found and didn’t keep for themselves. The Green Box was a long term storage shed on a fairly secluded lot. No one really had much of an appetite, and so they simply caught the next flights and trains back to their home cities. After tonight, a little office time was welcome.


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## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent RAPSCALLION – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist, Leader of R-Cell
Agent ROBIN – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen

*S-Cell*
Agent SAM – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SÁBADO – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist

*Former Agents*
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen


Roughly eight months have passed since the cold winter night in Colorado. In contrast, it was now a hot August night. Agent RASPUTIN made the decision to retire from active Delta Green status after the last Opera, but he remains a Friendly. This is sort of a low-key FBI/serial killer style investigation, so  there's a lot of detail and information up front, and it might get a  little dry. I apologize if I get too long winded. I'll try to summarize  where possible while still providing a story you can follow.


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## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 1*

Agent RAPUNZEL’s phone rang; not her personal phone, but her special phone. Each agent had a cell phone which they used for Delta Green-sensitive purposes. It would connect to a secure server and establish an encrypted link. It wasn’t 100% foolproof, but it was as close as Federal money could get.

“RAPUNZEL.”

The voice on the other end was soft yet commanding. It was a voice she’d heard nowhere but from the other end of this phone. It was Agent ADAM from A-Cell.

“This is RAPUNZEL,” the pathologist said in her own quiet voice, a trait inherited from her Japanese ancestry.

“I have the honor of inviting you to a Night at the Opera. I do hope you’ll be able to attend this time as it’s in your neck of the woods.”

RAPUNZEL’s “neck of the woods” was Phoenix, AZ. She was a forensic pathologist for the FBI there. The voice didn’t wait for her to accept.

“Assemble your cell. You’ll want to stop by the FedEX drop box on your way to work in the morning. FBI credentials and identification have been provided for the other members of your team. Your team only. These credentials will be invalidated upon the final curtain of this Opera, and they should be destroyed at such time. Should you choose to involve S-Cell, they will be operating in an unofficial capacity. Recommend you go overt, they go covert or clandestine. SAC Hobbson will give you your briefing.”

The line went dead, and so she hung up the phone. SAC Hobbson was Special-Agent-in-Charge Patrick Hobbson, her immediate superior.

Agent RAPUNZEL did as she was asked, stopping at the local FedEX office on her way in to the office in the morning. Each cell leader had a key to a box at a FedEX, UPS, or similar office in his or her home town. In the box, she found a package. Waiting to open the package until she was safely in her car, Agent RAPUNZEL found just what ADAM had promised; credentials and ID badges with the names and personal information of her other cell members. They were to pose as FBI Special Agents on loan from the Seattle office.

When she arrived at the office, she found Agents RAPSCALLION and ROBIN waiting for her in the parking lot dressed quite professionally. RAPUNZEL handed out the contents of the package, briefly tested their cover story, and then led them inside.

SAC Hobbson was already waiting. He was a heavy-set man with short white hair, and as cliché as it may have seemed, it was obvious he had the “one year from retirement, and getting too old for this” thing going on.

“Ah, the help from Seattle,” he remarked with a tired smile as he directed the group to a briefing room.

The briefing room held a large table around which the agents seated themselves, a desk at the front, and a whiteboard behind it. SAC Hobbson got right to the point.

“We’ve got trouble in San Carlos,” he stated flatly as he dropped a manila folder on the table. “Trouble at the Indian Reservation.”

Agent RAPUNZEL examined the folder. It contained a map of the area with areas circled and numbered, a newspaper clipping, and a list of dates and names which more or less mirrored SAC Hobbson’s speech.

“Thirteen people in the last month have disappeared off State Road 70 that goes through there. They were last seen near the southern edge of the San Carlos Indian reservation. They include the following:”

SAC Hobbson went on to list the names and information of the missing persons. The first to go missing were a middle-aged white couple from New Mexico, the Curtleys. Their abandoned car was found a half mile off the road. Next was a Hispanic gas station attendant in his early 20s, Felix Royce. He stepped behind the building for a smoke and never returned. Third was the camp of a couple fishermen near the reservoir, Ed Stoltz and Chris Martin. It was deserted. Following the fishermen were the disappearances of two foreign couples approximately two days apart. The first couple were young German tourists, and the second couple were Dutch citizens out to enjoy their retirement. Their rental cars were also found about a half mile from the road. Finally was a family of four, the Begays. They were successful ranchers who lived on the southern end of the reservation, close to Route 70.

According to the markings on the map, the disappearances were moving more or less in a Northwesterly direction. With the exception of the fishermen and the Begay family, each disappearance was right from the road. The newspaper article reiterated SAC Hobbson’s speech, but it did so in a more sensationalized manor.

“As these people have disappeared, and no bodies have been found, these are considered kidnapping and not homicides. Everyone disappeared on State Road 70 between Peridot and Geronimo.

“You’ll be working with Major Frank Garrett, liaison with the state patrol, and with Sheriff Mangas Colorados. He’s the Apache Tribal Police liaison.

“You’re going to aid the investigation. It’s still under the jurisdiction of the state police and the Apache Police. You can get their assistance, and you are to assist in return. You’re going to have the freedom to do your jobs, but you can’t order them around. They don’t have authority to order you either. Lend the local police all possible assistance, but do not take over the case.”

With the briefing concluded, R-Cell left to meet up with their liaisons and check on the whereabouts of S-Cell. As it turns out, the members of S-Cell had arrived in Phoenix and met up for lunch at a Denny’s. R-Cell stopped in to quickly relay the finer points of the mission briefing and coordinate a plan.

As the investigation seemed to be centered on Route 70 through the reservation, Agent SETH booked a few rooms at the Apache Gold Hotel and Casino so as to be centrally located. RASPUTIN and ROBIN were also to stay at the Apache Gold. RAPUNZEL would be about an hour away in her own home in Phoenix.

S-Cell went to the hotel to work possible leads from there, though if the Arizona State Police, Apache Tribal Police, and FBI all had nothing, their chances seemed slim. Agent SAM scoured the internet and financial databases for more information on the people who had disappeared, but she turned up little. Agent SÁBADO called all major car rental companies to see if any other vehicles failed to be returned; only the two currently in impound. Agent SETH looked up Felix Royce’s brother. He was in prison in New York for multiple felonies.

While SAM worked the computer angle, SETH and SÁBADO decided to check the Chevron station where Mr. Royce went missing. There were no other customers, so SETH engaged the clerk, a young Apache man named Steven, in conversation. He was able to get a quick picture of the emergency contact list behind the register, but otherwise there was nothing. Agent SÁBADO checked the perimeter for cameras. They all faced the front of the store, but the smoking area appeared to be around back; no buildings in sight from that side. Eventually, they headed back to the hotel for the night.

Meanwhile, R-Cell met with Major Garrett of the State Police in Phoenix. He was a nice enough man, stocky, in his mid-30s, and wore a cowboy hat and spurs on his hiking boots. This was mostly just a preliminary meeting to get acquainted, and it was apparent the state police had no real leads either. Major Garrett offered the support of his men, and the use of his equipment including the police helicopter, but he did make sure everyone was on the same page regarding jurisdiction.

The meeting with Sheriff Colorados went about the same. He was an older Apache, but his hair was still long, thick, and dark. There was a profound sorrow in his eyes, and a hint of worry. The agents briefly discussed the case with him, and as they were about to leave, he told them they were planning to check the area of the Begay ranch in the morning. The Federal agents were welcome to tag along. Agent RAPUNZEL happily accepted. A tribal police escort might be a good thing given historical tensions between Native Americans and the Federal government.

Satisfied with their day of work, RAPUNZEL headed home while RAPSCALLION and ROBIN made their way to the hotel.


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## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 2*

Agent SAM was up at sunrise. She didn’t care for anything the hotel restaurant had on the menu, so she headed to a diner a couple miles down the road. She enjoyed a nice, quiet breakfast and returned to the hotel with coffee for her colleagues who were just waking.

Agent SETH took his coffee and asked her to collect phone records linked to the cell phone of Felix Royce, the gas station attendant who had apparently wandered off in the middle of the night shift. This took her a little while, but by 11:00, she had the list. It seemed he only called one number, a land line, and there had been no activity since the night of his disappearance. The land line was registered in his name, and the address was on the reservation. Agent SÁBADO questioned why a young Hispanic male would have a residence on an Apache reservation, and who he might have been calling, so he and Agent SETH went for a drive. SETH’s cover story would be that he had done time with Felix’s brother, and had just been released. He was asked to deliver a message.

Around this time, R-Cell was set to head out to the Begay ranch with the tribal police. RAPUNZEL met up with her cell at the Apache Gold, and briefed Agent RAPSCALLION before they went out. Upon arriving at the station, they saw Sheriff Colorados was ready. The Jeep was running, and there was a deputy in the driver’s seat ready to lead them out to the ranch.

The drive was quick and uneventful. They passed a neighbor’s house, and about a mile later they arrived in front of the Begay ranch. It was a good sized one story house, and a large barn with a corral could be seen behind it. Agent RAPUNZEL checked the front door, and it was locked. Agent RAPSCALLION knocked while RAPUNZEL and ROBIN went around back. There was no answer at the front door, but the back door was unlocked. The house seemed well cared for. It was tidy, but it did seem no one had been here in a while. They headed to the barn, but they didn’t find much. There were twenty or so sheep inside, and the large double-doors which led to the corral were open. Sheep and horses could be seen out there.

RAPSCALLION examined the corral fence which appeared to be very sturdy and well-maintained. RAPUNZEL occupied herself with counting sheep and horses while ROBIN just stared off into the distance watching the birds fly in a circle. It took a moment, but then it clicked. Circling birds in a desert meant dead things, right? She called out to her cell members, and they decided to drive out and take a look.

SETH and SÁBADO arrived at Felix’s house only to find it locked. SÁBADO questioned a neighbor and learned that Felix’s girlfriend, an Apache girl named Maria was at work at the diner down the road. He lived with an Apache. That explained how he was living on the reservation.

Upon arriving at the diner, Agent Seth introduced himself using his cover story, and he asked to have a few words with Maria. She took her break, and stepped outside. She told them that Felix was a good hard-working guy. It wasn’t like him to just wander off, and she was afraid something bad had happened. She wasn’t able to give them much information, but she did agree to call if anything turned up.

As R-Cell pulled up to where the birds seemed to be circling, they found a rocky embankment which led down to some brush and a small tree. Carefully, they walked down to the tree to take a look, and they were rewarded with scattered bones, and a few dead sheep. RAPUNZEL photographed the scene, and then examined the bones. A few were sheep bones, but most were human. She identified four complete skeletons, one adult male, one adult female, and two male children. All of the bones appeared to have bite marks. She radioed Sheriff Colorados to inform him of the discovery, and soon the bones were on their way to the Medical Examiner in Phoenix.

They decided their next stop would be to re-examine the area around the gas station. About an hour’s worth of searching in the desert heat produced a spot of disturbed dirt. Digging, they uncovered another full skeleton about two feet down. It also showed signs of bite marks. So now this was a murder investigation. RAPUNZEL texted SETH what she had learned, and so SETH and SÁBADO headed to the reservoir campsite to see if they could turn up anything more.

They spent the early evening hours poking around outside the campsite where investigators might not have checked, and after a while they found two skeletons buried about two feet down. SETH texted RAPUNZEL what they found, and she said to cover it back up. She then called Major Garrett and Sheriff Colorados to advise them to check the other disappearance sites for shallow graves. Major Garrett informed her that the state patrol helicopter pilot had just radioed in that he spotted something along Route 70. R-Cell agreed to meet the state police at the site.

What the pilot had spotted turned out to be an overturned car with Texas plates at the bottom of a steep embankment and shielded from view of the road. The police ran the plates while Agent RAPUNZEL took the hands-on approach. Opening the door, she was assaulted by a horrible stench. A man’s body was in there, and had been for quite some time. There appeared to be no blood, but his belly had been sliced, and his intestines had fallen out. RAPUNZEL and a couple officers had to turn and vomit. Everyone else just covered their noses. A search of the man’s wallet turned up a name. He was Kenneth Braverman from Houston, TX. There were also zip-ties in the trunk which had been used to bind something, but they had been cut.

Agent RAPUNZEL muttered something about a long night for the Medical Examiner as they returned to the car. She headed home for the night, and the rest of her cell went to the hotel to share their findings with S-Cell. Agent SETH asked SAM to find everything she could about Kenneth Braverman, and then everyone else headed for bed.

RAPUNZEL was awoken in the middle of the night by a call from the Medical Examiner. He had completed his examination of the five skeletons and the two dead sheep. Dental records confirmed their identities as the Begay family and Felix Royce. The bones showed signs of having been gnawed by what was most likely a human. The sheep had three tiny punctures in their necks, spaced roughly in an equilateral triangular shape. On the side opposite the punctures was an incision which is where all the blood had drained. The sheep showed evidence of having been tranquilized, but the examiner had never seen a tranquilizer quite like it. Maybe the FBI lab would like to analyze it? RAPUNZEL indicated that they would, and she’d be in early in the morning to collect the samples.

Agent SAM found a memo from the Houston FBI office in pretty short order and shared it with her team before they turned in for bed. The memo gave a description of Braverman and indicated that he is wanted in connection with the murders of his two children, and he is the main suspect in connection with a series recent prostitute murders involving dismemberment and mutilation in the Houston area. He is also believed to have kidnapped his wife Elaine Braverman. He was a serving officer with the Houston PD.

Agent SÁBADO was from Houston, and he vaguely remembered hearing about the story on the news a couple months back. He relayed this information to SAM before heading to bed. Agent SAM used the rest of the night to search for those stories and anything related, and she was well rewarded. Upon waking in the morning, the other agents were welcomed with news story after news story which seemed to be linked in bizarre ways.

Sometime before the prostitute killings, there was a story of a Mr. David Charles, an architect from New Orleans who was found dead in his Houston apartment from multiple chest and stomach wounds. The first officer on the scene had been Kenneth Braverman. Mr. Charles had apparently moved to Houston a week earlier after having shot an intruder in self-defense who later turned out to have been wanted for murder and cannibalism. His last known address was St. Bartholomew’s Shelter for the Homeless in Nashville, TN.

An earlier article regarding St. Bartholomew’s reported that a Father Willard Franklin had gutted himself with a kitchen knife after being questioned by police in relation to the disappearance of as many as twenty-one people who were known to use the Shelter’s services regularly.

A search for earlier stories related to Nashville and disembowelment led to an article about a Doctor Brenton Clark who had been found dead in his newly rented home. He had recently moved from Lowery, WV where he served as the local Medical Examiner. He had unexpectedly resigned his post after fourteen years without notifying his employers in writing.

This led back to an even earlier article about a resident of Tecumseh County, WV named Mack Tooley who had shot himself in the head when police arrived at his cabin to arrest him in connection with the murder of an unidentified man whose bloodless corpse was found on his property. Dr. Clark had performed the autopsy.

Okay then. That was a lot of information to have thrown at you before coffee. The agents sat down to discuss the implications, and several theories were thrown out. None made much sense to any rational person, but they’d seen some strange things so they didn’t want to rule anything out. There were theories of aliens, demons, cults, and diseases. None really stuck, but they figured whatever was going on, their best bet was to find the missing Elaine Braverman as she was their only suspect.


----------



## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 3a*

Agent RAPUNZEL ordered an immediate APB on Elaine Braverman, and she sent a photograph to all major news outlets in Arizona. A short while later, her phone rang. It was her boss, SAC Hobbson.

“Agent Anderson, this is Hobbson. Just want to give you a heads up.” The man was clearly tired as well as irritated; pretty much his standard morning demeanor. “Had a few guys in black suits in my office this morning flashing badges. Apparently the NSA is interested in something about the investigation. National security, and all that. Listen, I want you to cooperate fully, and turn over any evidence you have. Make sure you keep copies, or you can’t exactly do your job, but they’re going to want to think they have it all.”

All she could manage was a quiet “Err … Yes, sir.”

“Good. Thank you, Agent Anderson. I don’t want any trouble with the NSA. I just want to get through this last miserable year, collect my pension, and drink myself to sleep somewhere without so much dirt. Oh, one more thing. They’re heading to the hospital now. Said something about chemical samples and autopsies.”

RAPUNZEL hung up the phone and let out an audible growl. This must be how local police feel when the FBI takes over. It seems there’s always someone bigger. Like it or not – trust it or not – national security always trumps homicide.

She had just enough time to inform the other agents of the new development before her phone rang once more. This time it was the Apache Tribal Police. Sheriff Colorados informed her that several days ago, three elders went into the mountains to a sacred cave to perform a ritual. They were due back yesterday, but they did not return. He had sent an acolyte to check on them, and he too failed to return. The sheriff was taking three deputies out to investigate, and he asked if the FBI would like to go as well.

Agent RAPUNZEL indicated that she would be happy to help, and that if it was alright, she may bring additional backup. Colorados said that they hope nothing has happened, but any additional FBI agents would be welcome.

The plan then was for R-Cell to meet with Colorados at the Apache Police Station and follow them out to the cave, and S-Cell was going to tail at a safe distance so as to be close enough to respond in the event that things went poorly.

The Apache Police were ready to go when R-Cell arrived. Sheriff Colorados and a deputy took one jeep, two other deputies took a second jeep, and R-Cell followed in RAPUNZEL’s pink SUV. It took about an hour down a dirt road, and eventually they arrived at a large, round dirt area blocked by three boulders and shaded on the sides by light tree cover. This was obviously the end of the road, but a boulder-lined dirt trail wound its way up to a cave.

The Apache police parked their jeeps and got out as the SUV pulled up behind. One deputy quickly stood stiffly upright, and fell backward over the side of the jeep. Almost immediately after, they could hear a loud crack echo through the mesas. The deputy had been shot in the heart from the direction of the cave which was easily 250 yards away.

The sheriff and two remaining deputies each ducked behind a boulder while R-Cell took up position behind the SUV, and Colorados called for backup over his radio. Of course, help would be an hour away. No one could see much of anything. The cave was dark, and the intervening space was very bright. The sun was almost directly overhead, and it was nearing 90 degrees everywhere but the shade. One deputy tried to sneak out to pull the body behind the boulder, but another shot rang out, and the dead deputy took another round to the torso.

RAPSCALLION scanned the terrain between their position and the cave. It was all uphill and wide open with the exception of about eight boulders along the path roughly 30 yards apart. He decided he was going to make a break for the first boulder, and so RAPUNZEL asked the police for covering fire. The deputies popped up to shoot a few rounds, but before Agent RAPSCALLION actually made his break, another deputy had taken a round to the heart. Whoever was up there had a hell of an aim and could pick off a target quickly.

Be that as it may, RAPSCALLION ran for all he was worth, rolling behind the first boulder as a bullet kicked up a cloud of dirt only a few feet behind him. He wasn’t sure his luck would hold out another seven times, and so he decided to hold his position for the time being.

RAPUNZEL sent Agent SETH a text: Sniper in cave. Two deputies down. S-Cell moved up, stopping their jeep several yards behind the others. Sheriff Colorados didn’t question the new arrivals. He was just happy to see any reinforcements so soon.

Agents SETH and RAPUNZEL talked things over for a moment, and they decided on a plan. They would split up and go way around to flank the cave using the trees as cover. Then they would skirt the base of the mountain and climb up. It would take about an hour, but it would minimize their risk of getting shot. RAPUNZEL called RAPSCALLION back, and so once again, he ran for his life. This time there was no shot, but he didn’t care a bit.

After regrouping, the agents split to flank the cave. It took a while, but they all reached the cave entrance without further incident. They all drew their pistols and entered one by one. The scene just inside the mouth of the cave was gruesome. Two skeletons, picked clean, and showing signs of bite marks in the bones; one body, skeleton from the waist down, chewed carcass from the waist up with a face twisted in horror; and a young Apache boy, face down and dead.

Everyone had to look away for a moment, but Agent SÁBADO took it worse than the rest. He let out a scream, and began shouting in a strange mixture of Latin, Spanish, and English as he unloaded his entire clip into the body of the Apache child. His gun clicked several times before agent SETH was able to calm him down. When the initial shock had passed, Agents RAPUNZEL and RAPSCALLION began examining the bodies while ROBIN and S-Cell scanned the cave.

The cave was dark, and it split in two directions. ROBIN watched the cave entrance while S-Cell checked the right branch. This led only a short distance to a small chamber. The only thing of interest in the room was a green canvas duffel bag. SÁBADO slowly unzipped the bag to reveal a smooth sphere a little larger than a basketball and dark grey in color like heavily tinted glass. It was semi-transparent, but the interior was difficult to make out. It seemed to be filled with swirling smoke, and every so often a tiny light would emerge in a seemingly random pattern of frequency, location, and duration. He zipped up the bag, and Agent SETH slid the strap over his shoulder.

RAPUNZEL and RAPSCALLION were able to pull bloody finger prints from the half-eaten corpse, and they bagged four shell casings from the cave floor. The Apache child had three small punctures in one side of his neck, and a small incision on the other. He was completely bloodless, and he had been shot six times at close range several hours after death.

ROBIN continued to watch the cave entrance as the rest of the agents checked the other branch of the cave. It too led a short distance to a wall with natural handholds forming a ladder leading to a smallish opening. Sunlight peeked in through the hole. SÁBADO climbed up and out to take a look. It was rocky for several yards, and then the tree cover began. It got denser the farther into it he looked. If someone who knew the area and had an hour or so head start, there would be no hope of finding them. He decided to head back down just as ROBIN raised the alert. The sheriff and deputy were headed up the path.

Agent SETH met them at the entrance and advised them not to enter. “It’s pretty ugly in there, but we have forensics going over everything.”

Colorados frowned with a nod. “Bodies?”

SETH nodded. “Two skeletons, a half-eaten corpse, and a child.”

Colorados sighed heavily. This was his worst fear, but somehow he knew it. Glancing at the bag over SETH’s shoulder, he asked “What’s that?”

“My equipment” was SETH’s reply.

“You didn’t have it with you when you went up. Did you find it in the cave? Is that evidence? If that’s evidence, I’m going to have to ask you to turn it over.”

Agent SETH glanced around nervously, took a step back, and reached for a tear gas grenade on his belt. The two Apache officers were already on edge, and they had their guns drawn and pointed at his nose before he could.

“Drop it, son,” the sheriff ordered.

Agent SETH allowed himself to be disarmed while RAPUNZEL apologized profusely. This was obviously a misunderstanding, and everyone was on edge. The sheriff said he hoped that was all, and turned the weapons over to her, reminding her that she was responsible for the actions of everyone here.

The deputy took the bag and ordered SETH up against the wall. RAPUNZEL showed the sheriff the opening and asked where it led. Colorados didn’t know, but he guessed it led further into the mountains.


----------



## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 3b*

With the sheriff down the tunnel, SETH gave RAPSCALLION a wink. They both jumped at the deputy, SETH trying to choke him, and RAPSCALLION attempting to punch him. The deputy dodged both attacks, yelled for the sheriff, and backed out of the cave.

RAPUNZEL grumbled, and she and ROBIN both pulled their guns, pointing them at the sheriff. SÁBADO decided everyone had gone crazy, and they were all going to be shot, so he quietly snuck down the tunnel, up the ladder, and out the hole.

Sheriff Colorados put his hands up and backed up against the wall. “You’re making a big mistake here, Agent Anderson. You know that.”

She cursed SETH under her breath. She knew this was all going wrong, and she didn’t see a way out of it, but she kept her gun pointed.

“We need that bag, Sheriff. Look inside, and you’ll see what I mean.”

The sheriff told her that it was evidence in a murder investigation, and it would be inspected at the station. The FBI would have access to it, but it fell under Apache Tribal jurisdiction. Meanwhile, the deputy was still backing down the path, gun in one hand, and walkie-talkie in the other. “Request immediate backup. The FBI is attacking us!”

Yeah … That wasn’t going to look good in the official report. The sheriff took a deep breath, and in the most confident, imposing manner he could muster, he spoke. “You really don’t want to do this, Agent Anderson. Neither of us wants this, and it’s not worth it. Put down your guns. We’ll all head to our vehicles, and return to our respective homes, headquarters, or where the hell ever, and we’ll calm down. We can forget this ever happened, and after that bag has been checked into evidence, you are welcome to examine it.”

That was a better deal than she could have hoped for, and it seemed like the only way out without totally botching the investigation, their careers, and their lives. She agreed, and everyone put away their weapons. It was a tense walk back down to the vehicles, but everyone drove away safely; everyone but SÁBADO.

Agent SÁBADO had decided his best chance at survival was to walk back to civilization. He looked around for a moment, and then he proceeded in exactly the wrong direction. The forest got denser around him, and after a while he paused, took stock of his situation, and again chose exactly the wrong direction. Then it happened. A twig snapped. Something tightened around his ankle, and he quickly found himself dangling upside down from a tree.

It wasn’t long after that when he heard something behind the tree from which he was suspended. He saw something out of the corner of his eye climbing the tree, and he twisted to see. There he saw the largest Apache he’d ever seen, covered in mud and grinning at him. Something whipped from the man’s mouth and pierced SÁBADO’s neck. He felt himself weaken, but he fought off the tranquilizer.

Agent SÁBADO instinctively grasped for the tentacle-like tongue and got a firm grip. The Apache growled, and holding the tree with his legs, he drew a large, serrated hunting knife. SÁBADO punched at the man, but he missed. For his part, the Apache swung the knife at the dangling agent, but he too missed. Apparently, knife fighting with your legs wrapped around a tree and someone holding your tongue makes things a little difficult.

Agent SÁBADO knew he was in a jam, but he remembered his gun. It was still in its holster, and so he drew it and fired. At point blank range with a heavy pistol, half the Apache’s head splattered away. The IRS agent was only a little shocked when the man shook off its wound, sending gore and brain matter flying.

The large Apache swung his knife once more, catching SÁBADO in the collar, and leaving a deep, nasty gash. The agent screamed a curse in a mix of Latin and Spanish, biting back the pain. A second shot from his pistol removed the rest of the Apache’s head. There was now nothing above the jaw, and yet he continued to fight after a brief stun. The tongue jerked free and retreated down the exposed wind pipe, and Agent SÁBADO fired again, catching the man square in the chest.

The headless Apache dropped from the tree, rolled, and stumbled off into the woods as SÁBADO struggled to stay conscious. He tried in vain to pull himself up, and the best he could manage was to swing over to the trunk of the tree, and hold on. He muttered quiet prayers as his blood poured forth from his wound. It was getting so cold, and he just wanted to sleep, but he kept himself going with his prayers.

At some point, Agent RAPUNZEL thought to text Agent SETH: _You have SÁBADO, yes?_

SETH’s reply: _No. Thought he was with you._

RAPUNZEL swung the pink SUV around and headed back for the cave. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen him since they were all up there, and he hadn’t left with them. He must have gone out the back. Once at the cave, R-Cell headed up the ladder and out the hole. Looking around, they tried to think of where SÁBADO may have gone. RAPUNZEL decided she was sure he’d have gone back to civilization, and so she headed off … in exactly the wrong direction. This happened to be good, however, as it was the same direction the IRS agent had gone.

They eventually came across him, still up in the tree, still struggling to stay awake. RAPSCALLION climbed quickly up, and cut him down. ROBIN did some quick patch work, and they moved him back to the SUV as quickly as possible. It took a while to get him to the hospital, but he was still alive when they made it. He was immediately admitted to the ER and taken for surgery.

RAPUNZEL texted SETH to bring him up to speed. The reply was this: _Keep him under observation. He may be our suspect now._

On this revelation, Agent RAPUNZEL called Major Garrett to arrange for a State Police guard. SÁBADO was handcuffed to his bed despite the fact that he was heavily sedated, and RAPUNZEL had him officially listed as a person of interest.

RAPSCALLION stayed with SÁBADO in the hospital, and ROBIN and RAPUNZEL went to the FBI lab to send the fingerprints and shells for analysis. Everyone else returned to the hotel to calm down and relax.

It was about 3:00 AM when RAPUNZEL got the results from the FBI lab. The shells were casings from a Lee Enfield Mark III rifle, a sniper rifle of British make. The prints belonged to one Master Sergeant Emmanuel Santana, an Apache. Santana was Delta Force and he served in Afghanistan and Iraq before going AWOL in 2004. He hadn’t been heard from since.

Agent RAPUNZEL cursed, and then she called SETH to inform him that they were up against an Apache Rambo.

Shortly after that, she received a call from the Apache Tribal Police. It was Sheriff Colorados, and he sounded shaken. He told her he hoped everyone had cooled off a bit, and though he was still not ready to trust her, he needed her. The station had been hit. It was in flames. There were three dead deputies and another body, headless from the jaw down. The evidence from the cave was missing. He had salvaged the security camera tape but hadn’t watched it yet. She said she was on her way.

RAPUNZEL alerted Agent SETH, and both cells sped to the Apache Tribal Police headquarters; all but SÁBADO who was drugged and under guard, and RAPSCALLION who was sitting with him. When they got to the scene, it was just as the sheriff had described it. The three deputies had been scalped, and the scalps were in the possession of the headless man. He was most definitely dead.

RAPUNZEL asked if her team could watch the tape, and Colorados agreed. He was busy with disaster control, so he would trust her to handle things carefully. She agreed they would. They took the tape back to the hotel, and watched it in the VCR in the hotel conference room.



> _The headless Apache stumbled in, feeling around with one hand, and carrying a hunting knife in the other. He found a deputy, cut his throat, and scalped him. He repeated the process with the other two. As he was finishing off the third, a black SUV pulled up out front, and three men in black suits stepped out. They entered the station to see the scene. One shouted, drew his gun, and fired. The headless Apache turned and stumbled their direction. One black suited man dove at the headless thing, tackling it. They rolled around a bit, and things got a little confused. Agent RAPUNZEL clearly saw something come out of the headless thing’s neck and force its way into the black suited man’s mouth. The body then went limp and collapsed as the black suited man rose and attacked his former allies. It was obvious they were going to lose the fight, so the other two men fled to the SUV, driving off at a quick pace. The one remaining man calmly put on his sunglasses and walked into the evidence locker, emerging with a green canvas bag over his shoulder. He walked off into the night._


----------



## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 4a*

Agent SÁBADO awoke still handcuffed to the rail of his hospital bed. He was still heavily sedated, numb, and unable to move without great effort. Agent RAPSCALLION slept in a chair at the foot of the bed snoring softly. The room was dimly lit from somewhere in the corner, and a thick line of light peeked in from under the door. SÁBADO’s vision was blurry as well, but slowly he focused his eyes on the clock. The hands came into focus before the numbers, but he didn’t need the numbers to read the clock. It indicated the time was 1:38, and the darkness outside the window implied it was early morning.

The door to the room opened quietly, and out of the corner of his eye, the IRS agent could barely make out the silhouette of a man. As the man approached, SÁBADO could see that he wore a black suit and carried a green canvas bag over one shoulder. The man leaned over Agent SÁBADO, and a whip-like tentacle shot from his mouth striking the seemingly helpless agent. Before the tranquilizer could flow, SÁBADO managed to flail an arm up to push the tentacle away.

The man simply grinned and dropped his bag in a nearby chair. Drawing a serrated hunting knife, the man in the black suit approached the sleeping and snoring Agent RAPSCALLION. With a quick motion, the Marshall’s throat was cut, and blood sprayed. Agent SÁBADO tried to scream, but all he could manage was a forceful exhale.

The man then took what appeared to be a plastic or foil pouch from the bag on the chair. He moved to pull down the neck of SÁBADO’s gown, but the agent again managed to flail an arm wildly to block the attempt. Every pathetic attempt at resistance only seemed to amuse the man in the black suit even more. Again the man moved to pull down the neck of the gown, and this time he was successful.

With SÁBADO’s chest exposed, the man placed the pouch over the agent’s heart. The sensation it produced was immediately one of intense cold which then became a numb, dull pain. When the pouch was removed, the area was a pale blue-white. The man drew his knife across the pale area easily parting the flesh and cutting into the bone. Setting the knife aside, he then reached into the wound with both hands, ripping flesh and bone apart to expose Agent SÁBADO’s rapidly beating heart. The process caused a strong but numb and dull physical pain, but it was the psychological pain that really hurt. The poor IRS agent was powerless to do anything but watch as the man drew a pocket watch-sized, grey object with many twitching legs from his jacket pocket. He placed it directly on SÁBADO’s beating heart, and it burrowed in.

The man in the black suit grinned as he forced the bone and flesh back into roughly the right places. He then applied the pouch to the area once more, and after the intense cold, the wound was sealed. The area remained the same pale blue-white.

As the man stood over the bed grinning, the door silently opened once more, and a nurse entered. She was very tall – nearly seven feet – and she was very thin. It seemed as if a regular person had somehow been stretched out. She walked over to the man in the black suit, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said simply “You don’t belong here.”

The man turned to look at her, and as he did so, she began to glow with a pale white light. The light seemed to slowly intensify, and as it did, everything outside about a three-foot radius seemed to get darker. It was as if either she was pulling all the light from the room to surround her, or the light emanating from her was pushing back the darkness and condensing it. Either way, the effect was the same; total darkness everywhere but around the nurse and the man in the black suit. As she became too bright to look at, the man reached into a pocket inside his jacket and took out his sunglasses. He grinned as he put them on. The nurse then began to crackle with energy, and the room exploded. Everything was vaporized – including SÁBADO.

After he died, Agent SÁBADO experienced a long period of darkness. He then awoke in his hospital bed, still handcuffed, and still sedated. Agent RAPSCALLION still slept in the chair at the foot of the bed, and the clock still said 1:38. He could vaguely remember something from the period of darkness. He could remember … numbers? Yes; a seemingly random series of numbers.

Then the door opened, and out of the corner of his eye, Agent SÁBADO could barely make out the silhouette of a man. The previous scene again played itself out, and SÁBADO’s mind was having real difficulty holding itself together. His Catholic faith filtered the horrible semi-reality for him, and he began to regard the nurse as something of a guardian angel.

After the period of darkness, he again awoke, and once more, he could remember bits and pieces. This time, the number string broke off, and the voice had “spoken”. It was really more like words forming in his head, but regardless of their nature, he could make out the phrase “subject response sub-optimal”.

The scene with the nurse played out once more, and this time SÁBADO decided he was either dreaming, or he was in Hell. Praying silently that it was the former, he tried to wake himself, but it didn’t work. Well, that was a bad sign.

This time however, when everything went dark, he could actually hear. It wasn’t like waking and remembering. This seemed to be actually happening. The voice said “Subject status invalid. Sensory error. Correction.” The darkness began to fade, and though he was completely immobilized, be could still make out a stone wall lined with metal racks which held jars, wickedly shaped tools, and metallic cylinders of various sizes. There was also a large vat of some sort of churning grey slime. He had only a brief period to take this in before something humanoid, but definitely not human appeared over him. It was short, grey, impossibly thin with a large head, tiny mouth, and very large, black eyes. It looked very much like what Hollywood and various rural Americans have said for years that aliens looked like.

The mouth didn’t move, but Agent SÁBADO could hear the voice all the same. “Remain calm, subject. Adjustments are in progress to restore equilibrium. Fixed state … status error … correction.” There was a shock to his heart, and SÁBADO again awoke in his hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail and still sedated. Agent RAPSCALLION still slept in the chair at the foot of the bed, but this time the clock read 5:43.

The door slowly opened, and the man in the black suit entered. SÁBADO’s heart began to beat faster. With every step the man took, the agent’s heart rate increased. The man leaned over the helpless IRS agent, and the whip-like tentacle shot out striking him in the neck. As it did so, Agent SÁBADO’s heart began to beat impossibly fast, and finally it exploded. The heart exploded, SÁBADO exploded, the man in black dropped dead on the floor, and Agent RAPSCALLION was knocked out of his chair.

He rubbed his eyes and opened them to see an arm handcuffed to a bed rail and feet poking out from under the blanket, but there was only blood and gore to connect them. He barely held back a scream as he stood and quickly exited the room. He sent Agent RAPUNZEL a quick text; only two words: _SÁBADO exploded._


----------



## Audrik

*Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays - Session 4b*

All agents but SAM scrambled to get to the hospital. Agent SAM stayed at the hotel to hold down the fort, so to speak. She also got in a little slot machine action. Agent SETH called the State Police to request helicopter transport, and soon they were on the way.

Once in the hall, RAPSCALLION took stock of the situation. There were two unconscious Arizona State Police officers slumped against the wall, a front desk far to one end of the hall, and emergency exit doors nearby to the other end. He had started for the exit when he heard a wet, scurrying sound behind him. Turning, he saw what he could only describe as a grey slime with four tentacles slide out from under the door, slither onto an officer, and start to crawl into his mouth.

The Marshall drew his pistol and fired at it, but he hit the officer in the shoulder instead. He fired again, and hit the officer in the other shoulder. While unfortunate, this had the effect of causing the creature to think better of things, and go for the other officer instead. The second officer began to gag as the creature tried to burrow down his throat. RAPSCALLION fired twice more, hitting the creature, but apparently the bullets didn’t emerge from the other side because the officer vomited the rest of the slime out onto his immobilized lap.

Agent RAPSCALLION grabbed bandages and began to patch up the injured officer as a nurse came around the corner to investigate the shots. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the creature, and with a scream, she stumbled backwards. She tripped over herself and began crawling back behind the front desk. RAPSCALLION grabbed the creature and tossed it down the hall toward the desk, and he then began dragging the officers that direction.

Around this time, the other agents arrived. The only outer doors open at this hour were the ones to the ER, and the inner doors they needed to get through were locked. There was a button with a plaque that said to ring for assistance. Agent SETH decided this was no time for formalities. Drawing his pistol, he fired two shots through the windows on the doors. He then reached through and opened them.

Gunshots only served to make the poor nurse’s night worse. She held her knees, rocked, and whimpered behind the desk. The other agents rounded the corner as the emergency exit doors at the end of the hall were forced open. The alarm rang out as two men in black suits walked in. Both groups eyed each other for a moment, and then Agent SETH identified himself by his real name and informed them that he was from INSCOM, Army Intelligence. The men in black nodded, and one identified them as NSA, but he gave no names. As a matter of national security, they were taking all evidence. Agent SETH told them they might not want to look in SÁBADO’s room.

The man in the black suit who had spoken before shook his head and informed SETH that as NSA field agents, it was all part of the job. The other man opened the door and immediately turned to vomit. The first man growled, rolled his eyes, and entered the room. While no one was looking, Agent SETH grabbed the remains of the creature and ran for the stairs. He found the incinerator, and stuffed the thing inside. After a few moments and wet, popping sounds, the job was done.

Curiosity and her morbid side got the better of Agent ROBIN who decided she just had to see what was so bad an NSA agent couldn’t keep down his dinner. She looked in to see the blood and gore all over the walls, floor and ceiling. She was only mildly disturbed as she turned back to the hall.

Agent RAPUNZEL asked the nurse where the security room was, and the poor woman pointed. RAPUNZEL asked her to open the door, but the nurse only ripped off her ID badge, threw it on the floor, and ran for the emergency exit. RAPUNZEL took the badge, and used it to gain access to the security room. She quickly got a hold of the security camera footage and erased it.

The man who entered the room emerged with the green canvas bag over his shoulder, and both NSA agents left the way they entered. It was then that Agent ROBIN smelled the smoke and … burning flesh? The sprinkler system kicked on as ROBIN looked in to confirm that the body on the floor was in deed on fire.

Their mission accomplished, the agents all fled the hospital before they had to answer uncomfortable questions from State Police, the Phoenix Fire Department, local news media, and anyone else who might be on the way.

Agent SETH reported the results of the mission to A-Cell through the secure, encrypted e-mail system, and he also informed them of the loss of Agent SÁBADO. For their part, whichever member of A-Cell who responded thanked the agents for successfully handling the Operation and stated that SÁBADO’s replacement should be ready in about a month. While it can be hard to analyze intent behind text-based communication, Agent SETH was a trained psychologist. He found it interesting that A-Cell thanked them for their work but didn’t congratulate them on success. It was also interesting, and mildly disturbing that A-Cell gave only a business-like response to the loss of an agent.

Both cells were glad to be done here in Arizona, and they all quickly returned to their home cities to get back to the comparatively safe business of Federal law enforcement.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent RAPSCALLION – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist, Leader of R-Cell
Agent ROBIN – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen

*S-Cell*
Agent SAM – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS - Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

*Former Agents*
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist


This Operation marks the first appearance of Agent SÁBADO’s replacement. Agent SLEEPLESS – so named because he suffers from insomnia and a fear of dreams – is an NSA field agent specializing in cult infiltration and dismantling. He is a small man, not particularly strong, and not particularly attractive; pretty much your perfect cultist. This Operation takes place after the agents have had a few months to relax and recover. It is mid-October.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 1*

Agents SETH and RAPUNZEL each received a phone call on their Delta Green phones. The voice on the other end identified herself as Section Chief Jane Turner of the FBI in Washington, DC. Their cells had been recommended to her by A-Cell, and she was instructed to invite them to a Night at the Opera. It was obvious she had never been on this end of an Opera invitation, but she handled the situation with authority. They were to contact their cells and instruct them to pack for about five days in the southwest, but first all agents were to meet her at the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington the following day.

The agents all met up in Washington on the steps of the J. Edgar Hoover building and entered together. The inside was impressive, and the giant FBI logo on the floor drew their attention for a moment. An unremarkable man at the front desk asked if he could direct them. His badge identified him as Michael Bullen.

Agent SETH indicated that they had been summoned by Section Chief Turner, and the man nodded. He led them to a secure debriefing room and tossed a thin manila folder on the conference table.

“You may want to look that over first. Chief Turner will be with you shortly.”

Agent SAM took up the folder and examined its contents before passing it along. Inside was a single document; an FBI report detailing the New Coven of Salem. The original Coven was an old coven of witches supposedly descended from actual witches who had been executed during the Salem witch trials in the 17th Century. The Coven, based in Arkham, Massachusetts, had been eradicated in the late ‘30s by the Arkham Police Department. It consisted of about eighty members with an inner circle of thirteen. It was suspected that the New Coven of Salem consisted of about thirty members. The only known pattern of membership in the New Coven seemed to be that some of the members seemed to be grouping together in Alamogordo, New Mexico, and then moving to Arkham. It was suspected that the Coven restructuring was being coordinated in or near Alamogordo.

Just as the agents finished reading the report, a woman in her mid-30s entered the room. She was reasonably attractive with shoulder-length brown hair which was tied back, and she wore a black suit with a knee-length skirt. She introduced herself as Section Chief Jane Turner. Chief Turner apologized for the brevity of the meeting, but she was actually quite busy and had a meeting in about ten minutes. She got right down to business.

“I trust you’ve read the report? This case landed on my official desk yesterday, and I’m far too busy to handle it myself, so I’m being forced to hand it off. You come highly recommended. Recently, the Planning Committee decided that the New Mexico branch of the New Coven of Salem needed investigating. Well, five days ago, Boston police picked up a vagrant on charges of assaulting two women in a park.

“The man has claimed that he is Donald Allen McLeod, but his identity has yet to be verified. When questioned, the man said he had travelled to Boston from Powell, New Mexico. Powell is a small town about fifty miles north of Alamogordo, near the U.S. Military’s White Sands Missile Range. Bus ticket stubs in his pocket and several eye witnesses have confirmed this. He said he was travelling to Arkham to find the New Coven of Salem, but little more has been learned from him, even after repeated interviews.”

Agents SETH and SLEEPLESS expressed interest in interviewing the man themselves, and Section Chief Turner said that could be arranged. She mentioned that FBI Psychiatrist Doctor Aaron Fairbanks had interviewed McLeod, and was convinced that the man was incurably insane. His prognosis was delusion and psychosis. Chief Turner went on to say that the agents were booked on an overnight flight to Alamogordo at 11:00 PM.

“There you will be met by Detective Ferrell of the Alamogordo Police Department. He will provide a police vehicle, and you will proceed immediately to Powell to conduct a preliminary investigation into the status of the cult. Officially, you are not to take any action, but to report back to Washington once you have any conclusive evidence of illegal activities. Unofficially, however …”

She paused briefly, biting her lip.

“I understand this is a Delta Green operation, and so obviously you will have to do what you have to do. If things go very wrong, I’ll do my best to provide covering paperwork. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must go. You’ll have about seven hours to conduct investigation and inquiry here before your flight leaves from Ronald Regan National. The evidence lockers, and the prisoner are located downstairs.”

She then quickly turned and exited. Okay then. The agents had a few things to look into. They all headed down to the evidence locker, and Agent RAPUNZEL signed for the evidence. The guard placed a tray on the table and then left them to examine it. The contents of the tray were as follows:

Three tubes of toothpaste: two empty, one full; two dead cockroaches; twenty-three bus tickets documenting trips between various towns between Powell, New Mexico and Boston, Massachusetts; $53.25 in various bills and coins; and a yellowed birth certificate for Donald Allen McLeod, born in Danver’s General Hospital in Massachusetts on April 23rd, 1893.

Agent SETH quickly did the math. That would make the man 116 years old. He decided it was time to pay Mr. McLeod a visit. Agents SETH and SLEEPLESS went to the man’s cell, and they were allowed in. The other agents took the evidence to the FBI laboratory to run some quick tests.

Agent RAPUNZEL used every piece of equipment at her disposal to determine just how the cockroaches died. They weren’t poisoned, and it wasn’t physical trauma. The only tool that gave any clue was the Geiger counter. Apparently, the cockroaches had died from too much radiation. This realization made her a little apprehensive about a trip to a town near a former nuclear testing site.

The agents also determines that the two empty tubes of toothpaste had traces of saliva. It seemed Mr. McLeod had eaten the contents. This was also mildly disturbing, but it wasn’t anything compared to what they’d seen only a few months earlier.

SETH and SLEEPLESS examined the man, and the condition of his cell. McLeod looked like a common hobo in his late-40s or early-50s. He wore an old suit and dirty shirt, and his hair and beard were unkempt. The man himself, as well as the floor, walls, and ceiling were all covered in a grainy dust. They asked him several questions, but they were unable to get much out of him other than that he felt the wind was blowing him to pieces.

Agent SETH called for the guards and Doctor Fairbanks. He demanded to know how the prisoner could be left in this condition. Doctor Fairbanks said simply “Touch him.”

Agent SETH touched McLeod’s arm, and the grainy dust stuck to his hand. As he brushed it away, he and Agent SLEEPLESS noticed that the dust slowly flowed back to cover the clean spot on the man’s arm.

The doctor informed them that the first day, the guards washed the man down every couple hours, but it did no good. Likewise, thoroughly cleaning the cell did no good. Agent SETH asked if McLeod had been weighed when he was brought in. The doctor indicated that all his measurements and prints were taken upon his arrest five days ago. He was 143 lbs.

SETH asked for a scale to be brought in, and they weighed the man. He had apparently lost four pounds in five days. The agents demanded to know what the prisoner was being fed, and how much he was eating. The doctor replied that McLeod would eat nothing but toothpaste because he believed it helped keep him from blowing away.

They decided they had enough for now, and they joined the other agents in the laboratory to discuss the evidence.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 2*

Upon hearing about the dust, Agents RAPUNZEL and ROBIN were very interested in running some tests. Agent SETH got them a sample of the dust which appeared pale blue – almost white – under the microscope or when enough of it was piled together.

During chemical analysis, Agent RAPUNZEL managed to thoroughly contaminate and then destroy the sample, so Agent SETH got her another. On the second try, they managed to determine its composition. The dust contained exactly the same elements in the same proportions as would be found in the typical human body – with one exception. There was no hydrogen or oxygen at all. It seemed all traces of water had been removed somehow.

It was quickly getting to be time to head to the airport. Agent SLEEPLESS stopped for coffee, but everyone made the flight on time. The layover in Memphis took an hour or so longer than expected, and so they didn’t land in Alamogordo until 9:00 AM.

Detective Farrell was there to meet them, and after a warm greeting, and a bit of small talk, he led them to the vehicle provided by the Alamogordo Police Department. It was a white Ford Explorer. Detective Farrell offered them the use of the police station facilities and equipment if they needed it, and then he wished them luck as they drove off with Agent SETH behind the wheel. They made it to a nearby hotel before realizing that this vehicle just wasn’t going to meet their needs. It may have been free, but the air-conditioning didn’t work, and RAPUNZEL’s seatbelt wouldn’t latch. This meant that if she didn’t hold the buckle in place, the dashboard would beep at her for the entire trip. SETH dropped everyone off at the hotel, and then he and Agent RAPSCALLION returned to the airport to ditch the Explorer in favor of two rental cars.

As Agent SAM was from Santa Fe, and RAPSCALLION wanted to hit up the green box there, they took a short road trip. Agent SAM stopped at her house to grab extra clothes while RAPSCALLION headed for Unit #35 at the Extra Space Storage facility. As he raised the garage-style door, he noticed the unit was fairly empty. There were three paperback books; The Nephilim Chronicles: Fallen Angels in the Ohio Valley, Nuclear Weapons: A Very Short Introduction, and S&M: The Last Taboo; ten brown office envelopes tied with string; a Crown Royal bag of what appeared to be homemade caltrops; a Nintendo 64 controller; a glass blob containing several human teeth; a surgical glove filled with dead red ants; and a wooden case lined with felt padding and containing two small glass spheres filled with silvery powder. Agent RAPSCALLION grabbed the books, envelopes, and wooden case before locking the unit up and heading back to get Agent SAM.

Once the agents were back together, they piled into the vehicles for the trip to Powell. It was a long, boring drive down a very straight desert highway, and somehow both SETH and RAPSCALLION both missed the dirt road to Powell, and they only realized this when they saw the sign welcoming them to Colorado. They were already about five hours behind schedule. What harm could another hour do?

On their way back south, they found the little dirt road leading to Powell. It was quite bumpy, and about half-way to town, Agent RAPSCALLION got a flat tire. It was easily changed, and by about 5:00 PM, they rolled into town. Powell was a small town, and it strongly resembled a town from a spaghetti Western which had been modernized sometime around the turn of the century. The roads were dirt, the buildings were wooden, and every so often, a tumbleweed would roll down the street. There weren’t many vehicles, and for that matter, there weren’t many people out walking either.

The first thing they passed on their way into town was an old, stone well. Next to the well laid the body of a man with a large hole through the heart of his suit and a matching one out the back. He was quite obviously dead, and there was a cloud of flies around him. The agents got out of their vehicles to examine the body. Agent SAM found a stick, and despite SETH’s protest, she poked the body in several places. This had two mildly disgusting effects. First, the body released gases, and second, the mouth opened to reveal swarming maggots.

Agent RAPUNZEL checked the pockets while SETH questioned a couple of guys who were casually strolling past. They didn’t even seem to notice the body until it was pointed out to them, and even then they seemed reasonably sure the man was just resting. The man had a wallet containing a photo ID, a $5 bill, a credit card, and two library cards. The cards identified the man as Simon Horn of Chicago. He was also carrying a hotel key labelled ‘#3’.

The wind picked up, and a tumbleweed rolled past. Agent ROBIN thought she could hear whispering, but she couldn’t be sure.

After examining the body, the cells split up. S-Cell went to investigate the saloon/hotel, and R-Cell paid a visit to the sheriff to inform him of the body by the well. As S-Cell approached the saloon, they could hear a song by Conway Twitty playing on the jukebox in the corner, and several citizens were inside talking. As they entered, the talking stopped briefly, and when it resumed, it was in more hushed tones. Agent SAM engaged the bartender in conversation. She had noticed that her phone wasn’t getting reception, and she couldn’t find an internet signal, so she asked the bartender about it. He didn’t know anything about the internet, but if she wanted to use the phone, she was welcome to do so. She tried this, but the phone was very old with no dial, and when she picked up the ear piece, there was no dial tone or operator. She decided to order a couple drinks instead. It took her all of ten minutes to drink her Rum and Coke, and her Long Island Iced Tea.

Meanwhile, Agent SETH had slipped upstairs to find four doors; three with numbers, and one unmarked. He tried the key in door three, and it opened. The room was dark and rather sparsely decorated. There was a bed, and an end table with a kerosene lamp, and a bible. He noticed a faint clicking sound and followed it to its source. Prying up the floorboard with his knife, Agent SETH found a hollow space with a clicking Geiger counter which was reading about 85 or so clicks per minute, a bundle of sticks with a black feather, and a note pad with some mildly disturbing notes. The note pad said things like “the sheriff and wife don’t seem trustworthy”, “to run is to die”, “Jack Pena has answers”, and “he says the answers are in ‘THE RANCH’”. Agent SETH headed back downstairs and shared his findings with the rest of his cell.

R-Cell drove the two blocks or so to the sheriff’s office and parked outside. The inside looked like something out of the Andy Griffith show. The sheriff was tall and well-built, and if not for the sunglasses, he could easily have stepped right from an old Western movie. RAPUNZEL and RAPSCALLION both noticed the gun rack behind the sheriff’s desk. It had room for two rifles, but there was only one there at the moment. Agent RAPUNZEL notified the sheriff of the body near the well, and he didn’t seem surprised. He stated that he’d have someone get right on that as soon as things settled down a bit. He said he was quite busy with all the paperwork, and he waved a hand to indicate his rather uncluttered desk. He also warned them not to touch the body, or he’d have to arrest them for interfering with an investigation.

Agent RAPSCALLION informed the sheriff that he was a U.S. Marshall, and he showed his badge. For his part, the sheriff was quite unimpressed. He simply grinned and pointed to the badge on his chest.

“I have one, too. Mine’s a star, and it says ‘sheriff’. That means I’m in charge here, so if you’ll kindly allow me to do my job …?”

He leaned back in his chair, and his spurs jangled a bit as he put his feet up on the desk. He placed his hands behind his head and yawned.

The agents of R-Cell bid the sheriff good day, and they exited the office to find that all the air had been let out of their tires. Agent RAPSCALLION drove the vehicle anyway, and about two blocks later, they arrived at the gas station. They were irritated to find that there was no air pump, and there were no spare tires for sale. They gathered their gear and walked back to S-Cell’s vehicle.

Agent SETH wanted to interview the Jack Pena mentioned in the notebook, and so RAPSCALLION guarded the vehicle as the other agents headed to Mr. Pena’s camp. On their way, they passed a poorly maintained graveyard and a small stone chapel in the colonial Spanish style.

Agent SAM decided to take a closer look at the chapel despite SETH’s protest that it was unimportant compared to interviewing Mr. Pena, and that there would be plenty of time later. Again the wind picked up, and this time SETH and SLEEPLESS both thought they could hear whispering of some sort, but Agent SAM was sure she could. She could actually make out at least three whispered voices on the wind. She couldn’t tell if they were male or female, but they seemed to be pleading for her to help them, and to “destroy that which dwells in the well”. One voice called her by name. She informed Agent SETH of what she heard, and the agents all decided to head back to the well they passed on the way into town.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 3a*

There was a brief discussion about how to proceed. Given the whispers she’d just heard on the wind, Agent SAM wanted to go take a second look at the well they passed when they first arrived in town. It was eventually decided that Agents SETH and RAPSCALLION should guard the group’s other rental car while everyone else checked on the well. They all headed back to the vehicle since it was on the way to the well, but before they split up, the agents saw a truck pull up in front of the well down the street. There were two men in the cab and three in the bed. The three in the back hopped out and just stood around the body which had apparently not yet been collected.

Agent SETH got in the passenger side of the vehicle while the other five agents stood outside keeping an eye on the well. Not long after, the sheriff could be heard whistling as he walked down the street. As he passed the agents, he tipped his hat in a friendly manner. A child of about ten or eleven came running out of the saloon yelling and waving, and so the sheriff tipped his hat once again, took a coin from his pocket, and flipped it to the kid. For his part, the kid caught the coin and ran back inside happily.

The agents watched all of this with a mix of interest and suspicion. The sheriff continued on until he reached the men by the well. They had a brief conversation which ended with the sheriff tipping his hat and turning to return to the office while the men tossed the body in the back of the truck, hopped in with it, and sped off out of town to the northwest. Another brief discussion followed, and RAPSCALLION ended up watching the vehicle while SETH slept, and the others left to interview Jack Pena.

Jack Pena’s camp wasn’t much to look at; several junked cars forming a circle, and tarps elevated by trees, posts, and ropes to act like tents. At one end of the camp was a very old Navajo woman with thick glasses who was busy painting pottery. In the center was a Navajo man of about 80 years sitting in a lawn chair and tending a small camp fire. There was a television on a table nearby which was plugged in to a generator which was not running at the moment. Quick questioning confirmed that this man was indeed Jack Pena.

Agent ROBIN decided the old woman was more interesting, and so she approached to see what was being painted. The woman didn’t seem to notice ROBIN’s approach, but when the agent spoke up to compliment the pottery work, the old woman turned. The lenses of her glasses were quite thick, and even at this distance, the woman squinted and leaned forward to see who had spoken.

Agent ROBIN and the old woman had a friendly discussion about the artwork on her pottery; she had been painting T-shaped totem poles with animals dangling from them. Apparently, these totem poles were outside “the Ranch”, and though the woman seemed like she never went far from camp, she said she sees the poles “most nights”.

Jack Pena was quite helpful as well. He seemed happy to answer questions, but he warned them that the Ranch was a dangerous place. He said “the key to releasing Rhagorthua” could be found there. Agent RAPUNZEL recognized the name from somewhere – a book, a television show, a half-heard conversation. Where she’d heard the name wasn’t particularly important at the moment. What was important was that the name belonged to a spirit creature of some sort – a demon-god – who had taken over the entrance to the underworld. Jack Pena confirmed this, and he added that this demon-god dwelt in a bottomless well somewhere in the desert.

Sometime in the late 1940’s, Jack told them, a couple of detectives passed through the area on the trail of some magic or other which could help in their investigation in New England. The investigators were searching for eternal life, but instead they stumbled into Rhagorthua’s well and their bodies were consumed. Their spirits supposedly still wandered the desert in search of their elusive magic.

Jack was also able to confirm that the Ranch was northwest of town; the same direction the truck had gone after collecting the body by the well. It seemed the next step was to investigate this Ranch. The agents headed back to the vehicle to discuss their findings with RAPSCALLION and SETH, but they only made it into visual range of the vehicle before they saw something which would change the entire course of the night, and probably not for the better.

Agent RAPSCALLION had been quietly reading a book from the green box while standing outside the driver’s side door. There was a loud thud across the street, and he looked up just in time to see a rock bounce into the dirt road, apparently after having hit the building. As he was watching the rock, there were two loud hisses from behind him, and the vehicle settled much lower on the passenger side. As he turned, RAPSCALLION saw the kid from the saloon running down the street in the direction of the sheriff’s office, or maybe the general store. He had slashed the passenger side tires.

This was their only remaining vehicle, and apparently there wasn’t a spare tire to be found in the whole town, so Agent RAPSCALLION wasn’t about to let this go. He dropped the book and took a few steps in the direction of the running child while drawing his pistol! He took aim, and though it was getting dark, he took one shot. Part of the child’s head blew off, and the body hit the dirt. RAPSCALLION approached the body, and it was then that the other agents rounded the corner to see about ten people with shotguns, rifles, and handguns running out of the saloon to see what had just happened. The people raised their guns and aimed them at Agent RAPSCALLION, but before they could fire, Agent SLEEPLESS (who was living up to his name by currently operating on about 40 hours without sleep) decided that the “cultists” needed to die, and he drew his own gun.

SLEEPLESS fired his Glock-18 on auto into the crowd, and seconds later, only two were left standing. Most ordinary small-town citizens would probably dive for cover, cower, play dead … Not these citizens. The two left standing turned and fired their rifles at Agent SLEEPLESS. Just as quickly as he had thinned their group, they thinned him. His lifeless body dropped right at RAPUNZEL’s feet.

Agent ROBIN ran for the vehicle, Agent SAM ran for the SALOON, Agent RAPSCALLION dove for the alley, and Agent RAPUNZEL fired her pistol wildly and only managed to kill a bottle of some blue liquor inside the saloon. Before the two remaining men could fire their rifles at RAPUNZEL, Agent RAPSCALLION peeked around the corner and fired his pistol, killing both men.

All of this gunfire had apparently drawn the sheriff’s attention as he was now jogging down the street in their direction. He had seen RAPSCALLION firing his gun, and so he spoke into the walkie-talkie he was carrying, and he pointed down the alley. Agent RAPUNZEL fired at the sheriff and knocked the hat off his head. The sheriff spoke into his walkie-talkie again, and this time he pointed at RAPUNZEL. Agent RAPSCALLION could hear him clearly by now, and he heard the sheriff say “Scratch that. Get her!”

Agent ROBIN had started the car, rolled down the power window, and fired a couple of meaningless shots, and she now decided that a better course of action would be to drive as quickly as possible down the road toward the sheriff. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t much of a driver. She was worse under this kind of pressure, and she was totally unprepared for driving a vehicle of this size with two slashed tires. As she floored the accelerator, the Ford Explorer veered hard to the right, and instead of flying down the dirt road like she had pictured, she flew through the door of the saloon. This took the dozen or so citizens on their way out completely by surprise, and about two-thirds of them were dragged along under the vehicle as it plowed through the bar and over the bartender. As the wall of booze crashed to the floor, Agent SAM hopped into the car. Through all of this, Agent SETH managed to snore.

Agent RAPUNZEL was dead on her feet and falling when the shot was heard. It seemed a sniper had caught her right in the heart. This was a bit too much for Agent RAPSCALLION, and so he snuck away down the alley looking for an escape route. Reaching the rear of the buildings, he scanned the area. To the right was the well, and the road back to the highway. Straight ahead across a wide open space was the old church with the poorly maintained graveyard. To the left was the sheriff’s car, parked quietly in the dark.

Nodding to himself, Agent RAPSCALLION ran toward the sheriff’s car. As he ran, dirt kicked up near his feet, and a shot could be heard. This was his second Opera, and this was his second Opera being narrowly missed by a sniper as he ran. He didn’t have much time to enjoy his good fortune, however. A few seconds later, there was a ringing in his ears, and his vision went red. His face felt wet and warm. Upon reaching the sheriff’s car, a mirror confirmed his suspicion. The sniper had put a round directly into his face, but by some small miracle, it had passed clean through seemingly without damaging anything more vital than his profile.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 3b*

ROBIN threw the car into reverse and floored it again, but all this did was throw up glass, alcohol, and bloody gore. Fortunately for everyone in the vehicle, things were so chaotic, and the lighting was bad enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that eight or nine people were being ground to a pulp under the vehicle. Instead, what was immediately obvious was that the car wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The agents (including the recently awakened Agent SETH) exited the vehicle.

The ladies checked the bathroom for an exit, and Agent SETH just ran for the front door and out into the night. Like the rest of the downstairs in the hotel/saloon, the bathrooms had no windows. Agent SAM tested the wall with her shoulder, but it was solid. SAM and ROBIN decided to head upstairs, and opening the first door they found, they looked out the window. Maybe fifteen feet away, there was a tree. SAM jumped first, and she barely grabbed a branch which broke under her weight, but it slowed her enough that she landed uninjured. ROBIN followed, and she experienced similar results. They looked around and saw the same things Agent RAPSCALLION had seen. They also made the same decision, and they ran for the sheriff’s car.

When they reached it, they saw RAPSCALLION fumbling around, apparently trying to steal the car stereo. When SAM asked what he was doing, he admitted that he was trying to hotwire the car, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Agent SAM smiled and told him to move over. This was a particular specialty of hers. It took a bit of doing, but she got the car started. Meanwhile, Agent ROBIN had been keeping watch. She noticed the same truck from the well pull up and grab two bodies from the street before driving off to the northwest. Two bodies from where Agent SLEEPLESS was shot … That must mean Agent RAPUNZEL had died as well.

With SLEEPLESS and RAPUNZEL dead, and SETH missing, that meant only half of their team remained not even ten minutes after the first shots had been fired. The general consensus seemed to be something along the lines of “screw this town”. With the car started, Agent SAM announced her plan to storm the Ranch. RAPSCALLION then announced his plan to completely avoid SAM’s plan. He then got out of the car, and ROBIN took his place. She didn’t like the idea of going to the Ranch, but she liked the idea of staying here even less. Agents SAM and ROBIN sped off to the northwest without an argument.

RAPSCALLION looked through the back door of the sheriff’s office. There was a light on somewhere inside, and the door was locked anyway, so he moved on to the next building. As luck would have it, the next building was the general store, and the door was easily forced open. Luck turned out to be a merciless bitch, however, because it was soon obvious that there wasn’t much in here that could be salvaged. There was no order to the shelves, and even if there had been, the place was so poorly kept that no sane customer would ever shop here. Dog food cans spilled onto toothpaste tubes and boxes of tea, the refrigerated section had flickering lights, but judging by the smell, it had no refrigeration. There were no bandages or paper towels. There were only matches and a grill-lighter with a trigger.

The U.S. Marshall knew he needed to stop the bleeding, and he knew fire could do that. He wasn’t excited about putting a lighter to his cheek, but the last thing he wanted right now was to pass out from loss of blood. Plus, after cauterizing the wound, these matches and the lighter could be put to further use. This hell-hole of a town was almost completely made of very dry wood.

Agents RAPUNZEL and SLEEPLESS awoke in a poorly lit jail or dungeon cell. Yeah, they each felt sure they’d been shot dead, and their clothes had the holes and still-wet blood to prove it, and yet here they were. RAPUNZEL had a very difficult time handling this, and her body seemed to twitch periodically. She also had uncontrollable urges to scream, curse, or just make random noises. Agent SLEEPLESS looked calmly around the cell, but this only lasted a moment. As soon as he realized he was trapped in a room of stone and iron with no caffeine, amphetamines, energy drinks, B-Vitamins … The ugly specter of inevitable sleep was obvious. His screams were louder and more disturbing than those of his fellow agent.

RAPUNZEL looked around for a way out, but all she could see were walls, bars, and Jack Pena in a cell across from them. Well, that was something at least. She called to him, and he lifted his head to look at her. He was sitting cross-legged, and he had his arms crossed over his chest with his hands on his shoulders.

She asked what he was doing here, and his reply was that he had been brought to witness the end. The old Navajo offered what he felt were words of comfort.

“Our pain will be short. Rhagorthua will soon destroy all. Nothing is forever except the earth, and the mountains, and the Great Old Ones which live beneath them.”

SLEEPLESS continued to scream and look around desperately for any caffeine at all; it had only been a few minutes, but in his current situation, he would probably even have settled for a flat Diet Pepsi. Agent RAPUNZEL had her own problems, but with the exception of uncontrollable tics, twitches, and noises, she did a good job of keeping her cool.

She asked Jack if he knew of a way out, and the old man nodded slowly. “Your cell has a tunnel, but it won’t do you much good. Rhagorthua will arrive soon, and he will consume the world. It is too late.”

When she asked where this tunnel was, Jack nodded and pointed with his eyes. Neither agent was able to follow his gaze, but it was apparent that he was unable to point with anything else. He explained that when he woke in his cell, his hands and feet were stuck to his shoulders and knees. He couldn’t move, but it was just as well. The demon-god was coming.

The agents looked around their cell and soon found a loose stone in the floor. They were both relatively small and weak, however, and so it took all they had to lift the stone enough to prop open the tunnel. After a short rest, they pushed the stone further out of the way. Now here was the part where being small could pay off. The tunnel was dark and narrow, but the agents felt sure they could fit. RAPUNZEL went first, and SLEEPLESS followed. After what seemed like several minutes, the tunnel let out into a large, dark room which felt like a freezer. They didn’t have a thermometer, but RAPUNZEL decided that if she were to guess, she’d say it was probably below zero. As their eyes had pretty much adjusted to the dark, they looked around the room to see twenty or so mostly-naked bodies hanging by chains from hooks in the stone ceiling.

The sheriff’s car approached the Ranch, and slivers of light could be seen through boarded up windows. There was a rusting iron fence leaning at unsafe angles around the Ranch, but that wasn’t going to stop Agent SAM. She hit the gas and crashed right through the fence sending iron and dirt flying. The car came to a stop at the base of a large T-shaped totem pole which held a dead raven hanging by its feet. This totem pole was one of four which were visible under the light of the radiated New Mexico moon. ROBIN and SAM saw a porch swing up on the front porch, and now deciding it was time for the stealthy approach, they snuck up to the front door.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 4a*

Agents RAPUNZEL and SLEEPLESS made their way through the freezer of hanging bodies to the large metal door on the other side. Pushing it open, they emerged into a hallway lit only sporadically by flickering fluorescent lights. There were a few doors to choose from, and the hall led a couple directions as well. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all stone, and the architecture didn’t seem to follow general standards. Rooms and halls were oddly shaped and angled.

The agents opted for the door more or less straight across from them, and it led to a diesel generator and several steel drums. Neither agent had the faintest idea how to operate or shut down the generator, so they made note of the fuel, and left. They passed a few doors and a spiral staircase leading up as they continued down the poorly lit hall. After a few twists and turns, it let out into the dungeon from which they’d just escaped. RAPUNZEL briefly considered freeing the old Navajo, but considering that he couldn’t move on his own, and he’d pretty much accepted the end of everything, she thought better of it. She did get a close look at the man however, and when she did, she realized that not only were his hands and feet fused to the rest of his body, but he also had holes; holes that should probably have killed him. One hole was clean through where one of his lungs should have been. Without a word to Agent SLEEPLESS, she screamed and ran as fast as she could back down the hallway.

Agent SETH had slept through the slashing of the tires. He had slept through the gunfire. Rhagorthua’s dreams and whispers kept him in a deep sleep, but even a Great Old One couldn’t make a Delta Green agent sleep through the rampage and wreck in the saloon. He had run off into the night and found a dark quiet place to collect his thoughts. Once he was sure he was back in control, he decided he needed to find his fellow agents, and the Opera seemed to be calling them all in the direction of the Ranch.

He made his way to the old church and up to the bell tower to get a view of the area. With his night-vision binoculars, he could do just that. Everything was green, but at least he could see. He scanned the horizon and found a ranch house to the northwest. Scanning the town, the only movement he saw came from the rear of the general store. He couldn’t make out who the person was, but he decided to keep watching.

Agent RAPSCALLION had just emerged from the general store after cauterizing the hole in his face with a grill lighter. He snuck through the darkest patches until he made it to the front door of the saloon. He entered and looked for any alcohol he could use for fuel. All he found was a bottle of cheap beer, and various liquors pooling with blood on the floor of the bar. He drank the beer, lit a rag on fire, dipped it in the bloody alcohol mixture, and waited for it to ignite. Once he was satisfied that the fire would spread, he left the building through the front door. Agent SETH watched as RAPSCALLION then made his way to the sheriff’s office.

Agents SAM and ROBIN approached the front door of the Ranch. It was a heavy double-door. One side appeared barred, but the other side opened easily. They stepped inside to find a small entry room. There were a few doors to choose from, a hallway leading to the left, and a staircase straight ahead. They took the hall, and it wound around in an odd way. There were several doors they didn’t try, but the one they did led to a kitchen and a pantry. Poking around in the pantry revealed a hidden door in the wall which opened into another hallway.

It was upon passing through this door that they heard a voice shouting profanity in what seemed to be alphabetical order. The agents decided to follow the sound of the voice, and when they made it back to the entryway of the ranch, there was a loud thud behind one of the doors. Agent SAM opened the door to see Agent RAPUNZEL. Agents SAM and ROBIN had seen RAPUNZEL gunned down by sniper fire in the town, and they had seen her body tossed carelessly in the back of a truck. Now, here she was breathing, smiling, swearing. Agent ROBIN went for her gun shouting “She’s dead! Why are you taking this form?!”, and so RAPUNZEL slammed the door and put all her weight against it. For her part, Agent SAM turned away from the door looking for another direction to take. She saw a figure in the dark hall, and when the flickering lights cooperated, the hallway lit to reveal what appeared to be a cactus with human features wearing a suit. She approached the figure, and as the lights went back out, it seemed to run away down the hall. Agent SAM followed while ROBIN tried unsuccessfully to force open the door.

Just around the corner, Agent SAM caught up with the cactus man and questioned him. He said his name was Simon Horn. That was the name of the corpse they’d found near the well upon reaching Powell, and now that she thought about it, the cactus man did resemble the body. He didn’t seem to know he had become half cactus, and when SAM pointed this out, he didn’t seem to believe her. Agent SAM made it clear that she didn’t trust him, but she agreed to show him to the front door. When they got to the entryway, Agent ROBIN stopped beating against the door, blinked at the cactus man, screamed, and ran up the stairs. That’s when RAPUNZEL opened the door and stepped through.

Agent SLEEPLESS followed the direction RAPUNZEL had run, but he took his time. The first room he checked seemed to be a torture room of some sort. The second room held a giant mass of flesh, faces, and limbs. SLEEPLESS calmly shut the door and walked on down the hall. He found another freezer room, and this one actually held frozen foods. Once all the doors had been checked, he headed up the same stairs RAPUNZEL had taken.

Agent SETH watched the figure through his night-vision binoculars. That figure snuck up to the front door of the sheriff’s office and shot the lock with two rounds from a pistol. With the lock destroyed, the figure entered. SETH decided to climb down from the bell tower and check out the sheriff’s office. Agent RAPSCALLION turned as SETH entered, and they recognized each other. After a brief discussion, they decided to make their way to the Ranch as quickly as they could.


----------



## Audrik

*Handful of Dust - Session 4b*

Agent RAPUNZEL could almost feel her skin moving, and it felt scratchy. Seeing the cactus man made her pause. Was she turning into a cactus? Was she turning into something else? Was she blowing away like Donald Allen McLeod? Should she be adding toothpaste to her diet?

She asked the man how he came to be a cactus, and he seemed sure the two agents were playing some cruel joke on him. He explained that he was no cactus; he was a reporter from Chicago. RAPUNZEL commented that he was a man getting in touch with his inner tequila.

Agent SLEEPLESS took the first door he saw upon reaching the ground floor. The room was a dark computer room with four terminals along a wall. The room had a broken, barred, and shuttered window through which the wind blew. Anyone but SLEEPLESS and RAPUNZEL would feel the breeze as gentle. Agent SLEEPLESS only felt as if his skin was being scraped away with sandpaper. He didn’t remain in the room long.

ROBIN made it to the top of the stairs, and she was still pretty disturbed by all she’d seen lately. The night was not about to let up, however. The landing at the top of the stairs was as poorly lit as the rest of the Ranch. The flickering lights didn’t do much to help her mood, and neither did the two men playing dominos. They wore what looked to be old fashioned suits, but in this light, it was hard to tell. They didn’t take much notice of her until she raised her gun.

When the lights came on for a moment, she could easily see through the men and the table. This helped her mood even less than the lighting situation. She screamed again, and yelled “Why do you take these forms?!” before rushing through the first door she found.

This door led to a room which might have really disturbed any sane individual, but given Agent ROBIN’s current state of mind and her secret love of taxidermy, she felt oddly at ease. The dog with ostrich feet for legs and an ant-eater’s snout for a head didn’t bother her. Neither did the calf with the monkey’s head and human arms instead of legs. She decided her personal favorite was the two bobcats sewn together at the side. One had a man’s head, and the other a woman’s. Everything outside was crazy. This felt right.

Agents SETH and RAPSCALLION finally made it to the Ranch, and they found the sheriff’s vehicle in the yard. SETH was able to re-hotwire the car easily, and once it started up, he turned on the lights and held down the horn. It was a good bet that everyone and everything in the immediate area was now alerted, but in SETH’s estimation, that didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the agents as far away from Powell, New Mexico as possible.

Agent SAM was the first out the door, and she was the first in the car. ROBIN had finally calmed herself down, and now that she could think straight, she ran out of the room and down the stairs only to find the cactus man still in the entry way. She screamed and shot the cactus man in the chest. He slumped against the wall as she ran out the door.

This left Agent RAPUNZEL in the entry way and SLEEPLESS on his way to see what the shooting was about. When they came face to face, the two formerly dead agents drew and fired their guns. SLEEPLESS missed, and RAPUNZEL dropped him with the single shot. As she ran out the front door, SLEEPLESS hit the ground and began to disintegrate rapidly.

The other four agents were already in the car, and there was some debate as to whether or not to let RAPUNZEL join them. Ultimately, she was allowed in. The car sped off into the desert night, but it didn’t go far before RAPUNZEL and ROBIN both wanted out. There was something to the north that was calling to them. SETH slammed on the brakes, and let them know just what he thought of their plan. Agent RAPSCALLION had faith in his Cell leader, and so he too got out of the car. The wind had been picking up recently, and it was now pretty strongly blowing to the north. Agents SETH and SAM sped off to the east knowing that soon they’d find the highway.

R-Cell walked north, and soon the wind was so strong that they could only see what was right in front of them. They heard a sound, and then they saw lights. A truck sped past them, and a few moments later, there was a sound of breaking, twisting metal. They eventually came upon the wrecked truck, but there was no driver. They continued walking north, and RAPUNZEL decided not to bother anyone with the fact that she was literally blowing away with the wind.

Eventually, they came upon two men playing dominos. There was a faint chanting in the distance, and after a brief conversation with the two men, all three agents of R-Cell realized what was happening. The well was out there. Rhagorthua was in the well. Someone from the Ranch was at the well and trying to resurrect Rhagorthua.

R-Cell ran off to the north with the sandstorm at their backs only to find the sheriff and a tall woman with long black hair and an assault rifle standing in their way. Deciding there was no time to talk, they opened fire, missing completely. The sheriff and the woman fired back, and the agents hit the ground. Only RAPSCALLION had the nerves to fight under these conditions, and he was effective. He quickly and easily killed both targets.

The agents continued toward the now feverish chanting. What they found was a large, heavyset man with his arms in the air. It was difficult to see much more with the wind and sand as bad as they were. Agent ROBIN was the only one close enough to do anything, and so she ran to the edge of the well. She looked down into infinity with a wild smile, and in that instant, the wind stopped blowing into the well. Another instant later, it all came blowing back up. Everything went white, and the agents of R-Cell never even felt their flesh melt.

Agents SETH and SAM were speeding south toward Alamogordo when they noticed the mushroom cloud in the rearview mirror. SETH quietly said “A-Cell is gonna be pissed.” With that, he turned on the radio and headed for the airport.


----------



## Audrik

*Good Intentions - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
(empty)

*S-Cell*
Agent SAM – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SID - Cramer Gump, INSCOM "Black" Ops Agent

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) - Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist


This Opera was intended to be a quick one. Half the group was out, but we had the two surviving Agents, SETH and SAM, and Agent RAPSCALLION’s player came in with Master Sergeant Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops Agent and Delta Green Friendly who became Agent SID by the end. We picked up the action the same night as the end of the previous Opera; less than an hour after all of R-Cell had been lost.


----------



## Audrik

*Good Intentions - Session 1a*

Sergeant Gump’s official assignment was to track and capture Garrett Duncan, an AWOL Army Electronic Warfare Technician who was believed to be responsible for extensive anti-government, anti-military rants in various online forums and blogs. Sergeant Gump’s investigation led him to downtown Phoenix, AZ. He believed Duncan had an apartment there.

Sergeant Gump’s plane landed at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport just before midnight, and so he caught a cab to the hotel nearest his target destination, checked in and ordered room service, and then turned in for the night.

That same night, Agents SETH and SAM were headed south toward Alamogordo in a stolen police cruiser. It was about 45 minutes after the desert was nuked that Agent SETH’s secure DG phone rang. He pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road and answered the phone.

“Agent SETH.”

“Mind telling me just what the hell happened?” It was Agent ADAM, and it turned out that SETH was right. A-Cell was indeed pissed.

Agent SETH explained that he couldn’t be expected to run a smooth Operation when 2/3 of his team were insane or incompetent. He started to give ADAM a rundown of the day’s activities, but he was cut short. He only managed to relay the information that, to his knowledge, he and Agent SAM were the only survivors.

“Agent SETH, this is the biggest screw up in Delta Green history. Your team is sent to investigate a possible recruitment outpost for a coven of witches, and later that night, the entire damned U.S. Border is closed!” Agent ADAM took a deep breath before continuing. It was almost as if he waited for Agent SETH to start to say something just so he could cut SETH off.

“No one cares about what happened in Powell right now, because the whole damned world is wondering how the U.S. got nuked, who was responsible, and if and when we’ll retaliate. This could be the luckiest night of your life. Instead of a ‘meeting’ with ANDREA, instead you get to drive to Phoenix, Arizona. We’ll do our best to cover our involvement in New Mexico.

“Proceed immediately to Phoenix, Arizona. There has been a security breach at a STOR-MOR facility. Someone has broken into the Green Box. Find out who, recover all stolen contents, deal with the thief, and then move the entire contents of the Box to a new location.”

The line went dead before Agent SETH could respond. He informed SAM that they were off to Arizona, but first they needed to ditch the police cruiser and rent another car. Almost as an afterthought, be noted that she’d have to rent the car as he was the one who rented the other two earlier that morning, and they might not be too keen on renting him a third until the others were returned.

Driving a little over the speed limit, it was still a little more than a six hour drive, and the agents arrived in Phoenix around 3:00 AM. They went immediately to the STOR-MOR facility to have a look around. There was a ten-foot wall around the place. The only entrance seemed to be an iron gate out front. The sign indicated the facility would open again at 8:00 AM, but Agent SETH didn’t feel like they had that much time. He noticed there was a light on in the office, and so he yelled to get someone’s attention.

Judging from the barking, he first managed to get the attention of a couple large dogs, but that led to his indirectly gaining the attention of a tired-looking young man in his early 20s. After a bit of talking, the agents learned that there had in fact been a storage locker break in some time before the clerk’s shift began at 8:00 PM. The police had checked everything out and found nothing useful. Supposedly, the security cameras showed nothing useful either which was believable. Given their poor placement, the cameras were probably more for a deterrent than for actual security.

A quick flash of SETH’s badge, and the agents were allowed inside and shown to the locker. The lock had been cut. Upon rolling up the door, the agents scanned the room. Without knowing what was in the Green Box originally, it would be tough to tell what was missing. The only obvious thing would be the square, dust free patch near the entrance. There had probably been a box or crate of some sort there recently.

Agent SETH closed up the locker and asked to see the tapes. It seemed the only way to figure out what had happened was to find out who was responsible. The clerk reminded them that the police had failed to find anything useful on the tapes, but they were welcome to try it themselves. After several minutes of boring fast-forward, they found something. At 7:06 PM, a van had pulled up blocking the camera view. Two men in jeans and hoodies got out, but if they’d done anything with the locker, it couldn’t be seen. After about ten minutes, the men got back into the van and drove away.

The agents were able to get the license plate number of the van, and some quick computer magic from Agent SAM produced a name and address: Ronald Schumacher, Apt. 329 of a building in downtown Phoenix. That would be their first stop after booking a hotel room. They arrived outside the apartment building at about 6:45 AM.

It was a warm but quiet morning. There seemed to be no activity in either of the two buildings forming the three-story apartment complex. Needing an excuse to enter the apartment, Agent SAM stripped down and wrapped herself in nothing but a sheet. The plan was something along the lines of ‘beautiful woman locked out of apartment and in need of phone’. Agent SETH waited around the corner with his gun ready while SAM rang the doorbell. No answer. She rang again. Still no answer, but she could hear running water coming from inside. She banged on the door as loudly as she could. There was a muffled voice which seemed to be shouting, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.

The door was locked, so she peeked in through the window. The curtain was drawn, but it was a very thin material, and she could see through well enough. All she could make out was a kitchen, a couch, a coffee table with a laptop powered on, papers and other items strewn about the floor, and a hallway.

About this time, Sergeant Gump was awake, and he had just purchased a shiny, new Taser. As his hotel was close by, he chose to walk. He arrived just in time to see Agent SAM lift the unlocked window and climb through. Sergeant Gump decided to wait and see what happened.

Agent SETH followed SAM, and he poked his gun through the open window before deciding it was safe to climb through. With both agents inside, Sergeant Gump approached the window to observe. The webcam on the laptop was apparently recording, and so Agent SAM stopped it and replayed the video.


----------



## Audrik

*Good Intentions - Session 1b*



> A man in a Guy Fawkes mask was sitting on the couch and talking as he took items out of a cardboard STOR-MOR box for the camera to see. One of the items was a necklace or amulet with what seemed to be a poorly carved humanoid figure. Within moments of lifting the amulet, what seemed to be inky-black moths appeared fluttering all over his arms, and spreading toward his head. He dropped the amulet, screaming and trying to brush away the darkness. Another man rushed from off screen to try to help, but he was immediately covered in the blackness as well. The first man fled down the hall, while the second stumbled to the kitchen and collapsed. Shortly thereafter, the shower began to run.



Agent SETH found the body of the second man in the kitchen. He was covered in a thin, dark film, and he appeared to have died in considerable pain. A quick search produced a wallet with a driver’s license identifying the man as Ronald Schumacher.

SAM ducked into one of the bedrooms, grabbed a pair of jeans and a hoodie that would fit her, and dressed quickly. Agent SETH told SAM to collect all the evidence from the living room. Once she was dressed, she took her sheet and began tossing the spilled contents of the box into it. She was careful not to touch anything with her skin.

Sergeant Gump climbed through the window with his Taser drawn, and he made his presence known. There was a brief two-way interrogation with both Agent SAM and Sergeant Gump demanding to know what the other was doing in the apartment. Agent SAM tried to disarm the Sergeant, but she was unsuccessful. They identified themselves; Agent SAM used her code name but gave her actual agency, and Sergeant Gump simply showed his badge. Recognizing a fellow INSCOM investigator, Agent SETH was a little more inclined to play nice, but he was still not going to let anything compromise the mission.

As SETH entered the bathroom, he saw a man in jeans and a hoodie sitting in the bath tub, and hugging his knees. The shower was on, and the man was soaking wet. He looked up at Agent SETH with an expression that was vacant, and yet still terrified. SETH pointed his gun at the man and asked for identification. He said his name was Garrett Duncan. Agent SETH interrogated Duncan at gunpoint, and the man admitted to breaking in to the STOR-MOR locker. He said some government agents – “a Patriot Act Wet-Works Team” – had murdered a shopkeeper and stolen a box of items. He followed them to the storage facility, and then later that night, he and his roommate decided to see just what was so important to the government that they felt the need to assassinate a law-abiding small business owner.

Mr. Duncan was obviously not completely in his right mind, but he seemed aware of his situation. Agent SETH advised him that he was under arrest, and asked him to come quietly, but Duncan only laughed. SETH threatened him with the gun, but Duncan laughed again. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, and he challenged SETH to shoot. If Duncan didn’t make a few important calls in the morning to let some people know he was fine, a very dangerous video would be released all over the internet, and the government would be powerless to cover it up.

He may have been bluffing, but even with his background in Psychology, Agent SETH couldn’t be sure. The man had been recently traumatized. He was most likely harmless on his own, so SETH left him. Recovering the stolen objects, and destroying the video evidence would be enough.

He opened the door to find Sergeant Gump. Yelling to SAM to grab the items and laptop, and run, Agent SETH pushed past the Sergeant and headed down the hall. He didn’t listen when he was told to stop, and so Sergeant Gump fired his Taser. Agent SETH must have been expecting it because he easily sidestepped and made it to the living room. Agent SAM scooped up the sheet full of recovered items, and she ran out the front door. SETH made a move for the laptop, but the Sergeant tackled him. The struggle was a brief one, and Agent SETH won it handily. Once back on his feet, he grabbed the laptop and followed SAM. They hopped into the rental car and headed back to the storage facility.

Sergeant Gump took his turn at interrogating the man in the bath tub, but his results were similar to those of Agent SETH. He called his commanding officer to report. Upon hearing that the target’s apartment was broken into by an INSCOM Special Agent and a FinCEN investigator named “Agent SAM”, the commanding officer asked for a description of the INSCOM agent. He instructed Sergeant Gump to leave the target, and return to base as soon as possible. He did as ordered.

Agents SETH and SAM moved everything from the STOR-MOR facility to a new location, and then they parted ways. They’d had a rough couple days, and it was time to go home and relax. They’d only been home a few days when SETH was contacted by Agent TIMOTHY of T-Cell asking him to meet a potential DG recruit at his local Olive Garden in a couple days. He agreed, and he passed the invitation along to Agent SAM, or Agent ROSE as she was now known. She’d been offered leadership of a new R-Cell, and with a new cell comes a new name.

Agents SAM and ROSE met up at the designated spot, and it wasn’t long before they recognized their potential recruit; Master Sergeant Cramer Gump. Lunch went well, and the sales pitch didn’t take long. About an hour later, S-Cell had replaced SAM with a new agent; Agent SID.


----------



## Audrik

*Contagion - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent RED – Chad Smith, USPS Inspector
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)

*S-Cell*
Agent SERGE – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SID - Cramer Gump, INSCOM "Black" Ops Agent

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) - Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist


The action in this Opera takes place a little more than four months later, in early March of 2010.


----------



## Audrik

*Contagion - Session 1*

Agents ROSE and SETH received encrypted emails from A-Cell instructing them to visit drop-boxes at their respective local FedEx stores, meet at the airport in Nashville, and head north to Bowling Green, KY. Their contact, Doctor Eustace Carrington of the Greenview Regional Hospital, would brief them. This was expected to be more of a training operation than an actual Opera. In the drop-boxes, they found ID badges for their cells, including new cell members. R-Cell’s badges were standard FBI, while S-Cell’s were CDC.

The agents all arrived safely in Nashville within about a half hour of each other. After confirming the new agents’ identities, they all exchanged superficial pleasantries on the way to the car rental desks. Agents ROSE and SETH each rented a vehicle for their respective cells, and an hour later they arrived at the hospital in Kentucky. The weather was nice, and the drive was pleasant.

It took little time to find Dr. Carrington. A woman at the front desk directed them to a lab down the hall. The doctor looked to be in his early 50s and of average build with short, brown hair. He was examining pictures of what appeared to be badly infected lacerations. Another monitor showed a patient in a hospital bed. The patient was connected to an IV and a few other beeping and pinging machines.

The doctor accepted S-Cell’s CDC credentials, but he questioned why the FBI had been called in. To his knowledge, there was no evidence of criminal activity, and even if there was, he thought the FBI only had jurisdiction over cases which crossed state lines. None of the agents really knew the law well enough to fast talk, but a simple “you watch too much television” seemed to ease his concern.

He related his knowledge of the situation. The patient is one Mitchell Haws, a surveyor. He was brought in the previous evening by a couple who had said they found him stumbling onto the road a few miles out of town. He had unidentified animal-like gashes which seemed to be the source of a fast-spreading bacterial infection which was literally devouring him. Dr. Carrington reported this to the CDC, and he was pleased that they had responded so quickly.

The agents examined the pictures, but they too were unable to identify the cause of the wounds. The bruises which accompanied the lacerations in some places led Agent SID to believe they were caused by something like a bear. There was a sound of twisting metal which sounded close by. The monitor which had been showing the patient now showed an empty bed, and a ventilation duct ripped open and hanging down.

Agent SETH immediately ran out of the lab waving his CDC credentials, and shouting for security to block all exits as there was a highly contagious patient on the loose. Fortunately, there were no patients and few hospital staff in the area, or the shouting might have started a panic. Dr. Carrington left to get a Hazmat suit. The new agents, RED and SERGE followed SETH as he took the stairs going up. Agent SID headed for the basement and underground parking garage, and ROSE remained in the lab to copy relevant files to her laptop and delete the hospital copies.

SID needed security to let him through the door at the bottom of the stairs, and after a quick flash of the badge, he was through. He looked around quickly, but he found nothing of immediate interest, and so he went back upstairs.

The three agents heading upstairs were stopped on the top floor by security. Apparently this floor housed mental patients and other potentially dangerous individuals. Agent SETH flashed his badge, shouted something about a contagious patient on the loose, and demanded roof access. The security guards were quick to comply.

Stepping through the hatch to the roof, Agent SETH looked around. There were several industrial air conditioners, but not much else. The agents looked over the edge of the roof to examine the outer walls, but there was nothing interesting to be found.

Dr. Carrington put on the Hazmat suit and then headed in the direction of the patient’s room. He was stopped by a nurse coming around the corner. She seemed panicked, and she told the doctor someone was lurking outside ICU. Dr. Carrington told her to get security, and have them page Agent Service (which was the name given by Agent SETH upon their initial meeting).

The hospital soon rang out with a call for “Agent Service” to report to ICU. The three rooftop agents, and Agent SID all headed for the ICU. When they arrived, everything looked normal, and the doctor on duty assured them that he hadn’t seen anything unusual. They looked around a bit, but they didn’t find anything.

It wasn’t too long before “Agent Service” was being paged once more; this time to the maternity ward. Agents SETH and SID headed up to the third floor and spoke to a nurse in the maternity ward. She was very disturbed. She hadn’t seen or heard anything, but in the course of her rounds, she discovered a newborn was missing. All of the infants were in their basinets on her last round, but this time, one was missing. The nurse had heard that there was a contagious patient on the loose, and she was quite worried. Agent SETH pulled the vent off the wall and squeezed himself inside the duct, which didn’t go a long way toward calming the nurse.

Agent SERGE decided to examine the patient’s room. It wasn’t much different from any other hospital room except that it had no windows and extra machines. Then there was the fact that the ventilation duct was ripped and hanging. He couldn’t tell just what had ripped the duct, but it was apparently done from the outside since the metal was bent inward. 

Agent SID headed down the hall and found the Radiology labs. He looked around a bit, but it wasn’t until he was about to leave that he saw something. It was dark, but he was sure he saw something like smoke, or maybe pudding, filter itself from the room, through the vent, and into the duct. He immediately took out his phone and alerted Agent SETH who reacted to the news by drawing his gun and crawling deeper into the vent.

He came to the sort of intersection you really only find in ventilation ducts, space stations, and M.C. Escher artwork. He could continue straight, turn right, go back the way he’d come, go up, or go down. Before he could decide, something slow but nearly silent came from around the corner to the right. They were face to “face”, and SETH could barely make it out in the beam from his flashlight. It was a dark creature; in some ways like a human, in others like a snake, but it gave the impression it could change its shape easily. It opened a mouth full of sharp teeth and putrid breath before diving down the ventilation shaft.

Agent SETH fired two shots. He felt sure he’d hit the thing, but all he’d heard was the sound of a gun in an enclosed space, and a high-pitched ringing. Most of the rest of the hospital could hear the gunshots as well. When SETH had recovered his senses, he worked his way carefully down the shaft until he reached the second floor. He pulled himself a little way through the duct so that he wouldn’t fall.

Agent RED ran up the stairs to the second floor. He looked around, but he didn’t see anything suspicious. Dr. Carrington took the elevator which slowed and jerked to a halt halfway between the first and second floors. RED shouted that the doctor was on the elevator, but it had stopped. SID ran down the stairs to try to pry open the doors.

The lights went out, and the red emergency lighting came on. He pushed buttons, and though they lit up, they seemed to have little other effect. He didn’t see or hear the darkness filter through the ceiling behind him, but he smelled it. That caught his attention. He shouldn’t smell anything in that suit, but he was definitely smelling something akin to rotting flesh. Then he saw two thick but ropey arms wrap around him and felt them squeeze. He couldn’t muster the lung power to scream or the arm strength to break free. One rib cracked, then two, then three … Then his entire ribcage popped and crunched.

When Agent SID finally got the doors open, he saw the doctor’s crumpled form, he smelled rotting flesh, and he heard an instrumental version of Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” coming from the speakers. He slowly got out his phone and called Agent SETH.

“Hey, SETH … We’ve got a problem."


----------



## Audrik

*Contagion - Session 2*

“The doctor’s dead. He’s in the elevator.”

Agent SETH kicked out the vent and climbed into the elevator shaft. He gently dropped down onto the elevator and opened the emergency hatch. Agent SID pointed to the doctor’s twisted body, and SETH dropped down. Another doctor was passing by, and noticed the open elevator stuck between floors. Upon taking a closer look, he asked the agents what was going on. Agent SID explained that Doctor Carrington had been attacked while helping to search for the escaped patient. The doctor checked Carrington’s vitals and declared him dead. He flagged down some hospital staff, and they took the body away.

Agent SETH called for all the agents to meet on the first floor to form a plan. It was decided that as this person or thing seemed to like the ventilation system, Agents SETH and SID would enter the vents on opposite sides of the third floor and sort of patrol; just circle around and listen for anything. ROSE and SERGE would keep an eye on the maternity ward while RED watched ICU.

SETH and SID crawled around in the vents for a while without seeing or hearing much of value. SETH got stuck for a moment at one point, but he managed to tighten himself up enough to move. The agents in the ventilation system eventually moved down a floor and tried the plan again with similar results. Then it was down to the first floor where they overheard someone talking about Doctor Carrington. Apparently, the Hazmat suit was still on the bed, but the body was missing.

SETH grumbled, and he headed down to the basement and kicked out the vent so that he could drop down. Agent SID followed. The basement was dark, and Agent SETH’s flashlight didn’t help enough. This was the floor with the incinerator and the morgue. Agent SETH’s flashlight passed over something against the wall, and SID called attention to it. Shining the light back in that direction and taking a closer look, the agents found the clean-picked bones of a tiny human.

Agent SETH declared the remains to be evidence, and so he promptly ordered Agent SID to throw them in the incinerator. There was a brief discussion about legality and morality, and apparently SID won. It wasn’t the moral victory he’d hoped for, but at least he didn’t have to incinerate the bones of a small murder victim. Agent SETH handled that part.

Back in the maternity ward, a television in the waiting room was running a local news story about a missing child. Eight-year-old Zachary Danvers had gone missing early in the morning, and he was last seen riding his bicycle through a construction area near where the escaped patient, Mr. Haws, had originally been found. Agents ROSE and SERGE were discussing the story when SETH and SID returned from the basement. There was no mention of the bones found in the basement, but Agent ROSE pointed out the news story. Though it would be getting dark soon, she and Agent SID decided to head out to the construction site to look around.

It was a short drive, and the search area was easy to spot. There were a few police cars along the side of the road, some officers were standing around. ROSE flashed her FBI badge quickly, and no one questioned it. SID followed without showing identification, and this wasn’t questioned either.

The lot was lightly wooded at first, and it opened to a large field of dirt which was in the process of being cleared and levelled by heavy machinery. The construction crew had all gone for the evening, so the agents were free to poke around. Their search turned up nothing around the machinery, but Agent ROSE’s smartphone flashlight app caught a glimpse of something in the woods.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a rusted oil drum or a barrel of some sort, but it had been ripped open by something large. The agents decided it had probably been hidden in the woods, or even buried, and then one of the construction vehicles must have torn it open.

ROSE looked around some more, and she managed to find a bicycle not too far from the barrel, and near that, a skeleton. Agent ROSE suspected this was the missing child, and she told SID to put the bones in his duffel bag. Again the questions of legality and morality, but this time SID lost. He did as he was asked, and they headed back to the car.

An officer asked if they’d found anything, and ROSE started to say it was too dark, but SID volunteered that they’d found a bicycle in the woods, and not much else. Agent ROSE flashed him a dirty look in the dying sunlight, and they got into the car. Next stop: the hospital.

They headed up to the maternity ward to find that Agent SETH had covered all the vents with plastic sheeting. While SID told SETH and SERGE about what they’d found, Agent ROSE went down to the first floor and found a security guard to let her into the basement. She found the morgue, and began poking around. She flipped through the rolodex on the small desk looking for the name of a bone specialist, or the number for the medical examiner. Before she could find what she was after, a cloud of roiling darkness coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape behind her. She didn’t hear it or see it, but she could feel a wet breath on her neck, and there was an awful stench of decaying food or flesh.

Agent ROSE dropped the rolodex, and turned around to see the creature. It was like a dense, dark vapor one moment, and a thick pudding the next. It could be humanoid, and then snakelike a moment later. Its movements were slow but deliberate and fluid. It created an arm for itself, and on that arm, it grew talons.

The creature clawed at ROSE, but she narrowly avoided it. She struggled to pull out her phone and dial while still ducking, dodging, and avoiding the thing. She managed to get a call placed to Agent SETH, but there was only time to say “Basement. Now! It’s here.” SETH and SID were on their way. SERGE and RED held their positions.

Agent ROSE avoided the thing for what seemed like long minutes. It scratched her lightly on the arm, but nothing worse. SETH and SID made it to the morgue, and they fired their weapons. SID’s Taser connected and discharged, but the thing barely noticed. It seemed to be only partially solid. ROSE swung the bag full of bones, and she hit it, but the bag passed through slowly like it was being dragged through water. SETH fired two rounds from his handgun, but neither bullet seemed to hurt the thing substantially.

It did, however, turn around, or rather, it moved its mouth from one side of its body to the other. The creature morphed into a snakelike creature, and it wrapped around Agent SETH’s legs. It pulled tight, and SETH hit the ground hard. SID kicked, SETH shot, and ROSE sliced with a scalpel, but nothing seemed to affect it.

It was slowly moving up SETH’s body forming a sort of cocoon around him. ROSE looked around for something – anything – and what she found was a sheet. She grabbed it and ran for the incinerator. She returned with a flaming sheet, and tossed it on the thing. The patches near the flame seemed to burn away, and the creature roared. It continued to engulf Agent SETH, and he could feel bones cracking.

ROSE grabbed a can of some aerosol or other, and combined it with her lighter for a makeshift flame thrower. Her first shot wasn’t very accurate, but it didn’t really need to be. It was enough to get the creature to leave SETH alone and flee. SID ducked into a janitorial closet to look for chemicals, and he lucked out with a can of Lysol. He doused what remained of the thing, and then ran back to check on Agent SETH. The leader of S-Cell was in really bad shape. He was broken, bleeding, and bruised, but he was alive. ROSE called for emergency help, and in a few minutes, SETH was already in the Emergency Room.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent RED – Chad Smith, USPS Inspector
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)
Agent RUBY – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Search Team

*S-Cell*
Agent SERGE – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SID – Cramer Gump, INSCOM "Black" Ops Agent

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) - Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist


This Opera marks the first appearance of Agent RAPUNZEL's new character. Amelia Larce is just one of those people you can easily overlook in a crowd. She works for the U.S. Department of Energy as a member of their Nuclear Emergency Search Team, and she has selected the code name RUBY.

Agent SID has been in the hospital for about three weeks, and he is almost fully recovered. Agent ROSE was visiting, and they were both watching a news report about the Space Shuttle Discovery. Space Shuttle Mission STS-131 has been under way for a week, and so that puts the game date at April 12th, 2010.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 1*

Agent SETH was no longer confined to his bed, and though he still had not regained 100% of his strength, he felt he was just about ready to leave the hospital. He and Agent ROSE were discussing that between comments about the space shuttle mission that had been in the news for the past week.

The second day of the mission, Commander Alan Poindexter reported that the shuttle had passed through a ‘glowing cloud’. There was a slight jump in external radiation, but nothing dangerous. NASA refused to comment, but there was no shortage of speculation from the rest of the scientific community. The general consensus seemed to be that a cloud of gas or ions was pulled from the Van Allen Belt, and maintained as a glowing cloud of radiation. No one was particularly alarmed.

CNN had obtained footage from a NASA live-feed of day three of the mission. This footage showed Commander Poindexter performing an Extra-Vehicular Activity. He lost his grip on a tool which then floated slowly away. The camera panned to follow the tool, and it picked up a brief glow emanating from the shuttle’s side, and then its bay. The glow moved toward the airlock, and it passed from the camera’s view. A voice from off camera mentioned higher than normal levels of radiation. As Commander Poindexter headed back toward the airlock door, voice communication broke, and the camera winked out.

Over the next few days, mainstream news outlets parroted NASA’s statements that a serious malfunction aboard Discovery was preventing voice and image communication, but that telemetric communication continued, and the flight of Discovery was not threatened. The less-mainstream media, as well as many blogs and internet forums were full of talk of conspiracy and cover up. Iran accused the U.S. of fabricating reports of communication breakdown in order to test a nuclear targeting device over the Persian Gulf, and riots broke out all over the Middle East.

The space shuttle wasn’t the only thing in the news, of course. The President of Poland had been killed in a plane crash; a 6.9 magnitude earthquake struck Qinghai, China; and volcanic ash from beneath an ice cap in Iceland disrupted European air traffic. Still, the flight of the Space Shuttle Discovery was being discussed seemingly everywhere.

It was during one of these news broadcasts that Agent SETH’s Delta Green phone rang. A man’s voice on the other end asked for an Agent STUART. SETH gave his code name, and said that he knew of no Agent STUART. The voice said that it had been a long time since he’d called this number, but that STUART was his contact. He gave his name as Doctor Malcom Harris.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard – what the news is saying – but you need to know … the quarantine … not CDC … nor anthrax … the shuttle must have brought it down … it sucks and burns.”

The line stayed open, but there were no further sounds from the other end. Agent SETH asked ROSE to look up the number on the caller ID, and that turned up a dummy number for an offshore relay which is what would be expected for a call from a DG phone. She then looked up Doctor Malcom Harris, and that identified him as a retired NASA doctor living in the town of Gove, Kansas; population 80. On a hunch, Agent SETH asked ROSE to check out reports of UFO sightings in Kansas. There was indeed a surge in UFO sightings over the past couple days, but the Air Force had already discredited the vast majority of them.

The agents decided to mobilize their cells, and everyone was to meet at Wichita Mid-Continent Airport. Once everyone was together, Agent RUBY was introduced. ROSE and SETH each rented a car for their respective cells, and it was about 8:30 PM when the agents left for Gove. Agent SETH obeyed speed limits, but ROSE kept her car over 100 MPH for the two hours it took to reach the road block set up by the Kansas National Guard. There were two Humvees blocking the road, and a man was yelling at a young soldier. Not willing to wait her turn, Agent ROSE approached and lifted her shirt. Once she had everyone’s attention, she demanded to know why the road was being blocked.

The soldier informed her that by order of the CDC and the Governor of Kansas, the area was under quarantine to contain an outbreak of anthrax. ROSE knew their CDC credentials had been invalidated after the previous Operation, but she still had a badge. She produced it, and handed it to the soldier. He took it to one of the Humvees and compared it to a paper on a clipboard. When he returned, he handed her the badge.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re not on the list.”

“What list? I’m with the CDC.”

“I can see that.”

“So let me through.”

“Can’t do that, ma’am. You’re not on the list.”

She demanded to see the person in charge, and the Lieutenant gave her the same response. She tried flirting, but she knew that was getting her nowhere when he held up his hand to show his wedding ring. She argued with the National Guardsmen for an hour and a half before S-Cell arrived.

Agent SETH approached and asked what was going on. When ROSE explained, he showed his CDC credentials, and tried the same line. He got the same result. They decided to talk to the man who had been there first. He introduced himself as Doctor Pete Watson. He was trying to get to a friend of his in Gove, Malcom Harris.

He told the agents he’d spoken with his friend most recently about three days ago. They’d spoken of many things, but mostly the space shuttle, religion, and the unrest in the Middle East. Doctor Harris had invited him to visit, and he was on his way when he found the road blocked, and was informed of the quarantine. He didn’t believe the anthrax story. Anthrax was primarily a disease of herbivores, and while dangerous, it was treatable, and rarely deadly. No outbreak justified a quarantine of this magnitude. Agent SETH remarked that he’d been thinking something similar.

As they were talking and deciding what to do, Agent SID saw helicopters patrolling with searchlights, while Agents ROSE and RUBY noticed a third Humvee pull up slowly and stop several yards off. Two men in camouflage uniforms and blue berets got out and approached the Lieutenant. They discussed something briefly, and then the men headed back to their vehicle. As the Humvee drove off, Agent Rose asked the soldiers at the road block who the men in the berets were. The soldiers told her it was their job to keep the people inside in, and the people outside out. They were not operating an information booth.

Agent SETH emailed A-Cell to let them know everything that had happened so far, and what his suspicions were. He received a nearly immediate response, but it was short:

_You’re certain of the blue berets? Please confirm._

Agent SETH replied that they had indeed been soldiers in blue berets, and that when asked about them, the National Guardsmen refused to answer. The next reply took quite some time to come in, and so the agents decided to return to Wichita, and regroup. Agent ROSE was upset, but she didn’t let that interfere with her driving habits. She still had her rental car over 100 MPH all the way back. At one point, R-Cell flew off the road, and into a corn field to avoid hitting a cow which had wandered into the road. They flew into the hotel parking lot just after 1:30 AM, and S-Cell arrived about an hour and a half later.

Late the next morning, A-Cell’s reply came through:

_No CDC activity in Kansas. U.S. Army, and NASA. Blue berets may mean Majestic-12 BLUEFLY. If so, they’ll be looking for alien life forms. Proceed with caution._

Well, that explained a few things, and confirmed some suspicions, but more than anything else, it set a tone of danger and paranoia. Just what happened to the shuttle? What did the government know that it didn’t want getting out? The agents spent the remainder of the day discussing plans to infiltrate the quarantine zone, and acquiring necessary equipment. The first thing Agent SID wanted to do was find a good set of walkie-talkies. The hospital ventilation crawl had made him shy away from the constant use of cell phones for communication.

Later that night, Agent ROSE headed back out to the road block, once again making the three and a half hour drive in about two hours. She proceeded to distract the National Guardsmen for as long as it would take Agents SETH and SID to arrive, and sneak through. An hour and a half later, they did just that. Dressed in all black, they walked slowly through the corn fields north of the quarantine zone. Every time a helicopter would pass overhead, they would hit the ground and remain still. It was slow going, but eventually they emerged to find two farms straight ahead. One was totally dark and looked abandoned. The other was overgrown, and the barn and house looked to have burned and collapsed.

Beyond the farms, they could see several lighting structures keeping a large area well lit. They couldn’t tell from this distance just what it was, but if SETH’s calculations were correct, the tiny community of Gove, Kansas should be only a few miles past those lights.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 2a*

Her distraction done, Agent ROSE headed back to the car. She and Agent RED drove out of sight, and then got out. They doubled back through a wheat field, and went far south of the road block. They emerged from the field southeast of town at about the same time SETH and SID came out northeast of town.

Agents SERGE and RUBY remained at the hotel in Wichita. A-Cell would have NASA credentials for them some time the next day. In the meantime, they reviewed what little evidence they currently had, and tried to piece together a coherent theory. At the same time, they prepared several bowls of popcorn and watched TV. First up was the movie Armageddon, followed by the 20th Anniversary version of E.T. where federal agents had their guns digitally replaced with walkie-talkies. Finally, one of the local television stations played an edited version of The Wizard of Oz they called “the Kansas edition”. This version was exactly the same, except the tornado tore through Oklahoma instead. Dialogue had been edited to reflect the change in location.

Agents SETH and SID moved quietly and cautiously toward the back door of the farmhouse. The windows were dark, and the door was locked. Agent SID smiled as he took out his lock picks. His smile faded well before he actually managed to get the door open. The lock was sturdy, and it resisted his attempts for about a half hour. Eventually, Agent SID succeeded, and the door opened slowly. SETH and SID entered and had a look around. They opted for the use of their night-vision equipment rather than flipping a light switch. Ultimately, the choice didn’t matter. No one was home, and the house had most likely been evacuated.

The barn didn’t offer much of use either. It housed a single horse which to SID’s untrained eye appeared to be healthy. They decided the farm across the street was unlikely to have anything of interest either. Both the house and barn were in ruins, and the whole area was heavily overgrown.

They proceeded cautiously through a wheat field toward the area lit by floodlights and patrolled by helicopters. They had both been trained by the U.S. Army for this sort of stealth, and so they had no difficulty remaining unseen even as they got close enough to see what was in the lit area.

There were six generator-powered floodlight towers set up around the perimeter of the area, and a paved road in disrepair passed through it. Mostly on the road, and with its nose in a wheat field was the Space Shuttle Discovery; or rather, it was the Space Shuttle Disco. The “-very” was missing, and where it should have been, there was a large hole instead.

There was a white van with a NASA logo parked on the shoulder of the road, and there were eight people in NBC (Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical) suits. Two of the people seemed to be guards, and they were holding assault rifles. The other six were examining the shuttle from all angles.

Agents ROSE and RED stepped out of the wheat field and onto a recently mowed lawn. There was a single tree in the backyard and a junkyard just across the street. According to her research, Agent ROSE believed this was the house of Doctor Malcom Harris, the man who had called Agent SETH.

There was a humming or buzzing sound being carried on the night air, and it seemed to be coming from the junkyard. It was about midnight, and the humming was loud enough to keep most people awake. The bright lights over the junkyard wouldn’t help much either. ROSE found the back door to be unlocked, and so she and RED entered quietly. They split up to search the house; ROSE took the ground floor, and RED checked the basement.

The upstairs was tidy but not overly so. The back door entered into the kitchen, and just off from there was the living room. There was a hall leading to two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a study. The only thing of interest to ROSE was the computer in the study, but that would have to wait until the house was definitely clear.

Agent RED hadn’t reported back, and so ROSE went downstairs to check. The basement was cooler than the ground floor, and it served as a pantry. It was well stocked with bread, rice, and canned foods. There was no sign of Agent RED, but he had to have come this way. ROSE poked around, and she eventually found a latch which allowed part of the wall to swing open. The other side of the wall appeared to be a bomb shelter of some sort, and Agent RED had found a bed. He was snoring quietly, but there appeared to be no danger, so ROSE just rolled her eyes, grumbled, and left him there.

Once upstairs, she heard a vehicle pull up outside the junkyard across the street. It was a military jeep with a machine gun mounted to the back. Four people in NBC suits got out. Two held assault rifles and remained by the jeep. The other two approached the gate to the chain link fence which surrounded the yard. Two snarling Dobermans greeted them, and a man emerged from a small building in the center of the yard.

“Toby! Ripper! Down,” was all Agent ROSE could make out. The dogs sat where they were, but they were still on alert. The man from the junkyard talked for a moment with the two people in NBC suits, and then he got into the jeep. The two guards with assault rifles also got into the jeep, and they drove off toward town. The other two headed across the street toward Doctor Harris’s house. A black sedan pulled up right where the jeep had been, but no one got out.

Agent ROSE snuck out the back door, ducked into the wheat field, and circled around the back of the junkyard. She climbed the chain link fence and looked around. Toby and Ripper were focused on the car out front, and so they didn’t seem to notice the intruder. ROSE found that the humming was coming from three electromagnets. Each one was suspended about twenty feet or so off the ground by a crane. She checked the controls for the closest crane and magnet, and she found that they had been intentionally broken in the ‘ON’ position. The crane was inoperable, and the magnet couldn’t be turned off without destroying most of the internal workings of the control box.

While the dogs were still distracted, she checked the office. There was nothing of interest other than a ledger book and very large bin of dog food. She looked over the ledger, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was obvious that the business involved the purchase and sale of junked vehicles, farm equipment, and parts, but she was no accountant.

The people in NBC suits were apparently finished with their search of the Harris residence. They got in the back seat of the sedan, and it drove off. The good news was that they apparently hadn’t found the bomb shelter or Agent RED. The bad news was that she didn’t have much time before Toby and Ripper turned their attention back to guarding the junkyard.

Agent ROSE took a large scoop of dog food from the bin and threw it out over a wide area of the yard as a distraction, and then she quickly snuck away the same way she’d snuck in. There was no one to hide from at the moment, and so she just crossed the road straight back over to Doctor Harris’s house.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 2b*

As Agents SETH and SID watched the scene around the downed shuttle, a helicopter made a low pass only about ten feet or so over the top of the wheat. Agent SID thought he saw a dull glow from the wheat, and about ten seconds later, the helicopter started to fly erratically. It began to spin, and it crashed into the field. The blades continued to spin, kicking up dirt and wheat, and creating the perfect opportunity for the agents to run.

It was a mile or so to the doctor’s house through a soybean field, and they covered it in an impressively short time. They avoided the junkyard, but they made note of the humming. Finding the front door locked, they tried the back. Agent ROSE had been on her way down the dark hallway to take a look at the doctor’s computer when she heard the back door open. Cursing herself for having left it unlocked, she began to sneak back toward the kitchen.

SETH and SID were using their night-vision equipment, and they were being extra careful to stay quiet. That’s why Agents SETH and ROSE were both startled to hear a breaking glass. SID had accidentally knocked it from the counter. SETH spun around with his hand on his gun, but no one seemed to have been alerted. Turning back to the rest of the house, he saw someone in the hall, and then he recognized her.

“ROSE? What the hell are you doing here?” Agent SETH was whispering loudly.

The agents moved to the study to regroup and discuss. Agent ROSE reported the cranes with electromagnets over at the junkyard, and the bomb shelter in the basement. She also wanted to go on record as hating the Kansas National Guard. SETH and SID told ROSE about the downed shuttle and NASA crew, and the glowing wheat that apparently crashed a helicopter.

While they talked, Agent SETH examined the books on the shelves. They were all about space, medicine, or both; very technical, and not the sort of books for a casual reader. One of the books held a folded piece of parchment. The writing at the top said “This might be useful.” The writing at the bottom said “Agent WINSTON”. Between the two bits of writing was a drawing of a five-pointed star with an eye in the center. The star itself leaned and curved a bit, like it was drunk or lazy.

“That’ll look good hidden in a Green Box,” Agent SETH said with a shrug.

Agent ROSE wanted to go over the doctor’s computer, and while she was doing that, SID and SETH would do their own search of the junkyard.

The computer was an inexpensive, newer model. All the important internals were integrated. It seemed that Doctor Harris knew his way around a computer, but he wasn’t what you might call a “computer guy”. Agent ROSE checked everything, but all she found that might be of any interest were an unfinished manuscript for an untitled book on space medicine, and a program for mapping the night sky. She decided to play it safe, and so she switched the doctor’s hard drive for a blank one from her kit.

Agent SETH found a steak in the refrigerator, and he took it as a canine distraction. After tossing the steak to Toby and Ripper, SETH and SID went around back, and climbed over the fence. The results of their search were similar to ROSE’s results. They found the cranes with the electromagnets. The crane they examined was the same one ROSE had checked, and neither agent could determine an easy way to move the crane, or shut off the magnet.

SETH tested the magnet by tossing up a piece of scrap metal. He tossed it a little hard, and the piece bounced off the magnet. It didn’t bounce far enough, and it was pulled back to stick to the magnet. The agents then checked the office. Neither agent could get anything from the ledger other than the basic workings of the business.

The dogs had finished the steak in pretty short order, and so they were waiting when the agents decided it was time to leave. Agent SID stepped out of the office, and he was immediately attacked by both Dobermans. He fired his Taser at one, but even at such short range, the electrified darts missed their target. Agent SETH drew his knife and stepped out to even the odds. He stabbed, and caught Ripper with a nice slash. That only served to make the animal angry.

Toby jumped for Agent SID’s throat and got him. Blood started gushing from SID’s neck at a disturbing rate. He wasn’t dead, or even mortally wounded, but they needed to win this fight fast, and get out the first aid kit, or there would be trouble. Ripper tried to do the same to Agent SETH, but the soldier was quick enough to avoid being hit.

The quiet approach wasn’t going to win this fight for them, and so the agents reluctantly drew their guns. SID put one bullet into Toby, and then SETH added two more. Toby was down, but they still had to deal with Ripper. Two more bullets did the trick.

At the first gunshot, Agent ROSE looked out the window. She wasn’t expecting to see what she saw. A dimly glowing, kaleidoscopic ball of light bobbed along, paused near the junkyard, and then went around it in a wide arc. It floated off through the wheat field to the north. When she heard the other four gunshots, she ran out of the house and across the street to the junkyard.

Agent SETH found a roll of paper towels, and along with his belt to add pressure to SID’s neck, he performed field first aid. SID was stable for now, but he was weak. SETH looked around, and found the junkyard owner’s mint green 1958 Edsel. The keys were hanging in the office. SID laid down in the back seat, and SETH drove the car through the front gate. He stopped long enough for Agent ROSE to hop in, and they drove off a little way down the road before turning into a wheat field.

As Agent SETH went about trying to hide the car, he noticed a helicopter arrive and circle over the junkyard and immediate area. Shortly after that, a military jeep drove up, and people equipped with NBC suits and assault rifles searched the junkyard. The agents laid low until the jeep and helicopter left.

Agent ROSE leaned over the seat to have a look at SID.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

SID’s reply was more of a gurgle than anything, but the twitching motion of his head seemed to indicate that his response was “yes”.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 3a*

It was decided that Agent SID would remain in the back seat of the car while SETH and ROSE took the toolbox back to the junkyard to attempt repairs on the damaged electromagnets and cranes. SID held his pistol to his chest, and laid back to get some rest. SETH locked the car doors, and then he and ROSE headed back the mile or so to the junkyard.

The front gate was still wide open, but they decided it would be best to go around back, and climb the fence. Once inside, ROSE set to work on the repairs while SETH looked for a way to shut off the lights. He found the switch box just as ROSE shut down the magnet. Everything went dark, and while SETH put on his night-vision goggles, ROSE started the flashlight app on her phone, and moved on to the other two magnets.

It was about 3:00 AM by the time she’d finished. The early Kansas morning was eerily quiet. The tips of the wheat glowed faintly. The agents decided to head back to the doctor’s house. They both needed some sleep, but SETH took watch until sunrise.

At some point during the night, Agent SID awoke to shattering glass and someone in an NBC suit pointing an assault rifle at him. The person in the suit ordered him to drop his gun, and asked who he was. Agent SID did as he was asked, and then he produced his INSCOM badge. It was obvious he was in need of medical attention, so the person in the suit escorted him to a jeep. SID was taken to the town a short distance away.

There was a parking lot which was currently serving as a mobile headquarters. There was several trailers and tents; most of them were olive colored with U.S. Army markings, but some were plain white with NASA logos. Agent SID was escorted to a nearby building which had been converted into a makeshift infirmary. He gave his full cooperation, and soon he was in a bed with an IV running fluids, antibiotics, and painkillers into his arm. He drifted back to sleep.

Early the next morning, Agent RUBY was awoken by a knock on her hotel room door. She looked through the peephole, but she didn’t see anyone. She readied her gun, and opened the door to find a plain, unmarked cardboard box on the ground. When she opened it, she found NASA identification for herself, and most of the other agents. There was nothing for Agents ROSE or RED. Agent RUBY went back to bed.

Agents SETH, ROSE, and RED spent the daylight hours at the doctor’s house watching the news, and waiting for nightfall. Their day was fairly uneventful, but they did learn that the news stations were still reporting that the Space Shuttle Discovery was proceeding with its mission, and despite lack of visual and audio communication, everything was apparently going well.

When Agents RUBY and SERGE finally got up, they gathered their things together, and headed outside. RUBY was frustrated to find both rental cars were gone, and so they had to get another. They made the drive to the quarantined zone, and around 2:00 PM, they found both rental cars abandoned about a mile from the roadblock. Abandoning their own car along with the others, RUBY and SERGE stepped into the corn field, and made their way toward Gove. When they emerged from the corn, they saw the same overgrown farmland, charred foundation, and collapsed barn that SETH and SID had found.

SERGE stayed out of the way, and kept watch while RUBY took a look around. The grass and other plants were thick and rather wild. Stumbling her way through the field, she came upon an old well which looked like it once had a cover. She dropped a rock to see how deep it was, and when it hit the bottom, it sounded more like it landed in mud than water. She judged it to be probably thirty or forty feet down.

Agent RUBY shined her flashlight down into the well, and she saw several multi-colored rocks in the mud at the bottom. She went to the collapsed barn to look for something that might reach the bottom of the well. She managed to find a very long board, and an unsafe-looking but possibly serviceable wooden ladder. She took both back to the well and tried the board first.

The board was long enough to reach the bottom of the well, and it sunk a little in the mud. RUBY fished around with it, trying to scoop up one of the multi-colored objects, but she crushed one against the side of the well. Apparently, they were fragile. When it smashed, the colors leaked out and into the mud.

She pulled the board back out, and lowered the ladder instead. It was old and brittle, but she managed to get down to the bottom of the well. The mud was about a foot deep, and pretty thick. She could feel more of the objects under the mud. She picked one up for a closer look. It was a little larger than a softball, and it was more or less spherical. The shell was sort of milky, but translucent. The inside seemed to swirl or pulse with dim color like a sort of psychedelic snow globe.

Agent RUBY climbed the ladder without incident, and once she had reached the surface, she began to cover the well with boards. Placing the ball/rock/egg/snow globe thing gently in her purse, she moved on to the south where she could hear helicopters. Agent SERGE followed.

The agents came upon the downed space shuttle, and they watched it for a moment before approaching. There were eight people in NBC suits in the area; six were inspecting and/or repairing the shuttle, and two were standing guard. The two guards approached, and demanded to know who the agents were. They showed their brand new NASA credentials, and the guards seemed satisfied. They instructed the agents to get their NBC suits out of the NASA van, and get to work. They would have to be decontaminated when they got back to town.

The agents shrugged, and suited up. Neither of them knew much about astronomy, physics, chemistry, or most other sciences, but they did their best to fit in. Agent RUBY was able to determine that the hole in the side of the shuttle wasn’t caused by something forcing through from the inside, or the outside. It looked like a portion of the hull just stopped existing. One of the other NASA scientists mentioned that it couldn’t have happened in space, nor during re-entry. The shuttle would have been destroyed. The hole could only have been created once the shuttle was close to the ground, or after landing. The scientist said that didn’t make a lot of sense at the moment, and so NASA was choosing to ignore it until they knew more.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 3b*

When agent SID woke up, he noticed a soldier in a blue beret watching him. The stood up when SID opened his eyes. He asked if SID could walk, and if he was ready to talk to the general. The agent nodded in answer to both questions, and so the soldier led him out of the building, and to a large trailer in the parking lot. As the door opened, he saw a man in his mid to late fifties sitting behind a desk. His uniform indicated his rank was brigadier general, and the name said Drake. SID entered, and stood in front of the desk. The general remained seated, and the two men looked at each other in silence for a moment. General Drake was the first to break the silence.

“What in the hell is the matter with you, Sergeant Gump? Don’t you recognize a general when you see one?”

Agent SID nodded.

“Well …?” The general seemed already at the end of his patience.

Agent SID looked around for a moment, and then he remembered to salute.

“That’s much better, son. I’m going to let that slide this time because you’re probably high as a damned kite with all them painkillers. Do not let it happen again.” The general put heavy emphasis on most of those final words.

SID nodded, and tried to look apologetic. General Drake asked him what he was doing in the quarantine zone, why he wasn’t informed that INSCOM was sending an agent, and if there were any others. Agent SID couldn’t speak without some difficulty, so he was allowed to write on a large whiteboard.

He indicated that he was instructed to assist the army investigation, he had assumed his superiors had contacted everyone who needed to know, and there were in fact two others. When the general asked where the other two were, Agent SID told him. The general nodded, and leaned forward in his chair.

“You can leave us, lieutenant. I’ll let you know when I need you.”

The man in the blue beret saluted and stepped outside. When they were alone, the general narrowed his eyes and spoke.

“I know who you are, and I know what you do. What I don’t know is what Delta Green thinks it’s going to find here.”

Agent SID stiffened a bit, and then he wrote a single question mark on the whiteboard. General Drake snorted.

“That’s about what I thought. We’re done here, master sergeant.”

The general stood, and moved to the door. He knocked gently, and the man in the blue beret entered. General Drake told the soldier that he was done with the interview. The lieutenant escorted Agent SID back to his hospital bed, and one of the doctors replaced his IV.

When it began to get dark, a short, white bus arrived at the shuttle site. People in NBC suits got off, and took over for the NASA scientists who were finishing their shifts. Agents RUBY and SERGE got on the bus along with the others, and they were taken to town. The bus stopped at the Gove Motel where NASA and the Army had apparently rented out all the rooms. All of the scientists went to their rooms, but RUBY and SERGE were directed to the makeshift infirmary so the medical staff could give them something to prevent infection.

The agents did as they were instructed. After he received a shot of what the nurse said was penicillin, Agent SERGE went to see about a room. As RUBY was getting her shot, she noticed Agent SID in a hospital bed. She pointed him out, and asked the nurse what happened to him. She was told that he was “Army Intelligence, or something”. From the looks of it, he’d nearly lost a fight with a dog, and he was found unconscious and bleeding in the back of a stolen car. Agent RUBY nodded. That sounded just about right.

Agent ROSE was making dinner with whatever she could find in the doctor’s house, and SETH was watching out the windows. While he watched, the wheat on the other side of the junkyard glowed; not just the tips, but the whole plants. It was still a faint sparkle, but it was definitely not reflected moonlight. It was kaleidoscopic, and it hardly seemed natural. After a while, the pulsing ball of swirling color drifted out of the field, paused outside the junkyard, and then continued through it. It headed straight for the doctor’s house, but it stopped out in the front yard. Agent SID called for ROSE, and she confirmed that it was the same thing she’d seen the night before.

The light then floated away at a high rate of speed. It seemed to be headed in the general direction of Gove, but it was weaving. Once it was gone, SETH and ROSE went out to examine the wheat field. It was definitely glowing with its own faint light, and it seemed to be blowing in the wind, except there was no wind. SETH cut a few handfuls with his knife, and they went to the junkyard. He dropped the wheat on the ground, and it continued to sway in the non-existent wind. They switched on the magnet, but it didn’t have a noticeable effect. They switched the magnet back off, and went back to the doctor’s house to discuss their options. Agent SID wasn’t answering the radio, and that must mean he’d been captured, or he died.

After her shot, Agent RUBY slipped off down a hall. No one seemed to notice or care as she stole a set of new scrubs with a paisley design. She put on her disguise, and went over to check on Agent SID. He was conscious, and though he was obviously medicated, he seemed to be in control. She undid the locks on the wheels of the bed, and she saw a flash out of the corner of her eye. When she heard the muted scream outside, she began to push the bed. When she heard the three gun shots, she pushed faster.

Out the double doors, and into the parking lot, she pushed Agent SID’s bed. They made it to a NASA van, and both agents hopped in. Agent RUBY broke off the ignition and began to hotwire the van. Just as she got it started, SID found the keys in the console. RUBY rolled her eyes, and they drove slowly out of the parking lot. They stopped a block or so away, in a dark area, and they watched the building to see what was happening.

As they watched, an elderly woman came out of her house to see why there was a van outside. The woman made it to the end of her driveway before the ball of colors came zipping out from behind the infirmary. It floated up to her, and she just stared at it as it pulsed. When she could finally manage a scream, it was too late. She made hardly a noise as the ball of lights drained all her life force.

Her skin cracked and turned grey. Her hair became brittle, and broke off in chunks. Eventually, her whole body crumpled and dropped to the ground. The agents watched, horrified and unable to do anything to help. Soon, the colored ball floated off into the night. Agent RUBY sat in silence, but SID jumped at imagined sounds and hallucinated flashes. He was having real difficulty remaining calm.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 4a*

Agent RUBY threw the van in reverse, and cut the wheel hard to the right. With the van now pointing directly away from the light, she put the accelerator to the floorboard. It took only a couple minutes to reach the house which the agents were using as a base of operations. RUBY parked the white van with the NASA logo out front, and she left it running as she and Agent SID got out. The front door was locked, and so they went around back.

The back door opened quietly, and RUBY immediately headed for a bedroom. She fell onto the bed and was asleep before she landed. Agent SID followed and waited for a moment. As soon as he heard snoring, he gently relieved RUBY of her gun.

From the junkyard across the street, Agent SETH saw the van pull up. He watched through night-vision binoculars as RUBY and SID got out. He whispered for ROSE to sit tight, and then he made a dash out of the junkyard and over to the house. The other agents were inside already by the time he got there.

After a brief exchange accusations and denials regarding the alleged abandonment of an injured agent, SETH and SID managed to agree that it was good that they were both alive. SID only wanted to curl up and get some sleep, but SETH had other plans – plans that required three agents. First thing was to hide the van. SETH moved it into the wheat field behind the house and covered it with a tarp.

That’s when they heard the hum of an electromagnet coming from across the street. The floating ball of colors had returned, and ROSE had hit her button. The thing pulsed and swirled for a moment, hovering in place. As SETH came running with SID stumbling behind, they saw the light float away to the north. 

The agents each took up a spot by a different magnet, and they waited for the light to return. After about an hour, SID had already nodded off a few times, only to startle himself awake. He thought he saw something in the field behind ROSE, and so he shouted as he drew his newly borrowed gun. ROSE looked his direction, and SID fired a shot over her shoulder. She gave him a dirty look, and then she turned to see what he was shooting at. He’d been jumping at shadows for quite some time now, but it turned out that this time he’d actually seen something. A man stumbled out of the field, coming in her direction. He hadn’t made it ten feet out of the field before he fell forward and hit the ground. The man crawled through the grass toward the fence that separated them, and it appeared to ROSE that he had lost part of his right leg when he fell.

The man reached the fence, but it was dark, and his face was in the dirt, so she couldn’t see him well. He reached a shaky hand up toward her, and his fingers grasped at the fence. His skin was grey and cracked, and as the man clutched at the fence his arm fell to the ground. His fingers had literally broken off and fallen at ROSE’s feet.

She asked who he was, and he struggled to lift his face. She gasped when she realized it was Pete Watson, the doctor she’d met at the roadblock. SETH narrowed his eyes upon learning the man’s identity, but he wasn’t nearly as shaken as Agent ROSE was. His attitude was more of an ‘I told you so’, or maybe a ‘That’s why we follow orders’. He had advised the doctor to stay out of the quarantine zone.

It was nearly sunrise, and so SID and ROSE went back to the house for some sleep. SETH decided to scout for a bit first, and he headed toward the site of the downed shuttle. When he arrived, he was interested to note that the shuttle was gone. NASA must have found everything they needed and transported the incapacitated craft. Agent SETH scanned his surroundings with his night-vision binoculars, and he found some activity to the north. There were people in NBC suits moving through the fields surrounding the two farm houses he’d seen upon first arriving in the area. They seemed to be moving in a grid pattern and taking readings with electronic equipment.

He made a note of this, and headed back to the house. The sun was just starting to rise as he made it back. SETH took a spot on the couch, abut before he could fall fully asleep, he heard what sounded like two helicopters outside. Peeking out the window, he saw a large transport helicopter heading toward town. Then sleep caught up with him.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 4b*

Early that evening, the house was full of the smells of bacon and coffee. RUBY was awake and cooking, and that roused the others. They could hear some activity across the street at the junkyard, and so SETH decided to see what was going on. There were four Humvees parked there, and he counted ten people in NBC suits; six of them lowering a large object into a hole dug in the center of the yard, and four standing guard with assault rifles.

Agent SETH went out to the van hoping to find some NBC suits. There were in fact two suits, and so he took them. He also found a satellite phone. When he got back to the house, he tossed a suit to a semi-conscious Agent SID and told him to get dressed. He also handed the satellite phone to ROSE and asked her to see what she could do with it.

Once they were in the NBC suits, SETH and SID started for the junkyard. As they left the house, there was a commotion across the street. Everyone was looking all around, pointing and shouting. The four with rifles stood in the center of the yard, and the ball of pulsing color zipped out from behind a stack of junked cars. It paused in the center of the yard with the soldiers surrounding it. All four aimed their rifles, shouted, and fired. All four fell dead. Either the bullets had passed through the thing without effect, or they had all taken unlucky ricochets. Regardless of the truth, the end result was the same.

As the swirling ball of light headed off toward town, SETH and SID made it to the junkyard. SETH used the chaos to get close to the hole and take a few pictures of the object with his phone. It was a large, metal object with no writing or obvious markings that he could see. It looked like a grey Tylenol pill roughly eight feet long by four feet in diameter. There were cables running from one end of it into the dirt. The hole was just deep enough to hold the object which he guessed was probably a large bomb of some sort, and it was loosely covered and disguised with scraps of metal.

Before he was spotted, SETH put away his phone and slipped away toward the house. Agent SID wasn’t quite so lucky. Before he could make an escape, someone pointed at him and barked an order. He was instructed to man one of the magnets in case the ball of light came back. He did as he was told, and it was several hours before the color was spotted. Someone ordered the lights turned out, and then everyone waited.

The ball of pulsing, kaleidoscopic light made its way to the center of the yard, and the order was given to switch on the magnets. Only Agent SID managed to get his operational. The other two people were huddled behind their respective cranes. The ball of light immediately withdrew from SID’s magnet, pulsed a bit, and then sped off through the field to the north.

With dawn on its way, replacements arrived to stand guard during the day. Everyone else loaded up the dead and rode back to town. Agent SID went along. The pain in his throat was getting stronger, and he was hoping to get back to the makeshift infirmary from which Agent RUBY had kidnapped him the previous day.

Agent ROSE explained to Agent SETH how the satellite phone operated, and he traded his phone for it. ROSE looked over the pictures of the object while SETH called his commanding officer.

The pictures weren’t bad at all given the poor lighting, chaotic conditions, and the fact that they were taken on a cell phone by someone with no photography training. She could make out a groove in the top of the thing which appeared to indicate that it opened. As for what it may or may not contain, she couldn’t be certain. She was pretty sure it wasn’t a bomb, despite the cables coming out of the side.

SETH explained to his commanding officer that he was in Kansas, on his way to Los Angeles, but there was a quarantine zone in his way. He hoped someone could give him a number to reach the person in charge of the area. His commanding officer told him the person in charge was Brigadier General Justin Drake, and that the general had actually called recently to ask about him.

Agent SETH was told that the quarantine zone was in place for a good reason, and he should respect it. If he wanted to get to Los Angeles, his best bet would be to fly, but if he insisted on driving, he should go around. SETH thanked his commanding officer for his help, and he hung up.

The next day was rather uneventful. Agent SID was in the infirmary receiving medical attention. Agents ROSE, RUBY, and SETH were waiting until nightfall, and no one had heard from RED or SERGE in days. That night, the agents in the house decided to play it safe and watch the junkyard from their base. Just as the night before, the glowing ball of colors came from the north, and it seemed to avoid the junkyard on its way to the town. Just as the night before, it came back to the junkyard on its way back.

This time, two of the magnets were switched on, but the operator of the third seemed to have missed his cue. The color fled the two magnets and floated through the field to the north as quickly as it could. None of these details were lost on the agents, and they set to work on their plan.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 5*

The agents seem to have settled into a passive role. The next day was spent waiting for nightfall, but there was some discussion about the nature of the light they were seeing each evening, what effect the magnets seemed to have, and what was going on in the junkyard.

Agent SID checked himself out of the infirmary and went to see General Drake. The lieutenant admitted him, and the general remained quiet until he received a salute.

“What can I do for you, master sergeant?” The general seemed tired but not particularly busy.

“I’m feeling a lot better, and I’d like to go to the junkyard.”

“And just why in the hell would I want you out there, Sergeant Gump?” The general seemed almost amused by the request.

Agent SID explained that he and his friends had been watching the ball of light for a week now, and while he personally didn’t know much about it, the others did. The general asked where the others were, and Agent SID’s response was simply that they were in the area of the junkyard. General Drake ordered his lieutenant to gather a few soldiers and escort Sergeant Gump to the junkyard like he had asked.

Once it began to get dark, Agent SETH took up a position in the wheat field north of the junkyard and watched. There were nine people in NBC suits; one manning each of the three magnets, four with assault rifles, and two who seemed to be escorting a man who was not in an NBC suit. This man seemed to be in his late 30’s, and of roughly average height with a light build. He wore a dark suit with an ID badge clipped to his jacket.

The man seemed to be the one in charge. He spoke very little, and he kept his hands behind his back and his eyes to the north. After a while, a Humvee arrived, and Agent SID got out. He was accompanied by three soldiers in blue berets. None of them were in NBC suits, and they didn’t particularly seem to care.

They hardly had time to exit the vehicle before there was a glow in the field to the north. The man in the dark suit raised his hand without a word, and the whole yard fell silent. A moment later, the all too familiar ball of light emerged and floated toward the center of the junkyard. The man in the suit quickly lowered his hand in a sweeping gesture, like he was waving a flag to start a race.

One magnet hummed as it powered up, and then a second magnet did the same. The operator of the third magnet missed his cue because he was too busy hitting the dirt and covering his head. The ball of light pulsed and swirled for only a moment before flying off toward the town.

The agents maintained their positions through the night; SETH in the field, SID in the junkyard, and ROSE and RUBY in the farm house. Shortly before dawn, the light returned from the direction of town. Again, only two magnets were activated, and the color fled to the north. Agent SETH headed back to the farm house, and SID followed as soon as he managed to sneak away.

Agent RUBY remembered the orb she’d found in the well, and she gently removed it from her purse and placed it on the kitchen table for ROSE to see. She explained that it had been buried in the mud at the bottom of a well at the ruined farm house, and she offered her theory that it might be an egg containing a young version of the light that was terrorizing the small town.

The agents decided to rest until noon, and then they walked the two miles or so through the fields until they arrived at the collapsed farm with the overgrown fields and nearly hidden well. They looked into the well, but all they saw was mud. Agent SETH hammered a spike into the ground to anchor a rope, and SID climbed down. He sunk in the mud until it was a few inches over his ankles. He scanned the well, but he didn’t see anything. Before SID could feel under the surface of the mud, Agent SETH thought he saw a faint glow poke through and sounded the alarm.

SID climbed the rope as quickly as he could, and all four agents fled through the field and across the street to the abandoned farm house. Once inside, they caught their breath and discussed how to handle this new development.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 6a*

The decision was made to wait until nightfall and watch the well. As it was early afternoon, the agents had some waiting to do, and time passed rather uneventfully. Night did eventually fall, and when it did, the ball of kaleidoscopic light rose from the well as they had predicted. They watched as it floated through the wheat field to the south. Once it was out of sight, they made their move.

The agents quickly crossed the dirt road and hiked through the overgrown field to the well. Just as they had done earlier that day, Agent SETH set the rope, and Agent SID slid down into the well, sinking into the mud. RUBY held a flashlight, and ROSE kept watch.

SID felt around beneath the mud with his hands, and he felt several of the softball-sized orbs. He scooped one into his backpack, but the second one cracked in his hand. As the vivid, colorful insides leaked out onto his skin, he began to feel an intense burning with an odd sucking sensation. The contents of the orb soaked into his skin, and almost immediately his hand began turning grey. His flesh dried and cracked as he watched, and it was slowly moving up his arm. It was past his wrist before he managed to start climbing the rope with his left hand. He was right-handed, and he’d already lost the use of it.

Once he was back on ground level, Agent SID showed the others what was happening. ROSE and SETH paused with wide eyes, and RUBY held out her knife in a no-nonsense, “you know what to do” sort of manner. Agent SID took the knife with his left hand and looked at the spreading death of his dominant arm. It was half-way to his elbow.

SETH discouraged him from actually attempting to cut off his own arm, and for his part, SID was relieved. He sincerely doubted he had what it would take to go through with the operation. Instead, he pointed to the southwest with his good arm and announced his intention to return once more to the makeshift infirmary in Gove. RUBY was already on her way down the rope, and ROSE was lighting her way, but SETH wished him luck.

Agent RUBY’s feet sank in the thick mud at the bottom of the well, and she immediately set to work gently fishing the orbs out with a board and rolling them into her purse and two backpacks. There were still many left when her containers were full, but she left them. Climbing as carefully as she could, she made it back to the surface. She set the bags down about twenty feet or so from the well and motioned for ROSE to follow her.

The two members of R-Cell headed for the ruins of the barn to search for anything which could be used as an object of destruction; sledgehammer, explosives, tractor … They managed to find a rake and a ten-gallon gas can which was nearly full. RUBY carried the gas can back to the well and began casually dumping the contents to the bottom. She made sure to coat the entirety of the rope before lighting it and stepping back. The fire burned for quite a while, and the night air was filled with crackling, sizzling, popping, and whistling. Once the job was done, the agents each took up a bag and headed back toward the junkyard.

Agent SID stumbled for what seemed like miles through a dark corn field, and he hoped he was headed in the right direction. The fact that he found the edge of the field was a good sign, and the dirt road he saw was an even better one.

It was hard to see but easy to feel the progress of the creeping death of his arm. It was now past his elbow. He knew he didn’t have much more time, and his mind was already preparing him. That’s why he wasn’t surprised when he saw the ball of color coming down the road toward him followed by an odd rumbling sound.

The rumbling quieted as the ball stopped in front of him and spoke. In English.

“You there! This area is under quarantine. Come on out.”

Agent SID did as the rumbling ball of kaleidoscopic light ordered, and he put his hands in the air. As he did so, his right hand simply crumbled into dust. The ball of light then spoke in two different voices.

“Jesus! Did you see that?”

“Yeah! That’s messed up!”

“Damn it, man! Get in the jeep!”

The ball of light grabbed him … somehow, and the rumbling started back up as it sped him off toward town. He must have passed out because the trip was almost instantaneous, and when he regained his senses, two people in NBC suits were lifting him out of a jeep. They carried him into a building, and he once again lost consciousness.

The other three agents arrived at the junkyard to see what had become usual activity; one person in an NBC suit at each of the three magnets, four people in NBC suits with rifles patrolling, and two people in NBC suits standing next to a man in a dark suit with a NASA badge.

SETH took up his usual observational spot in the field while RUBY and ROSE simply walked right through the front gate. One of the guards saw them and headed them off.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? This area is restricted.”

Agent RUBY flashed her fake NASA credentials while Agent ROSE tried to look like she belonged.

“You’ll need to talk to Dr. Hudson.”

The guard motioned toward the man in the dark suit and led them over.

Dr. Hudson looked at them as if he expected them to explain their presence. Agent RUBY once again flashed her NASA credentials while Agent ROSE just fit in.

“Amelia Larce, NASA.”

The man raised his eyebrow.

“Doctor Morris Hudson, also NASA. You no doubt know I’m the head of field operations here, but I don’t believe I know your role.”

Agent RUBY explained that she knew about the ball of color, where it rested during the day, and what it did at night. She also explained that she and her team had found what they believed to be the creature’s eggs. To emphasize this, she gently lifted one from her purse.

Dr. Hudson made a thoughtful sound as he nodded slowly.

“Assuming this is in fact an egg, what were you planning to do with it?”

“I know you and your team have been having trouble capturing this thing, so I thought I would help. We can use them as bait.” She smiled to indicate that she was really only questioning his competency in a friendly manner.

Dr. Hudson sighed and nodded. One of the people standing next to him took the orb from her and looked at it for a moment. RUBY told him to be careful with it just as he squeezed a little too hard. The orb cracked. When the colorful contents oozed out, it dissolved a hole through his glove. The man in the NBC suit held up his arm and screamed as he dropped to one knee. He then rolled over onto his side, flailing and eventually only twitching.

Dr. Hudson barked an order, and one of the guards ended the man’s suffering with a single bullet. The doctor then turned a disapproving look toward Agent RUBY. She simply shrugged and reminded him the orbs were dangerous. The doctor told her to place the rest herself, and she did so.

Agent SETH had used the distraction to climb the fence and place the two backpacks in the trunk of a junked car. RUBY saw him, and he held a finger to his lips. No one else seemed to have noticed him, and so he climbed back over the fence to watch from the field.

While RUBY didn’t exactly call out Agent SETH, she did indicate to Dr. Hudson that she had another associate in the area. She suggested that part of the problem might be that there was only one person manning each magnet, and that she and her team might be able to serve as fail-safes. Dr. Hudson agreed, and so Agent RUBY called SETH over. Each agent took up a spot next to a person manning a magnet, and all that was left was to wait.


----------



## Audrik

*Killer Out of Space - Session 6b*

Agent SID awoke in a hospital bed and immediately noticed his right arm had been removed just below the shoulder. A soldier in a blue beret was watching him from a chair next to the bed. As soon as the soldier saw that SID was awake, he stood.

“Ready to see the general?”

Agent SID nodded and made an effort to stand. There was a crutch leaning against the bed, and this helped a lot. The soldier escorted him outside and to the general’s trailer. He left SID alone with the general. General Drake leaned forward in his chair.

“I’ll understand if you don’t salute, Master Sergeant. Sit.”

The general indicated a chair on the other side of his desk, and Agent SID did as he was asked.

“I think today is your lucky day, soldier.”

SID didn’t seem so sure, and he let the general know.

“Well now, son. We just might be able to fix that. Can you sign your name with your other hand?”

Agent SID said he thought he might be able to, but he wondered why he would want to test the theory. General Drake slid some official looking papers across the desk. SID didn’t understand everything in the document, but it seemed to be some sort of medical release form for experimental surgery. He signed as best he could, and the general nodded.

“Of course this means you’ll need a promotion, soldier. If we put this kind of money into you, you’re going to owe your life to the United States Army. With any luck, I’ll shake your hand in a month or two, Captain Gump. And I’ll be expecting that salute as well.”

The general called, and two soldiers in blue berets entered to escort Agent SID to a helicopter. They took off in short order, and they headed east. From the ground, the other agents noticed the helicopter pass over the junkyard, but they were unaware that Agent SID was aboard.

Dawn finally neared, and with it, the ball of swirling color. It headed out of town and down the road toward the junkyard. The creature floated into the junkyard, and it didn’t take long for it to notice the two orbs resting on the pile of junk in the center of the yard.

The color hovered in the air just above the orbs, and it began to pulse and swirl furiously. Dr. Hudson shouted for the magnets, and with two people at each station, all three magnets were engaged. The creature seemed to bounce back and forth in a sort of force field, but it was unable to escape.

Dr. Hudson raised his hand and then dropped it quickly. As he did so, the capsule in the pit opened, and a bright light with a pale blue tint shot out. The ball of color seemed to flicker and fade before being pulled down into the pit. Once it was gone, the capsule closed.

There was cheering all around from everyone but Dr. Hudson and the agents. The doctor simply made a quick call on a satellite phone, and several minutes later, a white NASA van arrived. The people in NBC suits lifted the capsule out of the pit and placed it in the back of the van. Once the doors were closed, the van headed off toward town.

Amid all the celebration, the agents slipped away; ROSE and RUBY went to the farm house, and SETH ran to the field behind the house where he had left the other van. He quickly got it started and attempted to follow, but the van with the capsule had a head start. He arrived in town just in time to see the capsule loaded onto a transport helicopter.

He headed back to the farm house, called A-Cell to make his report, and then returned to the junkyard. He retrieved the two backpacks full of orbs and dropped them in a barrel. A liberal amount of gasoline and one match later, and there was no evidence left in the quarantine zone.

Mission accomplished. It may not have gone as well as he had hoped. He may not have ever found a trace of the man who called his Delta Green phone when he was still in the hospital. Agent SID may be dust in a corn field … It was still a victory. The “anthrax outbreak” was over, and the quarantine over western Kansas could be lifted. The American people would never know the truth.

The agents spent one final night in the farm house before making their way back to Wichita, and from there to their respective homes. A few weeks passed before Agent SID returned SETH’s call, but all was well.

SID had a new arm, and it didn’t just look and feel real. It was real. Not only that, but it was much stronger than it used to be. The only lingering side effect was that he periodically had blurry, fevered flashbacks; visions or dreams of his operation. There had been four doctors, but he was only ever sure that two of them were human. Whether it was the drugs or the stress, he had the distinct impression that the other two were very thin with grey skin and large black eyes.

Regardless of the truth, all four agents had survived, and they could finally say they were not in Kansas anymore.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)
Agent RUBY – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Search Team

*S-Cell*
Agent SETH – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent, Leader of S-Cell – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SID – Cramer Gump, INSCOM "Black" Ops Agent

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Grigori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher/Surgeon – Russian-born naturalized citizen
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist – Japanese-born naturalized citizen
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) - Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist


Seven months have passed since the Kansas incident. It is now a few days after Thanksgiving Day, 2010. Just as the agents are finally managing to return to some semblance of normalcy, Agents ROSE and SETH open their respective mailboxes. Amidst the countless holiday advertisements, they each found a plain white envelope with no postage, no post mark, and no return address. Both envelopes contained an identical message:



> _DIRECTIVE FROM A-CELL
> 
> You are to investigate the death of Agent GARRET, and the suspicious circumstances of said death. Focus attention on 1206 Spooner Avenue, Laconia, NH. This house has been brought to the attention of A-Cell before, and is deemed a paranormal threat. Extreme caution should be employed when investigating the Spooner Avenue house. It has been known to exhibit an unknown influence over skilled DG Agents.
> 
> Mission Instructions
> •Determine the cause of death of Agent GARRET
> •Determine if the 1206 Spooner Avenue house represents an ongoing threat to the public
> •Once these two protocols are complete, contact A-Cell for further instructions
> 
> Possible Friendly Contacts
> •Emil Yarrow, Parapsychologist
> •Elizabeth Tucker, Antique Dealer
> 
> Green Box Locales
> •Green Box 711 – Meadowbrook Store-It_




Agents RUBY and SID were informed, and all agents made their way to Laconia, New Hampshire.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 1*

S-Cell met at the Meadowbrook Inn to get settled as it was nearing midnight. R-Cell decided to meet up at the Green Box location and get started right away. There was no one in the office at the Meadowbrook Store-It, and there didn’t appear to be any night security, so ROSE and RUBY hopped right over the wall. It didn’t take long to find storage unit 711, and the lock was easily removed.

The door slid up to reveal a deep storage locker, and everything near the front seemed like it belonged. There was an antique table, a sofa bed, and two plastic wrapped twin mattresses. Behind the first layer, things still looked legitimate but borderline disturbing. There were three empty biohazard containers, two bags of quicklime, two new shovels, four pairs of work gloves, a hat-lamp, a three-and-a-half gallon metal container of gasoline with a pour spout, two new plastic gasoline containers, and three newly minted keys taped together in a piece of cardboard.

There was a third layer behind the second, and this is where things began to get questionable. The agents found 400 rounds of shotgun ammunition, two new Mossberg shotguns with serial numbers shaved off, fake IDs made out for one Arthur Donnelley (Meadowbrook gas inspector badge, and coroner ID), a Nikon F36 telephoto lens, a Nikon Reflex camera, the remains of two-dozen burned photographs with trace images of the house at 1206 Spooner Avenue, a 4-foot long, dirty wood coffin, and a notebook.

A small brass plaque identified the coffin as being that of one Anton Turé, and it was dated June, 1965. Agent ROSE opened the coffin to examine the contents, and she found the remains of a young child, now rotted to the point of disintegration. 

Agent RUBY decided she would look over the notebook rather than help with the coffin. Most of the writing she found was barely intelligible scribbling and strange statements which seemed almost like math equations, but there were some details which seemed important:



> _Turé=not dead?/roaming the house?/only at night?/Grave? OCT10
> Shovel, gloves, headlamp, cash? OCT 30
> Burn it? Cruise tried: didn’t work. Others. Talk to survivors? Canadian mental health laws?
> Music from dining room. Laughter/Noise upstairs.
> Almost bought house! Means? +A alerted.
> Someone else in house+Isari not returning calls.
> Falcone death? Coroner?
> Wheeler’s furniture/books or papers? Estate? NOV10
> Talked to it tonight. Knew my name. Knows I’m watching. Called A today. Still no movement. Open house next week. Buy it? Burn it?_




Agent SETH checked into his room, ordered room service, and began to relax. As their hotel had a bar, and it was still open, Agent SID decided to go down and have a drink. It was quiet, but there were still some people in the bar. Agent SID struck up a conversation with a couple of older gentlemen, and he led around to the topic of the Spooner Avenue house.

The two men agreed that there was something very wrong with the house. Ever since the deaths of the original owners, there had been a long string tragedy; accidents, murders, suicides … They told SID it was best to just stay away. Agent SID thanked them for their stories, and he bought them another round.

Agents ROSE and RUBY closed up the Green Box, climbed back over the wall, and discussed what to do. It didn’t take long before they made the decision to investigate the house in person. Upon arriving, the agents found a typical suburban neighborhood with well-maintained houses and yards. The house they had been assigned to investigate was no different. 

The lawn had not been mowed in a week or so, and the yard was covered in a thin layer of leaves. There was a room over the two-car garage, but otherwise the house was a single story.  Ivy crawled up the front, but it wasn’t present on the other sides. The porch in front was covered, but the deck in back was not.

ROSE tried the back door and found it was unlocked. She stepped inside using her phone’s flash for light. Scanning the room quickly, she saw a fireplace, a couch, a few cardboard boxes, and some Styrofoam cups. Just as Agent RUBY was about to enter, the lights in the den flickered on and off quickly several times. During one of the brief moments of light, ROSE was sure she saw a long shadow of a woman in a gown, but the next time, it was gone. After the flickering had subsided, the lights remained on.

Agent ROSE was standing in the center of the den when her phone rang. Agent SETH was calling to check in, and he was not happy to learn that R-Cell was at the house alone. After a brief argument, they agreed to meet at the hotel to formulate a plan.

Shortly after 1:00 AM on the Monday after Thanksgiving, and all four Delta Green agents were spending their time in the lobby of the Meadowbrook Inn in Laconia, NH speaking in hushed tones and borrowing the free wi-fi to research 1206 Spooner Avenue and its long history of tragedy.

They knew that Michael Wheeler, a wealthy stone mason, had built the house in 1907 for his wife Isabelle. The newspaper article didn’t have much more information than that.

George and Margaret Cruise had purchased the house in 1956 after Isabelle’s death, and they began extensive remodeling including the rather expensive restoration of floor to ceiling, wall-length mirrors in the master bedroom. Friends and neighbors reported a change in George and Margaret’s behavior after less than a year in the house. George had become withdrawn and spent most of his time at work, or at church services. Margaret had become rude and pushy; by all accounts the opposite of her former self.

In October of 1959, George Cruise drove to a sporting goods store and purchased a double-barreled shotgun and several rounds, drove home, and then shot his wife. He quickly set fire to the house, and then he turned the gun on himself. One of the neighbors had managed to put out the fire before it could spread.

The house had several owners in the intervening years, but Agent ROSE was unable to find a complete list. The city’s website directed her to the city hall for more information, and so the agents put that on their to-do list for the morning.

ROSE was able to find information on the house’s two most recent owners. A woman named Yamilla Isari had purchased the house in 2007 and lived there until her recent suicide, and FBI Special Agent Arthur Donnelly bought the place a little over a week ago. The article said that “both suicides occurred under identical circumstances”, but it didn’t elaborate.

There were plenty of leads, and Agent SETH insisted on waiting until morning to follow them.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 2a*

The agents all awoke early and met at a local diner for breakfast. They decided to put an actual physical visit to the house on hold for the time being to focus on information gathering. SETH would check with the coroner regarding the death of Special Agent Donnelly, SID would check the records at City Hall and the Laconia Daily Sun newspaper for any useful historical information regarding the house, ROSE would contact Emil Yarrow the parapsychologist and Delta Green Friendly, and RUBY would scout the antique shop run by the other Friendly, Elizabeth Tucker. It seemed like a solid plan with minimal risk and fair potential.

Agent SETH arrived at the Lakes Region General Hospital and found a map. A red dot showed his current location as being in the main lobby, and his destination was down one floor. The morgue was on the first basement level, and so he took the stairs rather than the ventilation ducts as he had done the last time he was in a hospital.

The basement level was quiet, but he still made an effort to be stealthy. That effort seemed to backfire when he accidentally leaned on an emergency exit door, but he managed to get away before anyone spotted him. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much response to the brief alarm at all.

Agent SETH found the morgue which was a split room. Most of the room held the various contents of a typical morgue; operating table, tools, drawers which probably held bodies … A small corner of the room was carpeted, and it was laid out like an office. A tired looking man in his early- to mid-50’s sat behind a desk. His name badge identified him as Doctor Elmer Perkins.

Dr. Perkins looked up from his paperwork as Agent SETH entered, and he attempted a weary smile. SETH greeted the man and produced his INSCOM credentials. He informed the doctor that he was in town to put the closing touches on the life of Arthur Donnelly who he said was a highly decorated soldier in the U.S. Army before he joined the FBI. The doctor said he was unaware of Donnelly’s military service, but he was not surprised. Many service members transition naturally into law enforcement.

The INSCOM badge and cover story were good enough for Dr. Perkins, and he allowed Agent SETH access to the entire contents of Donnelly’s file. SETH took a copy of the death certificate, coroner’s report, and fingerprinting. The death was ruled a suicide by apparent razorblade cut to the throat though it was noted that no blade was found at the scene.

ROSE found the number for Emil Yarrow, an associate professor of abnormal psychology at Southern New Hampshire University. Dr. Yarrow was enthusiastic. He had never been inside the Spooner Avenue house, but he had heard many stories, and he’d always wanted to give it a look. He agreed to meet ROSE in Laconia that evening to discuss the matter further. After the call, ROSE headed to meet up with Agent SID as his work would be most likely to benefit from an additional set of hands and eyes.

Agent SID had walked to City Hall since the hotel was only a few blocks away, and the weather was cool but nice. He had the task of digging through old files and archives, and that task kept him occupied for hours. His research was slow and boring, but it was ultimately fruitful. With the help of the clerks at City Hall and the newspaper, he was able to organize a boxful of documents relating to the house and its long string of owners. The information wasn’t very detailed, but it provided a timeline and plenty of names.

Michael and Isabelle Wheeler had built the house in 1907. Isabelle suffered from a sort of wasting disease, and her husband built the house so that she might be comfortable for her last years. He died in 1910, but she had apparently survived to see the year 1956. A newspaper article briefly mentioned her complete recovery from whatever disease had been trying to take her life.

After Isabelle’s death, the house had been purchased by George and Margaret Cruise. ROSE had uncovered their tragic story the night before.

Searching for information on the Turé family turned up another tragic story. Adam and Rebecca Turé purchased the house after yet another owner’s accidental death. They had moved to Laconia from Montreal with their two small children, Elise and Anton. They lived in the house for about a year with no incident before Rebecca was briefly hospitalized for “mental exhaustion”. She returned home to find that her children were becoming violent and angry.

One day, she found Anton drowned in the toilet bowl of the master bedroom. The door to the bathroom had been locked from the inside, and there was no one else in the room when the door was opened. This incident was more than she could handle, and her already over-stressed mind snapped. Records indicated that she was hospitalized indefinitely at an unnamed facility in Canada.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 2b*

Agent ROSE’s Delta Green phone rang, and when she answered, Agent RUBY was on the other end.

“Hey, ROSE. It’s me. Look, I’m at the house, and … Are you busy? Can you come here? There’s something I think you should see.”

“I’m just helping SID go through some papers. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

ROSE excused herself from the rest of the research, and she left to meet up with her cell member. Agent SID kept reading, sorting papers, taking notes, making copies …

The person named Falcone from Special Agent Donnelly’s notebook was apparently one Andrea Falcone. Her cause of death was listed as accidental suffocation, but there was nothing more to be found about the matter. After her death, the house was purchased by Yamilla Isari, a citizen of the United Arab Emirates, and recent graduate of the University of New Hampshire. Again, the rest of her story, and that of Special Agent Donnelly after her had already been uncovered the previous night.

SID found one more story about an owner named George Weaver. Weaver was a doctor who lived just one street over on Valley Road. When the house was finally put up for sale following the suicide of its previous owner, he had attended the open house. Against the cautioning of his neighbors and friends, he purchased the house on Spooner Avenue and moved in. He was found dead nine days later in the garage. The cause of death was determined to be electrocution, and the time was set at 2:30 AM which was easily determined. Whatever caused the electrocution had caused a circuit to blow. All of the clocks in the house showed 2:30. An investigator had gone on record as saying the death was puzzling because Dr. Weaver’s car was in the shop at the time of his death, and there was no apparent reason for his presence in the garage so early in the morning.

Agent SID called SETH to let him know what he had found. SETH said he had just finished up at the hospital, and he would swing by in the rental car.

ROSE arrived at the house and found the front door unlocked. She tested the three keys from the Green Box and found that one of them locked and unlocked the front door. She heard RUBY call from the direction of the master bedroom, and so she headed that direction. She proceeded with caution since that seemed to be the room where most of the deaths had occurred; the two most recent ones for sure.

When she stepped into the master bedroom, Agent ROSE saw floor-to-ceiling wall-length mirrors around the entire room. There were two windows in the wall opposite the door through which she entered, and there was another door to the bathroom on her right. That was presumably where Agent RUBY had called from.

ROSE shook off the disorienting effect of the mirrors and was about to check the bathroom when she felt a draft. The draft kicked up a feather which had apparently been resting on the floor in the corner, and so Agent ROSE crossed the room to check the windows. As she got closer, she could tell that the feather was not actually in the room at all, but it was most definitely reflected in the mirror … or maybe it was only on the other side of the mirror. As she watched the feather come to rest, she heard a sound behind her like something small and metallic dropping to the wooden floor.

She didn’t turn, but she scanned the mirrors in front of her for some sign of what might have happened. There was nothing behind her, and so she turned slowly around. On the floor behind her was an open straight razor with dried blood on the blade. In the mirror on the opposite wall, she saw a woman with long dark hair in a thin dressing gown.

The woman smiled, and both doors to the room slammed shut. Agent RUBY’s muffled voice could be heard from the bathroom. The woman in the mirror waved her hand in an upward motion, and the razor lifted off the ground. She waved it in a crossing motion, and it slashed at ROSE, catching her in the left shoulder and spraying blood across the floor, ceiling, and nearby walls.

Agent ROSE called out for RUBY, and there was a pounding from the other side of the bathroom door. RUBY could be heard on the other side, but her words were muffled. The razor spun in the air sending spatters of blood in all directions. The woman in the mirror made another motion, and ROSE ducked just in time.

 Her phone began to ring, and ROSE decided she was a little too busy to chat. Without taking her eyes off the razor, she set her phone to silent. The razor slashed again, and it caught her once more leaving her shoulder with a wound in the shape of an ‘X’. More blood sprayed the room, and the woman in the mirror seemed to be enjoying every moment with a murderous glee.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 2c*

Agent SETH’s phone rang, and he answered to hear Agent RUBY asking what was wrong with ROSE, and why she wasn’t answering her phone. SETH replied that he didn’t know, but the last he’d heard, ROSE was with SID. He hung up while RUBY was in mid-response, and called ROSE only to get her voicemail.

Agent SID’s phone rang, and he was blindsided by a none-too-happy Agent RUBY.

“SID, don’t you dare hang up on me, too! What the hell is going on? Why isn’t ROSE answering her phone?”

“Calm down. She went to meet up with you at the house about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Why the hell would she go there? I thought the plan was to stay away until we knew more?”

“Yeah, but you called her, and …”

“And she didn’t answer!”

“No, no. You called and told her you were at the house. Something about needing to show her something.”

“I’m not at the house. I’m at the antique store like I was supposed to be! What the hell …”

Agent SID hung up on RUBY and called SETH. SETH said he couldn’t get a hold of ROSE, and SID informed his cell leader of her whereabouts. Agent SETH said he was on his way to the house, and he would be by City Hall to get SID. Agent SID let him know that he had finished a while ago, and he had gotten tired of waiting, so he walked back to the hotel. SETH’s excuse was that he had stopped off at the Green Box to get a few things.

The banging on the bathroom door continued, and RUBY’s muffled screams added to the tense situation. The straight razor spun in the air, and it casually tossed spatters of blood. ROSE made a grab for it with her good arm, but she missed. She yelled at the woman in the mirror and asked what she wanted. The woman threw back her head in silent laughter, and then she made another swipe with her hand.

The razor sliced through the air, and ROSE narrowly ducked out of the way. The razor crashed to the ground and slid across the wooden floor. Rather than coming to rest in the corner, it instead slid through the mirror leaving only a reflection on the other side. The woman had disappeared, and the pounding stopped.

Agent ROSE made her way to the bathroom and opened the door. The bathroom was dark and empty. She turned her ringer on as she quickly made her way outside. She called SETH to let him know what had happened at the house.

Agent SETH arrived at the house and performed some quick first aid while calling 911 for an ambulance. In no time, ROSE was off to the hospital.

She was more than a little upset to hear that RUBY was actually at the antique shop like she was supposed to be, and not at the house like she said she was. SETH was more than a little upset that ROSE was at the house when it was agreed that they would all stay away for the time being. RUBY was more than a little upset that the other agents kept hanging up on her mid-sentence, and SID was only a little upset that he got the boring research job and kept getting forgotten.

For its part, the house was content.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 3a*

Having decided she most likely wouldn’t be able to make her meeting with Dr. Yarrow due to the incident at the house, Agent ROSE gave him a call to let him know to look for Agents SETH and SID instead. He didn’t answer, but she left a voicemail.

SETH and SID were up early, and so they decided to take a look around the yard of the house on Spooner Avenue. They wanted to find where Anton Turé had been buried originally so they could rebury him, and something about this Operation led them to believe the house was a better bet than any of the four cemeteries in town.

They walked around the house searching the yard for disturbed soil, but they found nothing that looked like a lead. They then made another lap around checking the foundation for a hidden cellar entrance or crawlspace. Again, they found nothing until Agent SETH shined his flashlight under the back deck.

The deck extended about 25 feet or so from the house, and beneath it was nothing but dirt, rocks, and scattered animal bones. This got SETH thinking about the lack of pets or other animals in the area. No cats, dogs, birds, or squirrels. There weren’t even many children to be seen. This made the neighborhood eerily silent.

All the way past the dirt and bones, Agent SETH noticed a grate which indicated a crawlspace beneath the house. SID wanted nothing to do with the underside of the house, but he was perfectly willing to go inside and look around. SETH, on the other hand, wanted everyone to stay clear of the inside of the house for the time being, but the crawlspace intrigued him.

Agent SETH crawled beneath the deck and over to the crawlspace. He removed the grate and looked inside. The whole underside of the house was dirt littered with rocks and animal bones. There was maybe a foot and a half or two feet of clearance; not terribly cramped, but not exactly inviting. SETH thought he could hear a cat mewing somewhere in the darkness, but he couldn’t catch it with his light. He decided to leave the grate off for now and poured out the contents of his canteen to muddy the ground in hopes of capturing the prints of anything going in or coming out. He then crawled back out from underneath the deck.

No visibly disturbed earth on the lot, so the agents decided to check the local cemeteries. They picked the nearest one to walk about while calling the others to ask if they had a record of Anton Turé. The answer was the same from all of them: “We don’t have those records available, but you are welcome to visit and have a look for yourself. Our hours are …”

Two hours of methodical searching turned up nothing at the first cemetery, so they decided to break for lunch. A short while into their search of the second cemetery, they spotted the grave they sought. The earth looked to have been disturbed sometime in the past month or so, but the groundskeeper knew nothing of it when questioned.

Agent SETH flashed a badge and related a story of a prank played on one of the newer soldiers under his command. The child’s grave had been dug up, and now he would like to put it back. The groundskeeper told him that if what he said was true, the police would need to be notified, and the soldiers responsible would need to be found.

SETH assured the man that nothing of the sort was going to happen. This was a military investigation, and if the groundskeeper refused to cooperate, he would be the one standing trial. It was probably the drinks he’d had with his lunch, but the groundskeeper refused to be bullied. If he wanted to rebury a body, SETH was going to need a court order, and the person or persons responsible were going to have to answer for it. The agents stormed off.

Agent ROSE couldn’t do much from her hospital bed, so she passed the time researching the house, its owners, and anyone else who might have ever been involved with it courtesy of the hospital wi-fi. It was nearly two hours later before she found anything at all that they didn’t already know. She found an article identifying an old Italian woman who lived with Isabelle Wheeler as Adele DiVettelo, or as some of the locals called her, the Crone.

The small and well-hidden article mentioned that DiVettelo had been hired to mend curtains in the house around June of 1926, and it was apparently very soon after that Isabelle Wheeler was said to have made a miraculous recovery.

Another brief mention was made in an earlier article that a woman named Adele DiVettelo had been dismissed from the Laconia Sanatorium a month before arriving at the Wheeler house. Her dismissal was due to “improper behavior”. Several other employees reported seeing DiVettelo kill a cat and drink its blood. The article concluded that this was evidence of witchcraft.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 3b*

SETH and SID did a little shopping before their meeting with Dr. Yarrow. SETH wanted a pair of mesh gloves of the sort used by prep cooks. He also bought a large quantity of steel wool. If he was going to be attacked by a disembodied razor, he wanted some protection.

Dr. Yarrow arrived at the diner right on time, and he joined SETH and SID at their table. Yarrow was a large and not very athletic man in his early 40s. He seemed quite eager to investigate the house. When asked why he’d never been inside if he was so interested, his response was simply that in its long string of ownership, the house was rarely unoccupied.

Agent SID was almost immediately skeptical of the man simply due to his demeanor and the New Age psychic feel of his words. SETH was much more inclined to accept Yarrow at face value. The agents explained that they believed the house may have at least two entities inside; one of which was confirmed to be murderously violent.

Dr. Yarrow said that there were a couple ways they could go about the investigation. They could set up cameras, thermal and magnetic detectors, and audio recorders around the house hoping to capture evidence of a haunting, or they could hold a séance if they wanted to contact a specific spirit.

Agent SID rolled his eyes and wordlessly indicated to SETH that he wasn’t believing this for a minute. For his part, SETH stated flatly that there wasn’t going to be a séance. Cameras, audio recorders, night-vision … those were fine, but no holding hands to summon a spirit, and none of that Ouija board stuff.

Dr. Yarrow said that he had his equipment out in the car, and they could get set up right away, but by far the best chance of making contact would be to wait until midnight. A dark house at midnight gave them the thinnest barrier to the spirit world, and thus better odds of making a connection. Also, reflective surfaces would aid immensely. SETH mentioned the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the master bedroom, but he cautioned against using that room. Yarrow said that may be exactly what they should do.

SID asked if Dr. Yarrow’s equipment included a box that could open up to capture a ghost, and the doctor laughed. He said that ghost traps were a thing of fiction. That did it for SID. Everything the doctor said sounded to him like complete garbage, and the one time he mentioned something he absolutely knew to be real, the man laughed it off as obvious fantasy. Agent SID excused himself and left. He sent SETH a text with his opinion on their Friendly, and he waited patiently until it was time to head to the house.

Agent RUBY stopped by the hospital to sit with ROSE. She informed her cell leader that she had made contact with the other Friendly, antique dealer Elizabeth Tucker. Tucker had knowledge of a few of the pieces from the Wheeler estate sale, and if given a few days, she should be able to track it all down.

Upon reaching the house, Dr. Yarrow entered and began to set up his equipment. SETH indicated that he would like to set up a camera in the crawlspace under the house, and Yarrow handed him one equipped with a wireless transmitter. The rest of the cameras in the house would be wired directly to one of three laptops. The whole thing felt like bad ghost-hunting reality television to Agent SID, and so he stepped outside with SETH.

Agent SID tested the garage while SETH went around back to check beneath the deck. The garage door resisted SID’s attempt to lift it, but he flexed his recently replaced (and if his fever-dreams were to be believed, alien-crafted) right arm. With the sound of grinding gears, the door slowly lifted, and SID scanned the room.

It was an empty two-car garage with a cement floor, a 1970’s era refrigerator next to the door to the house, and some scattered and rusted gardening equipment. The door closed behind him as he crossed the garage to find something with which to prop open the door.

Agent SID grabbed a hoe and returned to the garage door, but before he could lift it, he heard the sound of a door opening behind him, and a dim light shined. He turned to see a shadowy figure looking in the empty refrigerator. The figure closed the refrigerator, and when SID lifted the garage door, he turned to see that we was alone in the room.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 3c*

Propping the garage door open with the hoe, SID then went around back where SETH was waiting for him. SID refused to crawl under the deck, but he would do his best to shine light in through the hole. SETH crawled through the hole and under the house with his night-vision goggles on and his flashlight ready just in case.

He found a spot to set up the camera that seemed like it had a decent view of the crawlspace, and he set it up. As soon as he turned the camera on, his night-vision scrambled and went black. As he slid the goggles to the top of his head, he could hear feral animal sounds from somewhere near his feet and getting closer. He pointed his flashlight and hit the button, but nothing happened. In the darkness, the animal sounds got closer. Agent SETH pointed his gun and fired two shots in the direction of the sound. The shots produced very little light, but in pure darkness, very little light can still make a difference.

SETH didn’t see an animal, but he did see the hole through which he’d crawled. Rolling to his hands and knees, he crawled that direction until he hit the wall. At some point, the snarling animal was right on his heels, literally. It had managed to get a brief grip on his boot, but it was easily shaken off.

Upon reaching where he thought the hole should be, Agent SETH felt nothing but cinderblocks. He fired two more shots in the direction of the snarling, and he saw the hole. It was on the other side of the crawlspace. SETH fished out his zippo from his pocket and was pleased to find that it lit. Now that he could see, he crawled carefully to the hole. Oddly, the animal sounds had stopped.

When SETH poked his head out of the hole, Agent SID asked just what had happened. He had heard four gun shots in rapid succession, like a machine gun, and a split second later, SETH had popped out. Dr. Yarrow confirmed that assessment a moment later when he came out on the deck.

SETH explained his story, and as the camera had been set up, they checked the recording. The camera made SETH look a little silly. He was crawling around in circles, pausing and looking around suspiciously when there was no sound to be heard, and firing his gun at nothing. The one part of SETH’s story the recording did confirm was the timing between shots and the fact that he was apparently under the house for nearly ten minutes even though SID could swear it was barely even two minutes.

Dr. Yarrow nodded in apparent understanding, and he explained that what they were dealing with under the house was a sort of localized time bubble. SID held his tongue. He didn’t have a better explanation, but his gut told him this guy was a fraud. SETH seemed to believe that Yarrow knew what he was talking about, and as SETH was a trained psychologist while SID was not, both agents knew better than to argue.

At any rate, the equipment was set up and ready to go, and Dr. Yarrow felt like getting a snack before it was time to get started. He took his leave, and the agents did the same. There was just one more thing SETH wanted to test before they left. He found an old, rusty hammer in the garage, and he used it to pry loose one of the wooden siding panels. The agents took it into the backyard along with the gasoline can from the Green Box. SETH poured out some of the gas onto the piece of siding and lit it.

There seemed to be some doubt concerning the combustibility of the house, and SETH felt this test would give him an answer. Well, it did. Sort of. The piece of siding did burn, but not in the way they expected. Only part of the board burned, and that part seemed to be spelling out three words: _HELL IS ME_. Then the paint began to peel, and the siding started to burn as expected.

Before it could burn much, SETH put the fire out and photographed the words with the camera on his phone. He then nailed the piece of siding back where he had found it, only he reversed it so that the words were on the inside. This left an obvious lack of paint, but that didn’t bother him.

It was time to get away from the house for a while. They had about three hours to kill before midnight.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 4a*

SETH and SID stopped at Burger King for milkshakes on their way to visit ROSE in the hospital. ROSE and RUBY felt it was a little rude that the guys didn’t bring any for them. With S-Cell there, Agent RUBY excused herself and returned to the hotel for some rest.

ROSE said that she was bored with sitting in a hospital bed with nothing to do, but SETH reminded her why she was there. Running off on your own is usually a bad plan. ROSE decided not to argue. Instead, she suggested something that might still allow her to play a part in the Opera even while confined to a bed: Connect Dr. Yarrow’s laptops through a Wi-Fi hotspot, and she could connect to them remotely through hers. That would allow her to monitor the cameras while the other three investigated the house.

Once visiting hours were over, SETH and SID headed back to the house. Dr. Yarrow had already returned, and he was waiting outside in his car. The three went in through the front door and checked on the equipment in the den. Everything looked operational, and Dr. Yarrow changed some settings so that Agent ROSE could connect.

They still had a couple hours before midnight, but the agents were anxious to get started. The reasoning was that just because midnight is prime ghost hunting time, the hours before and after weren’t necessarily bad times. The agents discussed plans, and Dr. Yarrow commented as he saw fit. SETH thought breaking the mirrors would be a good idea since the entity or entities seemed to be able to pass through them, but Dr. Yarrow cautioned against that plan. An intact mirror would serve them much better as a focus than shards of a broken one, and if the entity could in fact use mirrors to affect the living world, breaking one would only give it that many more windows.

SETH really had a bad feeling about the mirrors in the master bedroom, so he thought they should try to find a mirror somewhere else that they might use. The cardboard boxes in the den were a good place to start looking, so everyone took a box and started digging. No mirrors turned up, but at the bottom of one box, Agent SID found a few pages of sheet music; Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”. As a child, Agent SID had sat through lesson after lesson as his piano instructor had him play many classical pieces, and this happened to be one he remembered well. He began humming the melody as his eyes scanned the notes on the pages, and as he did so, he thought he could actually hear it playing however softly. SETH made no indication that he heard anything but the humming, but Dr. Yarrow stopped and canted his head and appeared to listen. It was hard to tell where the music was coming from, but it seemed to be from under the floor. It only lasted as long as the humming, and that was cut short.

The house shook slightly and the windows rattled as a loud blast came from the direction of the kitchen. The air had a smell that indicated nearby gunfire. When they went to investigate, they found the kitchen dark and empty. In a reflection in the window, Agent SETH saw a man in an old suit holding a shotgun. The kitchen in the reflection was similar, but the style seemed older. As he watched, the man muttered something and put the barrel into his mouth before pulling the trigger with his thumb. That was the very same scene Agent ROSE had just witnessed through her video feed.

SID called Dr. Yarrow to the kitchen to see if he could contact the spirit they believed must be George Cruise who had killed his wife and then himself with a shotgun in 1959. Dr. Yarrow brought his microcassette recorder, and he began asking questions of the spirit. He would then allow a pause in an attempt to capture the spirit’s voice on the tape.

When they had asked everything they wanted to ask, the three returned to the den. Dr. Yarrow still felt they would be more successful if they split up, and SID was more than willing to let him go off on his own, but Agent SETH wanted everyone to stick together. He didn’t want another “suicide” on his hands. Dr. Yarrow said that he was only there as a consultant, and he was just happy to finally experience the house first hand.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 4b*

The three stuck together, and they decided to investigate the house methodically. They would move clockwise starting opposite the master bedroom. They entered the hall just off the den and opened the first door on the left. It swung in to reveal an empty bedroom in the middle of redecorating. The wooden floor was bare except for a few sheets of plastic in a corner. There was a step ladder in the corner as well, and a few cans of light blue paint which had been open for quite some time. The paint was congealed. The white and brown striped wallpaper was only removed about halfway around the room, and underneath that could be seen a blue wallpaper with cartoon boats.

What Agent SID saw when he stepped in the room was a little different. Instead, he saw all four walls were papered with the cartoon boat wallpaper. Instead of paint cans and a step ladder, he saw a child’s bed and a dresser. This vision faded after a few moments, and as no one else seemed to see the same thing, SID decided to keep it to himself.

The group moved on to the next room which was also a bedroom. There was no closet door, but there were tracks to indicate a sliding door would go there. Like most of the other rooms in the house, the floor of this room was hard wood with a long-faded polish. It was unfurnished, but in the center of the room was an ugly, lime green shag rug.

Agent SETH stepped into the room and grabbed an end of the rug with one hand. As he gave it a tug, he felt resistance, and almost immediately, he noticed the rug was soaking wet. It began to emanate a horrible smell. The agents could identify it as the smell of a corpse rotting in stagnant water.

SETH pulled harder, and the center of the rug began to rise off the floor. He let go and stepped back. The green rug rose until its edges were barely touching the floor, and then it began to shake gently. The nasty, stagnant water splattered everything within a radius of about three feet. This included Agent SID who didn’t know quite how to react to all of this. His mind slipped ever so slightly, and his instincts took over. In this case, his instinct told him that Dr. Yarrow did this sort of thing for a living, and that his best chance of survival was to do what the doctor did.

Dr. Yarrow looked from the floating rug to Agent SETH as if for confirmation that he was seeing the same thing. So did Agent SID. Agent SETH nodded, and so Dr. Yarrow turned back to the rug. So did Agent SID. Dr. Yarrow crept closer and held his thermal imaging camera toward the rug. Agent SID crept closer as well, and he held out his audio recorder.

SETH decided this was a bad idea, and he grabbed ahold of SID’s arm, but SID easily pulled free. He was convinced that his survival and safety depended on mimicking the parapsychologist. Dr. Yarrow expressed his excitement at capturing a definite paranormal event. So did Agent SID. After a few moments, the rug slowly descended and eventually returned to its former state, though it was still wet and smelled of death.

SID’s senses returned, and he backed out of the room. Dr. Yarrow followed, and they proceeded down the hall. The next door was a linen closet. The door after that was all the way at the end of the hall. It opened into yet another bedroom much like the previous one, only this room had no rug. There were tack strips where a rug would go.

As the group entered, they were assaulted by overpowering stench. Dr. Yarrow smelled garbage, like a dump packed into one small room, and so he jumped back into the hall. Agent SETH smelled burning hair, and it was so strong that he had to step into the hall with the doctor just to keep his milkshake down. Agent SID smelled concentrated vomit, but he covered his mouth and nose, and he made his way across the room to open the window. That did nothing to disperse the smell, and as a result, he lost the contents of his stomach into the backyard. He then ran straight for the hall.

Once out of the room, the three could breathe easily. It seemed confined to the room itself. Agent ROSE texted SETH to ask just what was going on. She had been watching the video feed, and it was obvious something had happened.

SETH sent her a quick reply as the three made their way out to the cars. It was time to regroup, and SID needed a nice, long break. They still had thirty minutes until midnight.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 5a*

Agent SID was still quite shaken up, and even SETH’s skill as a psychologist only gave minimal help. Agent SETH was going back into the house, but he told SID to stay in the car and calm down. SID nodded and seemed to shiver despite the fact that the night wasn’t particularly cold.

Dr. Yarrow headed back up to the house, and Agent SETH followed. As the men reached the front door, the car engine roared to life. SETH spun around hoping his eyes could deny what his ears had told him, and he felt his pocket for the car keys. He found them which meant that Agent SID had found another way to start the car.

SETH growled as he killed the engine with a press of a button on his key chain, and he stomped through the yard toward the car. SID only blinked at the steering wheel in disbelief and slow comprehension. Agent SETH opened the passenger door and leaned in. He demanded to know just what the other INSCOM agent was thinking, and why the ignition was broken.

“I just … I need to go,” was SID’s reply. “Need to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll call you a cab, and it’ll take you back to the hotel, but you don’t need to damage the rental car.”

SID just nodded again. He noticed a light come on in a house next to the one they were investigating, but he thought nothing of it. SETH called for a cab, and then he went back up to the house. As soon as he was inside, SID once again tried to start the car.

Agent SETH told Dr. Yarrow to start setting up for a séance on the dining room table. The doctor began to unpack one of his bags, but all the while he tried making a case for using the master bedroom. He said he could feel energy in that room, and he thought it was their best chance. This house was starting to get on SETH’s bad side, and he wanted to get this Opera finished soon, even if it meant séances or Ouija boards. He did not, however, want to go near the master bedroom.

Dr. Yarrow set up his silk table cloth, white candles and incense as Agent SETH watched for the cab. Rather than a taxi, he saw a Laconia police cruiser pull up behind his rental car. He quickly blew out the candles and told Dr. Yarrow to get down.

Agent SID didn’t notice the police cruiser because he was too intent on getting the car hotwired. There was a knock on the driver’s window, and he looked up to see a police officer holding a flashlight. The officer asked him to step out of the vehicle, but he replied that the door was locked. The officer wasn’t in the mood for games, but he could tell there was something off about SID.

He instructed the agent to unlock the door and step out slowly. SID did as he was told, and he provided his INSCOM badge when asked for identification. 

The officer asked what SID was doing with the vehicle, and he replied that it was his rental car, and he needed to get home. He provided the name of the hotel and his room number when asked for his residence. SID showed the rental agreement and told the officer that his partner had the keys, but he was in the house.

After a few more brief questions, Agent SID had told the officer that his partner, another INSCOM agent, was in the house investigating a haunting and possible murder, and he had managed to secure a ride back to the hotel from the officer.

Agent SETH and Dr. Yarrow used the time to sneak out the back door, through yards, and over to the next street. He heard the officer say something into his radio about backup at 1206 Spooner Avenue for a possible Breaking and Entering or Trespassing, but he advised dispatch that a preliminary survey turned up only silence and darkness. A moment later, Agent SID was in the back of the police cruiser and being taken away.

A moment after that, a taxi pulled up and honked its horn. This caused lights to come on in the other houses in the neighborhood. SETH cursed under his breath and called the cab company to cancel the taxi. A moment later, the cab drove off with squealing tires.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 5b*

Agent ROSE got sick of sitting in her hospital bed, and so she disconnected herself from the IV, and without bothering to change out of her hospital gown, she managed to sneak out. She called for a cab to meet her out front, and then she texted Agent SETH to let him know she was on her way to the house. He replied that he thought she needed to stay in the hospital, but if she felt up to it, he’d be glad to have another person around.

When the cab arrived, she gave the address of the house, and the driver narrowed his eyes. He had apparently just been there on a call, but no one came out, and it was only after he’d arrived that the call came in to cancel the ride. ROSE offered to pay that fare also as well as tip generously if he could get her there in five minutes. The cabbie was all too happy to oblige.

SETH sent ROSE another quick text to ask her to get his rifle case from the car trunk on her way up to the house. After paying the cabbie and watching him leave, she retrieved the case and headed up to the front door. Almost as soon as the door shut behind her, two police cruisers pulled up, and four officers got out.

Agent SETH looked around for a place to hide, and his eyes settled up the stairs to the bonus room above the garage.

“Follow me. Up the stairs, quick!”

He led the way, but as he was about halfway up the stairs, he heard footsteps in the room above. The footsteps hurried down the stairs, but nothing seemed to be making the sound. A force shoved SETH into the wall as it flew downstairs, and a moment later, Dr. Yarrow was tumbling backwards into Agent ROSE. They both hit the ground pretty hard, but they hadn’t made it up more than a few steps, so no one was injured. SETH came back down to help them up, and the three hurried up the stairs. Dr. Yarrow closed and locked the door behind them.

The agents scanned the small, cramped room with sloped ceiling. There was a large, round window with wooden slats overlooking the street where the police cruisers were parked. A small bed sat only an inch or so off the floor almost wedged into the angle where the ceiling met the floor. A rocking chair sat opposite the bed. It rocked slowly on its own, but it gradually stopped.

The only other thing of interest was possibly the most important; definitely the most disturbing. Lying face down in the middle of the tiny room was a male body. It looked very much like Agent SID. It was dressed the same, and Agent SETH noticed it wore SID’s watch. He checked the body for identification without rolling it over, and he discovered an INSCOM badge.

He was sure the house was messing with them somehow because he’d just seen Agent SID taken away by the police only about ten minutes earlier, but this was a fact he failed to mention to the others.

They could hear footsteps downstairs but not much else. Dr. Yarrow paused with a puzzled look on his face, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Anybody else smell something?”

The agents realized they could smell gas. It was faint at first, but it got gradually stronger. Agent SETH opened the window and began removing the wooden slats as quickly and quietly as he could. As he worked, the three became aware of what sounded like a woman’s voice humming. It seemed to be coming from the body on the floor, and the tune was familiar. It was the tune Agent SID hummed earlier when he had found the sheet music; Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”.

Agent ROSE asked the body what it wanted, and the humming stopped momentarily. Agent SID’s voice seemed to come from the body, but it remained motionless.

“Rest now. We’re home.”

The voice went back to humming, and it got louder, and ROSE heard a voice downstairs directing attention toward the stairs. Footsteps came up the stairs, and the doorknob jiggled. Then the door and the whole room shook. Someone on the other side – presumably a police officer – was kicking or putting a shoulder into the door.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 5c*

Stealth was still a concern for the agents, but it was quickly dropping down the priority list. Agent SETH waited for the next hit to the door, and he used it to cover the sound of his smashing the remaining wooden slats and climbing out onto the roof.

The angle of the roof was a little steeper than it looked from the ground, but SETH managed to keep his footing. Dr. Yarrow panicked and dove head-first out the window, and it was all SETH could do to catch him and keep them both from sliding off into the yard. Agent ROSE followed them out, and the three moved out of view of the window and higher up the roof just as they heard the door smash open.

They sat in silence for a few long minutes. No one peeked out the window. No one climbed out onto the roof. Eventually, they saw all four police officers return to their cars and drive off empty-handed. They hadn’t taken the body from the upstairs room, and they hadn’t taken any of the equipment from downstairs. They just left.

The agents and Dr. Yarrow waited a while longer just in case, and then Agent SETH climbed back down to the window. He nearly lost his footing when he looked inside and came face to face with Agent SID. The rocking chair was facing the window, and Agent SID was seated in it, rocking gently back and forth. His throat was cut, and his chest was covered in blood and gore, but there was still a smile on his face as he looked back into SETH’s startled eyes.

As he rocked back, SID’s head rolled sickeningly, and fresh torrents of blood would flow down his chest to pool on the floor. Agent SETH turned away for just a moment, looking up to make sure ROSE and Dr. Yarrow were okay. When he looked back, the rocking chair was back where it had been originally, the body was gone, and there was no blood. There was also no longer a smell of gas, and the door was still closed.

The three climbed back inside and discussed what to do. While they talked, SETH lifted the mattress of the bed revealing a small, leather bound journal. ROSE picked it up and flipped it open to find 50 pages or so of cramped, handwritten Arabic.

Agent SETH had been an interrogator in Afghanistan, and while his command of the written Arabic language wasn’t perfect, he managed to translate a significant portion of the journal. It had belonged to Yamilla Isari, the house’s most recent owner. It detailed her stay in the house from the day she moved in right up until a day or so before she died.

The journal described how she had fallen in love with the house, and how one day she had seen a young boy walking around. He had blue-white skin, and he dripped water everywhere he went. This unnerved her at first, but she apparently got used to it. She also wrote about how she got a very bad feeling from the master bedroom, and she refused to go in there. Near the end, she had taken to sleeping in the small upstairs room. The last entry said simply “I understand why I came here now. I’m home.”

Agent SETH had apparently had enough of this house. He told Dr. Yarrow to get his things and head to the master bedroom. They were going to have the séance in there, and they were going to finish this. He took the rocking chair downstairs with him and headed for the room full of mirrors. Dr. Yarrow got his bag and followed. Agent ROSE wasn’t too thrilled about returning to that room, and so she excused herself saying that she needed to visit the restroom first. SETH told her to be careful, and to yell if anything happened.

When the men stepped into the bedroom, the full effect of the mirrors and energy hit them. It felt almost as if they were under water. The doctor said he could feel a strong energy in the room, but he was getting a mild headache. SETH’s head hurt a little, too.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 5d*

Dr. Yarrow helped SETH move a coffee table from the den, and they covered it with the silk table cloth. SETH set up candles and began lighting them while Dr. Yarrow said he’d set up the incense burners. After lighting the last candle, SETH got a bad feeling. He looked up and felt the disorientation of the mirrors, but he also saw Dr. Yarrow standing behind him with one arm raised. He held something in his hand, and he swung it down at SETH.

The INSCOM agent whirled around and attempted to grab the doctor’s arm, but he was unsuccessful. The doctor grinned wildly as the straight razor caught SETH in the collarbone and neck. ROSE turned the corner and appeared in the doorway just in time to see what looked like gallons of blood spray around the room as if SETH’s neck was a lawn sprinkler.

She took out her phone and dialed 911. She informed the dispatcher that a man with a razor was assaulting her friend at 1206 Spooner Avenue. The dispatcher asked why her phone was indicating the call was coming from the Dominican Republic, and ROSE yelled at her. Her friend had been cut on or around his neck, and blood was everywhere. She didn’t have time to discuss telephone call routing with someone whose job it was to send emergency services.

Dr. Yarrow laughed in an old woman’s voice, and he swung once more at Agent SETH. The razor missed, but the swing came so close that SETH felt he could almost taste it. ROSE took the opportunity to catch the doctor off balance and tackle him, but he spun quickly, and she missed.

The doctor grabbed her and shoved her into a mirror … literally. From Agent SETH’s perspective, ROSE seemed to be tossed through the mirror to land on the other side; no more physical representation, only what should be a reflection.

From Agent ROSE’s perspective, it was like falling through a hole in a frozen lake. She was surrounded by bone-chilling darkness, and she was enveloped by something thicker than water. Her first instinct was to simply freeze, but she managed to will herself into action. She was slowly sinking away from the blurry light that was the master bedroom, and she felt that if she didn’t get back to that light, she might be lost forever.

Agent SETH charged Dr. Yarrow and drove him across the room. He shoved the doctor through the window and out into the yard. Dr. Yarrow laid still in the glass and grass blinking up at the sky. SETH couldn’t find any trace of the straight-razor, but somehow he wasn’t surprised.

ROSE swam toward the light with all the strength she could muster. She ignored the pain in her shoulder, and with an almost heroic effort, she managed to spill herself back out into the room. She was covered in a thick, cold slime, but at least she was back. In the house. In the master bedroom of the house. She stood up quickly, and smashed every mirror in the room with the rocking chair.

The agents then quickly made their way outside, and Dr. Yarrow once more slipped through yards to reach the next street as the neighborhood was lit with blue and red lights, and echoing with sirens. The ambulance sped Agent SETH off toward the hospital, and ROSE followed as soon as her taxi arrived. It was the same driver as before, and she tipped him extra to ignore the slime. She managed to slip back into the hospital unnoticed, get cleaned up, and get back into her bed before the doctors made their next set of rounds.

Agents RUBY and SID were in no hurry to get back to the house, and so they took things easy at the hotel for a few days. In the meantime, the antique dealer called back with some information: Isabelle Wheeler’s piano was in her store, a coffee table from the original estate sale was in the possession of a woman right there in Laconia, and a wardrobe from that same estate sale was owned by a man about an hour south in Manchester. SID decided he’d probably get around to checking out those leads before long, but for now, he’d take a rest. He’d check things out before SETH and ROSE got out of the hospital, for sure. Probably.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 6a*

A few days later, Agent SID managed to motivate himself to renew the investigation while his associates were still hospitalized. Agent RUBY indicated rather strongly that she had done her part by passing along the information from the antique dealer. SID could do what he wanted while the two cell leaders were out of commission, but she was staying put.

SID headed first to the antique shop to examine the piano. His parents had spent a lot of money making him take lessons, and though it had been a while, he felt this would be a good opportunity to see if he still had the same talent of which his teacher had bragged.

When he entered the shop, there were a few customers browsing, but it seemed like a quiet morning. SID immediately spotted the 1930s-era Baldwin Upright Piano with a mirrored backstop. He took a seat at the bench and laced his fingers together, pushing the palms out to stretch. He then began to play the one piece he knew for a fact Isabelle Wheeler had played on this very piano; Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”.

Though he hadn’t played it in many years, his fingers glided effortlessly over the keys with flawless confidence as if he’d played it every day of his life. The other customers took note initially, but then they returned to their browsing. Agent SID happened to glance at the mirrored backstop, and he was surprised to see not his reflection, but that of a woman in a white dressing gown. He paused for only a second or two, and he hardly noticed that the reflection as well as the piano itself continued to play the piece.

SID was so caught up in the moment that without really thinking, he resumed playing. He was so absorbed by the music that he ignored the sound of something dropping by his feet. So carried away was he, in fact, that he had no time to react when the woman in the reflection grinned maliciously and reached down. He found himself reaching down as well, mirroring the woman’s action.

He couldn’t stop himself as he picked up the object at his feet. His will was not his own as he watched his own hand draw the straight razor across his throat. He managed the slightest twitch which saved him momentarily as the razor only drew a trickle of blood. He was horrified however when whoever or whatever had taken possession of his body exerted a will so inhumanly strong that he couldn’t hope to resist.

Once more, and with the full strength of his alien-crafted right arm, he drew the razor back across his throat directly opposite the scar left by Toby the junkyard dog. The razor dug deeply, and SID felt his entire life force gush from his neck. He dropped from the bench and hit the ground hard, but he never felt it.

Agent SETH was awake in his hospital bed and recovering nicely. The local news had a reporter live on the scene of a grizzly suicide attempt at one of the many antique stores in Laconia. According to the account given by the shop owner, the unidentified man had entered and walked straight over to the piano against the store’s far wall. He sat down and played a beautiful piece which the shop owner believed to have been Beethoven, or maybe Bach; definitely classical, and definitely something she’d heard before.

The man had stopped abruptly, produced a knife of some sort, and cut his own throat. The shop owner said she screamed, and by the grace of God, one of the customers happened to be a paramedic who was able to give the man immediate medical attention while the ambulance was on its way. There was no word yet on the man’s identity, nor of his condition though he was still alive at the moment he was taken away by the ambulance.

SETH muttered an unflattering epithet under his breath. Oh, there was only one person stupid enough to do something like that; well, one person not already in a hospital bed. His suspicions were confirmed several hours later when Agent SID’s unconscious form was wheeled into the room.

All three agents got another week of rest before SETH and ROSE were well enough to leave the hospital. It was about that time when SID finally regained consciousness. The three shared a special moment there in the hospital room; SID bleary-eyed and pumped full of painkillers, SETH glaring with disapproval, and ROSE trying to find words to express her feelings. Fortunately for everyone within earshot, those words either didn’t exist, or they were too vile and profane to be uttered by a human tongue.

Instead, SETH and ROSE simply walked out of the room. Agent SETH headed to Manchester to meet up with Dr. Yarrow. The two were going to visit the owner of the wardrobe from the Wheeler estate sale. ROSE had paperwork to fill out, and then she planned to get real food.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 6b*

Agent SETH arrived at the University about a half hour later, and Dr. Yarrow met him in the parking lot. The two headed to the address provided by the antique dealer. It was the home of an older man. He was short but stocky with a full head of white hair and dark-rimmed glasses.

SETH and Yarrow explained that they were doing a documentary on the Wheeler house, and they had received his name from someone familiar with pieces from the original estate sale. The man was happy to let them come in to take a look. He was in the middle of washing dishes, so he left them to examine the wardrobe alone.

It was in a spare bedroom, and it seemed to be made of a dark wood, or at least stained darkly. Neither man knew much about furniture or antiques. The cabinet of the wardrobe was about three feet deep and nearly seven feet tall. It stood on four legs which added to this height.

SETH opened the doors of the wardrobe to find that it was empty, but there was a full-sized mirror on the insides of each door. He immediately covered them with spare blankets. Dr. Yarrow examined the outside of the wardrobe while Agent SETH checked the empty interior for false bottoms, secret compartments, and the like. He didn’t find any, but he noticed that when he placed a bit of pressure on the back wall of the cabinet, the interior seemed to stretch. There was no sound, and it wasn’t as if the back wall actually moved. The pressure simply seemed to make the space larger.

He pushed again with the same result. A third push extended the interior space at least ten feet deep; easily beyond the wall of the room. Dr. Yarrow confirmed that the outside remained the same, and there was still about three inches of clearance between the wardrobe and the wall.

The doctor came around the front and was a little surprised to see SETH twenty feet or so away and stretching the cabinet space further. He stepped in and closed the doors most of the way until the blankets wedged them open so that a thick sliver of light filtered through.

Not long after, they heard a woman’s voice out in the room speaking in Italian. It sounded more like she was reading aloud or reciting something prepared rather than conversing. SETH turned on his audio recorder and held it to the doors, but neither man dared to peek out.

When the woman finished, they could hear a booming male voice.

“Chi chiama il mio nome?”

Neither man spoke Italian, but ROSE had been able to use her computer to translate before. SETH continued to record, and they would find out just what they were hearing later.

A second woman’s voice could be heard begging in English for someone, presumably the male, to not do what he was about to do.

“Scriverete il vostro nome nel libro nero,” came the male voice.

There was a blood-curdling scream, and then all was silent. Eventually, the two men peeked out into the room. It was just as it should have been, and there was no evidence of any others. They could hear the old man in the kitchen whistling as he washed his dishes. Apparently, he hadn’t heard anything.

SETH and Dr. Yarrow thanked the man for his time, and they headed back to Laconia. Dr. Yarrow drove, and SETH took the opportunity to email his recording to ROSE who was happy to translate.

It seemed the first woman was calling for someone she referred to as “the Dark Man.” She said she had made the necessary offerings, and if the Dark Man would present himself, he could claim his payment; two freely given souls.

The male voice had said something like “Who calls my name?” The first voice identified herself as Adele DiVittelo, the Man’s humble servant. She gave the second name as Isabelle Wheeler which was when the pleading in English began.

The Dark Man then said something like “You shall sign your name in the black book.”

That gave SETH and the doctor something to think about on their drive. When they reached Laconia, they headed to the address of the owner of the coffee table. The owner was an older lady, and the two men appeared to be interrupting tea time.

Agent SETH was convincing and charming enough that the woman allowed them in to examine the table. She even moved the tea party to the kitchen to give them room. SETH was a professionally trained psychologist, however, and it was painfully obvious to him that the woman’s motives weren’t out of courtesy or generosity. The women moved to the kitchen so they could watch from a distance and gossip out of earshot. This suited SETH just fine.

The table was made of the same wood as the wardrobe, and the dark stain would match. The entire center of the table was taken up by an intricate design. A triskelion, or triple spiral, marked the surface. The table surface was composed of three slats, and when SETH examined them closely, he noticed there were very slightly misaligned. He gave the center slat a firm push, and he was rewarded with a soft click. Inside the base of the table were three objects each tied down with rotting leather ropes.

There was a very sharp bronze knife, a bronze bowl which also had the triskelion design, and a leather-bound journal. Agent SETH discretely pocketed all of these items before thanking the gossiping old women for their time. He and the doctor left quickly.


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## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 6c*

ROSE called SETH to let him know she was heading to the house. He asked her to wait outside since he and Dr. Yarrow were also on their way. The three of them met outside the Spooner Avenue house and briefly discussed the items found inside the table. SETH had only a few minutes to skim the journal, but that was enough time to determine it had been written by Isabelle Wheeler, and it detailed a period of nearly thirty years.

Isabelle Wheeler had been dying of an unknown wasting illness when Adele DiVettelo was hired to mend the curtains and other cloth items in the house. The journal detailed the old woman’s proposition as well. She claimed Isabelle’s sickness could be cured as long as she was willing to pay the price. Anything was preferable to a slow, painful death, and Isabelle had agreed.

The old woman had called forth the Dark Man, and the women both pledged themselves to him. Almost overnight, Isabelle’s disease faded, and she lived a quiet and healthy life until one night in 1955 when the Dark Man returned. He demanded that she finally fulfill her end of their deal by signing her name in his black book.

She refused, and the Dark Man revoked the health he had returned to her nearly thirty years earlier. Isabelle Wheeler’s last entry was in a very shaky hand, and it said simply that she could feel all the agony she’d avoided for three decades. She cursed the Dark Man and swore she’d never be his.

One other interesting piece of the journal detailed the spell the old woman had used to call the Dark Man, and it included a chant for dismissing him. It seemed that the only way to be sure of cleansing the house was to call the Dark Man and force him out, but SETH wasn’t sure that was a good idea. If he was really so much more powerful than the entity which had nearly killed three seasoned Delta Green agents, and had caused so much death and misery over the last 55 years, then how could they really expect to banish him? If they couldn’t get an angry spirit to leave, how could they expect to force out a demon, or as the journal called him, a god?

Agent ROSE had had enough of this house, and she took all of this personally. She felt that with the help of the journal, they could force out the Dark Man. All they had to do was find out what the spell required. They all went inside, and SETH set the bowl and knife on the table in the master bedroom which was still covered with Dr. Yarrow’s silk cloth. He then looked closer at the spell.

There seemed to be two ways to call the Dark Man. The first method wasn’t guaranteed. They could sacrifice many animals using the knife and bowl while speaking the words of the spell, and then have two people willing to give themselves to the Dark Man should he appear.

The second method, according to the journal would absolutely call him forth. That method required only the sacrifice of an innocent human in the name of the Dark Man while the words of the spell were recited. There was a spirited debate on just how to go about this.

SETH wasn’t willing to let anyone die just so they could call forth a being he felt they couldn’t possibly force out anyway. ROSE felt that with all the death that had come before, one more in the name of ending it for good was worth it. There was a big argument over the morality and ethics of a single murder to prevent many future deaths.

In the end, ROSE excused herself to visit the bathroom while SETH went to the den fuming. While in the bathroom, ROSE called to order a pizza from Papa John’s. She offered to pay double if it could be delivered as soon as possible. She gave her former codename from when she was in S-Cell; SAM. She then rejoined the others in the den.

When the doorbell rang, SETH answered the door. On the porch was a high school kid of about 18. He told SETH he had a pizza for someone named Sam. SETH told the kid there was no one there by that name, and he should just leave. Behind SETH, Agent ROSE waved a $20 bill and said “That’s me! I’m Sam!”

“No. No, you aren’t.”

“Oh, I am, too! And that’s my pizza!”

ROSE tried to get the kid to come in for a minute, but SETH blocked the door. Eventually, ROSE settled for throwing the money outside and having SETH accept the pizza. SETH watched the kid walk back toward his car, and ROSE used that opportunity to hide the bowl and knife.

SETH closed the door and yelled to ROSE that there was absolutely no way he was allowing her to kill that kid, but ROSE made a break for the garage. SETH gave chase, but as soon as ROSE was in the garage, the door to the house closed and locked on its own. The old garage door opener sprung to life of its own accord as well. Agent ROSE ran out yelling to the kid.

“Wait! You have to help me! Please, he’s crazy!”

“That guy? Is he dangerous?!”

“Yes. He has a gun! Please, come here! You have to help me!”

“No way, ma’am! Come with me, and I can take you somewhere safe.”


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Session 6d*

Finding that he couldn’t get out through the garage, SETH ran through the master bedroom and climbed out the window into the backyard. ROSE could hear him coming, and she knew she needed to get this kid inside fast, but all she could think to do was to lift her shirt.

That definitely got the kid’s attention, and he took a few steps her direction. That’s when SETH came running around the corner displaying his badge and gun, and yelling for the kid to get his hands up, back away, and leave.

The life of a high schooler can be full of difficult choices, and here was one of those. On the one hand, there was easily one of the most attractive women he’d ever seen lifting her shirt and calling to him. On the other hand, there was a man who was probably her angry boyfriend or husband waving a badge, pointing a gun, and shouting.

The badge and gun won out, and the kid backed away. No sooner was he was in his car than he was out of the neighborhood. Crisis averted, SETH glared at ROSE. Agent ROSE just smiled and called Little Caesar’s.

That was enough for SETH. He put away his gun and badge, and he told ROSE he wasn’t having anything to do with what she was planning. As he headed to his rental car, he held up the journal and sarcastically wished her luck.

Agent ROSE shrugged and went inside to wait. She figured she didn’t need the journal since SETH had already sent her audio of the spell being cast. She was going to try it with the recording. When the delivery driver arrived, ROSE invited him in to wait a minute while she got her money. When the driver was inside and turned his back, she slipped behind him, cut his throat with the knife and caught the blood with the bowl. She then hit play on the recording and waited to see what happened. All the while, Dr. Yarrow was in another room carefully reviewing his camera feeds from the past few days.

After a moment, a large figure appeared before ROSE. He was at least eight feet tall with jet black skin and only a vaguely male body shape. There were no nipples, no genitalia, and instead of a face, the Dark Man had a large horn. He had no mouth, but his voice boomed from somewhere.

“Who calls my name?”

“That would be me.”

ROSE raised her hand. She seemed for all the world as if this sort of thing was simply an everyday occurrence.

“Why have you called me?”

“I’ve made the offering, and now I want what you gave Adele DiVettelo.”

“You’ve yet to make a true offering. This was merely enough to get my attention. Now … Why have you called me?!”

He gestured to the dead delivery driver as his volume increased.

“I want to sign your book, and then I want what you gave Adele DiVettelo.”

The Dark Man produced a black book and a quill from thin air and held it open for her. She signed the name of Adele DiVettelo.

“I already have that one, and she is not yours to give! Do not waste my time.”

ROSE nodded once more and signed the name of Dr. Emil Yarrow. The Dark Man said nothing but turned to face the doctor. As if hearing someone calling his name, the doctor looked up. He stood and walked into the room to look up at the Dark Man.

“I don’t understand,” were his only words.

He stood in silence for a moment more, and ROSE saw that his eyes were glazed over. She stabbed the bronze knife for his heart at the same time he swung a straight razor at her neck. They both missed and reset their footing. Dr. Yarrow’s movements were mechanical and almost puppet-like. He seemed to have only one goal: Slice the throat of Agent ROSE.

Dr. Yarrow swung again and drew blood, but ROSE kept fighting. The vicious, bloody, and deadly dance continued for nearly a minute before the next hit. Agent ROSE drove the knife deep into the doctor’s heart, and he collapsed dead.

The Dark Man nodded and closed his book.

“So be it, Gia.”

Agent ROSE was a little disturbed to hear her real name spoken by this being, but she didn’t let it show. She stood up straight and spoke with confidence.

“I want what you gave Adele DiVettelo, and I want you to go and never return.”

“Very well. You have the Crone’s blessing, and I relinquish my claim to this ground. Always watch for me, Gia Jones, for I will come to you again.”

With that, the Dark Man was gone, and the heavy feeling in the house left with him. Now there was simply the matter of destroying and altering evidence. That was a Delta Green agent’s area of expertise.

SETH was long gone, and ROSE made her way home as well. Agent SID was so drugged up on hospital painkillers that he had no idea anything had changed, and no one had bothered to let RUBY know the curtain had fallen on easily the bloodiest Opera of their brief careers.


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## pogre

Wow! I've read this entire thread and it reads like a great game. I have not picked up Delta Green, but I have heard gushing reviews and your story hour has definitely got me interested. I have a few questions, if you do not mind the intrusion on your story flow:

1. Do you create these adventures or are you running published materials? If it is published, would you mind sharing the name of it? If it is your own design would you mind talking a bit about how you create scenarios?

2. It seems like your PCs go off the beaten (intended) path constantly. Do you find yourself ad-libbing regularly? How much familiarity do you have with the areas where the adventures take place?

3. The PCs die on a regular basis, not something I mind - just an observation. What is character creation like - is it very involved? Do PCs act fatalistic or cavalier towards the dangers they face?

4. How do you encourage your PCs to be proactive - if there's a lull in the game do you just throw more things at them or do you let them stew and try to figure it out?

5. Your profile says you are from Alaska. Are there a lot of gamers up there? Is getting folks together to play a non-mainstream game difficult? I'm in the middle of Illinois and it would be a little bit of challenge for me to find the right players for a game like this.

Finally, I mostly wanted to say good job on spinning a very enjoyable story hour. You know, ten years ago this story would have had tons of comments and lots of encouraging posts, but sadly in the last few years this forum has faded into the background largely. I hope you keep writing, because this is really fun stuff and I find your game fascinating.


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## Audrik

I don't mind the intrusion at all. In fact, I welcome it. I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it. Call of Cthulhu has always been a favorite of mine, and Delta Green is an amazing setting. To answer your questions:

1. What I've run so far has been published material with moderate to heavy modification in some cases. The Operation titles are the actual scenario titles, and I can give you the sources if you're interested. I have written plenty of scenarios for previous groups, and I'll probably use them with this one soon. I haven't so far because Agent SETH's player has played in previous Delta Green games of mine, and he'd likely recognize some things. As of the end of Music From A Darkened Room, he is dropping out, and we have at least one new player to take his place.

When I run completely original scenarios, they are usually pretty heavily improvised. I tend to start with an idea like a particular entity, location, or theme. I then lead the characters toward an event, whether it's placing them at the actual event, having them stumble across evidence, or (as is the case with most Delta Green Operas), a mission briefing of some sort. I find that if I don't know what happened, my players will usually write the story for me as long as I listen to them. They like to develop theories and bounce them around, and a lot of the time, I'll pick something that sounds good and go with it.

At the same time, I do like tight, well-developed plots, too, so I do actually write some things out. I've found that my players love handouts like newspaper clippings, sample journal entries, etc ... and so I'll work those up when I have a chance. The Killer Out of Space is one where I did quite a lot of that. I wrote up lots of newspaper and magazine articles to set up the space shuttle story.

2. My players are very creative. They also play their sanity well. SETH and RUBY have high sanity, and they act reasonably calm, serious, and practical. SID and ROSE used to have decent sanity, and when they did, they were the same. As their scores dropped, they began to play their characters more chaotically and out of the box. I keep a spreadsheet with a chart to track the sanity of the group.

I tend to do quite a bit of ad-libbing, but that's something I've done for a long time, and I'm quite comfortable with it. As long as I know my NPCs and my setting, I'm good. Most of the time, my players can't tell the written bits from the parts made up on the spot. Before every Opera, I decide on a location, and I do a fair amount of research. The more it seems I know about the location, the more realistic the game seems, and realism is an important part of horror role playing.

3. I make sure all of my players understand that Call of Cthulhu is in a cold and uncaring universe, and as such I am very fair but also uncaring. They know I won't actively try to kill them, but I won't save them either. That adds to the realism, but it also builds their trust in me. At the end of the Opera in New Mexico where four of the six characters died, three of the players immediately said "My next character is going to be <insert government agency/military branch>", and the fourth said "Here's my backup character." If that was a D&D game, the players may not have come back the next week.

The mechanics of character creation are pretty quick, but my players like to put some effort into character and background. They absolutely want their characters to survive and to win, and so they don't generally act quickly or take unnecessary risks except when roleplaying low sanity.

4. With this game, I like to let them take their time and think, but every once in a while, they need a little kick. In those cases, I might have an NPC say something off-handedly, but I prefer to let bad things start to happen so they feel urgency.

5. There is a pretty decent pool of players up here. The GM pool is a little thin, but I've always preferred that side of things anyway, and I generally get positive feedback. There are tons of Pathfinder games going around, so players look to me for something different. Agent SID's player moved here from Illinois just a little before joining the group, actually. And this is his first tabletop game.

Thank you very much for your readership and support. I do appreciate it. I'm not sure my players would let me quit running this game if I wanted to, and as long as I'm running it, you can be sure I'll keep writing it up. Please feel free to comment or ask questions any time.


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## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Agent SID's Epilogue*

Agent SID rested comfortably in his hospital bed experiencing everything through a morphine haze. For what could have been hours, days, or even weeks, he drifted almost seamlessly in and out of consciousness. One moment, he was in the hospital, and the next, he was in a vivid dream. He began to get used to the transitions, and he even welcomed them. The blur between reality and dream was something his mind needed right now.

Hospital, dream, hospital, dream … field? Did he skip consciousness in favor of another dream? His dreams had become so vivid that he really had no way to tell. Up until just now, he’d been considering everything related to the hospital to be “reality”, and everything else to be “dream”. While the lines were quite blurred, there had been a noticeable flow from one to the other. This time, either he skipped reality and went to another dream, or this field was real.

It was warm, the grass was green, and the blue sky was sparsely decorated by various cloud shapes. From the hilltop, he could see deep valleys, rivers, forests, and mountains. This couldn’t be real since the last he knew, it was … November? December? It was … oh, he didn’t really care. This seemed real enough, and it was definitely peaceful.

SID found a dry spot in the grass and flowers with a flat rock. He laid back with his hands behind his head and his fingers laced using the rock as a pillow, and he watched the clouds roll by. It was so peaceful that he almost dozed off. If this was a dream, could he still fall asleep? Did it really matter?

He heard a dull, emotionless voice, but he couldn’t be sure where it had come from. It seemed to be all around, and yet nowhere.

“Subject damaged … stabilized … sub-optimal.”

SID blinked a few times, but he continued to relax and watch the clouds. The voice spoke again.

“Sub-optimal … frail … recommend full conversion …”

The voice was almost definitely coming from in his head, almost like a radio signal he couldn’t quite pin down. He hoped the voice wasn’t talking about him. Sub-optimal and frail weren’t words typically attributed to him. He was U.S. Army Intelligence. He was INSCOM “Black” Ops. Damn it, he was Delta Green.

“Delta Green … The one called Drake was correct …”

SID instinctively tried to shut off his mind for a moment. The voice heard his thoughts? Was the voice another of his thoughts? Stop thinking, Cramer. Stop thinking just in case.

A second voice spoke inside his head. This one was very similar, yet it was definitely distinct.

“Subject’s thoughts are erratic … chaotic … dangerous … recommend termination …”

Uh oh. He may or may not have actually been on a hilltop watching clouds. Reality and dream were seeming less and less distinct. His work for Delta Gr-- … His work may have pushed him over the edge. He wasn’t sure what “full conversion” was, but he knew damned well that he didn’t want termination. He was helpless, but he secretly rooted for the first voice to win out.

“Erratic … chaotic … dangerous … but valuable …”

“Too dangerous …”

“Controllable … recommend full conversion …”

“Termination …”

“Full conversion …”

There was a pause, and a third voice joined. This was a human-sounding voice, a man’s voice. The voice of God?

“Termination is not an option. The United States Army and Majestic have too Goddamned much riding on him.”

Okay then. So it probably wasn’t God. But it was familiar. General Drake? That was it; Brigadier General Justin Drake. The first two voices spoke in unison, and the general replied.

“Full conversion … with failsafe …”

“That’ll do.”

One of the fluffy white clouds suddenly went dark. A moment later, Agent SID was struck by three precisely timed bolts of lightning, and his body spasmed with each. Everything went dark, and when he awoke, he was in a hospital bed, but he wasn’t in a hospital room.

The walls, ceiling, and floor were concrete, and there were no windows. The room was lit by florescent tubes along the walls and directly overhead. There were several large vats with thick, churning grey slime, and next to his bed was a small cylinder on a wheeled table.

SID sat up, and a young soldier near the door stood from his chair to salute.

“Good morning, Captain. I’ll be outside when you’re ready. Your clothes are over there.”

The soldier gestured to a neatly folded stack of clothing before stepping through the door and closing it behind him.

Agent SID wasn’t sure just what was going on, but he sure felt better than he had in years. He dressed quickly and checked a small mirror on the wall to fix his hair. There was something off about the face he saw looking back at him. It was his, but it seemed somehow … not his. Also, there was the small matter of his neck; no scars from the dog bite, no scars from the razor.

SID washed his face in the sink below the mirror, and something didn’t feel quite right. Looking down at his hands, he realized the problem. No finger prints, no hand prints. They were smooth. This wasn’t his body. It looked like his, and he was definitely in it, but it wasn’t his. Agent SID kept his calm, but then a panicked thought hit him. Like a flash, in his best Michael Jackson or Madonna impression, his hand dropped to his crotch. He breathed a sigh of relief. Everything seemed to be in order.

Agent SID stepped out into the hall, and the guard escorted him through a maze of concrete and steel. After a while, they arrived outside a door, and the soldier knocked. A gruff voice from the other side instructed them to enter.

General Drake stood from behind his desk and looked at SID expectantly. Having been in this situation twice before, and going 50-50 on his response, Agent SID got it right. The general returned the salute and took his seat.

“Captain Gump, I don’t care what you were doing in New Hampshire. I know it was a Delta Green Operation, but it doesn’t concern me.”

SID took a seat and remained silent. There was no point in denying his Delta Green affiliation, but neither was there a point in acknowledging it.

“Captain, what does concern me is something that concerns the whole damned U.S. Army. You were slipping. You damned near wiped out a $20 million experiment with two swipes of a razor, and you did it in public. So what do we do about that, Captain? We throw more money at the experiment. You’ve been in this facility for ten months, and in that time some very big changes have been made. No adamantine skeleton or claws. No red, white, and blue shield. I’m going to be watching you closely, and if I catch you trying to be one of them X-Men, we’re going to have a problem.”

The general’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. SID remained silent and felt himself instinctively leaning back.

“And for God’s sake, Gump, take care of this body. I can promise you it’s the last you’ll ever get. Am I understood?”

SID nodded slowly, but that wasn’t the answer the general wanted.

“Am I understood, Captain?!”

“Sir, you are understood, sir!”

SID wasn’t sure where the hell that came from, but it was the correct response. The general stood and saluted.

“Now get the hell out of my office and off my base.”

Agent SID was all too happy to do so, and he returned home to put his new body to the test.


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## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Agent SETH's Epilogue*

The flight home seemed much longer for Agent SETH than it really was. Delta Green work was rarely easy, but when agents aren’t careful, people die. Sometimes people die precisely because agents are careful. He had spent a good portion of his life studying the human mind, and people still surprised him.

Agent ROSE had always been careful. She’d always been smart. She’d always cared about innocents. Just two winters ago in Denver, Agent SETH had given the order to torch the thing in the septic tank, and it was Agent ROSE who had taken him to task over it.

It was a long shot, sure, but ultimately it was possible that the thing in the tank was still a living, breathing human being. He gave the order with that knowledge weighing on him. He knew it was the right thing then, and he never wavered in that belief. Still, Agent ROSE had taken issue with it. More than any order before or since, that one order – those two little words – had caused a rift.

Fast forward two years, and cross the country: It was his turn to be disgusted at her actions. It may have been the only way to succeed, but the price was too steep. The thing in the septic tank had a very outside chance of being human, and its mind was shattered regardless. The pizza delivery driver – both drivers – had most definitely been human and innocent. It wasn’t their place to do what ROSE planned to do, and how she could believe that she was doing the right thing was beyond even his professionally trained comprehension.

No doubt A-cell would applaud her if she was successful. She had been the one to make the decision to lure an innocent kid to his death, but in doing so, all signs pointed to the success of the Operation. A successful Opera was really all A-cell cared about, and they would most likely commend her for securing that victory with only the cost of an innocent life or two, and her soul.

Would A-cell have been willing to do that themselves? ALPHONSE? ADAM? ANDREA? He had to doubt it. It seemed more likely to him that A-cell would have done exactly what they did in fact do. They’d have had someone else do the dirty work.

Okay, fine. He could break laws. He could kill people and creatures that had it coming. He could lead several successful Operas, but only if they were done his way. He couldn’t trust ROSE anymore. RUBY would blindly follow her cell leader. And SID … SID was a liability.

Nothing good could possibly come from having him on a Delta Green Op. Once, he was a good agent and soldier. Unfortunately, the job had taken its toll, and in SETH’s professional opinion, Agent SID should be locked away permanently for his own safety.

As soon as he made it home, SETH sat down and wrote a long email to A-cell. He detailed his concerns and his refusal to work with SID or anyone from R-cell, and then he sat back to await a response.

It was nearly a month later before he received his reply. Agent ADAM understood. RUBY was no longer a concern for anyone in Delta Green. As soon as SID was cleared to return to service, he would be reassigned to R-cell. SETH would receive two new cell members if and when they could be recruited or salvaged from other cells. All contact and cooperation between R-cell and S-cell was to stop, and SETH’s new contact would be Agent QUINN from Q-cell rather than ROSE.

This was all acceptable to Agent SETH.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Agent RUBY's Epilogue*

To say RUBY was scared might be an understatement. The only thing that actually scared her was that one of her fellow agents might realize just how terrified she really was. She’d joined Delta Green believing that she’d seen everything the world could throw at her. Her job – her real job – was all about nuclear disaster. What could be worse than that?

An unkillable, invulnerable ball of life-sucking alien color was a start. An evil, razor-wielding house put the nails in the coffin, so to speak. The threat of being vaporized by an explosion or wasting away from radiation sickness were nightmares she could handle. They were man-made nightmares.

She’d only played a role in two Operas, and she’d spent the majority of her time avoiding the things she’d been tasked with handling. If the others noticed, they hadn’t mentioned it, so at least that was something. In fact, even her own cell leader had left town without a word after the curtain fell. Agent SID was too drugged up to pass along any messages.

Agent RUBY had to find out the Opera had ended from a story on the local news. There had been a double murder at the house on Spooner Avenue, and thanks to the help of an unnamed pizza delivery driver who had apparently been one of the intended victims, the police had sketches of the suspects. The sketch of the man sort of resembled Agent SETH, but if it was him, they’d gotten the nose and hair wrong. There was no mistaking the woman in the other sketch. The detail and accuracy were flawless. It looked almost as if Agent ROSE had sat for her portrait.

During a press conference later in the day, a spokesman for the Laconia Police Department said they were still searching for information on the man, but the woman had been identified as a Financial Crimes investigator named Gia Jones. The spokesman did clarify that while he couldn’t give specifics of an ongoing investigation, both Ms. Jones and the unidentified man were only wanted for questioning at that time. Neither the Laconia Police Department nor the FBI were prepared to make any arrests.

That did it for RUBY. She and her fellow agents put their lives and jobs on the line, and even when the Opera ends successfully, there’s a very real possibility for prison time, execution, or worse. She began her Delta Green career excited about the prospect of saving the world. In only seven short months, she’d already begun to question whether the world deserved it.

Delta Green agents should be hailed as heroes, but due to the nature of their trade, they couldn’t claim their due. For all they did, their only reward was death, insanity, or incarceration. Well, not for her. She didn’t care which door led to which prize. She was taking what was in the box. She was claiming her retirement package while she still could. She was out. She was done. She was no longer Agent RUBY. She was once again simply Amelia Larce, mild-mannered Nuclear Emergency Support Team member. Good bye, Mythos horrors; hello, nuclear disaster. Such a relief.


----------



## Audrik

*Music From A Darkened Room - Agent ROSE's Epilogue*

The flight home to New Mexico was a peaceful one for Agent ROSE. Her actions in New Hampshire weighed less heavily on her than she might have expected. She had taken one innocent life – maybe two depending on your definition – but in doing so, she had saved countless others from the malevolent force of the Spooner Avenue house.

Agent SETH was clearly displeased, but he could get over it or not. “The end justifies the means,” to willfully misinterpret Machiavelli. He could go home and pout all he wanted. She had made the difficult choices. She had taken the risks, and it was she alone who had banished the Dark Man. The Operation was a success, and Delta Green and all of Laconia, New Hampshire had her to thank.

As soon as she was home, ROSE checked her email. There was something from A-Cell, and the message had a video file attachment. The video was a news report of a double murder in Laconia, and then a press conference with the Laconia Police Department and the FBI. She watched the video a couple times before reading the email.



> _ROSE,
> Please see the attachments. No need to explain. Your team was successful but sloppy. Cleanup is always preferable to cover up. The case has been taken over by the FBI and buried under stacks of paperwork. In the future, please don’t tax the group’s resources.
> -A_




Agent ROSE shrugged and closed her laptop. It was time to relax before getting back to business as usual.

Business as usual lasted close to three months. While exercising at the gym one morning, Agent ROSE decided there had to be a better way to stay in shape. In fact, she knew just who to ask, and she’d call him as soon as she got home.

The Dark Man answered her summons, and he towered over her in her living room.

“Why have you called me, Gia Jones? What do you need of me, and why should I grant it?”

Agent ROSE explained that she would like it very much if he could grant her strength, stamina, and health. In return, he could name his price. His booming reply seemed to resonate throughout her home.

“Very well, Gia Jones. You shall have what you ask on one simple condition: In time, you shall find yourself in the land of Albion on a road between space; in the Sleeping Place. Seek out the library between homes, and retrieve a black, unnamed and handwritten octavo. This book, you will deliver to a bookshop of your choosing in New York City. Place it in the Religion section on any given Monday at precisely 8:36 in the morning. Do not fail in this, Gia Jones!”

And with that, ROSE could feel her muscles tighten and tone. She instantly felt like the picture of health and fitness. She also instantly felt alone as the Dark Man vanished. She knew she had probably set a dangerous precedent, but what did she care? She got what she wanted, and all she had to do was get a book from some library, and take it to a bookstore. Sure, it was cryptic, and probably unnecessarily so, but she wasn’t one to shy away from riddles and puzzles.


----------



## pogre

Is Gia Jones still under the control of a player? If so, how did you manage to keep the other players from strangling Gia's player?


----------



## Audrik

Agent ROSE is still entirely under the player's control. Agent SETH's player decided to bow out of the game, but before he left we worked out the specifics behind the cell restructuring. His character was pretty much wholly disgusted with what he saw as lack of professionalism on the part of everyone else involved, and dangerous criminal tendency surfacing in ROSE specifically. Agent RUBY's player has also left, and her character has retired. She knew very little, if anything about ROSE's activities.

Agent SID (now, Agent REDLIGHT after the restructure) is becoming suspicious as you'll see as soon as I get the recent session posted, but he has no evidence to justify choking anyone, and he has problems of his own. I would imagine there might be plenty of fallout once he finds out about her connection with the Dark Man, but then again, my players like to take hard left turns on me from time to time. It's not likely, but it is possible that they'd form their own cult instead.

As far as player strangling goes, my players are really good about separating in- and out-of-character information, and they're really just in it for a good story. Whether that story is good or bad for their characters doesn't matter as much, and that's a good attitude for Call of Cthulhu.

Delta Green should start out with an idealized feel of Good vs. Evil so that the players can be properly disgusted with the actions they find their characters taking just to cover up the actions they took to survive. In my experience with most other role-playing games, players keep a pretty strong control over their characters. In Delta Green, that control can slip without notice until you take a long, hard look at a situation and retrace the steps that got you there. I take that as a sign of immersion in a story as opposed to playing a game, and that's the feel I try to produce at the table.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent REDLIGHT – Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops (formerly Agent SID)
Agent RICHARD – Major James McGinnis, AMEDD General Surgeon
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)

*Former Agents*
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Gregori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RUBY (retired) – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Support Team
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH (reassigned) – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) – Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

Before the previous Operation began, Agent SID's player requested something "outside the U.S.", and so here we have the agents tackling their first overseas Opera. We had a bit of player turnover, so we only had two players for this session. A new (to this game, but not to Delta Green or this group) player should join us next time.

The curtain rises nearly a year after the last Opera. This brings us to October of 2011.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 1a*

Eleven months can seem like an eternity when you anticipate some wonderful event in your future. Those same eleven months can pass you by seemingly in an instant when you dread that same event. Eleven months had passed since the Spooner Avenue Operation, and many things had changed.

Agent SETH had requested reassignment for SID, and SID was now known as REDLIGHT as a result. Agent ROSE was still the leader of R-Cell, but RUBY had retired. This left an opening which A-Cell promised to fill as soon as a new Agent or Friendly could be found.

Agent ROSE’s Delta Green phone had been silent for nearly a year, and yet when it rang, it didn’t surprise her. She was almost expecting it.

The voice on the other end was Agent ADAM. She’d only heard the voice a couple times, but given what inevitably followed, it was a memorable one.

“ROSE, I have the honor of inviting you to a Night at the Opera. See that your passports are in order. You’ll need them if your cell is to reach London. No cover. At the U.S. Embassy, meet with Sandra Bower, a CIA Case Officer for your briefing.”

Without waiting for a response, the line went dead. London in October. It should be a stark contrast to New Mexico. Agent ROSE contacted her only cell member, the former Agent SID. Agent REDLIGHT indicated that his passport was good to go, and he could leave by morning.

Once he was packed, REDLIGHT stopped by the local Wal-Mart to buy four large bottles of Advil. His new body was strong, fast, and healthy. It did have a small problem, however. It hurt. Everything hurt. On his best days, the recommended dosage of Advil was enough to block the pain. On his worst days, it took morphine.

ROSE and REDLIGHT were on the same connecting flight out of New York. Whether ROSE was just lucky, or if her stunning looks backed by a well-played flirt were the cause, she managed to get herself upgraded to first class. Whether REDLIGHT was just unlucky, or if his odd appearance had something to do with it, he found himself stuck in coach next to a kid who kept sneezing on him.

The flight seemed to take no time at all for ROSE while it seemed it would never end for REDLIGHT. Eventually, it did end, and the agents met up at the baggage claim. ROSE hailed a taxi, and they were taken directly to the U.S. Embassy.

Sandra Bower was a smartly dressed, attractive woman in her forties. She greeted the agents and offered them seats. That was the extent of the pleasantries, and she got down to business.

“David Benjamin Sienkiewicz, age 34, native of New York City, is an agent of the CIA. He went AWOL a few weeks ago. He appears to have cracked. He murdered two unconnected people – one a 62-year old man in Reno, and the other a 23-year old woman in New York – seemingly for no reason. He then fled the country. He is at large in the UK, and he appears to be holed up in an empty house in the city of Plymouth. He is armed, and you should consider him dangerous.”

Ms. Bower dropped a thin file on the table in front of the agents and sipped at her tea. The file contained a photograph of Sienkiewicz and a map of Plymouth with one address marked, and another area circled. She pointed to them.

“This is the area where he was last known to be. And this is the flat we’ve managed to secure for your lodgings.”

The two residences were a street away from each other. She dropped a key ring containing two keys onto the file. One key was to their flat, and the other was to the green Nissan Micra they’d been granted for the duration of their assignment.

“This is a fact-finding assignment only. Under no circumstances are you to approach or engage Sienkiewicz. Simply find out what he’s up to – why he’s in the UK. Then report back to me, and you can be on your way home. We can provide some basic surveillance gear; a camera, an audio recorder, a few bugs.”

She gestured to a side table which held the equipment she’d just listed. The agents indicated they understood the assignment, and they collected the equipment, the file, and the keys. Before taking their leave, Agent ROSE had a request which had been in her mind, but she did her best to play it like she’d only just thought of it.

“One thing before we go if you don’t mind, Ms. Bower: Would you happen to know where the ‘Land of Albion’ is?”

The case officer raised an eyebrow and nodded to indicate that she did.

“Albion is an ancient name for Great Britain, Ms. Jones.”

“Ahh, okay. That makes sense. In that case, do you know where I might find ‘the Sleeping Place’ or a road between space? Maybe a library between homes?”

The woman’s eyebrow raised a bit more, and she canted her head.

“Been reading Lewis Carroll in preparation for your trip to England? I’m sorry, Ms. Jones. I love a good mystery, but I’m not really much for riddles. There are many wonderful libraries in the UK, though.”

Agent ROSE thanked her, and soon they were off to Plymouth. It was early evening when the agents arrived at their destination. Their flat was in one of the poorer areas of the city. Several of the houses were boarded up on Fisher Park Road where their flat was located, and on Rosy Cross Park Road, one street over where Sienkiewicz was last seen.

The agents briefly toured their flat. It wasn’t much, but it met their needs. There were two beds with stiff mattresses, and old television set, an empty refrigerator, an oven, and some dishes. The Mr. Coffee coffeemaker on the counter made Agent ROSE sigh in relief. Looking out the window, Agent REDLIGHT could see a long row of houses across the street, and a small pub a few buildings down.

They were tired, but more than that, they were hungry. They decided to brave the fog and the damp air, and they headed down to the pub. Agent ROSE wanted to sit outside under the awning, but REDLIGHT preferred an actual roof and walls, so they ate inside. ROSE was well-cultured, and so she enjoyed her food very much. REDLIGHT, however, was every bit a red-blooded American, and as such the food seemed pretty bland and tasteless. He made a mental note to send ROSE shopping.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 1b*

As they were about to head back to the flat, REDLIGHT spotted David Sienkiewicz emerge from a building across the street; number 39, Rosy Cross Park Road. He was bundled in heavy clothes to guard against the cold, but it was obvious Sienkiewicz was a large man with a heavy build. REDLIGHT noted the crew cut before the man covered it with a hat.

Sienkiewicz turned right and headed south toward Rosy Cross Drive. The agents followed at a safe distance initially, but Agent ROSE attempted to get closer. She weaved through the small crowds of people, but at one point she was forced to step into the road to get around, and she was nearly hit by a furniture delivery truck.

If the loud honking of the horn didn’t catch Sienkiewicz’s attention, the shouts would have. Several people were splashed as the truck hit a puddle to avoid ROSE. Sienkiewicz turned to see what had happened, and then he ducked quickly into an alley.

ROSE offered silent apologies to the people around her. All she really wanted was to be unseen, and yet she was the momentary center of attention. Fortunately, Sienkiewicz didn’t seem to have seen her. After a few moments of peeking, he stepped back out onto the sidewalk and continued on. This time, his steps were a little faster.

He turned right to follow Rosy Cross Drive, and Agent ROSE saw that while REDLIGHT was following her, and she was following Sienkiewicz, Sienkiewicz was in turn following someone. That someone was tall and wearing dark clothes. He had a dark beard and glasses, but ROSE couldn’t make out much more than that through the fog.

The man turned north along Rosy Cross Lane, and it appeared he was taking a stroll around the park rather than through it. Sienkiewicz followed, and Agent REDLIGHT followed him from the same safe distance. Agent ROSE decided she would cut through the park and head them off. She was instructed to have no contact with Sienkiewicz, but the case officer said nothing about the person he was shadowing.

She was standing in the grass along the north side of the park as the man approached. She got his attention with a smile and a quick wave. She introduced herself as Gia, an American tourist. The man greeted her and introduced himself as Graham Dworkin, a musician from New York City. He seemed friendly enough.

ROSE stalled with small talk and noted that Sienkiewicz had sat on a bench trying not to let on that he was watching. She told Graham she was on a sort of adventure, a sort of scavenger hunt. She asked him the same questions she’d asked the CIA woman at the embassy, but she got the same result. Yes, Albion was Great Britain, but as for roads between space and libraries between homes … well, he’d seen a library a few blocks away during one of his walks, but there was a pub on one side, and a bakery on the other.

Graham tried a couple times to take his leave and continue his walk, but ROSE kept up with the small talk, and he was too polite to say anything. All the while, Sienkiewicz sat on the bench waiting. A few minutes later, Agent REDLIGHT walked up and joined in the small talk.

As soon as he saw an opportunity, Graham politely excused himself and went on his way. The agents followed Graham, and Sienkiewicz followed all three. The agents and Sienkiewicz all watched as Graham entered the house he was renting; number 28, Rosy Cross Park Road. ROSE and REDLIGHT continued past and noted that Sienkiewicz watched them but didn’t follow. Instead, he waited until they were out of sight before entering the abandoned house where he was staying.

Upon reaching their flat, Agent REDLIGHT swallowed some pills, flopped onto his bed, and turned on the television. The set flickered to life and a cooking program was in progress. He saw his opportunity to send his cell leader to the store. He bet he could cook the next thing they showed as long as ROSE was willing to buy the ingredients and do the dishes.

They had a deal, and a couple hours later, they were enjoying surprisingly well cooked spiced parsnip shepherd's pies followed by cherry and almond tarts. Say what she might about him, ROSE was happy not to be the one cooking for a change.

The next morning, Agent REDLIGHT was up and out of the flat at first light. The sky was an overcast steel grey, and a thin layer of frost covered everything. He walked around the neighborhood, up and down every street noting the various businesses and street names; just generally familiarizing himself with the area. He found a small art gallery directly across from the rear of the house where Sienkiewicz was staying. The gallery was just opening, and so he stepped inside.

He was a little disappointed at first to find that the gallery showcased local aspiring artists rather than established world-class ones, but he took a look around. The walls were rather sparsely hung with uninspiring paintings and photographs, and there was quite a bit of space between the sculptures as well. The only piece that caught his eye appeared to be simply a large rock. It showed no signs of sculpting to his untrained eye, but he felt sure there must be something he was missing. Surely no one would place an ordinary rock in an art gallery with a price tag of £300.

He waved down the gallery manager and decided he’d like to purchase the rock. Once the transaction was complete, the gallery manager informed him that he’d have until the close of business to pick it up. Agent REDLIGHT looked all over the rock, but he found nowhere decent to place a bug. He found the best place he could, and then promptly left.

His phone rang just as he stepped outside, and Agent ROSE informed him that she was on her way to the local library. He said he’d meet her there. After about a block, he heard a boy’s voice calling him a “Yank”. He turned in time to watch a small rock hit him right in the forehead. A group of boys likely between the ages of eight and fourteen laughed at him. They ran when he seemed to be coming after them.

The agents looked over the library for a couple hours without much success, and all the while, ROSE shrugged off and dodged most of REDLIGHT’s questions regarding the riddle and the book she was looking for. She did tell him it was a small, unnamed book, and when he asked if it was Delta Green Operation-related, she replied with a quick “sorta”.

Finding nothing, the agents decided to check the park and see what they could of the house where David Sienkiewicz was staying. They made it most of the way there before REDLIGHT heard another boy’s voice behind him calling him a “Yank”. He turned instinctively, and he was hit in the shoulder. This time it was a chunk of cement from the sidewalk. The group of boys laughed again, and this time REDLIGHT gave chase.

The kids weaved through the crowds with an ease which the agent couldn’t manage, and so he rejoined ROSE defeated. He muttered to himself all the way to the park.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 2a*

Major James McGinnis was a general surgeon with the U.S. Army Medical Department and newly inducted member of Delta Green’s R-Cell. Less than a month after selecting the name RICHARD, he was assigned to his first Operation, and he looked forward to meeting his cell members face to face. He had exchanged emails with Agent ROSE a few times, and he had spoken to her over the phone once. That was when she had invited him to London. A later text message instructed him to meet the cell at number 3, Fisher Park Road in Plymouth.

The sidewalks of Plymouth were busy, and the park seemed abandoned by contrast. Agent ROSE scanned the landscape, and she made note of the tree-lined walking paths and some of the more secluded parts. REDLIGHT determined which windows belonged to the house of Graham Dworkin, and which belonged to Sienkiewicz’s hideout.

Graham’s house was rather plain from the outside, but it stood in contrast to several of the neighboring houses which were unoccupied and boarded up. The house in which Sienkiewicz was hiding was one such house. REDLIGHT could see no movement in either place.

Feeling they’d seen all they could, the agents decided to get out of the cold, and so they headed back to their own flat. It was early afternoon, and Agent RICHARD was due to arrive in an hour or so. ROSE had acquired all the necessary ingredients for REDLIGHT’s next attempt at cooking, but he needed to get started if it was going to be ready in time for dinner. According to his recipe, haggis would take nearly six hours from start to finish.

While he began preparation, Agent REDLIGHT casually mentioned the artwork he’d purchased from the gallery, and how he’d planted a bug on it. It needed to be picked up by the close of business, and as he was busy in the kitchen, he suggested that Agent ROSE take care of it. He wanted it delivered to Graham’s place.

ROSE gave him a dirty look, but she took the receipt and headed down to the gallery. She was no artist, but as everyone is a critic, so to speak, she had definite opinions on the place. There wasn’t much to see, and what there was could probably have been done by children in her estimation. She flagged down the gallery manager and produced the receipt.

“I need to pick up a piece of art work for a friend. He said he purchased it earlier.”

“Ah, yes. The American. A fine eye for art, he’s got, I must say.”

The gallery manager waved a hand toward the rock, and ROSE simply blinked.

“Wait. What? The rock?”

“Yes, as you say. The rock.”

The rock was large and looked quite heavy. Agent ROSE sighed and covered her face with her hand.

“Okay, well … He didn’t say he bought a rock. Any chance you could deliver it for me? It’s a gift for a friend.”

ROSE turned on the puppy eyes, and the gallery manager decided he could have his people deliver it for a modest fee as long as it was close by. When ROSE indicated that she only had American currency, the manager waved a hand.

“Oh, your friend paid with his card. I’d be happy to add the fee to that.”

“Thank you, sir. Please, add a tip for yourself and your delivery people, too!”

The manager was only too happy to do so, and all that was left was for ROSE to give Graham’s address. She then headed back to the flat shaking her head. A rock? Seriously?

Agent REDLIGHT had finished preparation, and the liver, heart, and tongue were boiling. When ROSE returned, he was looking over the file Sandra Bower had given them. It had details on Sienkiewicz’s victims, but none of it seemed particularly helpful. There was an interesting bit about one of Sienkiewicz’s previous assignments. He was investigating a British Muslim of Bangladeshi parentage named Shazan Amin Shah. Shah was known for his fiery anti-American rhetoric.

The file contained an order from Sienkiewicz’s director recommending censure for the extreme force used in a firefight in Hamburg, Germany connected with the Shah case. The firefight left Shah and eight German nationals dead. The documents specifically detailing the incident were apparently missing, and despite the director’s order, there were no black marks in Sienkiewicz’s file.

Just as REDLIGHT finished relaying the information from the file to ROSE, there was a knock at the door to the flat. Agent ROSE opened it to see a man about six-feet tall or so wearing a suit with a red tie, and carrying a black briefcase. The man matched the picture she’d been given of Agent RICHARD, and so she greeted him and asked him in.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 2b*

Introductions were made, and ROSE filled RICHARD in on the assignment while REDLIGHT tended to the boiling ingredients which were destined to become his first attempt at haggis. RICHARD was informed that the current arrangement had REDLIGHT doing the cooking and ROSE doing the cleaning. That left laundry detail for him. Also, the flat had no laundry facilities, but there was a launderette a few blocks away.

It wasn’t quite how he pictured the start of his first Opera, but he grudgingly took up the bag of clothes and headed out. The afternoon was cold and dreary, and the sky was a uniform grey. RICHARD made his way through the foggy streets of Plymouth, and he ignored the odd looks and whispers he seemed to inspire. It took a few minutes to sort out which coins were which as he wasn’t familiar with British currency.

He was nearly back to the flat when he spotted a man he recognized from the file photograph as David Benjamin Sienkiewicz. His heart immediately jumped, but he kept his cool and the man passed by seemingly without noticing him. Agent RICHARD turned and followed at a distance of about twenty feet; probably too close, but the veteran spy didn’t seem to notice.

Sienkiewicz pulled his jacket tight around him and walked hurriedly in a route which led around the park. After some time, RICHARD realized Sienkiewicz was himself following another man; a tall man in dark clothing and dark overcoat. The fog made it difficult to make out much more than that.

The man circled the park and turned down Rosy Cross Park Road. Sienkiewicz followed him, and RICHARD followed Sienkiewicz. The man stopped in front of number 28 and spoke to a man who seemed to be delivering a large rock. The delivery man left the rock in front of the steps, and the tall man went inside. Sienkiewicz passed by and looked around quickly before entering number 39.

Agent RICHARD returned to the flat with the laundry just as REDLIGHT was leaving. The men nodded at each other, but neither said a word. REDLIGHT went around to the park to look around for a good place to hide a camera with a view of the upstairs window of number 39, Rosy Cross Park Road.

The park was eerily quiet and seemed nearly empty, but no sooner had REDLIGHT arrived than he heard a boy’s voice behind him yelling “Oi, Yank!” REDLIGHT grumbled. He’d sort of been expecting this. Without turning, he took a £100 note from his pocket and held it up in one hand while pointing at Sienkiewicz’s window with the other.

“Hey, kid! I’ll give you £100 to throw that rock at that window instead of me.”

He turned to see a group of five rough looking boys a short distance away, and one did indeed have a rock in hand.

“Set it down and back away, and you got yourself a deal.”

“Oh, no. Rock first, and then you get it.”

“Set it down, mister, and I’ll throw it straight away. Always get yer pay in advance, me mum says.”

“Throw it now, kid. Then you can have it.”

The boy did in fact throw the rock, but rather than the window, his target seemed to be REDLIGHT’s face. It was a narrow miss, but the kid quickly scooped up another rock.

“Now what was that, mister?”

REDLIGHT frowned and pointed once more.

“That window. Then you get your money.”

“Suit yourself, mister.”

The kid threw the rock perfectly and cleanly through the boarded up window. It shattered the glass and knocked a couple boards loose. A moment later, a set of eyes could be seen peeking out. The boy pointed at REDLIGHT and yelled.

“It was him! It was him made me do it, sir!”

The boys then ran off leaving a quiet stillness between Agent REDLIGHT and the eyes in the window. REDLIGHT took a deep breath, put his hands in his pocket, and walked slowly down the path. No reason ROSE had to hear anything about this little incident.

Having long since given up on his haggis experiment, he decided a visit to the pub was in order. Agent REDLIGHT knocked on the back door to Graham Dworkin’s house and invited him to dinner. While Graham got his hat and coat, REDLIGHT sent ROSE a quick text to let her know where he’d be.

ROSE and RICHARD had also given up on the haggis, and so they made a trip to the pub as well. RICHARD took a seat at a table and pretended to watch the rugby match on the television while the others sat at the bar. ROSE and REDLIGHT made small talk with Graham, and the conversation turned to his reasons for being in Plymouth at this time of year. He admitted that he wasn’t quite sure why he’d chosen this place, but he sort of felt drawn to it.

He had been having a recurring dream that bothered him. It wasn’t the only dream he had, but virtually every night, it would pop up. He would be standing alone in a fog looking up at the sky, and a bright green moon would shine down on him with a sort of malevolent feeling. He said that he wasn’t quite sure what it all meant, but he believed that if he followed these feelings to the end, everything would be clear.

ROSE excused herself claiming that she needed to make a call, and REDLIGHT continued with the small talk. Agent ROSE made her way to the park and looked around. It only took a moment to find what she was after.

There was a man who gave every indication of being homeless, drunk, cold, and hungry. Agent ROSE approached the man with a warm smile and asked if he was hungry. The man nodded, and so she pretended to order a pizza to be delivered to one of the secluded areas of the park which she’d seen earlier. She then led the man that direction.

Once she was sure no one could see, she slipped behind the man and cut his throat. She was sure to catch as much of the blood as she could in the bronze bowl as she called for the presence of the Dark Man. It took only a moment for him to appear.

The Dark Man stood over ROSE silently. She quickly told him why she’d called. She needed to know why Sienkiewicz was in Plymouth. On a side note, she said she’d also like to know where to find the Sleeping Place and the library between houses. In which city was it? In exchange for those two pieces of information, he could ask whatever price he liked.

The Dark Man contemplated the offer briefly before responding.

“Begin your search in Plymouth, Gia Jones. At midnight, the Sleeping Place will be made plain if you know how to see it. The information you seek will be found there. In exchange, you will find the Vaeyen in the library between houses, and you will smash it.”

With that, the Dark Man vanished. Agent ROSE was lost in thought. Vaeyen. She’d heard that before. Vaeyen were small, black statues which were used in some occult rituals. They were humanoid with features of vultures and bats. They had five arms each with a different number of fingers, and the heads had four eyes all on the outside of the faces. The stories told that the Vaeyen were actually living creatures, but they never showed themselves. Each of the few rituals she’d heard of which used the Vaeyen used five of them, and there seemed to be a power in that number.

She slowly returned to the present with a shudder. Okay, so she didn’t quite get the answers she was after, but at least she was sure she’d get them tonight. In the meantime, she set about cleaning up traces of her presence in the park and of her part in the crime she’d just committed. She then casually returned to the pub just as the rest of her cell was leaving.

The rest of R-Cell settled in for the night while their leader dreamed of midnight.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 3a*

It didn’t take long for Agent REDLIGHT to get restless. While ROSE took a nap and RICHARD immersed himself in the wonders of the BBC, he stepped out for a walk in the park. As had been the case for the entirety of the Operation so far, the night was cold, damp, and foggy. It was still early evening, but the cloud cover was thick. The street lights flickered at times, but rarely was more than one lit at once. This made the park even darker than the rest of the district.

“Oi, Yank!”

Seriously? Were these damned kids just following him? Agent REDLIGHT turned just in time to duck a rock. The same gang of five kids that had been pelting him with rocks and concrete since he arrived in town was at it again. Well, this time was going to be the last. He quickly scanned the park just to make sure no one was watching, and then he charged. He tried to tackle the biggest one; a kid of about fourteen who looked like he’d seen a lifetime of fights.

The boy artfully dodged the soldier’s tackle, and REDLIGHT hit the ground face first. In an instant the gang of children swarmed on him. Fists and boots struck him from all angles. It stung a bit, but the kids were more of a nuisance than a real threat. With one powerful motion aided by his alien-engineered body, Agent REDLIGHT stood up tossing children in all directions.

The kids scattered and ran, but REDLIGHT was determined to teach them a lesson. He targeted the slowest of the group and chased him down. He knocked the kid out with a quick shot; not hard enough to really hurt, but placed just right. The plan was still forming in his head while he lifted the kid onto his shoulder and carried him to a grouping of trees. He would wait for the kid to wake up, and then he’d have a nice, calm talk about how it’s not nice to throw rocks. Maybe he’d throw in a bit about ‘what goes around comes around’, or something along those lines.

Then again, plans change. Right where he planned to have his little talk with the kid, there was a body. REDLIGHT leaned the unconscious boy against a tree and investigated. It appeared to be a vagrant. His throat had been cleanly cut, but there was very little blood. He lifted the man’s head, and that’s when he heard a click from behind.

“That’s enough, son. Why don’t you put down that corpse, and turn around slowly?”

The agent did as he was instructed, and he turned to see a revolver in the hand of David Benjamin Sienkiewicz. Okay. So there went the ‘no contact’ part of the assignment.

“You wanna tell me just what in the hell you’re doing?”

“Yeah, sure. Okay, well … First of all, it’s not what it looks like.”

Sienkiewicz raised an eyebrow in response inviting further explanation. REDLIGHT continued slowly while he worked out a way out of this.

“See, I was just going to teach this kid a lesson. The body was here when I got here.”

“You know what, son? I don’t really care about what you do for that cult of yours, and much as I’d like to be the hero and save the kid, I gotta admit: I don’t much care for him either. I got bigger things to save.”

“Cult? Man, I’m not in a cult.”

Sienkiewicz laughed and pointed with the revolver to the body, the kid, and then the sky.

“You expect me to believe that? Look at you. You’re in the darkest part of this damned park with a dead bum and a knocked out kid. Seems pretty cultish to me. And that’s not to mention how you’ve been following me.”

“No, no. I haven’t been following you. I’ve been getting to know Graham, and you’ve been following him.”

“You ain’t helping your case. I already knew he was in the cult. You, I wasn’t sure of until now.”

The men argued back and forth for a few minutes, and eventually REDLIGHT was able to convince Sienkiewicz to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being. According to the CIA man, some cult called the Children of Cyäegha were working to bring about the end of the world. They were waiting for something called ‘the Sleeping Place’ to appear, and then they were going to conduct a ritual to wake something known as the Waiting Dark, the Principle of Hate, the Whistler from the Stars, and the Eater of Dimensions.

Yeah. Most people might think this guy was crazy – and maybe he was – but a Delta Green agent on an Opera is a little more inclined to be a believer. If Sienkiewicz was right, they were most definitely on the same side.

The men agreed that the world needed to be saved. There was a slight disagreement about who should save it, but again it seemed Sienkiewicz had the upper hand. He knew a counter-ritual. The only catch was that he had to wait for the cult to actually begin their ritual before he could start the counter. That’s why he’d been watching Graham Dworkin, and that’s why he’d hardly slept in a week.

The men parted ways, but Sienkiewicz made it clear that he’d be watching. They left the kid with the dead vagrant. REDLIGHT wasn’t sure, but he felt there had to be a lesson there for the boy. He returned to find the flat just as he’d left it.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 3b*

Agent ROSE awoke from her nap to find herself lying not in her bed but in the grass in the park. She calmly got to her feet and studied her surroundings. The park seemed smaller now, and the row of houses along the east road were different. They seemed older, and they all looked abandoned. She looked to the street sign, and it read Drake Park Road. There was no Drake Park Road on their map, and it sure wasn’t there the last time she’d been to the park. Was it midnight already? Was this ‘the Sleeping Place’?

She heard a twig snap from behind a tree, and she spun to see someone in the shadows. The person didn’t appear to be watching her. She called for whoever it was to come out, and the person did so. It was Graham Dworkin.

ROSE asked what he was doing there, and he replied that he was out for a walk in the park. She pressed for details, and he said he was there to look at the moon. When she looked up, the clouds had parted to reveal a large green moon staring down on them. It felt like the moon was watching them intently. Graham had said something about his dreams earlier, and she guessed that’s what was going on here, but it seemed so real. Without warning, the moon winked out, and moments later, Agent ROSE awoke in her bed.

The flat was just as it was when she had laid down for her nap with one exception. Agent REDLIGHT was looking for an ice pack for the red marks all over his body. He looked like he’d been in a fight, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she asked him to go to the park with her at 11:45. She thought she’d found an answer to her riddle, and she wanted backup.

At about 11:30, Agent REDLIGHT left the flat saying that he’d meet ROSE at the park. He crossed the street and knocked on Sienkiewicz’s door. There was no answer, but he saw the CIA man peeking out through the window. Agent REDLIGHT nodded toward the park and walked off. He sat on a bench in the park just across from the house where Sienkiewicz was squatting, and a few minutes later the man joined him.

At the stated meeting time, Agent ROSE made it to the park. Seeing REDLIGHT sitting with the man they were assigned to watch, she kept her distance. She leaned against a tree on the far side of the park and watched.

Right on cue, Drake Park Road came into existence at midnight. The abandoned houses of that road seemed to materialize around REDLIGHT and Sienkiewicz. This was it. It had to be. Drake Park Road wasn’t there a moment ago, and now just as the Dark Man had predicted, here it was. It had to be the road between space. Now she just had to find the library between homes, grab a book, smash a statue, and be back in time for breakfast.

Sienkiewicz and REDLIGHT were more than a little surprised to find themselves on a couch in an abandoned house rather than a bench in a park. Agent REDLIGHT examined the room while Sienkiewicz started talking about how this had to be a sign, it must be starting, the end was near, blah, blah, blah. REDLIGHT ignored him. Something was most definitely going on, but apocalypse rhetoric wasn’t going to solve anything.

Sienkiewicz announced that there weren’t any light switches, but he’d found some lamps. REDLIGHT turned on his flashlight to show his technological superiority.

The furniture was old. Agent REDLIGHT was no expert, but he had done some research on antique furniture for the Spooner Avenue investigation. He estimated the style to be early- to mid-19th century. There were picture frames on the walls, but they were empty and hung at odd angles. The walls and ceiling were falling apart. The windows and doors were boarded up and nailed shut. No one had been here in a long time.

Sienkiewicz looked out the window next to the front door. He told REDLIGHT that he saw the place where he was staying across the street which didn’t make sense to him since he had a view of the park from his window. Other than that, it was all clear. Sienkiewicz turned away from the window as REDLIGHT looked up.

A silhouette had appeared outside, and it didn’t look human. He shined the flashlight up and got a good look at the thing. It was a hideous, toad-like creature with bulging eyes and an oversized mouth of countless sharp teeth. Its body was dark but translucent, and the agent could see organs pulsing inside. He yelled for Sienkiewicz to get down. The CIA man reacted instinctively, and he rolled behind a chair drawing his revolver just as the glass shattered behind him.

The creature had reached two of its four scarred and wart-covered arms through the window trying to grab Sienkiewicz. When it pulled them back, the broken glass drew green, foamy blood which caused the glass to slowly dissolve. With the window now effectively open, the two men could easily smell the thing. It was a disgusting combination of rotting meat and stagnant water. REDLIGHT was able to cover his face in time, but Sienkiewicz wasn’t so lucky. The sounds of his violent vomiting barely drowned out the low, guttural snarl of the toad-like creature.

Agent REDLIGHT was sure his Taser wouldn’t help much against that thing, so he grabbed Sienkiewicz and dragged him to the kitchen. He stopped just in time to avoid falling into what appeared to be a six-foot diameter tunnel burrowed through the wooden floor. The agent stepped over the hole, grabbed a cleaver from the cutting block on the counter, and went back to the living room, but the thing was gone.

Once they were absolutely sure the coast was clear, Sienkiewicz decided it was time. If the ritual was going to start, he had to be ready. He told Agent REDLIGHT about a comb-bound book of standard printer paper in the house where he was staying. It contained the counter-ritual. He was going to get it, and he asked REDLIGHT to come with him.

The agent declined. His partner was out here somewhere, and so he was going to look for her. They made a plan to meet in the park as soon as they’d completed their respective tasks. Sienkiewicz had one final thing to say before he left.

“Look, if that ritual starts, and for whatever reason, I can’t counter it, I’m going to need you to save the world for me.”

With that, the CIA man was out the door and crossing the street. REDLIGHT decided to check the upstairs before moving on. There were two bedrooms upstairs, and they were decorated similarly. Each had a bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. Each had empty picture frames hanging askew, and each had a boarded up window with broken glass. The agent went back downstairs and moved to the next house over.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 3c*

Agent ROSE checked house after house, and they were all pretty much the same; old furniture, walls and ceiling falling apart, boarded up windows, and two bedrooms upstairs. A couple houses had holes in the kitchen floors leading to tunnels, but so far, no library.

She entered another house using the flashlight app on her cell phone for lighting. It was maybe the fourth house, maybe the fifth. She was losing track. This one was similar to all the others, but there was a footlocker at the foot of one of the beds. She easily broke the lock and opened it. On the underside of the lid, someone had painted what appeared to be a lazy five-pointed star with an eye inside the pentagon in the center.

On one side of the footlocker was a neatly folded suit along with suspenders and shoes. On the other side was a long, leather box with a silver lock which appeared more ornamental than functional. ROSE broke that lock, too. Inside was a long, silver knife. It was almost a short sword. It had a pearl handle, and the blade was inscribed with a sort of hieroglyphic she didn’t recognize. She took the sword, closed the footlocker, and headed downstairs.

She entered the next house, and while it was laid out much like the others, the living room held a bookshelf which had fallen forward from the wall revealing a hole roughly three feet high and just as narrow across. The back of the bookshelf had the same lazy star design as the footlocker next door. She had never seen it before, but she was quite familiar with occult symbols. If she had to guess judging from the placement of the stars, they were probably wards of some kind.

She poked her head into the hole to have a look. The tunnel may have only been three feet high, but the narrow passage was lined ceiling to floor with bookshelves, and it extended at least as far as her light shone. Taking a deep breath, Agent ROSE crawled into the library between houses on the road between space.

Agent REDLIGHT found nothing useful in the next couple houses. He was starting to become discouraged. On his way out to check the next house over, the wind picked up dramatically, and snow began falling in impossible amounts. He stepped back inside for a moment and closed the door. It wasn’t snowing at all out the back door, just the front. That made the choice easy. He went out the back and entered the next house the same way.

Just as he suspected, this house was the same as all the others. It had the same style of furniture, all the windows were boarded up, and there were no pictures in the picture frames. Where the hell was ROSE? For that matter, where the hell was he? This road wasn’t supposed to be here. He sat down for a moment so he could think.

It didn’t take ROSE long to find the book she was after. All the others were about nine to twelve inches tall, but this one was only six inches. Directly across from the book was a shelf with various statuettes rather than books. Some were wooden, some were crystal, some were ivory. There was one that stood out. The Vaeyen.

Agent ROSE quickly took both the book and the statue, and made her way back down the tight tunnel of a library. She was nearly out when she saw something glide past in the shadows of the living room. Whatever that was, she didn’t want anything to do with it. She sent a quick text to Agent REDLIGHT who responded with a phone call.

ROSE explained that she was in a tunnel between houses, and that she was trapped. There was something outside in the house. REDLIGHT told her what he’d seen, and that only served to support her decision not to go out into the house. While they were talking, the thing poked its hideous face into the hole. Its breath nearly overwhelmed ROSE, and she instinctively moved away farther down the tunnel. Her phone beeped to let her know that she had another call.

When she switched over, Agent RICHARD informed her that something had happened. He didn’t know what, but all of a sudden, everyone across the street was awake. Lights had come on, and people seemed to be getting ready for something. He’d even seen a few in robes.

ROSE hung up without acknowledging because she needed her phone for light, and it sounded like the toad-like thing was getting closer. She shined her light down the tunnel while shuffling backward. The creature was too big to fit, but it was compressing its body and squeezing through. She was most definitely not getting out that way, so she turned and headed away. Maybe the tunnel opened up to another house. Maybe it would open up in the park. At this point, she wouldn’t care so much if it dropped her in Wonderland. It didn’t.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 3d*

The tunnel ended in a brick wall with a pentagram of some sort painted on it. A long-dead skeleton had been nailed to it upside-down with its hands and feet each on a point of the star. There was no skull.

The creature was slowly squeezing toward her, and she had no way out. This was as good a time as any to panic. Agent ROSE desperately flipped through the book looking for something that could help her. She found a page with a drawing of the creature. It was called a Nagaäe. That figured. She couldn’t even pronounce that. She couldn’t tell it to go away, and once it ate her, she couldn’t even explain to St. Peter quite how she had died. Could she even get past Heaven’s bouncer if she couldn’t say what had eaten her?

She panicked and threw her sword at the thing, but it bounced harmlessly off the slimy skin. It moved closer and opened its terrible mouth. Agent ROSE was engulfed in a wave of foul breath, and she instinctively covered her face. In doing so, she must have done something else, or maybe the creature had seen something. It didn’t matter, because the result was that the creature backed away.

ROSE cautiously inched forward, and with every move, the thing squeezed back leaving a layer of slime on the books, the ceiling, and the floor. The agent pushed forward, grabbing her mucous-covered sword as she did. Eventually, she forced the thing out of the tunnel, and she made a break for the back door. She ran for the flat without looking back.

REDLIGHT had hung up when ROSE switched lines. If he was going to find her, he was going to have to keep moving, and if that thing had spotted her, he may not have much time. He stood and headed for the front door. Just as he was about to open it, someone else opened it from the outside. There were three people in hooded robes outside, and REDLIGHT kicked the door closed. The lock wouldn’t hold long, so he ran for the stairs. He entered one of the bedrooms as the front door was kicked in. He slammed the bedroom door closed as the three figures rushed up the stairs. He broke the boards on the window just as the people broke the door in.

There was no snow out the back, so it was either jump or fight. His Taser might not work on that toad-thing, but it would sure work on a human. He drew it and pointed as one of the robed figures pointed a finger at him. REDLIGHT fired as the figure spoke. The Taser missed, but there was nothing he could do about it.

To Agent REDLIGHT, the man seemed to be speaking soothing words, calming words. Everything would be okay if he would just relax. The man was actually chanting the words of a spell, but REDLIGHT heard only peaceful things. The other two robed figures got behind him, and one placed a cloth over the agent’s mouth and nose. He didn’t care. He was so relaxed already. REDLIGHT took a deep breath and relaxed further into darkness.

As soon as Agent ROSE reached the flat, she dumped the book and statuette in her suitcase. REDLIGHT wasn’t back. That meant she needed to go back out there. She told RICHARD to hold down the fort and keep her apprised of any important events.

She made it back to Drake Park Road and followed it north. Every building seemed empty but one. Looking through the window, she saw another pentagram on the wall, but this time there was a fresh body hanging from it. The head was missing, there was a pool of blood, and worst of all, there was a robed figure kneeling before it. Agent ROSE snuck in quietly with her sword at the ready. She ordered the robed figure to stand and face her.

Agent REDLIGHT felt himself slowly pulled back to consciousness. He heard a voice. ROSE? It was Agent ROSE, and she was yelling at him to drop his weapon. REDLIGHT opened his eyes to find himself kneeling before an upside down body, and he held a sword in his bloody hands. His mind was reeling, and he still felt a little drugged, but he dropped the sword and stood. Agent ROSE took an involuntary step back as she recognized REDLIGHT.

“You! I … I knew you were acting funny. Shady. You did this?”

She took another step back. REDLIGHT protested his innocence while he checked the pockets of the body. He was pretty sure what he’d find, and he was right. He found a revolver, a microcassette recorder, a book of matches, and CIA credentials for one David Benjamin Sienkiewicz.

ROSE wasn’t sure what to believe anymore, but she knew what her eyes were telling her. She held the sword in front of her and told REDLIGHT to drop the gun and stay back. He didn’t. Instead, he walked forward almost dumbfounded, still protesting his innocence.

ROSE called the police, and she told the dispatcher she’d found what appeared to be a ritual killing, and the person responsible was threatening her, and he had a gun. REDLIGHT told her to hang up, but she refused. She told the dispatcher where she was, and that she was trying to get away.

REDLIGHT fired a shot into the wall. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but things were spiraling out of control. He begged ROSE to hang up. He swore that he wasn’t in a cult, and he didn’t kill Sienkiewicz. He got closer and tried to knock the phone from her hand, but she swung the sword. Neither agent wanted to hurt the other, but both were confused, afraid, and disoriented.

REDLIGHT fired again. He wasn’t aiming for her. He just wanted this all to stop. He wanted to get away. ROSE ran outside, and so did REDLIGHT. She ducked left, and he turned right. REDLIGHT ran through the snow toward the flat, and ROSE called RICHARD.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 4a*

Agent REDLIGHT made it to the road in front of the flat and promptly changed his mind. If ROSE had called the police, the flat would be the first place they’d look. He instead slipped quietly into the place where Sienkiewicz had been staying and called Brigadier General Justin Drake who seemed none too happy to be getting a call at 9 o’clock at night.

“Sir, this is Captain Gump. I need to ask a favor.”

“Gump? This had better be good. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I do, sir, and I apologize. I’m in Plymouth, UK on a Delta Green Operation, and things have gone really wrong.”

There was a moment of silence, and when the general spoke, he emphasized nearly every syllable with a strong southern accent.

“You have got to be kidding me, Gump!”

“No, sir. You see …”

“Captain, do you mean to tell me you’re across a damned ocean on a Delta Green Operation you can’t handle, and you think I should give a damn?”

Agent REDLIGHT explained to the general how he had been framed for murder, his cell leader wanted him arrested or dead, and a cult was going to end the world. For his part, General Drake listened in agitated silence until the end. He then let REDLIGHT have it, and he was merciless. He didn’t care one way or another if Delta Green couldn’t handle field operations. He was a general in the United States Army, and he was unwilling to commit resources to extract a single asset from an allied country. He finished with a piece of advice:

“Calm yourself, and think about what you’re saying. An evil cult is going to end the world tonight, and you need help running from it? You need some rest, Captain, and I do, too. Don’t do anything stupid, and talk to me when you can make some damned sense, boy!”

Agent RICHARD answered his phone, and ROSE told him about recent events from her point of view. REDLIGHT was compromised. He was in some kind of cult, and he’d just killed the man they were assigned to watch, nailed him to a wall upside down, and cut off his head. She had last seen him heading toward the flat, and she wanted RICHARD to be prepared.

Agent RICHARD was unsure of what to do, but he thanked ROSE for the heads-up. The door to the flat had just opened, so he told her he thought REDLIGHT was there. She told him to take care and hung up the phone.

While the general was yelling at REDLIGHT, the agent noticed three robed individuals across the street entering his flat. As soon as the general was finished, he apologized and quickly hung up to call RICHARD. There was no answer, so he took a deep breath and looked around the room.

Sienkiewicz hadn’t left much. There was a bedroll, a backpack, a can of beans, and a bible with a bookmark. There was also the thick, comb-bound book of printer paper Sienkiewicz had said contained the counter-ritual.

The book was printed single-sided, and it was pretty thick as a result. The cover page listed the title as _The Book of the Damned_, by Karaj Heinz Vogel. The agent skimmed several pages here and a few pages there trying to get an idea of the content. It contained a treatise on ‘Sleeping Places’, several genealogies, and many pages in a strange language which the hand-written annotations suggested was an incantation of some sort.

This had to be the counter-ritual Sienkiewicz had mentioned. Not trusting himself to remember the words or to be able to read them when the time came, Agent REDLIGHT took out the microcassette recorder which had belonged to the dead CIA man and recorded himself reading the words several times in several different ways hoping that one of them would be right.

A police car pulled up in the snow where Agent ROSE was waiting. Two officers got out and approached her. One took her statement while the other examined the interior of the house. ROSE told the officer she and her partner were independent private investigators working a job for the U.S. Embassy in London. They were instructed to keep an eye on an American named David Benjamin Sienkiewicz, but her partner had apparently snapped. She had found him kneeling in front of the body hanging on the wall inside with bloody hands and a sword.

The second officer confirmed that there was a headless body nailed to the wall and a sword on the floor. He called for a homicide detective, preferably one with a specialty in occult crimes. The officers offered to take ROSE into protective custody, but she declined politely. Her other partner was still at their flat, and he was likely in danger.

The officers called in to report and then gave ROSE a ride two blocks over to the flat. Agent REDLIGHT watched her enter with the police officers while he cleaned his prints from the gun. The door to the flat was open, and ROSE could smell the familiar rusty odor of blood. She entered with the officers behind her, and found what she had feared. Agent RICHARD had been decapitated and nailed to the wall upside down to the points of a pentagram. The head was missing.

Agent REDLIGHT could hear his cell leader’s scream from across the street, and he knew what had happened. He also knew who would catch the blame, so he slipped outside. After a quick scan to make sure no one was watching, he carefully set the revolver on the hood of the police vehicle and headed off to the north. As REDLIGHT turned the corner onto snow-covered Drake Park Road, he stopped short. There was a large gathering of robed people. He estimated there must be at least a hundred. Time to find a better plan.


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 4b*

Once Agent ROSE managed to calm down, she excused herself and went to the bedroom to check her luggage. Her bags had been dumped on the floor. The book was there, but the statuette was gone. She had a little trouble breathing. The Dark Man wouldn’t be too happy about this turn of events, but maybe there was a way to salvage the situation. Maybe there was another one? Maybe the one she’d taken had been returned? She decided to check the library again. As she turned to leave the bedroom, she glanced at the clock. It said the time was 4:33 AM. There was no way four hours had gone by. She checked her phone: 4:33 AM. Whatever. She had work to do.

With a sigh, she exited the flat, passing homicide detectives and paramedics on her way. She slipped into Sienkiewicz’s hideout and gave it a cursory examination on her way through. Nothing jumped out at her, and so out the back door she went. Agent ROSE saw the gathering down at the end of the road, but they didn’t seem to notice her through the falling snow. She found the house with the toppled bookshelf and the tunnel of a library. It was just as she’d left it with the exception that the layer of mucous left by the toad-thing had dried into a greenish film.

ROSE frowned as she crawled back into the tunnel, but she was relieved to find the Vaeyen exactly where she’d found it before. She was leaving no room for error this time. She took up the statuette and smashed it into a hundred pieces. The tunnel shook and groaned, but that was all coincidence, right? The agent crawled back to the end of the tunnel and peeked out. There was the toad-like thing - the Nagaäe, or whatever – but it didn’t seem to notice her.

She gripped the handle of her sword tightly as she slipped out of the tunnel and out the front door into … sunlight? She didn’t have time to worry about how time seemed to be flying by. That was someone else’s problem at the moment.

ROSE called the embassy and prayed that Ms. Bower would answer. The CIA woman did indeed answer, and Agent ROSE explained just how sideways their assignment had gone. Ms. Bower was obviously displeased. The police weren’t likely to allow her to leave, but Ms. Bower offered ROSE a safe place at the embassy until things could be straightened out. Reaching the parking lot behind the flat, ROSE fired up the engine of the Nissan Micra and headed off in the direction of London.

Agent REDLIGHT headed back down the road that led past his flat. The police were gone, and the street was deserted. The sun was near the middle of the sky now, but he didn’t have time to wonder how it took eight hours to walk up and down the street once. In fact, if time was moving that quickly, midnight would be here soon, and he’d have to be in position by then.

REDLIGHT cautiously snuck into the flat and looked around. There was no body, but it was obvious that there had been one recently. He checked the refrigerator finding only the remains of his failed attempt at haggis, and the six-pack of beer ROSE had brought back. Something told him he’d be needing that. He downed one bottle in a single chug and opened another for the road. Armed with nothing but a backpack on his shoulder, a bottle of beer in one hand, and four more in the other, Agent REDLIGHT stepped out to save the world.

Before he could save the world, he needed one last piece to his puzzle. There was a mechanic’s garage across the street to the south, and they appeared to be closed. If they had a car, he’d be set. Peeking inside, REDLIGHT saw a blue Mini Cooper on a hydraulic jack. The locked door gave his lock picks little trouble. Once inside, he found the controls for the jack, and lowered it. The keys were on a hook behind the counter.

Microcassette recorder with counter-ritual recorded, check. Transportation, check. Four … make that three beers, check. Oh, what the hell. REDLIGHT downed the remaining bottles of alcohol, turned the key in the ignition, and sped off in the direction of the ritual as the full moon shined. The radio quite fittingly blared a song by R.E.M.

This was it. This was the moment he was born to live. This was the night he would save the world. There was just one thing. He had forgotten the snow.

The Mini Cooper took a hard left and crashed into the first house on Drake Park Road. The alcohol helped cushion the impact. At the far end of the road, the cultists formed a horseshoe shape with two robed figures in the center.

REDLIGHT turned up the radio as far as it would allow before stepping out of the car. It was not as graceful as he would have liked, but at least he had the right soundtrack. As he stomped north through three feet of snow, he held the microcassette recorder high and pressed play. The words of the counter-ritual flowed from it and blended with the music from the car radio. REDLIGHT spoke the words of the song to himself as he moved closer.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.”


----------



## Audrik

*Sufficient Unto the Day - Session 4c*

One of the two robed figures in the center of the horseshoe dropped her robe and laid down naked in the snow. The other took something out of a bag and held it high. It was a head; Sienkiewicz’s head by the look of it. The pale green light of the full moon lit the entire scene with an eerie glow.

The robed figure cut into the head with a knife letting blood and bits of brain fall onto the woman in the snow. He then lifted a second head. This one had belonged to Agent RICHARD, and the odds were good that he wouldn’t approve of its intended use. Brain and blood fell again upon the woman in the snow, and she remained still.

The cult leader’s words weren’t clear, and they sounded like gibberish, but the gathering repeated them exactly. The counter-ritual on the recorder completed just as Agent REDLIGHT got close. Without warning, chunks of tar, asphalt, and cement were sent toward the sky as the snow and earth melted away in a purple-black foam between the cult and the agent.

Countless dark tentacles shot from the hole and grabbed any living thing within reach. Bodies were slammed to the earth. Cultists were thrown to the sky. One robed figure tried to run, but a quick flick of a tentacle left behind no more than a smear.

There were screams everywhere mixed with the singular sounds of human bodies dissolving and popping, splattering and crunching. All the while, the radio could be heard.

_It’s the end of the world as we know it._

Agent REDLIGHT looked up to see the clouds part for the green moon, and then he watched the sky behind the moon do the same. The moon seemed to blink, and then it became clear in all its terrible glory. It was no moon. It was an eye. It was _the_ eye. It was none other than Cyäegha, the Waiting Dark, the Principle of Hate, the Whistler from the Stars, and the Eater of Dimensions.

_It’s the end of the world …_

Dark, impossibly large tentacles pried the rift in the sky wider, and REDLIGHT ran. He ran the best he could through three feet of snow. He ran as if he could actually escape.

Agent ROSE was half-way to London when she saw it in the rearview mirror; the hole in the sky, the hole in the earth. Only two short years ago, she’d seen the mushroom cloud of a nuclear blast in the rearview mirror, and she had been sure that was the worst thing she could have seen. Now that belief was being dashed.

She drove faster, but the earth and sky melted away. She drove as fast as her little car could go. She drove as if she could actually escape.

A tentacle shot from the sky and pierced REDLIGHT’s back pinning him face down in the snow. The last sounds he heard were the low guttural snarl of the Nagaäe, and the fading music of R.E.M.

_It’s the end …_

Eventually the darkness melted away, and they were back where they’d started the night. Everything seemed normal. REDLIGHT and Sienkiewicz were sitting on a bench in Rosy Cross Park, and Agent ROSE watched them from a distance. Her phone said the time was midnight, but if the date was correct, that entire night never happened. Only … she remembered it. She remembered every single moment.

Apparently, Sienkiewicz did, too. He stood up quickly, looked to the sky, and let out a blood-curdling scream before drawing his revolver and erasing the top half of his head with a single shot. It was all REDLIGHT could do to get out of range of the fallout.

ROSE ran over, and she and REDLIGHT both moved away from the body. Neither agent could explain what was happening, but after a brief talk, it seemed that their confusion stemmed from different sources. Agent ROSE was unsure how the world was eaten, and then everything was back to the way it was before. Agent REDLIGHT didn’t remember any of what ROSE described, however.

There was no Drake Park Road in REDLIGHT’s account, nor were there any toads or tentacles. One moment, Sienkiewicz was sitting next to him on the bench waiting for midnight, and the next … scream, bang, splat.

Agent ROSE called the police to report a suicide in the park, and then both agents walked back to the flat. ROSE was quiet, but REDLIGHT was absent-mindedly humming a tune he had stuck in his head. They returned to find Agent RICHARD still watching television. Agent ROSE was relieved to find the book from the library still in her luggage. Everything was the same as they’d left it, but REDLIGHT noted one small difference. There was a scar running all the way around Agent RICHARD’s neck, and he could swear it wasn’t there before.

The rest of the night was spent packing and preparing to leave the UK. The agents reported the death of David Benjamin Sienkiewicz to the CIA, and then they were off to Heathrow. Agent RICHARD flew home relieved that his first Opera was a relatively tame one, and Agents ROSE and REDLIGHT flew to New York City.

They went to see Graham Dworkin’s band play, but they were a little disturbed to find that Graham had never returned from Plymouth, and he was no longer answering calls. In fact, the band was already planning auditions for someone to take over playing the bongos.

After the show, REDLIGHT caught the next flight home to Alabama while ROSE waited for Monday. That morning at precisely 8:36 AM, she placed the little, black octavo on a shelf in the Religion section of the first Barnes & Noble she found. Without waiting around, she headed straight for the airport, and a few hours later, she was once again safe at home.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent REAPER - Master Sergeant Jack Jack, Delta Force Operator
Agent REDLIGHT – Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops (formerly Agent SID)
Agent RICHARD – Major James McGinnis, AMEDD General Surgeon
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)

*Former Agents*
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Gregori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RUBY (retired) – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Support Team
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH (reassigned) – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) – Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

After the previous Operation, I solicited requests from the players, and they asked for something in Alaska. This past week has been pretty busy, but I managed to get some research and writing done. The end result, at least for the first session, is about 30% improvisation on my part. We are also adding a new player. This Opera begins in the middle of January, 2012.



> “Have you known the Great White Silence, not a snow-gemmed twig aquiver?
> (Eternal truths that shame our soothing lies.)
> Have you broken trail on snowshoes? mushed your huskies up the river,
> Dared the unknown, led the way, and clutched the prize?
> Have you marked the map's void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races,
> Felt the savage strength of brute in every thew?
> And though grim as hell the worst is, can you round it off with curses?
> Then hearken to the Wild -- it's wanting you.”
> 
> ~ Robert Service, The Call of the Wild


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 1a*

The holiday season had come and gone. Thanksgiving seemed somehow hollow and mocking. Sure, there was so much to be thankful for, but when the universe has tossed you around like a broken toy seemingly on a whim, it can leave you to wonder just how much any of it matters. When you’ve seen the world itself devoured, all the turkey and stuffing in that same world can’t satisfy. What does it matter if you eat until you pop? What does it matter if you starve? When the sky can open up and swallow the Earth, how much does anything really matter?

One holiday down; on to Christmas. This year, R-cell received a brand new member. The Delta Force operator code named REAPER was a full-blooded Navajo who went by the name Jack Jack. ROSE met with him briefly to get acquainted as she felt it was better than meeting just as the curtain rose on the next Opera.

New Year’s Day. If you believe the people who misinterpret the Mayans, this was to be the last year. The end of the world would arrive in less than a year. How much worse could things really get? ROSE wasn’t particularly anxious to find out.

About two weeks later, her phone rang. The voice on the other end was female, and it was one she hadn’t heard before.

“ROSE?”

“Yeah. This is ROSE.”

“QUINN.”

“Err … Hello, QUINN. What can I do for you?”

“Passing on an invitation from a friend, PETRA. O is tied up, and to be honest, Q needs rest. Is R up for an Opera?”

There was a moment of silence before ROSE responded. She tried to sound cheerful when she said her cell was always up for an Opera. Agent QUINN told her to be at the Broad Street Starbucks in Bozeman, Montana at 10:00 AM the next morning. She’d tell PETRA to be expecting her. With that, the line went dead.

ROSE relayed the invitation to the other members of her cell and started packing. She hated packing, and she resolved then and there to always have a bag already packed for occasions such as this.

The next day was a Sunday, and Agent ROSE arrived at the designated meeting place an hour early. REAPER rolled in fifteen minutes later and took a seat next to her. REDLIGHT went to Dunkin Donuts.

His flight had landed in the early morning hours, but he didn’t notice the clock on his phone had already updated itself for the change in time zone. He had manually set it back another hour, and as a result, he incorrectly thought he had plenty of time before the meeting.

At 9:59 AM, a woman entered, ordered a plain drip coffee, and gave her name as PETRA. She was young, soft-spoken, and neatly dressed in blue with a knee-length skirt. Her dark hair was held in place by a pair of crossed chopsticks.

Agent ROSE approached and introduced herself. PETRA seemed nervous, but she smiled politely and took a seat next to REAPER. Agent ROSE explained that RICHARD’s flight had been snowed in, but he’d be on his way as soon as possible, and REDLIGHT was in town, but he was probably being intentionally late. As half the cell was in attendance, and one of them was the cell leader, it was decided that the meeting could start. The others could be caught up later.

PETRA slid a manila envelope across the table. ROSE opened it to find several black and white 8x10 photographs of what looked like plane wreckage in a snowy field. Whoever had taken the photographs had done a very good job of capturing the detail, but there were no objects added to show scale.

ROSE examined the photographs one by one, sliding them to REAPER when she had finished. One of the photos showed the plane’s call numbers on the tail; N4313G. REAPER saw five parallel gashes on either side of the fuselage running nearly the entire length. To him, they were claw marks, but ROSE couldn’t see it.

There were symbols painted on the wings which ROSE thought represented a wind spirit or elemental of some sort. When REAPER saw them, his eyes widened a bit, and he slid back from the table with a single whispered word.

“Wendigo.”


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 1b*

Agent REDLIGHT walked in just at that moment and took a seat at the table. He finished the last bite of his donut as ROSE informed him he was nearly a half hour late. REDLIGHT looked from his phone to the clock on the wall to ROSE, and he shrugged. He asked what he missed, and ROSE filled him in. REDLIGHT nodded. He had just one question.

“The hell’s a wendigo?”

ROSE explained what she knew, and then REAPER gave the version he’d heard from his grandfather. The two stories were similar but they didn’t completely agree. In ROSE’s version, the wendigo was a creature that was associated with the cold north wind. It would ambush lost or unwary travelers and eat them. Sometimes it would toy with them for a while, terrifying its victims and driving them insane.

REAPER’s version was more detailed. His grandfather had described the creature as a skin-walker; a monster that could appear human just as easily as take the form of a wolf or other animal. In all its forms, it had golden eyes. The wendigo would torment lost travelers and feed on the strength of their negative emotions. Their fear, their anger, and their despair would all make the thing stronger until it tired of the game. The wendigo would strike so quickly the victim would never know, and by that point, they were usually begging to die. It would eat only the heart, leaving the rest to the cold wastes.

REDLIGHT nodded. Okay, so they have some kind of evil, cannibal werewolf that can look like anyone or anything, and it could kill in an instant. Assuming that had anything whatsoever to do with what looked to him like random squiggles on a crashed plane, what did it have to do with them? How was this an Opera?

PETRA conceded that it was possible it might not amount to an Opera, but her contact – the one who’d provided the photographs – thought there was something worth checking out. That’s why she’d asked for help.

The agents decided to check the crash site, and so PETRA led them to a spot near Wheeler Mountain south of Bozeman. Either the name failed to conjure memories of the entity in the Spooner Avenue investigation, or REDLIGHT and ROSE had made a point to ignore the coincidence.

On the way, ROSE searched the FAA website for the plane’s call numbers. They identified the plane as a 1961 Cessna 172B registered to the National Park Service in Coldfoot, Alaska before the registration expired in 1972. The plane had not passed an airworthiness certification since 1967. She called the FAA and got the same information, but she was also able to learn that this particular aircraft hadn’t filed a flight plan in over forty years.

The crash site was small but easily spotted. The land for miles around was covered in a thin layer of frost, but there was a small oval-shaped area roughly sixty yards long and twenty yards wide which was covered in ice and snow at least a foot deep. There were a few small trees which appeared to have been bent away from the crash with great force and then flash-frozen. PETRA explained that the wreckage had been taken to a hangar at Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport, and she could get them access if they wanted to see it. There was one body recovered, and it was taken to Bozeman Deaconess Hospital for autopsy. The agents decided to break for lunch, and then PETRA would take REDLIGHT to examine the wreckage while ROSE and REAPER would talk to the Medical Examiner.

At the airport, PETRA didn’t so much flash a badge as hold up a wallet and smile, but it managed to clear all barriers for them. The hangar was dark everywhere except where the floodlights shined on tables blanketed with twisted metal. There was one man here inspecting the wreckage, and his cap identified him as an employee of the FAA.

Agent REDLIGHT poked around a little, and he took pictures of anything and everything he found interesting. The glyphs were flaking away, but they appeared to be long-dried blood. The inspector said that if he didn’t know this crash happened within the past thirty-six hours, he’d never believe it. The engine was little more than a chunk of rust, and in the inspector’s estimation, it couldn’t possibly have been operational for at least twenty years. Same with the fuel tank. It was rusted completely through in several places, and there wasn’t a trace of fuel.

ROSE took a taxi, and REAPER drove his car, but they arrived at the hospital at the same time. Over the past few years, ROSE had become intimately familiar with the general layout of the average hospital, and so it took them no time at all to find the morgue.

She flashed her FinCEN credentials and explained to the Medical Examiner that she’d like to see the body recently recovered from the plane wreckage. She and her partner were investigating him for suspicion of money laundering.

The Medical Examiner was happy to assist, and she pulled out the drawer they were after. She did confess that other than a cursory examination Friday night when he was brought in, she had been putting off the autopsy. Something about this body gave her an odd feeling.

The agents took a look. The body was male with short brown hair and about a week’s worth of facial hair. The skin was pale, the eyes were sunken, and the chest cavity had been ripped open. True to REAPER’s prediction, the heart was missing.

There was some bruising all over the body. The Medical Examiner explained she couldn’t be 100% certain until she’d performed the autopsy, but at a glance, she’d say the impact wasn’t what killed the victim. It appeared he had survived the crash only to die when his chest was opened and his heart taken. Obviously, that didn’t make sense, and she really did intend to perform the autopsy once she could bring herself to do it.

ROSE asked if the body had been identified, and she was given a bag of personal effects containing the victim’s wallet. The driver’s license identified him as James Spaulding, 33, from Portland, Oregon. The agents thanked the doctor and took their leave just as REDLIGHT texted his photos to ROSE. They decided to meet up and do some planning, and PETRA left them to it. She had her normal job duties, but she exchanged numbers with ROSE to keep tabs on the Opera.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 1c*

While the agents discussed possible courses of action, ROSE searched online for information about James Spaulding. It’s not an uncommon name, but she quickly narrowed it down. She discovered that Mr. Spaulding was a freelance writer, and he wrote an outdoorsman blog. According to the blog and Mr. Spaulding’s Facebook page, he and three friends were planning an off-season trip to Gates of the Arctic National Park about 250 miles north of Fairbanks, Alaska. The group would consist of Spaulding, Jennifer Montgomery, and Tavis Green from Portland, and Melissa Martin from Salem.

Cross-country skiing, snowmobiling, and dog sledding were all on the menu, as were hunting, camping, and gold panning. This was to be an epic adventure for the group spanning the entire month of January. They would ring in the new year in the park. Hunting permits were already purchased for all the caribou they could eat, plus a few moose, Dall sheep, and one black bear. An entire month’s worth of supplementary provisions had been procured and were to be waiting at Porcupine Creek Airport for their arrival.

The Opera appeared to be set in Alaska, and so the agents made travel arrangements. ROSE and REAPER drove to Seattle, and then to Bellingham, Washington to take the ferry to Alaska. This was the only way they could think of to take what they felt they’d need to hunt a wendigo. REDLIGHT wasn’t about to sit on a boat for days on end, and so he flew. On a layover in Anchorage, he did some shopping for cold-weather gear, and he arrived in the tiny town of Coldfoot, Alaska four days before the others.

The scenery was at once beautiful and dreary. There were maybe thirty houses in the whole town, and they were pretty well spaced. There weren’t many buildings which didn’t appear to be homes. There was a very large gas station. Then there was the airport which was really little more than a dirt and gravel runway with a hangar. The Arctic Interagency Visitor Center was the only architecturally interesting building in the town with its split-layered roof. A sign on the door indicated that the Visitor Center would be closed for the months of October through April. The other two buildings were a bar and a small hotel.

The sky was bright blue because it was just too cold for clouds. Agent REDLIGHT’s body could probably stand the cold better than most, but his lungs and eyes were still human, and that meant they could freeze. One local happened to pass by, giving the agent a strange and mistrustful look. REDLIGHT stopped him and asked about the Visitor’s Center. The man just shook his head and said it was closed. If he wanted in, he’d have to talk to Samantha Wendell who operated the center during the warmer months. He pointed her house out, and REDLIGHT thanked him.

The agent then headed toward the hotel. The building only had about ten rooms, a lobby, and a small dining area, but a travel brochure might say it had a certain rustic charm. Agent REDLIGHT had to ring the bell a few times before he got service, and then he was told the cost of a room was $175 per night.

He started to argue, but the clerk reminded him he was welcome to rent a tent from Mrs. Wendell if he’d rather. REDLIGHT handed over his credit card with a slight sneer. There was an upside to the extortion, however. Food was included in the cost of the room. He could have anything he wanted as long as they had it, and he could have as much as he could eat. The clerk explained that at the moment, they were a bit low on vegetables, but they had plenty of meat. 

REDLIGHT took his room key, signed the guestbook, and went to his room to get settled. Shortly thereafter, he headed to the dining area and ordered right off the menu: Meat Stew. He was told that for tonight, the role of ‘meat’ would be played by caribou. Over the next few days, the meat changed a few times, but it was always very well prepared and well worth the price he paid.

The day ROSE and REAPER were due to arrive turned out to be far warmer than the others. The thermometer pushed as high as fifteen degrees above zero. REDLIGHT took that as a sign that he should do all his outdoor activity, and so he headed down the frozen dirt road toward Samantha Wendell’s house.

Mrs. Wendell was quite tall, about 6’3” or so, thin but athletic, with long, light blonde hair. Her eyes were a pale blue, and they appeared slightly sunken and dark as if she hadn’t slept well in a while. For all that, she seemed friendly enough. She was certainly friendlier than some locals REDLIGHT had met.

She told REDLIGHT she’d be happy to provide him with a map from the Visitor Center, and if he needed a snowmobile, dog sled, skis, tent, guide, whatever … he just needed to ask. Well, ask and hand over a modest amount of money. She was in the rental business after all. He thanked her for her time and said he’d be in touch once his friends arrived.

An hour or so later, ROSE and REAPER completed their journey arriving in Coldfoot in the early evening just as things really started to cool off. ROSE went to the bar and had a drink before calling REDLIGHT to let him know she was in town. REAPER stopped by the hotel to check in.

By the end of the day, the three agents occupied three rooms in a hotel of ten, and they still had one agent on the way. The Opera would be a costly one already if not for the magic of fake credit cards. At least the Meat Stew was complimentary.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 2a*

Four days snowed in at Logan International Airport in Boston had left Agent RICHARD weary of travel, and he hadn’t moved. When he was finally able to fly out, he really just wanted to go home. His connection in Seattle didn’t help matters. The next flight north didn’t leave for almost six hours.

Upon reaching Fairbanks, he found that there was one plane leaving for Coldfoot, but it was leaving in about ten minutes. It would only hold four, and it had been chartered by a trio from California. RICHARD grumbled, but he put on his best smile and tried to charm his way on the flight. The Californians weren’t particularly interested in squeezing in next to him for the next two and a half hours, but RICHARD’s smile managed to win them over, being accompanied as it was by many smiles from Benjamin Franklin. The doctor wasn’t happy about handing over $500, but at least he was on his way.

Agent REAPER wasn’t about to let a skin-walker get the jump on him. That’s why he’d insisted on driving rather than flying. There was no way any plane would let him bring toys like the ones he’d packed. In these days of heightened airport security, the bed of a truck was the only reliable way to transport M18A1 Claymore mines and an M79 grenade launcher. Had Agent ROSE known what was in the back, she would likely have questioned the need for such firepower.

This was her first Opera with REAPER, so she was still a little wary. At least he seemed to know what he was doing. Besides … Delta Force. There were only like 300 of these guys, right? They had to be the best of the best. She had done her research when she’d learned about the new cell member. She also learned there was a movie about Delta Force starring Chuck Norris and Lee Marvin. Lee Marvin was okay, but damn, she hated Chuck Norris.

They were in the center of Alaska in the middle of winter, and they were hunting a wendigo. REAPER’s grandfather had told him the skin-walkers were dangerous during the day, but they were nearly un-killable at night. Well, at least night only lasted 22 hours each day at this time of year. That would give them easily an hour and a half or so each day before things got really dangerous. Claymore on this window, Claymore on that window, Claymore on the door to his room … REAPER was ready for the night.

Agent ROSE relaxed in her room oblivious to the demolitions work in progress just next door. She turned her phone into a mobile hotspot and did a little more research on her laptop. Coldfoot was the last truck stop on the Dalton Highway until Prudhoe Bay about 250 miles north. It had apparently been featured on a few episodes of a show called Ice Road Truckers, but there was very little information beyond that.

Conventional research seemed to be failing. At best, it was as slow as the internet connection. ROSE knew an easier way, but there didn’t seem to be many people in town who could disappear without being noticed. She didn’t remember many people on the drive from Fairbanks either. Could she make it to Fairbanks and back before anyone knew she was gone? The drive had taken almost eight hours, but REAPER drove like an old lady.

She hadn’t seen any State Troopers, so there wouldn’t be any need to obey speed limits. Even if she did get pulled over, she was FinCEN. She was even FBI or CDC if she wanted, but more than that, she was hot. She’d been stopped for speeding in nearly every state in the union, and never once had she actually been ticketed.

Okay, so Fairbanks it was. Now all she needed was transportation. There was only one vehicle parked out front; REAPER’s 2007 Ford F-150. That should be fine. If she could make the trip there and back in under ten hours, he’d never know it was gone.

Agent ROSE managed to get the truck hotwired just before her feet froze, and if you don’t count the near-head on with a moose (which she didn’t), the journey was fast and easy. Her first target was a young female in her early 20s, but the girl politely refused the offer of a ride. She was only walking a short way to her boyfriend’s house.

The girl was young, and she had a boyfriend. ROSE decided to pick another target. After all, she was no monster. A few minutes of driving, and she found another. This one was a man in his fifties on his way out of a bar. ROSE convinced him of the dangers of drunk driving, and offered him a ride back to his car in the morning. The wink sealed the deal, and the man hopped in.

There were so many bad motels to choose from. Agent ROSE found a suitable one, checked in under a fake name, and led the man to the room. It was only a few minutes before she had her opportunity. Bronze knife, throat, blood, bowl, place a call to the Dark Man … The process was becoming second nature.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 2b*

The Dark Man appeared a minute later and towered over her in the small room. He was silent and imposing, but Agent ROSE had seen it all before.

“I’ve called you because I’m on an Operation in Alaska, and I’m stuck. I need to know exactly what I’m hunting and how best to find it. In exchange, as usual, ask anything you like.”

The Dark Man leaned forward under the low ceiling, and ROSE felt a slight chill. He demanded that she tell him everything she knew about what she was hunting, and then he would fulfil her request. She ran down the list: glyphs on the plane, localized ice and snow, missing heart …

The Dark Man nodded, and when he did so, the smooth horn which served as his otherwise-featureless face ripped sections of the ceiling away.

“You hunt a wendigo, Gia Jones; a Child of Ithaqua. The best way to find it is to bring it to you. Give it what it seeks. I shall be watching you, Gia Jones. I will call on you soon with my demand, and you will obey.”

With that, the Dark Man was gone, and ROSE snapped into action. She cleaned up all evidence of her presence, and shut the door behind her. On her way out of town, she dropped the room key in a mailbox. To paraphrase the creed of the U.S. Postal Service, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift return of your motel key.”

By 5:00 AM, ROSE was back in Coldfoot. She repaired the damage done by hotwiring, and she even filled the gas tank on the truck. She had probably two or three hours before the rest of the cell would expect her to be awake, so she slipped back to her room and immediately fell asleep.

Through the entire flight, the Californians never once acknowledged RICHARD. They were entirely too absorbed in their own worlds. Two and a half hours of listening to Antonio, Lisa, and Craig going on and on about how “totally awesome” and “hella sweet, fer sure” this trip was going to be made RICHARD wish he was still snowed in back in Boston. At one point, Lisa decided that since carpool lanes worked so well, there should be planepool lanes, too. Agent RICHARD contained himself, and Lisa managed to not be thrown from the plane.

It was still as dark as night when the little plane touched down in Coldfoot right around breakfast time. Agent RICHARD couldn’t get out of the plane fast enough for his taste. He pulled his coat tightly around himself as he took up his bags and trudged off toward the hotel with deliberate steps. On his way to the front desk, the doctor noticed ROSE and REDLIGHT in the dining area with someone else. He’d been told there was a new cell member, so that must be him.

RICHARD checked in and met up with his cell. After a few clarifications about the menu, he ordered the Meat Burger which he’d been assured was Dall sheep today. REDLIGHT had the Three Egg, Two Meat Omelette. Agent REAPER just didn’t feel right about the presentation of the menu, and so he ordered eggs - lots of eggs – and no meat. For the duration of this Opera, he was a vegetarian unless he shot and killed the food himself.

Everyone filled RICHARD in on Act I of the Opera, and from the sound of it, he’d be lucky if it turned out not to be a tragedy. He had to be corrected a few times when he would call the wendigo a werewolf. REAPER and ROSE assured him it was not a werewolf, but he didn’t see the distinction. Claws and fangs, check. Lives in the cold-assed wilderness, check. More dangerous at night, check. Can change its shape, check. How was this not a werewolf? Well, you see, it eats hearts, and it can look like anything – not just wolves. Nope. RICHARD was going to call it a werewolf.

REAPER explained that the wendigo was attracted to pain and suffering. ROSE’s plan to draw it out would require a volunteer to experience those two particular emotions, and the stronger, the better. Unfortunately for R-cell, it looked like it would have to be one of them to volunteer. REAPER and ROSE thought that maybe REDLIGHT should be the one to volunteer. After all, he was always eating all the Aleve, Advil, Tylenol, and any other painkillers that he could. He even carried morphine patches. He was obviously already in a lot of pain, and he’d just have to stop taking the pills.

REDLIGHT offered a counter-proposal. REAPER could take his rifle and shove it somewhere sure to bring him pain and suffering. Agent RICHARD calmed things down before they went further. His suggestion was to find its lair. That would likely involve heading out into the wilderness, but with any luck, there wouldn’t be any pain or suffering. ROSE and REAPER shot that plan down before it could get off the ground. They were going to draw it out, and that was that.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 2c*

There was a lively discussion about just who should volunteer, but ultimately it was ROSE who put an end to it. If none of the men were man enough to volunteer, she would do it. She left the table and went up to her room. REAPER followed while the other two finished their breakfast.

ROSE opened the window to her room and leaned out. The air outside was cold, and she could immediately feel her eyes and nose start to freeze. She could reach the roof from her window, and she was sure she could climb up. She looked to REAPER, but he made no move to talk her out of whatever she was planning. She made an awkward lunge in a few directions at once, but she managed to get a grip and pull herself up onto the roof.

The ground was only about 25 feet or so down, but the snow and darkness made it difficult to judge. The ground was frozen solid, so ROSE focused on a snowbank, took a deep, cold breath, and jumped for it. She slipped a bit just at the end, and it threw off her entire trajectory. REAPER’s eyes widened as he saw his cell leader fall past the window.

“No freakin’ way! She did it!”

He moved to the window and nearly winced at what he saw. Agent ROSE looked somewhat like a cold, red pretzel. Her right leg was going in all the wrong directions, and it had to be broken in at least three places. She was obviously barely containing her screams.

REAPER rushed downstairs and outside, and the other two followed. RICHARD immediately started fumbling in his bag for a morphine patch, but REAPER placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“No morphine for her.”

“Are you crazy?! Look at her. She needs it before the shock wears off. I’m going to need to set that leg right away, and we’ll need to cauter-“

“No. Morphine.”

Agent REAPER let the doctor know in no uncertain terms that ROSE put herself in this situation to draw out the wendigo, and to kill the pain would be to waste her effort. ROSE nodded weakly through teary eyes.

“Alright then. You want pain? This might help.”

RICHARD handed her a stick and told her to bite down. He then made some sickening sounding motions to re-set her bones. REAPER was happy to burn the wound for them. REDLIGHT shook his head and headed over to Samantha Wendell’s house while the other two helped ROSE to the hotel lobby.

There was no one around, so REAPER grabbed a few Claymore mines from his room and hid them in strategic places. If a wendigo came for them, it would get hit by hundreds of chunks of metal from all angles. He handed the detonator to ROSE who took them without really comprehending the entire situation due to the lack of sleep and the shock of the fall. REAPER took up a position in the shadows of the hallway. RICHARD sat in the lobby with ROSE and debated on giving her the morphine anyway.

When Mrs. Wendell answered the door, Agent REDLIGHT asked her if she would be willing to rent him a snowmobile and a few heavy blankets. She was quite happy to do so, and she walked with him across the creek to Porcupine Creek Airport about a mile and a half away where she kept the snowmobiles, dog sleds, and camping equipment.

While she was preparing the two-seat snowmobile, REDLIGHT looked around. The airport was hardly more than a very short dirt and gravel runway. The only hangar was probably barely large enough to hold a small plane, but it was empty at the moment.

Mrs. Wendell and Agent REDLIGHT rode back to the town and parked the snowmobile in front of the hotel. Mrs. Wendell went home, and REDLIGHT carried the blankets up onto her roof. His alien-engineered body was rather resistant to the cold, but even he would freeze to death uncovered. Buried in blankets on the side of Mrs. Wendell’s roof which faced the hotel, Agent REDLIGHT waited and watched.

Three hours went by, and nothing came to eat ROSE’s heart. RICHARD did his best to keep her from passing out or getting infected, but with REAPER watching them both, he didn’t dare try to ease her pain.

“Oh, my gosh. It’s, like, still hella dark out.”

“Yeah, Lisa. We’re at the top of the world. The sun only comes out on weekends.”

“Shut up, Craig! I’m not that dumb.”

The Californians were coming down the hall, still loud, still self-absorbed. REAPER gritted his teeth and rested his hand on his pistol. Now these were the people to use as bait. Who would care if they were in pain? He watched them make their way to the dining area, and he even mimed taking a few shots at Craig.

When they had finished their lunch, the Californians made their way outside and over to Samantha Wendell’s house. They were entirely too focused on themselves to notice the bundle of blankets on the roof. They made a deal to rent two teams of dogs and sleds for the day, and Mrs. Wendell walked them over to the airport. REDLIGHT watched them as they prepared the sleds, and the cold morning air carried sounds of “giddyup” and “yaw, mule!”


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 2d*

REAPER called REDLIGHT to let him know the situation. REDLIGHT confirmed that he’d seen the tourists leave on dog sleds. Agent REAPER had a new plan. REDLIGHT would come and sit with ROSE while the other two followed the dog sleds on the snow mobile.

As his cell leader was no longer the bait, RICHARD administered the morphine. Then he and REAPER headed off across the creek on the snowmobile. The trail was easy to follow as it winded northwest along a frozen creek and through a valley. The agents caught up to the Californians at a cabin by a small, frozen lake. They seemed to be taking a break to drink cheap beer. Once the break was over, the agents followed some more.

After a few miles, the dog sleds stopped on a frozen river. The girl, Lisa, had apparently lost her phone, and she wasn’t going anywhere without it. The two guys argued that their daylight wasn’t going to last long, and they needed to be back before it got too dark. Lisa wasn’t going to stand for that, and she stared down the one REAPER was sure was Craig.

Craig caved and agreed to help her look for the phone, but Antonio said he was cold. He was going to head back, and he’d see them if they ever got back to the hotel. He laughed, shouted a “giddyup”, and sped off in the wrong direction. Town was to the southeast, but Antonio went southwest. No one corrected him. 

“Screw ‘em. Let’s hit up that cabin before it gets dark.”

RICHARD agreed that REAPER had a good plan, and so they headed back. REAPER was going to wait at the cabin and see if the wendigo would come to play. RICHARD was going to wait at the cabin and hope the werewolf would go away.

Agent RICHARD got the fire burning in the fireplace while REAPER trapped the outside with Claymores. They locked the door and windows, and they settled in for the rest of the dark day. They passed the time with stories. REAPER offered a story about a time he was stabbed, and RICHARD responded with one about when he sewed up a person who was stabbed. REAPER had been shot. RICHARD had pulled bullets out of countless people. REAPER had broken a few bones. RICHARD had just set a broken leg.

There was a scream outside, but it was echoing. They couldn’t be certain of where it had come from. RICHARD stood up, but REAPER shook his head.

“Nothing we can do now. We don’t even know if that was human. The wendigo can mimic voices as easily as it can change shapes.”

RICHARD sighed and sat down nodding his head. The scream came again, and this time it was closer. It sounded like Lisa, and she was begging for help. Out the window, RICHARD could see her. She was running toward the cabin. She tripped and fell face first. She got to her hands and knees, and she scrambled a bit before falling again. She got up and ran some more. As she got close to the cabin, there was a soft click and then a loud boom.

Two mines shredded whoever – or whatever – that was, and the silence that followed the echo was eerie. Agent RICHARD asked if that was a person or the werewolf, but REAPER didn’t know the answer to that. Neither of them wanted to check, but REAPER did anyway. There were chunks of bronzed flesh and strands of blond hair. If it had been a skin-walker, it should have returned to its real form.

The agent wasted no time mourning. He placed new mines to cover the spot left by the others, and then he got back inside the cabin. It was going to be a long night.

The agents sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but eventually the tension eased. They returned to sharing stories until nearly midnight. There was a heavy creaking up on the roof as if something heavy was moving around.

“I think we’re going to need a bigger cabin.”

RICHARD’s reference to the movie Jaws wasn’t too well received, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t about to admit that he was scared, or that he’d gotten in way over his head. Awkward jokes were about all he had left.

A gust of frigid air came pouring down the chimney putting out the fire, and blowing ice, smoke, and ash all over. Agent RICHARD covered his mouth with his sleeve, and lit a lamp. REAPER fired two shots from his pistol into the ceiling where he thought he heard footsteps.

There was a crash outside, and the ground shook as something landed. The snow and wind were picking up, and the agents couldn’t see anything. REAPER opened his window and tossed a grenade toward where he thought the thing had landed. There was an explosion, and then the only sounds outside were the wind and an echoing howl.

The agents made sure the door and windows were locked once more, and RICHARD relit the fire. He’d seen enough movies to know they weren’t going to see the sun again.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 3a*

Agent REDLIGHT made a quick stop by the hotel bar to order a Long Island Iced Tea for ROSE and a large mug of cheap whiskey for himself. It took ROSE only a few minutes to finish her drink, and afterward Agent REDLIGHT helped his cell leader upstairs and saw her safely into bed. He then went back downstairs to disarm the Claymores REAPER had hidden around the lobby.

He relocated them to positions around the outside of the hotel and then went to visit Samantha Wendell. She worked as a tour guide, and while this wasn’t the busy season, she was still happy to have the work. Mrs. Wendell invited the agent inside to warm up, and he was happy to accept.

Her house was larger than some of the others in town, and it was well furnished. Over the past year or so, REDLIGHT had become quite familiar with antique furniture, and while he couldn’t quite place hers, he was sure every piece was about a hundred years old or so. For all that, it was in very good condition.

The couches and chair in the living room had been well used, but they had also been well maintained. The table was one solid slice from a large tree which had been stained and encased in several layers of some sort of varnish. It had its scrapes and coffee rings, but like the rest of the furniture, it was in very good condition. The whole room stood in contrast with the disrepair of the hotel.

Mrs. Wendell lit a few sticks of incense and placed them around the house before joining REDLIGHT in the living room. The agent asked pointed questions disguised as polite conversation, and he was able to determine that Mrs. Wendell had moved to Coldfoot with her husband Walter just after they’d married, and that he had died nearly twenty years ago. She claimed to be no expert on ancient tribal religions, but she did seem to have a fair understanding. There were some sites she used as stops on her tours which had long ago been used for tribal rites.

REDLIGHT arranged to have a snowmobile tour of some of the ancient tribal religious sites the following day. They were going to have to get started around 10:00 AM if they were going to have enough daylight.

Thanking Mrs. Wendell, and taking his leave, Agent REDLIGHT stopped by the other bar in town to have a look. The bar was quite economical in its use of space. From the outside, it looked barely larger than most of the houses in town. On the inside, two full walls were lined with liquor bottles, mirrors, pitchers, and glasses of all types and sizes. The rest of the bar managed to fit two pool tables, five dart boards, and four tables in such a way that they could all be in use, but no one would be in another’s way.

The bar was not operating at capacity this evening. Other than a rather burly looking bartender, REDLIGHT counted seven men and one woman. The woman was just as big as any of the men, but she was a little less grizzled. Her name was Martha as REDLIGHT found out when he sidled up and bought her a drink.

Over the course of a few drinks, REDLIGHT steered the conversation toward the religion of the various Athabaskan tribes. Martha knew a little from stories her grandfather had told her. Most of it was more or less standard shamanism which didn’t interest the agent in the least, so he continued steering the conversation.

He asked about wind spirits, and Martha told him every child knew the stories of Ithaqua, the Wind-Walker. He was a giant and terrible creature who was always just out of sight in the blizzard. The cold, roaring wind was his voice. Her ancestors feared him as a real beast, but he had become little more than a story to scare children into staying close to home during the winter.

The agent pressed for more details about this spirit, and Martha was happy to tell him all she knew. Her ancestors would hold rites and leave offerings to the Wind-Walker before every winter in the hopes that the creature would be appeased, and the winter storms would pass them by.

Sometimes the thing would sweep through the valley and take away some of the women. They would never be seen again, but their children could be heard echoing through the coldest of the winter nights. They were called Wendigo. This last word, Martha whispered though she didn’t seem to have noticed that she did.

Whether it was the word, or the whisper, or both, REDLIGHT felt a chill. He thanked Martha for the story and headed back to the hotel. Morning would come soon, and it felt somehow colder now. The wind was whipping through the small town, and even REDLIGHT was chilled. The light snowfall didn’t help.

At some point during the night, ROSE answered her phone. She didn’t look at the time, but it was dark out. That only meant it wasn’t noon. The voice on the other end belonged to the coroner from Bozeman. She had finally completed the autopsy of the pilot. As she had guessed, it wasn’t the crash that killed him. It was the loss of his heart, and the near-instantaneous freezing of his flesh. The only other thing of interest was the content of the man’s stomach. It seemed his last meal had been human with potatoes and carrots.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 3b*

ROSE’s mind was still a little cloudy from alcohol, morphine, and sleep, but the chilling implications of the coroner’s words were not lost on her. She thanked the woman for her efforts, and promptly fell back to sleep.

When she woke, she vaguely remembered a visit from REDLIGHT; something about the wind and children, and a snowmobile tour? Her leg was broken in three places, and he expected her to go sightseeing? She managed to be dressed and having breakfast before REDLIGHT even woke up. When he did make it downstairs, he informed his cell leader that he would return with Mrs. Wendell and a two-seat snowmobile. They were going to check out some of the old religious sites.

It took nearly an hour to stop by Mrs. Wendell’s house, walk across the creek to the other airport, and return with a snowmobile. REDLIGHT took advantage of Mrs. Wendell’s offer to open up the Visitor’s Center for him. It was cold inside, but at least the wind stayed out.

The agent collected a map and a few travel brochures before peeking into the small room which the Visitor’s Center considered a museum. The displays had a few artifacts of the ancient tribal cultures, but the majority of the room was taken up by photographs. There was only one which drew REDLIGHT’s attention. It was of a forest clearing with four stones jutting from the earth. There was no way to tell the size, but the stones were all carved with glyphs that resembled the ones painted on the crashed airplane. The caption simply read “Stones Dedicated to the Great Wind-Walker”.

Once they were done at the Visitor’s Center, REDLIGHT and Mrs. Wendell met up with ROSE at the hotel, and the three rode off into the wilderness. They rode to the Porcupine Creek Airport for a starting point and followed the same creek which REAPER, RICHARD, and the Californians had followed the day before.

Agent REDLIGHT thought he saw someone hiding off in the trees, and so he called for Samantha to stop. When he pointed to where he thought he’d seen someone, there was nothing. REDLIGHT shrugged, and the group started up again. They made it no more than five miles when the agent saw the same figure off in the trees. Again, they stopped, and again there was nothing for REDLIGHT to point out.

The group headed out once more, and a few miles later, it was ROSE who saw the figure. It was most definitely the Dark Man, and she most definitely didn’t have the time to talk, so she ignored him. She ignored him when she saw him a few miles later as well.

After a while, Samantha stopped and pointed toward a dense grouping of trees. She indicated that the first site was that direction, and she led them slowly to it. There was a curious sight when they made it to the tree line. Just beyond the trees was a clearing of frozen grass. All around it, the snow was at least two feet deep, but in the roughly fifty-foot diameter clearing, there was definitely grass. There were also four stones carved with glyphs just like the ones in the museum photograph.

Mrs. Wendell gave her usual tour guide speech about how the site was once used to leave offerings to the wind spirits while REDLIGHT took pictures of the grass and the stones. ROSE simply sat on the snowmobile wishing she had stayed at the hotel.

Agent REDLIGHT asked if they should turn back so they could get to town before dark, but Mrs. Wendell assured them they could get to the next site and back before it was dark for long. Besides, they really didn’t want to miss this next site. It was in a cave.

That was all REDLIGHT needed, and so the tour was off again. They followed a frozen river north for quite a while but just as Samantha had said, they came to a wide cave. ROSE needed help getting off the snowmobile and approaching the cave. She asked how deep the cave was, and Mrs. Wendell explained that she’d never explored the entire thing, but the religious site she was going to show them wasn’t far.

ROSE leaned on REDLIGHT’s shoulder as they entered the cave. The snow and ice extended further in than they would have expected, but Mrs. Wendell assured them it was quite normal. The wind would get very strong near the mouth of the cave. That was most likely the reason the tribes associated it with a wind spirit rather than earth.

Samantha had a lantern, and REDLIGHT had his flashlight, so the interior was pretty well lit. The path they took led to the left for several yards, but for ROSE, it might as well have been miles. It opened into a large natural chamber, and the path wound down along the cavern wall for nearly two full laps. When the agents reached the bottom, it was noticeably colder than it was at the top. They could see their breath in the beam of the flashlight.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 3c*

A large portion of the cavern wall appeared to be clear blue ice rather than stone, but before the agents could look closer, a bone-chilling howl echoed all through the chamber. REDLIGHT asked Mrs. Wendell to help ROSE stand, and then he moved toward the center of the room with his rifle at the ready.

There was another howl, and a freezing wind swirled down from up above. REDLIGHT was unnerved to realize that it had begun to snow in the chamber. As ROSE leaned on her shoulder, Mrs. Wendell drew a pistol and scanned the shadows of the upper cavern.

The wind picked up to a violent pace, and the snow turned to hail. Agent REDLIGHT yelled to the others that it was time to go, and as soon as he did, the lantern went dark. The only light in the cavern was now his flashlight, and with the blizzard, visibility was very little. Then they heard Samantha’s voice.

“I’ve brought them for you, Walter. Take them, my love!”

With that, a loud snarl fell from above, and something landed very near to Agent REDLIGHT with enough force to shake the rocky ground. He swung his flashlight at eye level, and he came face to waist with something pale, naked, and green. He shined the light higher, and then he wished he hadn’t.

Walter was twelve feet tall, sickly thin with sunken eyes, sharp yellow teeth, and long claws. So that was a wendigo? RICHARD’s assessment of ‘werewolf’ was way off.

“Take this one, Walter! She’s hurt.”

Mrs. Wendell kicked ROSE’s broken leg out from under her, and the agent landed face first screaming in the snow at the bottom of the cave.

The creature stalked over to the fallen agent and shot a nasty claw toward her back, but ROSE managed to roll out of the way with a whimper. The crack of REDLIGHT’s rifle echoed through the chamber, and Walter took a shot to the back. The round left a large hole which slowly began to seal up and fade away. That drew attention back to REDLIGHT. The wind picked up even more, but the snow stopped.

The Wendigo waved a bone-thin arm in REDLIGHT’s direction sending a gust of wind which forced the agent back against the far wall and nearly took him off his feet. REDLIGHT responded by dropping the rifle and drawing his automatic pistol. He fired a burst of probably twenty or so rounds. Most of them went wide, but several hit the creature to roughly the same effect as the rifle shot.

Samantha fired a shot at REDLIGHT and caught him in the side. The agent responded by emptying the rest of his clip into the tour guide. Her bullet-riddled body collapsed at ROSE’s feet, and the wendigo immediately took a knee. It drew out her heart and ate it with a single bite, and in so doing, her body was instantly frozen. The creature bent down as if to kiss his fallen wife, but it instead took a deep breath. A sort of sparkling blue mist moved from Mrs. Wendell’s mouth to that of the monster.

ROSE tried in vain to crawl up the path. It had become icy and slick with the snow and ice. In three long steps, the wendigo stood in front of the ice wall and exhaled the mist. The agents watched as the essence of Samantha Wendell drifted deep through the ice and past something very big. It looked like the wendigo they were fighting, only this one was more than twice as big, and it was covered in white fur with antlers sticking out from its head.

Agent ROSE screamed and drew her large silver knife. She held it out as if warning the creature not to come closer, and she tried again to scoot slowly up the path. When the wendigo turned toward her, she swung with everything she had, and she caught the thing in the leg. While the bullet holes had already vanished, this gash seemed to really hurt it.

The beast roared. ROSE screamed, panicked, and cried. REDLIGHT dropped his empty pistol in favor of his Taser. He pulled the trigger, and the electrified darts dug into its flesh. As luck would have it, a creature like this can apparently still be stunned.

Not wanting to waste any time, the Agent picked up his hysterical cell leader, took the knife from her and tried unsuccessfully to move up the path. They made only a little progress before the creature started to stagger toward them. REDLIGHT set ROSE down and readied the knife. One quick swing, and it dug deep into the creature’s withered belly. The agent was at once excited to have done such damage, disheartened to see that all the other wounds had already healed, and terrified at the creature’s howl of rage.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 3d*

It would be nothing to leave ROSE to the beast and make his escape, and truth be told, he’d been toying with the idea of killing her in the wilderness anyway. Why then, when he had the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone did he instead try to save her? He couldn’t say.

REDLIGHT took the still screaming ROSE by the hand and started to drag her up the slope, but a quick swipe from the pale green claw ripped his side open. The soldier fell unconscious and bleeding next to his cell leader. For her part, ROSE managed to pull herself together enough to scream for help. Time seemed to slow, and a voice came from the shadows above. It was the Dark Man.

“I have come, Gia Jones. You owe me a debt.”

“Name it! Anything! Just … help!”

“You will have your help, Gia Jones, but first pay your debt to me. Give your friend over to the wendigo.”

ROSE may have only had a second or two of conflict in her soul, but to be fair, that was a second or two longer than for anyone else she’d sacrificed in the Dark Man’s name. She reached over the unconscious REDLIGHT and took back her knife before shoving him with the foot of her good leg. She whistled to get the monster’s attention.

“Hey, you, wendigo. Take him. He’s all yours.”

The wendigo took a knee, dug a claw effortlessly into REDLIGHT’s chest, and pulled out his still-beating heart. ROSE shuddered, but she had bigger problems. She turned back to the Dark Man.

“Now, please! Help!”

The Dark Man waved a hand, and a golden glyph appeared in front of him. He instructed her to draw the glyph on her chest, and then he was gone. ROSE frowned. That wasn’t quite what she was expecting. She was still in a frozen cavern in the middle of Alaska in January with a shattered leg, a dead partner, and an un-killable, twelve-foot-tall cannibal monster.

She cursed the Dark Man under her breath as she dipped her fingers in REDLIGHT’s open ribcage. She began to draw the glyph on her chest as the creature devoured her partner’s heart, and his body froze.

The wendigo inhaled the bluish mist that was presumably all which was left of Captain Cramer Gump; aka Agent REDLIGHT. It turned to exhale the mist toward the ice tunnel, and ROSE watched as it drifted past the larger creature and into a sunlit but frozen field toward what looked to be a black tower on a cliff overlooking an ocean.

Sunlit field, tower, and ocean? She had definitely gone crazy, but the wendigo seemed distracted at the moment. That, and she was apparently floating about an inch off the ground as wind flowed beneath her. Whatever. It was time to go.

She crawled on the wind just as fast as she possibly could. She had no idea how thankful she could be to crawl out of a cave and into a frigid snowstorm. The wind carried her as far as the snowmobiles, and she managed to start one up. The roar of the engine was drowned out by a howl from the cave, and so she wasted no time. She rode that snowmobile like she drove stolen cars – fast.

She wasn’t sure she was headed toward town, but she knew she was headed away from the cave and the wendigo. That meant she was headed in the right direction. The thing’s howl echoed behind her all the way, but she never looked back.

Upon reaching town, Agent ROSE wasted no time recovering anything from her hotel room. She simply rode up next to REAPER’s truck, pulled herself inside, and did what she’d promised never to do again. She hotwired his truck and left town in a hurry. 

She stopped briefly after an hour or so to destroy the bronze knife and bowl. She was done with the Dark Man.

She didn’t feel safe until she limped into the police station in Fairbanks and gave her report of the murderer on the loose in Coldfoot, how her partner had been killed in a cave, and how her other two partners were missing. The officer taking her report forwarded it to the State Troopers to handle, and then he called for an ambulance to carry ROSE to the closest hospital.

While she spent her time in yet another hospital bed, she reflected on the Opera. Sure, there were probably some wrong moves. There was a thing or two she might have done differently. It’s too bad REDLIGHT had to make the ultimate sacrifice to save her life, and she wondered if REAPER and RICHARD would ever stumble out of the wilderness to find the truck was missing. She also wondered just how she was going to spin the story for A-cell.


----------



## Audrik

*Hearken to the Wild - Session 4*

As RICHARD warmed his hands by the fire, REAPER monitored the windows. The snow was falling sideways in big, heavy flakes as the winds and the wendigo howled. RICHARD jumped as the first chunks of hail began to hit the windows. Each agent resumed his earlier place, each guarding a window, and each eyeing the door and fireplace. All entrances were covered unless the thing decided to dig through the roof.

One muffled explosion after another indicated REAPER’s traps were being tripped. It may have been fear or paranoia, but the agents felt sure the mines were being set off in a deliberate and intelligent manner. They lost count, but if RICHARD was correct, all the mines detonated. If REAPER was right, there should still be two others.

With the last muffled explosion, an eerie silence descended on the cabin again. The only sounds were from hail stones on the windows and the creaking of the roof from the weight of the snow … or was it a skin-walker? REAPER fired two more shots into the ceiling, but the creaking continued.

RICHARD thought he saw something outside REAPER’s window, and he let out an unmanly squeak. REAPER turned to look, and as both men watched out his window, a long, thin, greenish arm crashed through RICHARD’s window.

The doctor felt a sharp pain as the claw dug into his back, and he was hauled halfway out the window and up toward the roof. Agent REAPER could see RICHARD’s legs twitch awkwardly as they dangled. He emptied the rest of his clip into the ceiling to no visible effect. The twitching of Agent RICHARD’s legs stopped suddenly as his body was instantly frozen. REAPER reloaded with a fresh clip as the giant silhouette landed in the snow with a soft crunch.

REAPER estimated the thing had to be at least twelve feet tall. It stooped to poke its gaunt, greenish head into the window. The howl of the wendigo filled the cabin with a horrible stench. Agent REAPER screamed as he fired every last shot from his fresh clip. The first two rounds hit the creature squarely in the shoulder. The rest hit Agent RICHARD’s flash-frozen body as the thing lifted him as a shield.

With every bullet, a chunk of RICHARD’s body would chip away, and then like a banana frozen in liquid nitrogen when hit with a hammer, the doctor’s corpse shattered. The wendigo leaned in through the window once more with a howl that made REAPER’s blood chill. It then leaped onto the roof, and everything went silent with the exception of the ice on the one remaining window.

REAPER huddled next to the fire as he reloaded and waited for the thing to come for him, but it never did. Throughout the remainder of the night and the next morning, the cabin was buried under snow. By the time the Delta Force Operative felt it was safe to leave, he had no choice but to dig his way out. When he could once again see the sky, it was dark; he had missed what little daylight there was to be.

No matter. He pulled his coat tightly around himself and stumbled off in the general direction of the town. The howls of the wendigo echoed in the distance as he spotted Porcupine Creek Airport, and beyond that, Samantha Wendell’s house. He was cold, wet, and exhausted by the time the hotel came into view, and that’s when he saw it … or rather, he didn’t see it.

His truck was gone. His truck was gone, and he had a damned good guess as to where it had gone to. So much for ‘I swear I’ll never steal your truck again without telling you’. He stomped through the front door of the hotel muttering about the things he would do once he got a hold of ROSE.

He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even notice that for the first time since he’d arrived, there was someone manning the front desk. The desk clerk had to call him three times to get his attention, and once he had it, he relayed his message: _‘You’re probably long gone by now, but if somehow you get this, I want you to know I’m sorry about the truck. I needed it, and you were probably dead. Won’t happen again, I swear. – ROSE’_


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent REAPER - Master Sergeant Jack Jack, Delta Force Operator
Agent REDOX - Doctor Dexter Michael Pepper, EPA Environmental Scientist
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos – U.S. Marshall’s office, Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Gregori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher
Agent REDLIGHT (deceased) – Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops (formerly Agent SID)
Agent RICHARD (deceased) – Major James McGinnis, AMEDD General Surgeon
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist
Agent RUBY (retired) – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Support Team
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH (reassigned) – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) – Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

Agent REDLIGHT's new character, Agent REDOX, is an Environmental Scientist, so I decided to set aside what I had planned and work the environmental angle for this one. As it took quite a while for Agent ROSE's leg to heal, this Opera begins in late May, 2012.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 1a*

R-cell may be cursed. It’s certainly seen its share of death, and Agent ROSE had led several agents in that direction herself. Despite the agent turnover, R-cell still received a steady supply of fresh recruits. Doctor Dexter Michael Pepper was the freshest of the recruits for the time being. He was an environmental scientist working for the EPA, and he had selected the name REDOX.

One of the first mnemonics Dr. Pepper had learned in his chemistry studies was ‘OIL RIG’ – Oxidation Is Loss of electrons, Reduction Is Gain of electrons. It’s only fitting then that his first Delta Green Operation was precipitated by events on an oil rig in the south Pacific.

Agent ROSE’s leg was healing very quickly, and by mid-April, she could walk on it without aid. She still had a pronounced limp for a month, but all in all, her doctor was very impressed with her recovery. By the time her Delta Green phone rang again in late May, she was back to her old self unless it was about to storm. Then her leg would start to get sore; nothing that would prevent her from having a normal life, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. Luckily for her, it didn’t storm much around her home in New Mexico.

ROSE answered the phone hesitantly, but her voice was cheerful. The man on the other end was well-spoken and quiet. He introduced himself as ALPHONSE, and he inquired politely about her health – both physical and mental. She assured him that she was just fine, and whether he believed her or just heard what he wanted to, he accepted her word.

ALPHONSE invited her to ‘A Night at the Opera’, but before accepting, she wanted to know what was going to be asked of her. Deep down, she didn’t expect to be told before she accepted the invitation; mission security, deniability, and all that. Once she accepted on behalf of her cell, the man continued.

“Please note, ROSE, the following information is per an anonymous but credible whistleblower within FOST Petroleum. FOST has been experimenting with extremely deep undersea drilling in the south Pacific. They found a small pocket of crude oil at a far greater depth than anyone had thought possible, composed of organic material believed to be over 775 million years old. The oil was pumped to the surface and tested; it was found to be of exceptionally high quality, much more combustible than ordinary oil, and also highly efficient and long-lasting. Its nauseating odor, unusual greenish coloration, and peculiar effervescent-fumescent qualities were also noted but not explained.”

“Health records from the oil rig indicate an abnormally high incidence of illness and psychological stress on the platform where it was drilled and processed.”

“Executives at FOST had a small shipment of the oil brought to the mainland for further processing and tests. It was refined into three prototype gasolines code-named ‘orange’ (the weakest), ‘purple’ (middle), and ‘green’ (the strongest). Four-gallon samples of these three fuels were then brought to the U.S. by three specialist employees living in different climates for informal testing in the everyday use of their own cars. After the first week, all contact with these testers ceased.”

“Testers of the ‘purple’ and ‘green’ fuels have not been heard from at all. The tester of the ‘orange’ fuel left the following message for his supervisor:”

There was a click on the other end, and ROSE could hear a recorded message play after a beep.

_“Hello … this is Peter … (stutters) … Peter Froson … Listen, I’m just calling to say don’t market the gas, alright? Tell them that’s … that’s my recommendation, alright? (faintly) It’s worse than we thought … (fainter still) I really wonder if you can understand what it’s like … (fainter) under the ocean … (a bit clearer) I’m always driving now … (loud and clear) So don’t sell any gas, huh? I have to get away from here … There’s something going on, and I need to go … okay? So I’m going to get away from the cars, I think … can … maybe I can … So I guess I’ll see you … Okay … I told you don’t sell it, right? Okay … okay … bye.”_

There was another click on the other end, and ALPHONSE continued.

“Collect your package at the usual drop. Your instructions are to ascertain what has happened to the three missing FOST test drivers, obtain samples of all three test fuels, and subject them to full analysis. If analysis determines the fuels are safe, no further action is necessary; if not, destroy all traces. Report back to A-cell for further instructions.”

“The ‘orange’ fuel tester is Peter Froson, 36, from Katonah, New York. His wife is Peggy Froson, 30. He drives a 2006 Ford Taurus. The ‘purple’ fuel tester is William Stark, 44, from Glendale, Colorado. He is unmarried, but he is known to have brought in a friend, mechanic Brian Stewart for detailed reporting on the effects of the fuel on the engine of his custom 1975 Buick Skyhawk. ‘Green’ is being tested by Jan Bronski, 24, from Willoughby, California. She has no immediate family. Bronski drives a 1976 Chrysler station wagon. Have you got all that?”

Agent ROSE indicated that she understood, and ALPHONSE hung up. ROSE called REAPER and REDOX, and asked them to meet her at the Denny’s in Katonah, New York the next morning. REAPER told her he’d be there when he got there, but REDOX was happy to get on with his first call to action. RICHARD’s phone rang three times before ROSE remembered she no longer had to call him.

ROSE grabbed the bag she kept always packed and ready, and she headed to the ‘usual drop’, her local FedEx store where she collected the package that had been left. Inside, she found only FBI credentials for herself and her other two cell members.

The next morning, ROSE and REDOX met at the designated spot, and ROSE wasn’t particularly surprised when REAPER didn’t show. He was probably still pissy about his truck. Well, he’d better man up and get over it. She was sure he would, in time.

Agent ROSE slid a badge to REDOX and filled him in on the mission briefing. He was a little surprised to hear that crude oil had been found at such depths, and he was quite interested in checking out the gasolines.

The first course of action, according to Agent ROSE, was to pay a visit to Peggy Froson and ask about her husband. REDOX was still new to Delta Green work, and so he opted to follow her lead.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 1b*

The drive was a short one, and the agents arrived at the Froson residence just before noon. The house was a small, two-story building with a one car garage and a yard bordered by a white fence. The yard was littered with children’s toys, and it was patrolled by a small, furry dog who pretended to be ferocious.

ROSE knocked on the door, and it was answered by a girl of about ten years of age. The girl canted her head with an inquisitive look, and so ROSE introduced herself as Agent ROSE from the FBI. She flashed her badge and gestured at REDOX indicating that he was her partner.

“Is your mommy home, sweety?”

The girl nodded and closed the door. A moment later, it reopened, and Peggy Froson invited them in. She was obviously very distraught, and she was hoping for news about her husband. ROSE told her that’s what they were looking into. The agents asked pretty standard questions about Mr. Froson’s work, his health, his mental state, and the state of their marriage.

Mrs. Froson told them that Peter was the perfect family man. He loved their two daughters and their son very much, and though he travelled for work – he set up computer systems for FOST – the family spent almost every minute together when he was home.

He returned home a few weeks ago, and he seemed anxious the last few days that he was home. He kept looking out at the driveway where his car was parked, would go off in his car for no reason – sometimes in the middle of the night, and talked to her more than once about moving - usually to the city. Then, one night about a week and a half ago, he left and never came back. She also mentioned that he emptied out his private bank account sometime during that night, taking about six thousand dollars with him. Their joint account was untouched.

ROSE asked if they could speak with Sally, the girl who had answered the door, and Mrs. Froson called her. Sally told the agents she was awakened by the front door slamming the night her father fled. She went to the window and saw her father get into his car and drive away. She also noticed that he approached the car strangely, walking up to it and then jerking away, then moving closer, then farther, and finally jumping in as if he were afraid of the car.

The agents thanked the girl, and then REDOX turned his attention back to the girl’s mother. He asked to see the garage, and Mrs. Froson was happy to show him. The walls were lined with tools, and a table was covered in spare computer hardware, but the center of the garage was empty. REDOX could smell something foul and acidic, and so he followed his nose to a dark corner of the garage where he found a yellow plastic gasoline can.

He opened the cap and was immediately assaulted by the smell of gasoline, but there was more to it; the overall effect was maybe fifty times worse than the worst thing he’d ever smelled, and he was an environmental scientist. He asked Mrs. Froson to open the garage door to ventilate the room, and she did so.

Returning to the can and covering his mouth and nose, REDOX looked inside. The can was empty except for a few drops of a pinkish-grey fluid and a filmy sheen. What little liquid was left seemed to fizz and reminded him of Pop Rocks. He quickly replaced the cap and asked to be allowed to take the can. Mrs. Froson was only too happy to be rid of it.

While her partner was checking the garage, ROSE asked Sally to show her Mr. Froson’s home office. She ran a quick search of the computer but found nothing out of the ordinary, and so she met REDOX back in the living room. The agents thanked the family for their time and promised to do all they could to bring Peter home.

REDOX was quite interested to get to work on the sample of the fuel code-named ‘orange’, and so they headed to the FBI lab in New York City. With a full lab at his disposal, he ran every test he could think of with intriguing and somewhat disturbing results.

He was able to determine that the gasoline did indeed burn hotter and much longer than he would have thought possible. Its spectroscopy looked like nothing he’d ever seen, reflecting an organic chemical formulation of incredible complexity involving some amazingly heavy, intricate molecules that were possibly unique to that fuel. Under the microscope, the pinkish-grey substance fizzed with bubbles that were more green than clear.

He also determined that the material had characteristics of both animal and vegetable organics, and what really shocked him, it appeared to retain some kind of inherent metabolic process even in that state. It was almost as if this fuel was some sort of living thing, though one would have to radically stretch the definition of “life”.

While REDOX was “science-ing”, as he put it, Agent ROSE made a few phone calls. First, she had an All-Points Bulletin put out for the three vehicles in their respective regions. Then she called Ms. Bronski’s supervisor in California who was less than cooperative even in the face of the threat of obstruction charges. He made it perfectly clear that if the FBI wanted a single word out of him, they were welcome to produce a warrant.

The mechanic in Colorado, Brian Stewart, didn’t answer his phone, but ROSE left a message for him to call at his earliest convenience. Okay, so the phone route wasn’t working as hoped, but REDOX had a way for ROSE to make herself useful.

She could find a pet store, and bring him two rats with cages and water bottles. He was moving on to the animal testing phase. ROSE wasn’t too happy about it, but it gave her an excuse to get out of the lab for a bit. Besides, she could look at the puppies, kittens, rabbits, ferrets, and whatever else the store had before she grabbed a couple rodents for the scientist.

An hour or so later, she returned to the FBI lab with two small rats, each in its own cage. She introduced one as Joey, and the other as Rachel.

“Yeah, yeah. Give me Joey’s water. I’m gonna feed him this stuff and see what happens.”

“That’s horrible! What about Rachel?”

“She can watch.”


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 2a*

There was hardly more than a trace residue of the fuel left, and REDOX mixed it with a full bottle of water for the rat named Joey. The rat inched close to the water bottle with a wiggling nose. His tongue darted out a few times pushing the stopper into the tube, and releasing a small amount of water. It didn’t take long for even such a diluted amount of the fuel to have a visible effect. Joey the rat began to twitch and then spasm with pitiful squeaks.

After a minute or so, he was still. A short while after that, Joey crawled back toward the bottle. His hind legs weren’t working too well, and he seemed alternately to lunge toward the bottle, and then away from it as if trying desperately to fight an addiction. Eventually, Joey’s desire for the water won out, and he had another drink with similar results. After this second drink, Joey’s hind legs completely failed him, but once the spasms finally eased, he dragged himself forward once more. The third taste was the last for Joey the rat. He died amidst terrible convulsions and eerie, almost hollow squeaks.

Agent REDOX nodded to himself. It was pretty much what he guessed would happen. The rat exhibited behavior similar to that of Peter Froson as described by his wife and daughter. There was no doubt this substance was bad, but REDOX wanted more. There were other tests he’d like to run, but the day was over. ROSE had already procured dinner and two hotel rooms, and she was the one with the car. The agents called it a night.

They were up early, and they headed in different directions for breakfast. REDOX was happy to check out the continental breakfast in the hotel lobby, but ROSE needed a grade of coffee far greater than anything a hotel was likely to have. She headed down the street a few blocks to a local coffee shop and ordered the strongest thing they had. Then she asked for three extra shots of espresso.

While she waited on her drink, her phone rang; good news, not-so-good news, and bad news. The good news was that Peter Froson’s car had been found in a parking garage right there in New York City. The not-so-good news was that there was still no sign of Jan Bronski or her car. And the bad news was that her APB request for William Stark’s Buick Skyhawk was apparently redundant. There was already an APB out for it in connection with two fatal hit-and-run incidents.

She gave Agent REAPER a call and told him there had been a change of plans. She and REDOX could handle ‘orange’ in New York, and ‘purple’ in Colorado had been spotted recently, so that would be there next stop. She hoped to get to it before anyone else was run down. She sent REAPER to California to establish a base of operations, canvas the area, and try to lay eyes on Jan Bronski.

Coffee in hand, she returned to the hotel to grab REDOX. If Peter Froson’s vehicle had been found, the parking garage was their next stop.

The agents had no trouble locating the car once they made it to the garage. There were no cars parked within fifty feet, and despite the open air design of the structure, they could smell the same stench from the Froson’s garage. REDOX called for a tow truck to collect the car and take it to the FBI lab. Just as he hung up, ROSE shattered the driver’s side window and unlocked the door.

REDOX began to protest, but his voice was drowned out by the car radio which had just come to life. It was static and white noise with a high-pitched whining behind it. ROSE turned the radio power off, but it was no use. The radio continued to crackle and whine. Agent REDOX lifted the hood of the car to disconnect the battery, but he was unfamiliar with the Taurus engine.

Thankfully, the tow truck arrived before the ringing in their ears became permanent. The driver was able to easily find the proper wires to pull, but still the radio whined. The agents gave up. The driver knew where to take the car. Agent REDOX closed the hood and the door, and as the agents headed back to their own vehicle, the radio went silent.

On the way back to the lab, ROSE called a local delivery service and asked them to bring her a plastic gas can, a rubber hose, and a small wet/dry vacuum. She gave her credit card information, and the items were delivered about twenty minutes after they made it back to the lab.

While REDOX syphoned what tiny bit of fuel remained in the car, ROSE decided to check with the local police. There were traffic cameras all over. Maybe one of them caught Peter Froson parking his car. If so, she may be able to see where he’d gone.

The fuel in the tank was barely enough to wet the entire bottom of the gas can, but it was plenty for REDOX. He took it inside the lab and gave Rachel the rat a wink and a thumbs up. He found a clear glass jar and poured the foul-smelling liquid inside. He then dropped Rachel in for a swim and promptly tightened the lid.

Rachel the rat’s fate was far worse than Joey’s, and she seemed to sense it. After a few spasms of agony, the little rat stopped, lifted her tiny front paws to her face, and ripped and shredded until there was nothing left. She then collapsed in the fuel and died.

Yeah … No doubt about it now. Anything that can make a rat tear its own face off has got to be bad. Tossing Rachel in the hazardous waste bin along with Joey, Agent REDOX went back out to have another look at the car.

Agent ROSE probably didn’t really need to flash her badge to get the officers on duty to cooperate, but she did anyway. They gave her access to the tapes of the parking garage and nearby streets going back about two weeks. She watched in fast forward, but it only took about ten minutes or so before she found what she was looking for.

Peter Froson parked his car in the structure and seemed to be talking to himself. He opened the door and started to get out, but then he closed it again. He placed his hands over his ears and seemed to shout. Then he opened the door and dove out, rolling on the cement. After he stood, he inched closer to the car and looked as if he was about to get back in, but he kicked the door closed instead before running off. Another camera caught him running to an apartment complex across the street.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 2b*

REDOX slid under the car to have a look, and after he’d been under for a few minutes, he heard four distinct hissing sounds coming from different directions. The agent instinctively slid himself out from under the car as quickly as he could, and he watched it settle on four flat tires to a ground clearance which would surely have crushed him.

He cursed at the car and gave ROSE a call. Each agent informed the other of recent discoveries, and it was decided that the next course of action would be to search the apartment complex for the missing test driver. ROSE headed back to the lab to get REDOX, and the two agents then went in search of Peter Froson. REDOX felt this job called for a shotgun and buckshot.

The apartment complex manager was happy to answer all questions once he saw badges. ROSE asked if there had been any apartments rented in the past two weeks, and the manager said there was only one. A man by the name of Ronald Coleman had paid cash three months in advance for a small apartment. The agents checked Mr. “Coleman’s” apartment, but the doors were locked, and no one answered. They went back to the office and asked the manager to unlock the door for them which he did before leaving them to their work. He didn’t want to know what happened next.

The manager was probably right to desire ignorance in this case because what happened next consisted of Agent REDOX kicking in the recently unlocked door, spotting Peter Froson, and shoving a shotgun in his face while shouting at him to surrender.

Mr. Froson screamed and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over every piece of furniture in the room. He looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks, and he may not have eaten or slept in that long either. REDOX placed him in handcuffs as a precaution. After what he’d seen Joey and Rachel do, he wasn’t taking chances.

ROSE noticed the man had two earplugs in each ear, and that was likely the reason he didn’t hear the knocking. She told REDOX to point the gun somewhere else and back up. Then she smiled warmly and reached slowly for the earplugs in as non-threatening a manner as she could.

Froson bit her hand, and she pulled back. That was all REDOX had been waiting for. The man was obviously not in his right mind, and he was dangerous to himself and everyone else. He hit Froson with the butt of the shotgun and began to drag the subdued man toward the door.

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?!”

There were a few spectators in the doorway, and one of them appeared to be filming with his phone. The agents showed their badges, and the camera man wasn’t impressed.

“Figures. What are your names?”

Agent ROSE gave her name as Rose; her standard response. REDOX smiled sarcastically and gave his name as Christine.

“Yeah, sure. It don’t matter, buddy. Somebody knows you, and I’m going to make sure people know how you feds treat people!”

“Oh, no you don’t. It’s a federal offense to film an FBI agent, now hand over the phone.”

ROSE wasn’t sure if that was true, but her delivery was strong and believable. The spectators turned and ran, but the camera man never did hand over the camera. The agents grumbled as REDOX dragged Froson outside. The man fought all the way to the car, but just before reaching it, he turned all his force toward the car instead of away. That, coupled with all the force REDOX had put into pulling him sent the man hurtling head first into the door of ROSE’s rental car leaving a wide dent in the car and a deep gash in the man’s head.

This certainly wasn’t how they’d imagined bringing Peter Froson home, but it worked. REDOX called for an ambulance, and in no time, they were on their way to the hospital. For once, it wasn’t an agent of R-cell in need of medical attention.

Standard procedure for the hospital was to notify local authorities and immediate family when a patient came in the way Peter Froson did. That saved ROSE from having to make a phone call at least. REDOX used the time between their arrival at the hospital and when Peggy Froson showed up to try to get Peter to talk, but it wasn’t happening. The man just stared up at the ceiling or off into space with a frightened expression on his face.

When Mrs. Froson arrived, she asked to speak with her husband in private. The agents agreed and left the room. REDOX listened at the door while ROSE went in search of dinner. The only sounds coming from the room were from Mrs. Froson. She was talking to her husband and crying at the same time. She finally left him alone and stepped back into the hall at about the same time ROSE returned with burgers and fries from a Chili’s she found a couple blocks away.

Mrs. Froson was happy to have her husband back, but his lack of meaningful response, and the fear in his eyes worried her immensely. She felt the car was the root of all her husband’s problems, so when ROSE offered to buy it and take it away, she was only too happy to make a deal. She never wanted to see it again. Mrs. Froson thanked the agents for all they did in finding her husband and returning him, and then she went back to the room to wait by his bedside.

REDOX had the car towed outside the city to the nearest vacant lot where he torched it. As the car burned, the radio came to life again, and the tuner moved frantically from one end of the dial to the other, and all the while, the high-pitched whine could be heard mingling with the crackle of the flames. With their work done, the agents returned to the hotel for some sleep. Morning would come early, and with it, they would be off to find ‘purple’ near Denver.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 3a*

The agents woke early, and REDOX hit the continental breakfast. ROSE showered and then stopped by a local coffee shop for strong coffee. Just the first sip helped open her eyes a little more. She checked her email and found one from A-cell.

There was a Delta Green Friendly in the Denver area who was being inducted and given full agent status. FBI Forensic Scientist Ravinder Shankar was born in Mumbai, India. He studied archaeology at the University of Mumbai before moving to the United States. He selected the code name RAJEEV, and R-cell was instructed to meet with him upon arrival in Glendale.

There was also a brief report from Agent REAPER. He said only that he was in California, and he’d found a motel. He had not yet started his search for Jan Bronski, her station wagon, or the ‘green’ fuel.

Having done all they were asked to do in New York, Agents ROSE and REDOX took an uneventful flight to Denver, rented a car, and met up with their new member for lunch at what was little more than a taco stand with walls.

ROSE ordered the ‘Oh, Dios Mio’; billed as the largest burrito in America, and it sure lived up to its name. Some places were proud of the fact that they made ‘burritos as big as your head’, but not this place. The ‘Oh, Dios Mio’ was as big as her arm, and it took two taco stand employees to carry it out. She didn’t come close to finishing it, but she was given a carryout bag the size of the bag she’d carried on the plane.

Introductions were made, and while they ate, ROSE briefed RAJEEV on the current assignment, and what had gone down in New York. Peter Froson was found and returned (almost) safely to his family, and they had successfully dealt with the ‘orange’ fuel. The next step was to locate William Stark and the ‘purple’ fuel.

Agent RAJEEV had brought his laptop, and so he had remote access to the National Crime Information Center database. At ROSE’s request, he ran a check on Brian Stewart, the mechanic who reportedly logged detailed reports on Stark’s custom Buick Skyhawk.

Mr. Stewart was as clean as could be. The only useful information the agent could get was in the form of addresses and phone numbers. He was self-employed.

ROSE laid out the plan. She and REDOX were going to stop by the local police station for more information on the APB which had been placed on Mr. Stark’s vehicle, and RAJEEV would contact Brian Stewart for a phone interview and to set up a meeting if possible.

ROSE slid what remained of her enormous burrito into the carryout suitcase, and followed REDOX to the car. The police station wasn’t too far from the taco stand, and the desk clerk was happy to assist the FBI with their investigation. He didn’t even question their involvement despite the fact the crimes of which Mr. Stark was suspected were under local jurisdiction. An area called Green Ridge, a campground and park about two hours northwest of Glendale was the location of the last known sighting.

Agent RAJEEV called the work number for Brian Stewart; the line for his business, BS Automotive. Mr. Stewart was happy to cooperate with the FBI, but he was a little busy just at the moment. RAJEEV asked if he’d be willing to meet after he closed up for the night, and he said that would be just fine. After hanging up, he called ROSE.

“He’s working, but he can meet up with us after he closes.”

“Great. Good work, rookie. Okay, so … Green Ridge.”

“What about it?”

“Do you know it?”

“Yeah. It’s a campground by the lake. Why?”

“That’s where our guy was last spotted. I need you to check it out.”

“Uhhh … okay. That’s, like, a two hour drive though.”

“You can do it. I trust you. Tell you what: When we get to California, REAPER’s going to do all the leg work.”

It says something about our human condition that our misery and suffering become actually quite bearable when we see that at least one other person suffers more than we do. He’d never even so much as met Agent REAPER, but RAJEEV felt his protest melt away at the prospect of the other agent’s having to do the grunt work in the California heat. He set out for Green Ridge, and ROSE and REDOX went sightseeing while they waited for their meeting.

The two hour drive to the campground turned out to be every bit as uneventful as the two hours he spent scouting the area. There were plenty of campers, but there were no Buicks of any sort. It was a beautiful day for camping, but there was no time. There was work to do, and RAJEEV felt he could just make the meeting if he scrapped the search.

The meeting was set for 7:00 at a little diner in Glendale. All three agents managed to make it on time. RAJEEV had enough time to make his report on the campground before Mr. Stewart arrived. Agent ROSE made the introductions, and then they got right down to business.

Mr. Stewart confirmed that every morning for a week, he’d check every inch of the car, take down its numbers, and run all the diagnostics. He said that William Stark was possibly a little high-strung, but he was a good guy. He was a geologist for FOST, and he did a lot of travelling. It was a few weeks ago that he’d come back to town with that experimental fuel his company was testing.

It was only four gallons, but damned if that car didn’t run for a whole week on it. One morning while doing his inspection, he noted that the odometer had gained almost 2,000 miles since the previous morning. The only way that could happen was if William had averaged over 80 miles per hour for 24 hours straight. That inspection was the last time he’d seen the car, but he’d heard on the news that it was still out there.

That last inspection yielded other disturbing details. Some of the parts of the car looked like they’d melted, but if they actually had, the car couldn’t run. Other parts looked like they had grown or expanded. The man seemed genuinely amazed and intrigued by these facts.

There was also a tiny spot about the size of a dime where the gas had dripped on the cement floor. That one little spot was causing some big problems. He’d tried everything to get it up, but nothing worked all the way. Now he had to leave the garage door and all the windows open, or the smell was too strong to even stand in the room, much less work. He’d rented a jackhammer, and he was planning to cut the spot out if he couldn’t get it up some other way soon.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 3b*

ROSE asked if he’d ever turned on the radio, and Mr. Stewart immediately sat up stiffly and was visibly nervous.

“Well, that’s kind of a funny question. See, this one time, William was off somewhere – the bathroom, I think. I was checkin’ the gauges, so I turned on the radio to keep me company, only I couldn’t get any stations; just this sort of high-pitched whine behind static. And … you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I could have sworn I heard these horrible little voices. I couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, but they were repeating the same thing over and over. One thing I could make out was ‘Green Ridge’, but I never did catch the rest.”

The mechanic paused for a bit and drank down his whole glass of water before continuing.

“See, that’s when William came tearing in from the bathroom, or wherever. He had this look in his eyes, you know? It was this homicidal look. I never seen him like that, so it scared me a bit. I mean, I’m a lot bigger than he is, but one thing my dad taught me was you don’t mess with crazy. And that’s the only way I know to describe it: crazy. He said to me ‘Don’t you ever turn that radio on! You understand? Turn it on again, and I’ll kill you!’ Well, naturally I decided I’d never turn it on again. I didn’t want to hear those voices again anyway, but it’s not like I’d get another chance if I did want to. I haven’t seen him since.”

When Agent REDOX asked if there was any of the fuel left, Mr. Stewart shook his head.

“Not unless you want to dig up the floor of my shop and take that stain with you.”

The agents thanked him for his time, and REDOX said they’d be by his garage in the morning to see what they could do about removing the fuel spot. Also, they’d appreciate it if he could give them Mr. Stark’s address. The man was happy to do so, and then they all took their leave.

The next morning, REDOX and ROSE stopped by BS Automotive, and Mr. Stewart let them in. The garage door had been open all night, but the place still smelled awful. REDOX collected the tiniest sample of the fuel on a cotton swab, and he backed up with a wide grin when ROSE dragged in a jackhammer. He didn’t bother to help her, and he could only take the first ten minutes or so of watching his cell leader unskillfully trash the cement floor. He headed to the FBI lab in Denver to run some tests on the fuel residue. ROSE said she’d bring the concrete when she could.

The sample of the ‘purple’ fuel yielded similar results to those of the ‘orange’, only they were stronger, or more concentrated where possible. He placed an almost microscopic amount in a water bottle in anticipation of the inevitable rodent testing. The water in the bottle almost immediately turned a cloudy greenish-grey. Some lucky rat was going to be famous. Or rather, as the nature of Delta Green work would have it, some unlucky rat was never going to be heard from again.

An hour or so later, ROSE arrived with an oddly shaped chunk of cement which contained the fuel stain, and two rats in cages which she introduced as Chandler and Monica. ROSE dropped the cement into a tub of water, and it too took on the same cloudy quality as the water bottle. Agent REDOX attached the water bottle to Chandler’s cage and sat back to watch the results.

The poor, doomed rat’s tongue darted out and brought back a tiny drop of the tainted water. Almost instantly, it began convulsing with horrible squeaks. Its tail thrashed as it reached two shaky little paws to its chest, dug the little nails in deep, and ripped its ribcage open. Its dissolving insides oozed out in a foamy mess. Well, that was … disgusting. Time for the immersion test.

Before REDOX could grab the rat known as Monica and toss it into the tub, ROSE had filled a syringe with the liquid and injected it directly into poor little Monica the rat. Both agents watched it surprise, disgust, and some degree of fascination as Monica’s flesh began to bubble all over. The rat tried to squeak, but it could only manage to open and close its mouth, flopping like a drowning fish. In a disgusting chain reaction, the bubbles began to burst like over-filled balloons.

REDOX had wisely moved back when the bubbling began, but ROSE had instead taken out her phone and was taking pictures. She had to duck quickly to avoid being covered with hazardous viscera. Chandler and Monica had each suffered worse fates than Joey and Rachel had in New York.

There was one last thing on the agenda before the full scale manhunt for the Buick Skyhawk. ROSE and REDOX wanted to search Mr. Stark’s house. They found it being watched by a single police car. REDOX knocked on the window, and the officer rolled it down. He showed his FBI credentials and let the officers know he and his partner were going to be searching the house.

REDOX tried the front door, but it was locked. He tried a few windows, but they were locked. Through one window, he saw ROSE looking around the living room. She had tried the back door, and it was open. She let REDOX in, and they looked around.

The garage was clean and smelled fine. There was no sign of the ‘purple’ fuel. Everything seemed normal except for one small detail: every scrap of paper in the house was covered with doodles of cars. Every page of every book, every side of every cardboard box, every square of the calendar … all cars; all cars, and maybe a few trucks. But cars everywhere. ROSE thought the man had obviously gone crazy. In fact, seeing all the cars everywhere almost made her want to scream.

This just made REDOX smile to himself and think “I like this guy.”


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 4a*

There didn’t appear to be much of interest other than the doodles, so Agent REDOX pocketed a notebook, and the agents left. On their way past the police cruiser, REDOX knocked on the window and showed the notebook. He let the officers know he was taking it, and they only smiled and sort of saluted with half-eaten donuts. REDOX got the impression that a mid-spring, early morning stakeout wasn’t the assignment they’d hoped to draw.

After a quick stop so ROSE could load up on caffeinated beverages, they were off on the two hour drive toward Green Ridge. The drive was uneventful, and the conversation was less than inspiring, but the agents arrived at the Green Ridge campground before lunch time. Their first pass through the campground didn’t turn up anything, but on the second pass, ROSE spotted the Buick Skyhawk parked off in the trees.

REDOX pulled the truck up as close as he dared, and ROSE got out. They could see a man sleeping in the driver’s seat, so Agent ROSE crept up to the car and noticed all the doors were locked. This was their chance to apprehend William Stark without incident. Except …

She smashed the rear passenger window and reached in to unlock the door. As if on cue, the radio sprang to life with a high-pitched whine and white noise. A low, guttural voice fought through the static to warn Mr. Stark.

“Go! Go now! Drive!”

This last word was drawn out for several seconds. William Stark woke and with a quick but mechanical motion, he started the car. Agent REDOX was slowly approaching the car with his shotgun pointed when ROSE opened the door and jumped in the back seat. The Buick kicked up a cloud of dirt, sticks, rocks, and the same foul smell from the garage of BS Automotive.

Agent REDOX cursed loudly and ran for the truck. He wasn’t sure his GMC Sierra could keep up with a custom 1975 Buick Skyhawk on super-powered, South Pacific living petrol, but he had to try. By the time he hit the State Road 66 with Shadow Mountain Lake out the passenger side, the Buick was far ahead but still in sight. REDOX pushed the truck as hard as he could, and he actually maintained his distance.

In the backseat of the car, Agent ROSE brushed the glass aside and yelled for the driver to stop. He may not have heard her over the shouting radio and whipping wind, but whatever the case, he showed no signs of cooperating.

Fine. He wanted to do this the hard way? Agent ROSE wasn’t even close to being in the mood for this. She drew her silver, rune-etched short sword and placed the blade to his throat. That got his attention.

The engine growled as it got a heavy injection of ‘purple’, and the car accelerated. With the fluid motion of a Hollywood stunt driver, Mr. Stark gently turned the wheel one direction and then spun it with all his might in the other direction. The car spun off the road and the rear, driver-side door slammed directly into a tree. Agent ROSE screamed as she felt pain shoot up through her leg and side, but she made sure she didn’t lose her grip on the sword.

Agent REDOX watched helplessly with wide eyes as the Buick slammed into the tree, but he had the presence of mind to use take the opportunity to make up some ground. The gas pedal was already to the floor, but he leaned forward a little in case that tiny change to the distribution of weight might help. By the time the car swerved back onto the road, he was only about four car lengths behind and gaining slowly.

Biting back the pain, ROSE pressed the blade to Mr. Stark’s throat once more with enough pressure to draw blood. The man must have had an amazing ability to focus because he seemed completely unfazed. ROSE ordered him to stop the car. No response. Agent REDOX nudged the car’s rear panel with the front end of the truck. No response.

Further up the road, ROSE could see what appeared to be a woman carrying a small cooler about to cross the road, and she felt the car speed up. As they got closer, Mr. Stark seemed to make tiny corrections as he aimed for the woman. It seemed the Buick was just about to commit it’s third hit-and-run, but at the very last moment, the woman dove for the shoulder of the road. The only casualty was a cooler full of Miller Lite.

Enough was enough. Agent ROSE shouted that she’d kill him, but Mr. Stark seemed not to hear. There was a soft click, and ROSE felt her waist tighten. The seatbelt seemed to have fastened itself while her attention was elsewhere. The radio shouted for him to turn right, and he did so.

Screw it. This had to end badly one way or another. She drew the blade across the driver’s throat, and blood sprayed all over the inside of the windshield. She could see only red to the front, and campsites and picnics out either side.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 4b*

Even with the driver dead, the car kept straight. Agent REDOX watched as it hurtled through the field ruining what should have been countless wonderful springtime memories. It seemed headed straight for the lake, and REDOX followed at a safe speed along the vehicle paths. He felt there wasn’t much he could do at the moment, but he wasn’t letting the car out of his sight.

Agent ROSE pressed hard on the button of the seatbelt, and though it resisted, she managed to force it to let her go. Once she was free of the seatbelt, she decided to free herself from the car as well. She opened the door and dove out coming to a painful, rolling stop in the soft grass.

REDOX pulled to a stop near her and got out just as the car hit the lake. Only the front end made it to the water though, as the tires became stuck in the saturated ground. REDOX helped his cell leader to her feet before drawing his pistol and aiming at the car’s gas tank. 

He fired two rounds, and that was enough to ignite the fuel. There was a jet of pale, greenish flame as the car was engulfed, and REDOX thought he could hear a low scream that phased in and out like a radio station cutting out.

The agents got into the truck and sped away before police arrived or witnesses could identify them. REDOX was going to take ROSE to the hospital as she seemed hurt, and she was definitely not in the best place psychologically.

ROSE had a different idea, however. She sent a text to A-cell requesting the location of the nearest Green Box. Her thought was that ‘orange’ was the weaker of the fuels, and it was dangerous, ‘purple’ was the middle-strength fuel, and it was downright deadly. How much worse was ‘green’? She didn’t know how to handle the situation once they got to California, and she sure didn’t know what to expect. There just might be something in the local Green Box that could help.

It took a few minutes, but she received a reply. A-cell gave her an address and an eight-digit number. She pulled up the address on Google Maps and gave REDOX the directions. The Green Box turned out to be a lakeside cabin less than ten miles from the final act of her first Opera.

The cabin looked deserted at first, but ROSE spotted the bed of a black truck poking out just a bit from around back. The agents got out and split up. REDOX checked the front door while ROSE went around back.

The hood of the truck was still warm, and ROSE estimated that it had only been parked for fifteen minutes or so. She looked in the windows, and she saw a couple wide streaks of blood in the back seat. At least two people had arrived recently, and one of them was hurt badly. She checked the back door, but it was locked, so she snuck back around toward the front.

REDOX was about to knock when he saw movement inside. He ducked down and peeked through the window to see a man in a dark grey suit opening cabinets and pulling out their contents. He thought he’d better talk things over with ROSE, and so he headed around the cabin. Both agents met up along the side wall and related their findings.

They decided that whoever was here was up to no good, and it was possible R-cell was just in time to stop a Green Box robbery. ROSE had recently recovered from a triple fracture in her right leg, and she was currently suffering from a bruised left leg and side, so she left the door bashing to REDOX. For his part, the scientist wasn’t sure he could kick in the door to a Green Box, so he shot the lock with his pistol instead. He then holstered the pistol and armed himself with his shotgun. So what if they had alerted whoever was inside? If he was willing to double-tap a door, the burglar would be more likely to believe the agents meant business.

REDOX kicked in the recently unlocked door and held his FBI badge out in one hand while also propping up the barrel of his shotgun with it. ROSE followed suit with her badge. The man in the dark suit came around a corner with his own badge and pistol. All three people shouted at the same time.

“FBI!”


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 4c*

All three stopped and blinked at each other. The man eyed the agents up and down.

“No way you’re FBI lookin’ like that. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“The name’s REDOX. This is ROSE.”

The man furrowed his brow as he processed the situation. REDOX proposed the idea of holstering their weapons and talking. The man agreed, and they slowly put away their guns.

“Errr … I’m Octavio. You, umm … R-cell?”

REDOX nodded.

“You from O?”

This time, it was OCTAVIO’s turn to nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. What are you doing here?”

“We’re on an Op, and we’re looking for something that might help. What’s with the blood in the truck?”

Agent OCTAVIO seemed distrustful, and all he said was that O-cell just scrapped a failed Opera, and they were looking for medical supplies. REDOX mentioned the first aid kit in the truck, and asked ROSE to help him get it, but she decided she’d rather stay and talk. It was obvious to all involved that REDOX wanted to talk with ROSE away from the other agent.

REDOX frowned and headed out to the truck while ROSE continued to try pumping OCTAVIO for information. The other agent was obviously on edge and not particularly trustful of others, so the information wasn’t very forthcoming. ROSE did manage to find out that the leader of O-cell was a man named OSCAR, and it was Agent OSWALD who had been hurt. He refused to give specifics of their Opera, and ROSE did the same.

Agent REDOX returned and set the first aid kit at OCTAVIO’s feet while ROSE backed up into the kitchen to call A-cell. After several rings, she heard Agent ADAM’s voice. She asked if there were agents named OCTAVIO, OSCAR, and OSWALD in O-cell.

Agent ADAM was hesitant to answer, but he confirmed. He wanted to know why she was asking, and she mentioned the truck, the blood, and the presence of Agent OCTAVIO at the Green Box.

“O-cell has been dark for fourteen hours. They haven’t checked in. You’re sure you’ve seen them? You have eyes on them now?”

“That’s right; on OCTAVIO, at least. He says OSWALD was hurt, and they’re looking for medical supplies, but he won’t say more. What were they working on?”

“Not your Opera, Agent ROSE. Keep eyes on them, and try to get them to check in.”

She said that she would, and then she hung up. She told OCTAVIO she knew they hadn’t checked in with A-cell in fourteen hours, but he denied it. He said that as cell leader, OSCAR handled that bit, and he’d seen his cell leader on the phone every four hours. OSCAR had told his cell he was letting ALPHONSE know the situation.

ROSE told him his cell leader was lying to him, but he let her know that he was more willing to trust OSCAR than he was to trust her. Taking up the first aid kit, OCTAVIO opened a door and headed down the stairs. ROSE quietly opened the door and looked down in time to see a heavy, steel vault door close. So the cabin wasn’t the Green Box. The vault in the basement was. The eight-digit string ALPHONSE had given her must be the code for the number pad she saw on the wall.

She crept slowly down the stairs, and REDOX followed, covering her with his shotgun. She entered the code, and the agents could hear the hydraulics of the vault door as it opened. The inside was very dark, lit only by an electric lantern to either side of the door, and another in the far back. In fact, the only thing the agents could make out for sure was the figure of Agent OCATAVIO pointing his own shotgun at them. Agent ROSE was once again not even close to being in the mood for this.

“Really? I know the code for the door, and you’re still going to threaten us? Look, it should be obvious by now that we’re Delta freakin’ Green, okay? Put down the gun, and get OSCAR out here.”

The man seemed nervous and unsure of what to do, so he was relieved when Agent OSCAR appeared out of the shadows and told him to put away the gun. OSCAR was a little over six feet tall with an athletic build. He was sweating and seemed on edge, but he was calm enough and polite.

“You’re ROSE of R-cell, yeah? OSCAR, leader of O-cell. Thanks for the first aid kit. What can we do for you?”

“You can let us go through the Green Box. We need a few things for an Opera.”

A moan came from the darkness on the right side of the room, and OSCAR sent OCTAVIO to tend to OSWALD’s wounds. Agent OSCAR made it known that O-cell was holding the Green Box for the moment, and if they’d be so kind as get the hell away from his Opera, they could have at the Green Box in an hour. Those terms weren’t agreeable to ROSE. She proposed that O-cell shut the hell up, give a fellow Delta Green cell access to the Green Box, and just call A-cell already.

OSCAR assured her that he had been checking in with Agent ALPHONSE regularly, and that it was really none of her business. Agent ROSE had a few more colorful words for the other cell leader, and she started to push past him. OSCAR took a step back, drew a pistol, and pointed it directly at ROSE.

“No way, sister. Give us an hour, and we’ll be on hour way.”


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 4d*

REDOX tried to talk some sense into his cell leader, but she seemed to be near her breaking point. He told her he’d be upstairs if and when she decided to stop her tantrum. If she did something stupid, he’d gladly burn her body and accept his promotion. With that, he opened the vault door and went up to look around the ground floor.

As the door closed, ROSE heard a woman scream from the far back of the room. OSCAR looked quickly in the direction of the scream and put away his gun.

“Oh, screw it. We got you covered. Just stay near the front.”

With that, he quickly ducked into the shadows toward the woman. ROSE decided to see what was wrong with Agent OSWALD. He was tall and skinny, but he didn’t look like it in the shadows with the way he was slumped against the wall. He had dark, shoulder length hair which was matted to his sweaty face. There was a gash along his stomach at least an inch long, and his white shirt was wet with sweat and blood.

ROSE introduced herself and started to bandage him up. OSWALD was thankful for the medical attention, but he was a little delirious. ROSE used his fragile state to her advantage, and she was able to learn that O-cell had been looking into a rash of murders in Colorado. The victims were all men who were supposedly on the offending side of domestic violence, and they’d all been killed by massive doses of spider venom; some by hundreds of tiny bites, and some by injection from a syringe. The women had all been taken to a refuge.

OSCAR’s plan was to split up and go in covertly; OSWALD and OCTAVIO in one group, OSCAR and OPHELIA in the other. Some wild-eyed woman came from nowhere and stabbed him. He had no idea what happened to the other group.

So the screaming woman was probably OPHELIA. Agent ROSE made a mental note. She mentioned that A-cell hadn’t heard from them in fourteen hours, and OSWALD didn’t seem surprised. He said he’d always been pretty sure OSCAR cared more about OPHELIA than the rest of the cell, or Delta Green for that matter. He was pretty sure OSCAR messed something up badly, and he probably compromised the Operation for OPHELIA. No way he was going to tell A-cell about that.

There was another scream, and ROSE decided she was going to find out what was going on once and for all. She found Agent OSCAR kneeling over a very pale woman who was drenched in sweat. He was whispering in her ear and stroking her hair. When ROSE asked if this was OPHELIA, Agent OSCAR nodded.

The woman spoke but her voice was very weak. She said something about “silken strands”, “sacred poison”, and “bounteous limbs”.

ROSE said the woman needed to get to a hospital, and so did the agent with the stab wound, but OSCAR whirled on her. No one was going to a hospital. No one was talking to the police, and sure as hell no one was telling A-cell. OPHELIA whimpered, and OSCAR turned back to her. The woman convulsed and vomited a disgusting bile.

Again ROSE mentioned the hospital, and again OSCAR refused. When the woman’s body began to swell with the audible popping of bones and agonized screaming, ROSE stepped back. OSCAR still refused to do anything. When the woman began thrashing and clawing at the ground with enough force to break her fingers and rip off her nails, ROSE almost threw up, but still, OSCAR refused to do anything. It was as if he didn’t see what was happening, or he didn’t believe anything was wrong.

When Agent OPHELIA leapt straight up and grabbed a hold of the ceiling, craning her neck way too far backward and looking down at ROSE, the leader of R-cell was about to snap. When the woman let go and splattered with a bone shattering crunch, Agent ROSE wanted to be anywhere else at all, and she dug out her phone to call REDOX. When the spider-human hybrid crawled out of the crumpled husk of what was once Agent OPHELIA, Agent ROSE lost it. She screamed.

That scream was the first thing REDOX heard as he answered his phone. It was followed by an incoherent stream of muttering and babbling. He headed down to the vault door, but he realized he didn’t know the combination.

ROSE ran for her life toward the vault door, and she heard OSCAR’s body rip. She ducked under a low beam, and she heard OSWALD’s bones crunch. With a bruised leg, she jumped over a crate, and she heard a shotgun blast just before OCTAVIO’s last gurgling breath. She opened the vault door and scrambled past REDOX as the creature scurried after. The shadows of the vault made the thing seem even more menacing, if that were even possible.

Agent REDOX shuddered as he slammed the vault door closed and engaged the hydraulic lock. Okay. So this was one more place to cross off their list of places to visit. Whatever that thing was, it was trapped, but so were all the wonders of the Green Box.

When ROSE collected herself enough, she thought to herself that other cells were just dicks. At least they had California on the horizon.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 5a*

With the episode at the Green Box literally behind them, ROSE and REDOX began the drive to Willoughby, California. Agent RAJEEV took the first flight to San Francisco in the morning and hopped on a bus to cover the last 70 or so miles. Agent REAPER had been in the only motel in town for a while now, and he was just waiting for his cell to arrive.

The agents were at various levels of restfulness when the cell met for breakfast at the only diner in town, the Blue Light Grill. ROSE hadn’t slept, but she had been drinking enough coffee to keep her eyes from closing, and she felt fine. REAPER, on the other hand had been doing little other than sleeping since he was deployed to watch this little town. The other two fell somewhere between the two extremes.

Agent REAPER’s report didn’t even last long enough for breakfast to arrive. The town was small. It had what he called a ‘creepy sort of Mayberry feel’ to it. He hadn’t seen Bronski or the station wagon, but he hadn’t put a lot of effort into the search.

ROSE wasn’t too happy, but then again she hadn’t really been counting on REAPER to do much more than barricade himself in his motel room anyway. She told REAPER to take RAJEEV, and head out to patrol the town. She and REDOX were going to check with the local police. 

The sheriff’s office was only a couple blocks away, and the weather was beautiful, but REDLIGHT felt like driving anyway. The clerk at the front counter was a young kid, probably about 16, and he seemed more than a little bored with sorting papers. He had also probably never seen anyone quite as attractive as Agent ROSE up close. Whatever the case, the clerk was more than happy to set his work aside and assist her.

She only had one question to start: Had anyone seen Jan Bronski or her car? The kid indicated that there had been three sightings, maybe four. He handed over the file. ROSE took two reports, and she handed the rest of the file to REDOX.

The first report was filed by Mrs. Renee Moorehead, the town librarian. She stated that she was returning home from a late bridge night with friends. She was sitting at a red light, and when the light turned green, she failed to react immediately, being somewhat tired. Then Bronski blew through the intersection at top speed. If she hadn't been distracted when the light turned green, Mrs. Moorhead would certainly have been in the intersection at the time.

The second report was filed by a tow truck driver named Jerry Van Cleef who operates out of a garage in the hills. He was responding to a call (a car in distress on the interstate) when he happened to pass Bronski on the road without thinking twice about it. She was kneeling by the car changing a flat tire.

The third report was filed by Bernard Goldsmith who runs a small market down by the pier. He was shocked to see the missing Bronski blast by in her car, going full tilt down the main drag past the store. Being in the middle of a transaction, Goldsmith was unable to investigate right away. By the time he got outside, she was long gone. Then, a few hours later, he thought he saw her a second time walking around down by the pier toward the end of an irregular alley called Seaview Lane.

ROSE sent a text to RAJEEV asking him to interview the librarian, and then she did the same to REAPER asking him to interview the tow truck driver. She and REDOX were going to see Mr. Goldsmith.

As he expected, RAJEEV was able to find Mrs. Moorehead at the library. She had already given her statement to the sheriff, but it was a slow day at the library, and Mrs. Moorehead was in a particularly helpful mood, so she recounted the incident once more.

The story was the same as the one in the report, but there were a few details RAJEEV found interesting. First was that there was apparently only one stoplight in the whole town, and it was that one stoplight which Jan Bronski had sped through. Also, Mrs. Moorehead said that despite the darkness and the fact that she was tired, she was sure it was Bronski. The young woman often came into the library, and she would sometimes give the librarian a ride home. This was before her disappearance, naturally.

Agent REAPER didn’t like his interview assignment, so he decided to put it off for a bit. He went several miles out of town to fire his weapons instead. He’d get to the interview when he got to it. Besides, there was less chance his cell leader could steal his truck this way.

Mr. Goldsmith was a short, heavy-set man with curly brown hair and dark-rimmed glasses. He seemed genuinely concerned for Ms. Bronski’s well-being. He told the agents the same thing he’d told the sheriff, only this time the part where he only thought he saw the young woman walk down Seaview Lane had become a certainty. He told them she was a very nice young woman, and she made a point of always buying her groceries from his store instead of going to a larger store in a bigger town.

ROSE asked if he knew where Ms. Bronski lived, and he indicated that he did; her house was only a few blocks away toward the hills. He was happy to give the agents her address, and he asked them to bring her back safely. He left them with one last statement.

“She looked so bad. I thought she could be sick. I didn't see her close up at all, but she looked like she hadn't slept for days. She looked like she hadn't bathed or eaten much either. In fact, I've never seen anyone looking as bad as she looked then. I've seen dead bodies that looked better than her."

Well, that was certainly ominous. The agents thanked Mr. Goldsmith, and they headed off to the address he’d given. The house was a beautiful two-story building with a gabled roof, attached garage, picket fence, and a view of both the ocean and the mountains. Even in a small town, this house had to have cost a small fortune. The sight of the house must have awakened some dormant feminine competitive instinct in ROSE because she immediately took a pretty negative view of the young woman, and the agent had a few choice names to call her as well.

The house was quite obviously being watched by a patrol car, and so REDOX let the officers know the FBI intended to search the house. The officers were happy to let them as long as it didn’t require any effort on their part.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 5b*

Agent ROSE found a key to the front door hidden inside a not-very-convincing plastic rock. The inside of the house was well-furnished and immaculately kept. Agent REDOX felt Ms. Bronski was a very clean and orderly person, but ROSE decided the young woman probably had a disorder or two.

ROSE checked the woman’s computer and copied the hard drive to a spare of her own. She then looked for anything at all related to FOST Petroleum or the fuel test, but she managed only to find one file; a spreadsheet titled “Fuel Test”. The spreadsheet was empty except for a single line which said “Left to begin test, 2:35 PM." The entry was dated on a Saturday, about three weeks earlier. If Bronski came back from that test, she didn't do any more work on the report.

A search of the garage was pretty much a given, but neither agent was particularly excited to give it a shot. The other garages they’d searched recently housed some of the foulest odors they’d ever encountered, and Agent ALPHONSE’s mission briefing indicated that the ‘green’ fuel was far stronger than the other two.

REDOX waited for ROSE to finish with the computer before he opened the door leading from the house to the garage. As soon as he did so, the agents were assaulted by a palpable, acidic stench which caused their eyes to water and burn. ROSE had the presence of mind to take a deep breath beforehand, but REDOX got the smell deep in his lungs and sinus cavity. He felt almost as if his head was being dissolved from the inside out, and he reflexively turned toward ROSE before the Denver omelet he’d had for breakfast came rushing back up in a torrent of stomach acid and partially digested food. ROSE was unable to get out of the way, and she was covered from shoulders to knees.

Unwilling to exhale, and still trying not to lose her own breakfast, she simply glared at REDOX with slightly twitching eyes. She stomped off to use the shower and raid Ms. Bronski’s closet, leaving a wet, chunky trail as she went.

Agent REDOX slammed the door and took a moment to collect himself before heading out to the driveway to open the garage from the outside. The burning in his head was slowly fading, and in its wake, it left only a dull numbness and a slight tingle. Every time he blinked, he would unconsciously squeeze his eyes tightly closed like one does when the eyes are irritated by smoke.

With the garage door open, the smell was bearable. Agent REDOX took a look around, but he didn’t find any signs of the ‘green’ fuel. He did happen to notice the door to the side yard was open, and a set of sandy footprints led into the garage from there.

Something about all of this was getting to REDOX. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was getting a little agitated. He couldn’t wait to be done with this Opera. REAPER was paranoid, lazy, and uncooperative. RAJEEV needed to get out while he still could, because he wouldn’t last two Operations. ROSE … well, he was just plain sick of her.

He closed up the garage and decided to wait for his cell leader in the car. It only took ROSE a little while to finish up with her shower and closet burglary. When the agents were together in the car, REDOX proposed finding gas masks, and ROSE agreed. Nowhere in town seemed to sell anything of the sort, so they hit the highway. The FBI office in Sacramento would almost have to have something like that.

REDOX grumbled. Nearly everything ROSE did irritated him. He felt sure she was doing it all just to test him; putting the radio on a country station and turning it up, biting her finger nails and spitting them on the floor of the truck, counting blue cars …

Agent ROSE’s phone buzzed. It was a text from REAPER: _Tow truck driver says he saw Bronski. He was speeding down the highway on a job. Saw her kneeling by the car. Not changing a tire. Hose coming from gas tank like a straw. Swears the girl was drinking._

That could not possibly be good. She’d seen what REDOX had done to 2/3 of the cast of Friends. Something in her mind finally snapped, and she could feel her heart rate rising. Her breathing became fast, and she could feel sweat beading up on her forehead. It was coming. All she could do now was scream.

Agent REDOX swerved a little in surprise. He yelled right back at her to shut the hell up. She only screamed louder, and so he in turn screamed even louder. He wanted to slap her, but he was driving. That, and he knew that if he slapped her, he wouldn’t stop.

The two continued to scream as loudly as they could; ROSE because she couldn’t help it, and REDOX because ROSE couldn’t help it. He took the next exit and found a quiet and secluded place so he could yell at her some more. She wasn’t stopping, and so REDOX drew his pistol and pointed it at her.

He yelled for ROSE to get out, and she refused. He pushed the barrel of the gun right up against her nose, but she wouldn’t get out, and she wouldn’t stop screaming. Now REDOX had his turn to snap. He pulled the trigger. Twice. On the bright side, at least ROSE had stopped screaming.

REDOX shoved ROSE’s body down into the floorboard and covered her with a coat before getting back on the highway and enjoying the quiet ride to Sacramento. He stopped at the FBI headquarters for a gas mask, and then he stopped at a hardware store for garbage bags and a hacksaw. Amazingly, no one seemed to notice the covered body in the floorboard.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 5c*

His next stop was Jan Bronski’s house. He backed the truck into her garage and put on the gas mask. He then dragged his cell leader’s body out of the truck and let her fall to the floor. It took hours of work, but he managed to saw her up into chunks small enough to fit in the garbage bags, and those bags, he lifted into the bed of the truck. The pool of blood would drain, right? Yeah. Yeah, it would drain. Okay. Next stop, the dump.

When he made it to the dump, he was more than a little upset that his FBI credentials weren’t enough to get him unrestricted access to the incinerator. All he wanted was to burn a few bags of garbage and an old gun, but the operator wouldn’t let him without knowing what was in the bags. Ordinance this, and statute that, and blah blah pollution … Fine. Then he had one idea left. Next stop, the beach.

He drove until he found what looked like an old, unused pier, and he was excited to find several rusty chains piled up at the end. He set about wrapping the bags with the chains and tossing them off into the water below. Finally. He exhaled deeply, and he could feel a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Then, his phone rang.

It was REAPER. Agent ROSE wasn’t answering her phone, and he thought he’d seen Bronski around an abandoned service station on the north side of town. REDOX said ROSE was in Sacramento, but he’d be right there.

Willoughby was a small town, and so REDOX met up with REAPER a few minutes later. The Delta Force Operator pointed out a corroding warehouse, two stories high and shot through with rust. Every window was broken, and there was a giant, empty parking lot out front. Next to that was a small cannery, also closed and falling apart. There was a truck yard on the other side of the street, and the remains of an old service station. It was the garage of that service station where REAPER said he thought he saw Ms. Bronski.

When REDOX asked how sure he was, REAPER shrugged and indicated it was about 50/50. He saw a woman walking along the beach, and then she was gone. REDOX grumbled, but a flip of the coin was still better odds than he’d been getting elsewhere.

The two agents snuck up to the service station and peeked in the windows. It was dark, but there didn’t seem to be movement. REAPER opened the door which swung silently open on well-oiled hinges, and the two agents entered. 

They systematically cleared the garage, but instead of finding Bronski or her car, REDOX found a large metal bowl with jumper cables attached to it. REAPER pointed to a few sheets of paper poking out from behind a box, and REDOX pulled them out. There were three sheets of paper with rough sketches, and each had a number circled in the upper-right corner; one through three.

Sheet one was a narrative diagram like a comic strip. It showed a roughly human figure performing a series of gestures in front of an equally rough drawing of the sea, in response to which a thread of some black substance or coherent liquid appears out of the water and collects in a pan held by the figure at the water's edge.

The second page was a similar schematic showing a figure doing a series of gestures over a pan filled with the black substance. Two wires lead from it to a box with lightning bolts. The figure eventually drains off a clear fluid and pours it into the gas tank of a car.

The third page was much more abstract, showing an incredibly detailed, incomprehensibly complex diagram featuring a single figure in a circle in the middle - a human form with six arms (probably indicating a series of gestures). From this figure there radiates an intricate web of lines which weave about and seem to penetrate a variety of boxlike objects with small circles superimposed on them which REDOX decided were poorly drawn cars. The lines connecting the central figure with the boxes are all cut off at the same point, where the words "five miles" are scrawled.

REDOX looked around for a hammer or a wrench, and he found several, but they all seemed to be slowly melting or dissolving. He found one wrench which seemed to be in serviceable condition, and he struck the bowl until he put a hole in it. The agents then decided to leave for the time being. They wanted to find Bronski. They didn’t want her to find them. REDOX went out for dinner, and Agent REAPER went back to the motel.

Agent REAPER was relaxing in his motel room, flipping through channels on the blurry television when he thought he heard his truck start up. He drew a pistol and stood up, and he thought he could see his truck drive a short way off and turn around. He just naturally assumed it was ROSE again, and so he moved to the window to take a look. He couldn’t see anyone in the driver’s seat.

He muttered curses under his breath, and his eyes widened when he saw the truck start speeding back toward him. He pointed the gun, but it was too little too late. The truck burst through the motel’s fake brick exterior and collided with REAPER, knocking him down. He tried to roll away, but the truck had pinned his leg and it rolled back and forth grinding and liquefying the bone. He tried to pull away, but his belt had somehow become tangled on some part of the truck body. REAPER’s final thought was to take off his own head before his truck did. One bang ended it for him. 

After dinner, Agent REDOX decided to head back to the motel to meet up with the rest of the cell. He was wholly unprepared for what he would find, and the police couldn’t tell him much other than that someone had driven the truck through the wall and run over the occupant several times before he took his own life.

This was getting out of control. ROSE had snapped and had to be put down, and now REAPER was dead. That left him and RAJEEV who conveniently enough couldn’t be found.


----------



## Audrik

*Fuel of the Gods - Session 6*

He couldn’t exactly just turn in for the night since he was sharing a room with a man who had to all appearances crashed his truck through a wall to run himself over before removing his head with a pistol, so Agent REDOX headed to the motel office to request another room. The office was closed, however, and so REDOX was left with the prospect of sleeping in his rental truck or tracking down RAJEEV. Given his recent vehicle-related experiences, he settled on the latter.

The waitress set a plate of blueberry waffles stacked a foot high in front of Agent RAJEEV and then casually set the check on the table face down. The FBI man was pouring warm maple syrup in each square-shaped indention as his phone rang and rang. Once he finished with the syrup, the agent set his phone to silent and enjoyed his quiet dinner.

It took only a few minute for REDOX to find the only remaining member of his cell; the diner was the only place in the small town which was still open. He took a seat across from RAJEEV who acknowledged his presence with a nod. 

Instead of speaking, REDOX made a show of calling RAJEEV on his phone. With the phone to his ear, REDOX simply stared at RAJEEV. The other agent simply ignored his cell member and focused on his waffles. While the phone rang, and without blinking, REDOX grabbed RAJEEV’s soda and drank the whole glass. RAJEEV continued to ignore the EPA scientist. When he had finished his waffles, RAJEEV looked up and across the table.

“What’s up?”

“ROSE and REAPER are dead, and I’m going to be rooming with you.”

“Dead? How?”

“Bullets and tires.”

RAJEEV accepted that answer, tossed some money on the table, and stood up. The agents headed back to the motel and slept the best they could. Agent RAJEEV laid awake wondering just what he’d gotten himself into. Agent REDOX should have been wondering the same, but instead, he dreamt that he drove his rental truck off the pier and along the ocean floor.

At about 3:00 AM, Agent REDOX’s phone rang interrupting his dream just as he was pulling over a ridge overlooking a vast underwater cityscape. He rolled over and answered. It was the sheriff, and he sounded upset.

Calls had been coming in about stolen cars, and then more calls about driverless cars. Those were followed by reports of someone matching Jan Bronski’s description doing funny dances in the street. The sheriff had gone out to investigate only to find his own car revving its engine in a menacing manner. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but as long as the agents were in town to find Bronski, maybe they could look into this as well?

REDOX wanted to wish the sheriff the best of luck before heading to the airport, but instead, he said they’d be right on it. RAJEEV was still awake, and so REDOX filled him in on the situation. Both agents got ready and stepped outside only to find that one of their vehicles was gone. RAJEEV’s truck was still there, but REDOX’s rental was nowhere to be seen. It was probably one of the many making the racket off to the north.

RAJEEV hopped in his truck, but before REDOX could get in the passenger side, the doors locked themselves, and the engine started. Agent RAJEEV tried to open his door, but it refused to cooperate. His seatbelt wrapped itself around and clicked in place as RAJEEV struggled to get free.

The tires squealed as the truck started to speed away. Agent REDOX had time to draw his gun and fire a few shots at the tires. He managed to hit one, but that didn’t seem to slow the truck much. RAJEEV’s hands were trapped by his sides, and no amount of force applied to the brake seemed to do any good.

The truck’s radio came on, and the volume went all the way up. Agent RAJEEV could see the sparks flying from the rim of his shredded tire, and he could hear the voices behind the static urging him to remain calm and surrender.

Agent REDOX climbed up a drain pipe to the roof of the motel to get a better view. Through his night vision binoculars, he could see about twenty or so vehicles circling the blocks around City Hall and trying to run over any pedestrians they found. He also saw RAJEEV’s truck heading west toward the beach. He watched helplessly from the rooftop as the truck dove from the end of the pier, and RAJEEV watched helplessly as the truck sank to the bottom and continued its drive.

That did it. REDOX was done with the Opera. He didn’t care how it turned out anymore. He’d played his part to the best of his ability, and now it had become a one-man show. He slid down the pipe, grabbed his bag from the room, and went for a walk out of town and down the highway. Now more than ever, he was convinced that his work with the EPA was important. Screw FOST Petroleum. Screw vile, living oil that can turn your vehicle against you. While he hitchhiked his way back to San Francisco, he called A-cell to let them know the story. He had to leave a message, but he was sure someone would get it.

As the windows began to roll down, and the cold, salty ocean slowly traded places with the oxygen in the cab, RAJEEV struggled unsuccessfully to get free. Everything was dark, cold, and claustrophobic. He could feel the water fill his shoes first, and then he felt it at his waist. The radio urged calm. It urged deep breaths and peaceful acceptance.

As the water reached his shoulders, he thought he could see shapes moving outside. It was impossible, sure, but in the pitch black of the ocean outside, he was sure he saw shapes darker still.
The radio still urged calm, but RAJEEV refused to obey. He struggled right up until the water reached his nose. He thought he felt something grab his shoulder, and he gasped in fright. As the sea filled his lungs, the radio had its way. RAJEEV was calm and at peace at last.


----------



## Audrik

Just a quick status update: The game (and thus this Actual Play) will be on a brief hiatus as I practice being a father. I still have many plans for this game, and my players definitely want to continue, so it'll be back in probably a month or so.


----------



## Audrik

Another update, and a reminder that I haven't disappeared:

This has been probably the fastest month of my life. The baby is doing very well, and it turns out I don't totally suck at being a parent!

We had intended to pick the game back up tonight, but one of the players is taking a sick day. We should be good for next week though.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent REDOX - Doctor Dexter Michael Pepper, EPA Environmental Scientist
Agent REINHARD - Michael Pollander, IRS Special Agent
Agent RIVER - Kiwen Doucette, Office of Export Enforcement, Criminal Investigator
Agent ROMEO - Terrance Winters, Homeland Security Office of Intelligence and Analysis - Interrogator

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos, U.S. Marshall’s Office - Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Gregori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher
Agent REAPER - Master Sergeant Jack Jack, Delta Force Operator
Agent REDLIGHT (deceased) – Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops (formerly Agent SID)
Agent RICHARD (deceased) – Major James McGinnis, AMEDD General Surgeon
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)
Agent RUBY (retired) – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Support Team
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH (reassigned) – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) – Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

This Opera marks the introduction of Agent RIVER; Agent ROSE's player's new character. After the break, I wanted to ease them back in to the swing of things, so I planned a simple surveillance operation. As I found out later, my players have apparently never even seen a spy movie.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 1a*

Agent REDOX was really hoping for a vacation after the events in California, but work – legitimate work – demanded his attention for the next couple months. Each morning, he checked the various news channels, websites, and papers. There was no mention of FOST Petroleum, no mention of all the carnage and vehicular assault; there wasn’t so much as a report of a traffic jam in Willoughby, California.

Maybe FOST bought off the authorities. Maybe Delta Green executed a cover up. Maybe it was just the flood of political news in an election year. Whatever the case, REDOX felt he dodged a bullet.

Agent RIVER, an Office of Export Enforcement Criminal Investigator, had been assigned to his cell, but he had yet to meet her. Agent ADAM also promised another recruit in the near future. Other than that, it was mid-July before he heard from A-cell again, and there was no mention of the previous Opera, so he officially put it behind him. The email clearly laid out A-cell’s expectation; a simple surveillance operation.



> From: A-cell
> To: Agent REDOX and R-cell
> Subject: Operation SEE NO EVIL
> 
> Congratulations, REDOX, on your recent field promotion, and condolences on the loss of your previous team. You have been invited to a Night at the Opera.
> 
> Your employers will soon be temporarily reassigning you to New York City. There, you will lead a surveillance operation against an organization in which the FBI has recently developed an interest.
> 
> This organization, and in particular the individuals comprising its leadership, is also of potential interest to Delta Green. We require objective analysis and intelligence in this matter, and consequently we cannot share any further information on the target subjects with your cell at this time.
> 
> Your FBI superiors will place legal parameters upon the nature of the surveillance that you will be conducting. As Delta Green agents, you will not be bound by such parameters. I am sure you will understand when I say you are to consider yourselves answerable to a higher authority.
> 
> Outside of your cell, the fellow members of your team are not cleared for Delta Green intelligence and will be unaware of your true purpose in this operation. Extreme caution must therefore be exercised, particularly with regards to any breach of the legal parameters discussed above.
> 
> Your team will be provided with cover identities as FBI Senior Special Agents. Collect your package from your local FedEx dropbox. In the future, this dropbox will be referred to as ‘the usual spot’.
> 
> To summarize your objectives:
> 
> 1) Covertly gather intelligence on the target subject(s) while maintaining your cover. We will be particularly interested in any indications of ‘occult interest’ or of any manifestation of paranormal phenomena.
> 2) Report back to A-cell when the surveillance operation is complete, or at your discretion should circumstance dictate.
> 
> -A




Being an EPA scientist, Agent REDOX had no experience in surveillance, and he suspected Agent RIVER had little more. Still, he’d seen a spy movie or two. How hard could it be to plant a few bugs and wiretaps?

He forwarded the email to Agent RIVER after carefully redacting the bit about ‘condolences on the loss of your previous team,’ and then he gave her a call. He was going to be on the next flight to JFK, and he wanted her there in the morning, Sunday, July 15th.

Upon his arrival in New York, Agent REDOX rented a car and found a hotel. After a night’s sleep, he met RIVER at the airport. She was young and pretty, but she was no Agent ROSE. They headed back to the hotel so RIVER could get a room and drop off her bags before making their appearance at the FBI office.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 1b*

The agents were met by a tall man in his late-40s with what was probably an athletic build in decades past but was now in decline. He introduced himself as Assistant Special-Agent-in-Charge Williams. ASAC Williams showed the agents to a briefing room and gave them the rundown.

“Agents, we have four rookies who are still inside their two-year probations. They need some practice with standard surveillance gear and procedures. That’s why you’re here. A Holocaust denial group known as The Review is presenting an event at the Merriweather Center this Saturday. Four of their senior members will be speaking, and we plan to run a small surveillance operation on them.”

“This project is meant purely as an intelligence-gathering exercise, part of our ongoing effort to collate information about possible terrorists in American society. Senior members of the Justice Department believe that The Review, and possibly one or more of the four men under surveillance, may have links to other, more sinister organizations that plan and carry out unlawful activities.”

ASAC Williams dropped four thin manila folders on the table for the agents to look over.

“The four men scheduled to speak are Peter Hames, a WWII veteran and a once-noted historical scholar; Michael Watts, a former professor of European History currently without a position; Allen Bhrunt, the main publisher and editor of The Review's newsletter as well as the publisher of many of the group's texts; and Stephen Colm, The Review's secretary and the group's longest-serving member – one of the founders, in fact. All four of The Review's heaviest hitters are rarely together like this, as they live in different cities. An opportunity to gather surveillance data on all four of them together may not present itself again for a long time.”

Each folder contained a photograph and a detailed yet patchy background:



> Peter Hames
> Aliases: none
> Age: 87 Occupation: retired
> Description: White Caucasian Male, 5'9", 150 lbs, limp right leg, tattoo right arm "B-17 Delightful Dora," far-sighted (glasses)
> Military Rank: Air Force Major, retired
> Immediate Family: wife Evangeline (deceased), son Patrick (deceased)
> Notes: Born Fairview, Ohio August 18, 1924. Enlisted September 20, 1943 served until August 29, 1963. Married wife Evangeline ]une 27, 1955. Arrested three times for assault, no charges brought. Wife Evangeline died July 25, 1963. Author of three books: Air Power (1960 Gerwin, republished 1965 Hewlitt), Hitler's Germany (1968 Hewlitt), Rise of the Reich (1974 Hewlitt).
> Other Associations: former chairman Fairview John Birch Society, former member Fairview Veterans' Association






> Michael Watts
> Aliases: none
> Age: 63 Occupation: Professor of History (unemployed)
> Description: White Caucasian Male, 6'1", 180 lbs, birthmark orange right thigh, scar left temple
> Immediate Family: wife Dorothea
> Notes: Born Deepdene, Massachusetts January 15, 1949. Educated Boston University 1971 (B.A.), Reading University, England 1971-75 (M.A., Ph.D.). Married wife Dorothea May 5, 1970. Criminal Record: arrested DWI convicted 1982. Author of two books: Hitler and the Nazis (1978 Godwin), The Jewish Problem in Germany 1935-45 (1986 Bhrunt). Author of numerous historical articles; published in History Today, Times of Conflict, Military Historical Quarterly among others
> Last Employer: Boston University 1985-95






> Allen Bhrunt
> Aliases: Alexis Bellman
> Age: 53 Occupation: Publisher
> Description: White Caucasian Male, 5'2", 208 lbs, scar right leg, asthmatic
> Immediate Family: none
> Notes: Born Fort Lauderdale, Florida May 8, 1959. Educated Florida State 1981 (B.sc.). Criminal Record: arrested forgery 1982, acquitted. Arrested assault 1983, convicted 1 month. Arrested possession narcotics 1985, convicted 2 months. 32 parking citations. Editor/owner Review Press, publisher Truth newsletter & website. Currently under investigation for mail fraud






> Stephen Colm
> Aliases: none
> Age: 67 Occupation: Accountant
> Description: White Caucasian Male, 5'11", 165 lbs, near-sighted (glasses)
> Immediate Family: wife Wilhemina (divorced), son Andrew, son Brian
> Notes: Born Barlow, Missouri December 29, 1945. Educated Missouri State 1967 (M.B.A.). Criminal Record: none. Married wife Wilhemina April 8, 1972, divorced Jun19, 1982. Current Employer: Harwick, Chadderton & Merlo, New York City, New York


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 1c*

ASAC Williams called in the rookies for the rest of the briefing. Special Agent David Faulkner was tall, thin, and fair with thinning blonde hair and all-American-boy looks. Samantha Lynn was a petite, slim woman with bright blue eyes and brown hair. Then there was Steve Udagawa, a short man of Japanese descent with military-length dark hair and a strong build. Finally, there was Eric Taylor. Special Agent Taylor was a tall, black man with a cleanly shaved head.

Once the rookies were introduced and seated, ASAC Williams continued the briefing.

“Michael Watts is booked on the 4:15 PM Delta flight into JFK from Providence, Rhode Island tomorrow, and has booked a single suite, Room 1210 at the Marriott Hotel from tomorrow until Sunday, the day after the conference. He is booked on the 8:00 AM Delta flight from JFK back to Rhode Island.”

“Peter Hames is booked on the 10 PM American Airlines flight from Toldeo, Ohio, to JFK on Thursday. He has a reservation at the Marriott, Room 1126 from Thursday until Sunday, and has a ticket on the 5 PM American flight back to Toledo on Sunday.”

“Allen Bhrunt is coming by train from his home in Holden, Connecticut. He will arrive at Grand Central Station at 4:45 PM on Tuesday. He is booked into the Marriott, Room 1708 from Tuesday until the following Tuesday.”

“Parabolic microphones, video cameras, still photography, and other non-intrusive means of monitoring these four men may be used. They may be followed, watched, and their contacts noted and recorded. You will not be able to plant listening devices, tap phones, or search computer files unless there is probable cause to believe that a crime has been committed, is being committed, or is being planned. Ultimately the surveillance mission will involve a lot of stakeout time.”

After being dismissed, Agent REDOX told the rookie Special Agents to get a van from the motor pool and meet back the following morning. From there, they would develop their plan. The rookies went their way, and the agents when back to the hotel to relax.

The next morning, the agents met up with the rookies at the FBI office. REDOX took them for coffee and planning while RIVER stopped by a store specializing in ‘spy gear’ on her way to the Marriott.

She told the man at the front desk that she had a gift for Mr. Watts from his wife, and she wanted to take it up to his room. The man informed her that Mr. Watts had not yet checked in, and in any case, he couldn’t allow her access to the room. If she wanted to leave the gift at the front desk, he’d be happy to have it taken up. Agent RIVER declined but thanked the man for his time. Instead, she wandered off in search of the maids’ station.

There were four hotel maids in the room, and they were chattering away in Spanish. RIVER wasn’t fluent, but she could get by easily enough. She offered one of the maids $100 to give her access to a uniform, a cart, and a universal room key for 20 minutes. The maid was happy to help, and she got her coworkers to go outside with her for a break.

In her new disguise, Agent RIVER was in the perfect position to clandestinely plant listening devices, cameras, and wiretaps in all three rooms rented by the visiting members of The Review. The uniform, cart, and room key were all returned before the maids came back.

Her next stop was Mr. Colm’s apartment. She figured he’d be at work by now, and she was correct. The apartment was on the second floor of a six-story building. Rather than try the front, Agent RIVER decided to use the fire escape. When she was sure no one was watching, she jumped to catch hold of the ladder and pull it down, and then she climbed up.

The window to Mr. Colm's apartment was locked, so Agent RIVER wrapped her hand in cloth and smashed it. As she crawled in, she was greeted by a vicious sounding terrier who couldn't have weighed more than about 9 pounds. RIVER reached into her pocket for something to feed the animal, and she pulled out a bag of marijuana. She tossed it to the dog who didn't eat it but was sufficiently distracted.

Agent RIVER crawled through the broken window to have a look around. The place was immaculately kept. Everything was well-ordered and clean. The couch was covered in plastic, and there was a small dog bed on one cushion. Mr. Colm had no television, but he did have shelves full of books.

Agent RIVER decided that the man was Obsessive-Compulsive, and so she took it upon herself to make his life more interesting. She turned objects slightly and skewed hanging pictures. She rearranged the carefully hung pots and pans in the kitchen and flipped the toilet paper roll in the bathroom so that it rolled the other direction. In the study, she turned the computer monitor around and repositioned the antique World War II soldier figures on the bookshelf. In particular, the figures of Hitler and Mussolini now seemed to be performing lewd acts upon each other.

It was only after she'd thoroughly rearranged the man's carefully ordered apartment that she got around to the business of planting bugs, wiretaps, and cameras. She then left the way she'd entered and flagged down a taxi to take her to the airport.

Agent REDOX and the rookie FBI agents arrived at the airport in the white van from the motor pool a little before RIVER's cab. Once Watts's plane landed, the agents all followed his cab to the Marriott.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 2a*

Watts entered the hotel to check into his room, so Agent REDOX ordered the rookie FBI agents into position; Agents Faulkner and Udagawa were to man the laser microphone from an apartment across the street which REDOX had managed to secure for the week while Agents Lynn and Taylor were to sit in the van outside the apartment and find some way to be useful. The teams would switch up every couple hours, and if Watts left the hotel, the van team was to tail him. Meanwhile, REDOX went to his personal room at the Marriott and ordered a pizza, and RIVER retired to her room to review recordings and monitor camera feeds.

While waiting for his pizza to arrive, Agent REDOX found an email from A-cell regarding new agents. He was to expect the arrival of Michael Pollander, an IRS Special Agent who had selected the name Agent REINHARD, and Terrance Winters, an interrogator with the Homeland Security Office of Intelligence and Analysis who had selected the name Agent ROMEO. They were due to arrive in the morning.

Upon viewing the photographs, the irony of ROMEO’s choice of name wasn’t lost on him. The man appeared to have lost large sections of his skin to a fire, and REDOX couldn’t help but be reminded of Rachel the rat; the one that had ripped its own face off after being doused with tainted fuel only a couple months earlier. The agent shuddered slightly. With a face like that, it was no wonder the man became an interrogator. He was probably a natural.

Agent RIVER was playing a mind-numbing yet oddly addictive game on her phone, and she was in the zone. So deep in the zone was she that she failed to notice when the listening devices and cameras in Mr. Colm’s apartment went dead. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since it happened, but fortunately she’d been recording. She played the recordings back, and this time she saw it:



> Stephen Colm returned home from work and immediately felt the disturbance in the Force. His window had been broken, a bag of something green – drugs, no doubt – was on the floor, his furniture had been turned, pictures had been skewed, pots and pans had been rearranged. He whistled quickly to the dog which he called Bernard. Scooping Bernard up with one arm, he left the apartment only to return about a half hour later without the dog.
> 
> Colm produced something that resembled a wand and began waving it around the room. Whenever the wand passed over one of RIVER’s devices, it made a noise, and the device would be flooded with interference. One by one, Colm found and destroyed each device. He left a single camera and leaned close to it.
> 
> “I don’t know who you are, but it’s obvious you’re trying to intimidate me by breaking into my home and planting obvious bugs. Well, let me tell you this: You aren’t going to scare me. I’ve done nothing wrong, so you can’t touch me. The event this weekend will go on as planned, so let’s cut the bull. Either you back off now, or meet me face to face if you have something to say.”
> 
> Colm then reached toward the camera, and the transmission ceased.




Well, damn. That was the end of that. At least she still had Michael Watts’s room bugged. Agent RIVER decided to look in on him only to find all of her devices offline. Rolling back the recording, she found that shortly after Colm delivered his message, he called Watts. She could hear Colm’s voice coming through Watts’s tapped phone.

“Michael, it’s Stephen Colm. Listen, they broke into my apartment while I was at work. They tried to drug Bernard, and they planted bugs and cameras. I knew they were going to be watching. Look, just check your room. They may have gotten to you, too. Call me back in ten.”


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 2b*

Before Watts could speak a word, Colm had hung up. Watts sighed and shook his head, but he began looking around his room. He growled when he found the first device. Eventually, he found them all, and Agent RIVER never knew whether he returned Colm’s call.

She gave REDOX a call to let him know what had happened. The new cell leader wasn’t particularly happy about the news, but his only response was to make sure she knew not to let the junior FBI agents find out. There was nothing more to do for the evening, and so the agents called it a night.

The next morning, all four rookie agents were assigned to Watts. RIVER was left in charge of them while REDOX went to meet the new recruits. Agent REDOX had emailed the mission briefing to both of the new agents, and so upon reaching New York from his home in a small Wisconsin town, Agent REINHARD went immediately to the local IRS office to see about tracing the finances of The Review.

Agent ROMEO went immediately to Al’s Pizza, a small pizza place struggling to survive in the cutthroat business world of the big city. Normally, a pizza place would thrive in New York, but Al had made one serious mistake which was so far spelling doom for his shop: He only made Chicago-style deep dish pizzas, and there were forks on every table. Word spread quickly of such an unforgivable heresy as that, and as such, Al was very happy to see even someone as physically unappealing as ROMEO. When REDOX called, ROMEO let him know exactly where to meet him, and about five minutes later, Al had his second customer of the week.

Agent REDOX dropped the files down on the table for ROMEO to look through. As they say, sometimes all you need is a fresh set of eyes. Agent ROMEO had several questions spring to mind. Could they get a hold of copies of any of the books these men had written? Maybe the newsletter? What did their website look like? Why was Michael Watts fired from Boston University, and why hadn’t he found other employment in the nearly 20 years since? The file said Allen Bhrunt had been convicted of possession of narcotics, but what sort of narcotics? Could they register to attend the event this weekend? Why hadn’t REDOX asked these questions already?

Agent REDOX had no answers to any question but the last. To that, he replied that he’d been pretty damned busy lately, thank you very much. ROMEO sort of shrugged and seemed to accept that. He resolved to find the answers himself, and REDOX wholeheartedly supported him. After their lunch, Al bid his customers a farewell and encouraged them to please, please tell their friends. Agent ROMEO went to the New York Public Library for research while REDOX headed to the IRS office to meet his other new recruit.

At the IRS office, Agent REINHARD spent a few particularly dull hours going over numbers and tracing them. He was able to determine that The Review brought in only about $40,000 annually, at least that they reported. Part of that was from sales on limited production runs of its books, and subscriptions to its newsletter. The vast majority, however, seemed to come from anonymous donations. These were almost always small, but there were a great many throughout the year.

Introductions were made at the IRS office, and REDOX seemed to be satisfied with his team as a whole. He let REINHARD know to meet up at his room at the Marriott for a cell meeting and briefing. They would all be staking out Grand Central Station to spot and tail Allen Bhrunt when he arrived; all but the two rookies assigned to monitor Watts.

At the library, ROMEO looked around for a librarian who looked 'potentially Jewish', but he settled for a balding, middle-aged caucasian man named Charles who was apparently the head librarian. ROMEO laid out his case: he was looking for a narrow selection of books on a list he provided. Charles was happy to help, and in only about twenty minutes, they had found all of them. The New York Public Library was truly an amazing institution. ROMEO spent a few hours looking over the books before checking them all out.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 2c*

On his way back to the hotel for the meeting, ROMEO placed a call to Boston University posing as a professor from another institution. He said he was checking on a former professor, Michael Watts. He was placed on hold, and after a couple minutes, the man from Boston University returned with a file.

He told ROMEO the reason for Watts's dismissal was that he had several relationships with students. When ROMEO asked for the names of the young women, he was told that the names of the young _men_ were confidential. ROMEO thanked the man and hung up.

The cell meeting went quickly, and soon it was time to watch for Bhrunt. Agents REDOX, ROMEO, and REINHARD found a bench to sit on as they waited, and RIVER stayed in the van with the rookie FBI agents.

While they waited, REINHARD checked for court records on Allen Bhrunt, but he found that it seemed to be a more common name than he had thought. He made a mental note to check again when he had more time.

Bhrunt arrived right on time and looked just like his file picture. In one hand, he pulled a small, wheeled bag, and in the other he carried a black briefcase. The agents inside followed until he made it outside and hailed a cab. Agent REDOX called RIVER and had her follow him while he hailed his own cab. As it turned out, this was all unnecessary as Mr. Bhrunt only went straight to the Marriott and checked in.

Agent RIVER headed straight to her room to monitor the devices in Bhrunt's room. It wasn't long before he made a phone call to Watts who told him the same thing Colm had said the day before: "Someone's watching. Check your room and phone." Then the devices went dark. Let's just hope the agents across the street weren't listening with the laser micr-- RIVER's phone rang.

Agent Udagawa informed her of what they'd heard. It may be nothing, but it sounded like someone had planted illegal devices in Bhrunt's room - maybe Watts's room, too. RIVER agreed. It was probably nothing.

Agent REDOX decided the day was pretty much over, so he, RIVER, and REINHARD returned to their respective rooms, and the junior agents switched up van and laser microphone duties.

Agent ROMEO decided to check a few other avenues of investigation before calling it a day. His first stop was the Merriweather Center to check on registration. He was pleased to find that registration for the event was free, and so he signed himself up with a fake ID.

His next stop was a grocery store to pick up a fruit basket. He addressed the card to Allen Bhrunt and left a note professing his love and admiration for the man's work, and asking for a meeting. Upon reaching the Marriott, he had the desk clerk send the basket up.

Agent ROMEO returned to his room, but he had one final call to make before being done for the day. He called the Museum of Jewish Heritage and got a hold of a man named Morty Silver. ROMEO told him about the event planned by The Review, and Mr. Silver said that he was well aware. In fact, they had a protest planned. About 250 members of the Jewish community were registered to attend. That was good enough for him. The day could now be done.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 3a*

Morning came at 6:00 AM for Agent RIVER, and she left the hotel in search of coffee. Sure, there was a continental breakfast in the lobby, and this was a Marriott, but in her experience you get what you pay for, so you always pay for coffee.

Morning made its way around to REINHARD about a half hour later. After a long shower, he dressed and headed back to the IRS office. He was in for a long day of tracing Franklin, Grant, Jackson … hell, probably even Hamilton and Lincoln.

Morning then checked in on ROMEO just long enough for the agent to stumble to the bathroom, vomit, and stumble back to bed. Something he’d eaten the day before didn’t agree with him; it was either the pizza from Al’s or the questionable-looking airline food. Whatever it was, R-cell was just going to have to give him a day off.

Last on its list as usual, morning finally made its way to Agent REDOX. The bedside alarm clock rang like a claxon for a full minute before the scientist managed to swat it from the table with enough force to unplug it. No time for a shower; it was 7:00 AM.

Agent REDOX rounded up the rookie FBI agents and gave them their daily assignment. Lynn and Taylor were to tail Watts, and Faulkner was to watch Colm. REDOX planned to interview Morty Silver of the Museum of Jewish Heritage, and he wanted Udagawa with him. He made a quick call to RIVER to give her assignment. She was to watch Bhrunt.

When REDOX and Udagawa reached the Museum of Jewish Heritage, it was 7:30, and according to the hours posted on the door, it wouldn’t be open for another two and a half hours. That would give them time for breakfast. They found a corner diner nearby and waited it out.

Agent RIVER took her coffee back to the hotel and found a spot in the lobby where she could be sure to see Bhrunt if he left. By the time 9:00 rolled around, she had a nagging feeling that maybe the man had stepped out while she was at the coffee shop, so she asked the clerk at the front desk to call up to his room for her.

“Certainly, ma’am. Who shall I say is calling?”

“Oh, no one. I don’t want to talk to him. I just need to know if he’s there.”

“Ah, well in that case, ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re welcome to go up to his room and knock if you like.”

“No, you see, I have a message for him from his wife, but I can’t go up there unless I know he’s there.”

The clerk was obviously tiring of the conversation, and RIVER’s smile and batting eyelashes were getting her nowhere just as fast. The clerk directed her to the elevators and indicated that for a woman as in shape as she appeared to be, the stairs weren’t likely to be an obstacle either.

“Fine, just call his room. I’ll talk to him. My name is Kiwen.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

The clerk placed the call, and as soon as it was obvious Bhrunt had answered, but before the phone could be passed, Agent RIVER had left for the elevator. The clerk took the opportunity to alert Mr. Bhrunt that there was a woman on her way up to see him, and he offered the unsolicited opinion that she might be dangerous.

When she reached the room, she disregarded the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the knob. She knocked, but there was no answer. She knocked again, and again there was no answer. She continued to knock until a member of the hotel staff informed her that there had been noise and harassment complaints from the guest, and that if she didn’t leave, he would be forced to call the police. She growled as she stomped off back to the lobby to wait. At least she knew he was there.

REDOX and Udagawa finished up their breakfast and killed some time looking in shop windows before returning to the museum at 10:00. They were the first visitors of the day, but they completely bypassed the multimedia presentation in the entry rotunda and headed straight inside.

It didn’t take long to find Mr. Silver, and REDOX let Udagawa speak first so that he could observe. This was a training assignment after all. Udagawa smiled and introduced himself, and then REDOX dismissed him with a quick “Thank you, agent. That’ll be all.”

Once Udagawa was out of earshot, REDOX introduced himself with his codename and told the man he’d like to help with the protest this weekend. Mr. Silver was happy to accept any help the FBI could offer, but REDOX made it clear that he was only offering his personal assistance; the FBI was only supposed to observe. Mr. Silver was only slightly less happy to accept the lesser assistance.

Before leaving, Agent REDOX wrote down a number for the man to call if he needed anything.

“The man who’ll answer is named Romeo. He’s interested in helping, too. He’s not the prettiest thing to look at, so please don’t stare.”

“Sure thing, agent. I’ll be sure not to Skype.”

Agent REDOX wondered if all surveillance operations were this slow. Why had they been sent a week early anyway? There didn’t seem to be much going on, so he sent Udagawa to assist Faulkner in watching Colm at his accounting firm, and then he paid a visit to the New York Public Library for some research. He spent a couple quiet hours there before breaking for lunch.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 3b*

It was about noon when Agent RIVER finally spotted Bhrunt leaving the hotel. He was dressed in a nice suit and carried his briefcase. When he hailed a taxi, RIVER did the same. She was excited to actually get to say “Driver, follow that cab!”

The taxi took Bhrunt to a local radio station, and RIVER followed him in just in time to see him sign in and be escorted upstairs. She was about to follow when the girl behind the front desk stopped her. Only authorized personnel were allowed upstairs without an escort. RIVER asked where the man with the briefcase was going, and the girl told her he was being interviewed on the air for something or other. And no, RIVER wasn’t allowed up there. If she wanted to hear the interview, she could tune in just like everyone else. It would be broadcast in about an hour.

Agent RIVER eyed the girl up and down to size her up. She was eighteen, maybe nineteen, and pretty with long auburn hair, a lip ring and several tattoos.

“Look, I need to talk to him. What’s it going to take to get me up there?”

“Yeah. Look, lady. This is a radio station. When you see the words ‘On Air’ over the door, that means you can’t go in. If you want to come back in an hour, he’ll be done, I’m sure.”

“I don’t have that kind of time, miss.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Would you have that kind of time if I gave you a couple cards for free McDonald’s sandwiches?”

Agent RIVER was tempted to pull the girl over the counter, and teach her that the real world was tougher than high school, but she instead replied that she didn’t care for McDonald’s. She would be back.

She then left the building and caught a taxi to the nearest Hot Topic. Only $200 on a fake credit card later, and she had a gift certificate to use as a bribe. Bhrunt was probably halfway through his interview by the time RIVER dropped the gift certificate on the desk. The girl eyed it and then looked back to RIVER with a much-improved attitude.

“All I want is to get up those stairs.”

“I wouldn’t dream of getting in your way, lady.”

The girl pocketed the bribe, and RIVER headed up the stairs toward the sound booth. The sign did in fact say ‘On Air’, and the door was locked, but RIVER had a hairpin. That always worked in the movies, right? Agent RIVER was quickly reminded of the fact that her life was not a movie; at least not yet. She failed to pick the lock, and so she waited somewhat patiently outside the door for Mr. Bhrunt to exit.

As soon as he was out, she approached him. She told him that she was interested in his work, and that she was sort of a fan. She turned on the smile and the eyelashes, but it had little effect. Bhrunt was cold and distant, and he regarded her with narrow eyes as he tried to make his way toward the front door. It was obvious he didn’t trust her, and he didn’t want to talk, so she let him go.

When Bhrunt hailed a taxi, she got one of her own. When he got out and headed down to a subway station, she followed. He got on a crowded train, and so did she. Three stops later, he got off, and so did she. She lost him momentarily, and by the time she realized that he’d only pretended to get off the train, it was too late. She huffed and caught a cab back to the hotel.

After lunch, REDOX decided to visit Colm at work, but he didn’t want Faulkner and Udagawa in the way, so he sent them to lunch. Colm’s office was easy to find, but the man wasn’t interested in visitors. He didn’t trust REDOX, and it was obvious. Colm asked if he was the one who broke into his apartment and planted the cameras, but REDOX denied it. There wasn’t much information to be gained from the accountant, so REDOX returned to the hotel.

Agent RIVER spent the rest of her day researching The Review on the internet and browsing their website. REDOX made a few calls to the wives and children of the four men they were watching, but all he found was that no one particularly wanted to talk to him. Well, tomorrow was Thursday, and that meant the final member of The Review, Peter Hames would be in town. Four people to watch, four FBI agents to direct, and three cell members to lead; REDOX had a full day ahead of him, so he got to bed early. The alarm clock remained unplugged and silent under the bed.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 4a*

It wasn’t until almost 10:00 AM that Agent REDOX crawled out of bed. Why hadn’t the alarm rung? It was missing. He vaguely remembered swatting at it the day before. In that case, why hadn’t anyone called to wake him? He decided to ask his cell that very question.

He called them each in turn. REINHARD had been up early, and he was already back at work tracing the finances of The Review. He wasn’t aware REDOX needed him for a wakeup call. ROMEO had been sick all the previous day, and while he was feeling better, he had spent the morning showering and enjoying breakfast. He reminded his cell leader that hotels will generally be happy to call you at a given time if you need to wake up. RIVER was even less help. She offered no explanation of her activities over the course of the morning or why she hadn’t called him to see why he wasn’t up, but instead she told him she’d be sure to find him a Hello Kitty watch with an alarm.

Agent REDOX decided this was probably what it would have been like if Rodney Dangerfield had been a Delta Green agent instead of a comedian. In fact, maybe he should change his name to Agent RODNEY just to see if his cell picked up on it.

The cell met to discuss the day’s plan of action over coffee. It was decided that Agent REINHARD would continue following the money trail since he was the only one with that sort of patience. Agent RIVER was to have two of the rookie FBI agents keep tabs on Bhrunt and Watts, and she would continue to research The Review online. REDOX planned to have Agent Faulkner follow Mr. Colm, and Agent Udagawa would see about finding phone numbers for Colm’s children.

ROMEO and REDOX were going to kidnap Hames as soon as he was off the plane this evening. To facilitate this scheme, Agent ROMEO rented a car with tinted windows, stole the plates off a sedan in a parking garage, and purchased a tinted license plate cover just to make it more difficult to identify him; never mind that with a face like his, even a blind man could pick him out of a lineup.

That brought him to the next step of his plan. New York was full of talented makeup artists. Surely someone would be able to make him look presentable. And different. Different was the key. Presentable was sort of a pleasant side effect.

Hames wasn’t due to arrive until 10:00 PM, so REDOX and ROMEO headed to the library. ROMEO wanted to get a hold of back issues of _Truth_, the newsletter of The Review, but he found that in order to do that, he’d have to subscribe. He set up a throw-away email address and charged $20 to a fake credit card, and then he had several years’ worth of Holocaust denial periodicals to sift through.

The agents decided to take a break for lunch a little after noon, and REDOX called RIVER to check in. Agent RIVER informed him that she felt she’d probably found just about all the information she was going to find, and the rookies had no idea where Bhrunt or Watts were. It seemed like the members of The Review were justifiably paranoid.

REDOX grumbled and told her to just keep researching. No detail was too small. Every angle had to be examined. All her hard work would pay off in the end. Blah, blah, blah. Agent RIVER assured him that she’d get back on it, but as soon as she ended the call, she resumed her nap.

After lunch, Agent ROMEO set about putting his plan into effect while REDOX returned to the library to continue his research. At about 3:00, Agent Faulkner called REDOX.

“Colm is on the move.”

“He left work? So? Follow him. Just let me know if he does anything unusual.”

“Well, that is unusual, sir. He normally leaves at 4:30. He’s headed toward JFK.”

That was all REDOX needed to hear. In the middle of the New York Public Library, he responded in an odd combination of shout and whisper. Faulkner was to keep eyes on him and call back with an address. By the time REDOX had headed outside and hailed a cab, Faulkner called back with the address; a boarded up building in a bad neighborhood.

As his cab took him to the address provided by Agent Faulkner, REDOX called ROMEO to let him know the situation. He indicated that we was on his way in his new rental car. The agents arrived at about the same time. What had been a nice, warm day was starting to look like a stormy one instead. In a matter of minutes, clouds had gathered and darkened over the area, and there were flashes of electricity in them as they slowly swirled.

Agent REDOX paid the cab driver and sent him on his way before approaching the unmarked FBI van directly across from the boarded up building. The only other people in sight were Agent ROMEO a block or so down the street, a cab driver reading a newspaper in front of a convenience store next to the target building, and the clerk of that store.

Agent ROMEO entered the convenience store and bought a fifth of Everclear and a lighter. After a suspicious look from the clerk, he also bought a pack of cigarettes.

REDOX pointed out Colm’s car and held up a tracking device. He told Faulkner to place it underneath the back bumper, but rather than hand it to the agent, REDOX feigned clumsiness and dropped it in Faulkner’s lap. As the agent looked for it to pick it up, REDOX shot him in the neck with a tranquilizer. Once he was sure the agent was out, REDOX began crossing the street.

There was a scream from the boarded up building, and Mr. Colm came running out to his car with a large book under his arm. As he fumbled with the door, Agent ROMEO started jogging while drawing his gun. REDOX drew his gun as well.

Colm didn’t notice the agents, but it’s not likely he’d have done anything differently if he had. He tossed the book in the passenger seat, got in, and turned the key. Agent ROMEO fired a shot from his revolver, but he missed completely. The cab driver was apparently no longer reading the newspaper as now he was pointing a gun at ROMEO. He fired, and the agent took a grazing shot to his left arm.

The wind was starting to die down, and the clouds were quickly dispersing. Agent REDOX fired at the fleeing sedan, but he missed as well. He had to twist to narrowly avoid being run down by the cab driver as he sped off in pursuit.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 4b*

REDOX ordered ROMEO to investigate the abandoned building, while he took the van to chase Colm and the cabby. Agent REDOX ran across the street and pulled the unconscious Faulkner from the van. His first instinct was to take the agent’s wallet, badge, and gun, but he didn’t have the time if he wanted to follow Colm. He left Faulkner by the side of the road and took off in the direction he’d seen the cars go.

Agent ROMEO spent a minute binding his wound to stop the bleeding before heading to the open door. The inside was dark, but he shined the flash from his cellphone like a flashlight, and he was able to see a dusty, empty building with a large crate and a man exiting through a swirling hole in reality. ROMEO shook his head and looked again. He saw the man disappear, and the hole closed behind him. That was most definitely not normal, and if people can just step through holes in space, what good was he really doing with the Department of Homeland Security anyway?

He looked around the building, but the only thing of any interest was a granulated bluish-white powder. The agent shrugged and headed out to his rental car leaving Faulkner unconscious in what seemed to be a bad New York neighborhood. He went back to the Marriot.

After finally conceding that he’d lost the cars he was tailing, REDOX ditched the van, hailed a cab, and returned to the hotel as well. The agents waited until about 9:30, and then REDOX and ROMEO headed to the airport. Agent ROMEO went to the baggage claim for Mr. Hames’s flight holding a sign with the man’s name on it, but he never showed up. REDOX called to alert him when he saw Bhrunt coming out of the terminal with Hames and getting into a cab.

The agents decided their targets were probably headed to the Marriott, so there was no need to try anything dangerous. REDOX had ROMEO drop him off by the ditched van before sending him back to the hotel. After watching ROMEO drive off into the city night, he hopped into the driver’s seat and started the van up. He took a different route back to the hotel; one that went wide and gave him time to think.

What was Colm up to? Who was he meeting in that abandoned building? Had he attacked someone and stolen that book? What was that book, for that matter? Who had caused the clouds to condense? Surely, that wasn’t natural. Why did the cab driver shoot ROMEO? And what was with the flashing lights behind him? Was he being pulled over? Oh, for the love of God. He was being pulled over.

The officer approached the driver’s side door as his partner took the other side. Agent REDOX rolled down the window.

“Evening officer.”

“Mmhmm. Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Tail light?”

“No, sir. This van was reported stolen earlier.”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t stolen. I took it.”

“Are you the owner?”

“No, sir, officer. This van is the property of the FBI.”

“The man who reported this van stolen was an FBI agent, and he said it was stolen by another agent matching your description. Says you drugged him.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmhmm … You can tell it to the chief. Step out of the vehicle, put your hands on the side, and keep your feet shoulder width apart.”

REDOX was stunned. He was being arrested? How can they arrest him? Sure, he wasn’t an FBI agent, but they didn’t know that. As soon as he got out of this, he was going to have somebody’s badge.

Once at the station, REDOX was run through the booking process, fingerprinted, and photographed. As a courtesy, he was allowed to wait in an interrogation room rather than in the general lock up. He was given his one phone call, and he weighed his options. ROMEO hardly knew him, but he seemed like a good agent. He hardly knew REINHARD, so he was out. RIVER … well, she might not answer, and if she did, he couldn’t be sure she’d help. Right. ROMEO, it was.

“ROMEO, listen, I’ve been arrested. They say I have to talk to the chief, but he’s not going to be in until the morning. Get me out of here.”

“Uhhh … yeah. Okay. I’ll see if Morty knows a good lawyer who might be up at this hour.”

“Good. I need to be out of here tonight if possible; definitely before the event.”


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 5a*

Agent REDOX had been returned to the interrogation room and cuffed to the table for only a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. An officer poked his head in the room to let REDOX know his lawyer had arrived. There was no way ROMEO got a hold of Morty Silver, relayed the situation, and had a lawyer sent in a matter of two minutes, but REDOX was in no position to argue.

The door opened wider, and in walked Morty Silver himself. He was dressed in a fine, blue suit with a blue tie and silver cufflinks, and he carried an expensive-looking briefcase, but it was definitely the man from the Jewish Heritage Museum. Mr. Silver entered and took a seat across from REDOX. He placed his briefcase flat on the table between them as the officer closed the door to give them privacy.

“Morty! I’m glad to see you.”

“Yeah. I’ll bet. Why don’t you tell me in your own words what they got you for, and I’ll see what our options are.”

“They say I stole a van that I checked out of the FBI motor pool myself, and they say I drugged a federal agent, but I didn’t. I caught him sleeping on the job, and he’s trying to cover it up by throwing me under the bus.”

The EPA scientist was speaking rapidly, and Mr. Silver held up a hand to slow him down.

“You’re investigating The Review, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“And you suspect them of occult ties?”

Agent REDOX didn’t recall ever mentioning that part, but whatever. He just went with it.

“That’s right.”

“Then you need out of here tonight if you’re going to make it to the event tomorrow.”

REDOX agreed that time was of the essence. Morty rolled the wheels of the combination locks on his briefcase and opened it. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked across the table at the agent.

“I represent a man who can make this happen for you. He has the means, but it’s up to you to provide him with the desire.”

“Sure. What’s he want?”

REDOX was far too desperate to be suspicious.

“Like you, he’s interested in the occult; books, artifacts, knowledge of all sorts. Just agree to come to me the next time you find something of that nature and want it researched. The man I represent asks only for the opportunity to examine and research such things for you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure. If he gets me out of here tonight, you’ve got a deal.”

Mr. Silver smiled and produced a yellow business card from his briefcase. It had an elaborately stylized ‘S.A.’ printed in gold on the back. He placed the card face down on the table with the gold letters up and slid it across the table.

“This may seem silly to you, but I can assure you of its power. Simply pick up the card, read it, and then tear it in half. And now, I’ll bid you good night.”

REDOX just blinked at the card on the table as Mr. Silver left. S.A.? What did that mean? Were they initials? Did they stand for something important? He shrugged and picked up the card. He then frowned and let it fall back to the table.

This had to be a joke. Mr. Silver had given him a card from a Monopoly game; a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. Oh, very funny, Morty. Very freakin’ funny, you bastard! Agent REDOX picked the card back up and ripped it to pieces. Almost as if on cue, there was a soft click, and his handcuffs loosened. He blinked in disbelief at his newly-freed hands as the door opened once more.

The officer poked his head in again to give REDOX his belongings and tell him to have a good night. The scientist wasted no time collecting his things and heading outside. Once on the sidewalk, he called RIVER to come get him.

On the cab ride back to the hotel, Agent RIVER grilled her cell leader about just why he was in jail, but he refused to answer. As it was already after midnight, the agents got some sleep.


----------



## Audrik

*See No Evil - Session 5b*

The next morning, all the agents were up early. This was it. This was the big day. R-cell had a meeting over coffee to discuss how to handle the day. ROMEO suggested forcibly detaining the members of The Review for questioning under the pretense of national security, and REINHARD offered to help since he'd done about all he could tracing the money, and there was a guy at the New York IRS office who was really getting on his nerves anyway. REDOX tentatively okayed the plan on condition that the men not have their rights violated enough to blow the Opera open, and that they be allowed to attend the event.

ROMEO and REINHARD secured three separate rooms so the men could be questioned separately, and then they paid a visit to Bhrunt. Mr. Bhrunt wasn’t in the best of moods, but he agreed to answer ROMEO’s questions after he saw the Homeland Security credentials.

He told the agents he hadn’t been able to reach Colm for days, but he was sure the event would go on as planned. He didn’t know anything about any occult dealings or other nonsense, but he did have one potentially useful piece of information. Colm had mentioned a man he’d been corresponding with who supposedly had “wondrous things” to show him. Bhrunt didn’t know more than that except that he thought the man’s name was Scathis.

Watts and Hames hadn’t been able to reach Colm either, but they weren’t worried. The event would go on as planned. They were sure Colm would be there. They also knew nothing about occult dealings, and if Colm had ever mentioned someone named Scathis, they hadn’t noticed.

It was about noon by the time ROMEO and REINHARD released the three members of The Review and broke for lunch. REDOX had been laying low since the events of the previous night, but he met up with his cell for pizza. ROMEO and REINHARD relayed what little they’d learned, and REDOX called A-cell. He asked Agent ADAM if he’d ever heard of someone named Scathis, but he hadn’t. ADAM did offer to pass the inquiry along to ALPHONSE.

It took a couple hours, but ALPHONSE did email REDOX a quick reply: Scathis is likely Reynaldo Scathis, a singularly vicious Tenente Colonello (Lieutenant Colonel) in the Royal Italian Army during World War II. He was killed in action in North Africa. If encountered, treat with extreme caution. DO NOT ENGAGE unless you are absolutely certain you can take him down. Failure to kill him will almost certainly result in mass casualties.

A picture was attached to the email of Tenente Colonello Reynaldo Scathis in full military dress. The picture was dated April 3rd, 1941, but the man looked exactly like the cab driver who’d shot ROMEO outside the abandoned building. So Colm, the accountant for The Review, was in close contact with a World War II Italian officer who hadn’t aged a day in 70 years. If that didn’t scream “occult ties”, what did?

REDOX informed his cell about the identity of the mysterious cab driver and warned them to be watching for him at the event later. The plan was for everyone to show up early. REDOX and RIVER would be inside since they’d registered for the event. REINHARD would be in the Merriweather Center’s security room monitoring cameras. ROMEO would be near the front entrance watching for Colm.

After taking the afternoon to relax and prepare themselves for the event, each of the agents made their way to the Center about an hour early and got into position. The protesters were already on site and chanting. The police and a private security firm were on hand to keep the situation from boiling over. Barricades were in place to keep the protesting crowd back, and allow attendees and presenters access to the front doors.

Not long after the agents were in place, all four members of The Review arrived; Watts, Bhrunt, Hames, and even the elusive Colm. All four arrived at the same time and hurried somewhat nervously down the path toward the front doors of the convention center. Under one arm, Colm carried the same book he’d had when he fled the abandoned building. The protesters shouted and surged forward against the barricades, and soon they gave way. The crowd rushed the four men, and Colm panicked. Three shots rang out, and it was the crowd’s turn to panic.

Watts, Bhrunt, and Hames dove to the ground, the crowd ran every direction at once, and Colm darted toward the front doors of the Merriweather Center with smoking gun in hand. A large, dark-skinned security guard spoke into the microphone on his wrist before closing on the gunman. Security personnel from all corners of the building came to assist while the police tried desperately to control the panic.

From somewhere deep in the crowd, the man known as Scathis came rushing after Colm. The supposedly-long-dead Italian officer was now wearing sweatpants and an NYU hoodie, and he held his Beretta Modello 1935 handgun out as he ran. He fired a single shot at the dark-skinned security guard and caught him in the head. The guard was dead before he hit the ground at Colm’s feet.

The accountant, even more in fear for his life now, threw open the glass door and ran into the lobby. Agent REINHARD gave real-time updates to the rest of his cell, and so REDOX made his way to the lobby. Agent RIVER stayed back while she worked to picture the situation in her head.

Colm didn’t see ROMEO as he passed the agent on his way inside. On hearing the first gunshots, ROMEO had drawn his pistol and waited. Now he took his shot. Two bullets were fired at short range, and both hit … the standing corpse of an elderly woman. ROMEO and REDOX blinked in confusion and horror. Where Colm had been running through the lobby, now there was the dead body of a woman. Had Colm somehow shapeshifted? What the hell was going on? REINHARD’s voice came over their com links.

“Uhhh … I don’t know what you did, but Colm’s outside. He just stood up in the field. Looks like he switched places with a downed protester. He’s just standing there now.”

Okay. Whatever just happened couldn’t possibly have happened, could it? There was no time to think. REDOX ran for the front doors while ROMEO took up a position overlooking the front and east-side doors. RIVER exited the east-side doors to head Colm off, and REDOX was going to try to come at him from the other side.

First thing was first though. Scathis was still out there, and it looked like he wasn’t caught off guard by Colm’s teleportation. REDOX figured it was Scathis who had caused it. As the Italian officer turned to rush Colm, he was tackled by several security guards. Agent REDOX ran past the pile of bodies, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Scathis stand up several yards away where another of the dead protesters had lain.

Scathis charged toward Colm, but REDOX intercepted and fired his Taser. The Italian officer dodged out of the way. He was far more nimble than a man who’d been dead for 70 years should ever be. Colm ran around the east side of the building, but seeing Agent RIVER waiting, he made a hard left through the side doors.

This was just what Agent ROMEO had been waiting for. He fired twice, and this time, the body that hit the floor was indeed that of Stephen Colm. Agent RIENHARD came out of the security room and crossed the lobby toward the dead accountant. He picked up the book just as ROMEO made it over. The agents gave each other a congratulatory nod.

Agent RIVER decided this chaos and gunfire was a bit too much, and she fled the scene. Seeing Colm’s death through the bay windows of the Merriweather Center lobby, Scathis decided to abort his plan. He ran across the yard toward the street, and REDOX gave chase. Scathis fired a single shot into the window of a passing taxi, and a moment later, a dead cab driver fell at REDOX’s feet. The bastard had teleported again.
The taxi fishtailed a bit as the necromancer gained control, and REDOX watched helplessly as the cab escaped. The EPA scientist cursed as he checked the dead cab driver for identification. He could trace the cab and put out an APB, but something told him it would come to nothing.

Agent REINHARD took the book back to the hotel, and REDOX left the scene as well. ROMEO stayed behind to coordinate with police and cover up the true nature of the events. Once back in the relative safety of the Marriott, REDOX made his final report to A-cell and booked the next flight home.

REINHARD handed the book over to ROMEO later that night, and the agents looked it over. It was in German, and neither of them could read it. The cover was a tasteful dark grey with golden details. A subtly embossed swastika was one of those details, as was the title, name of the author, and two simple lines at the sides, barely suggesting the shape of one of Albert Speer's Nürnberg banners above a “podium” of text. The title was easy enough to translate: _Mein Triumph oder Drittes Buch_, meaning "My Triumph or The Third Book". It was probably just more propaganda, but ROMEO wondered if just maybe it told how to do the corpse switching trick.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Introduction*

*R-Cell*
Agent REDOX - Doctor Dexter Michael Pepper, EPA Environmental Scientist
Agent REINHARD - Michael Pollander, IRS Special Agent
Agent RIVER - Kiwen Doucette, Office of Export Enforcement, Criminal Investigator
Agent ROMEO - Terrance Winters, Homeland Security Office of Intelligence and Analysis - Interrogator

*Former Agents*
Agent RAPSCALLION (deceased) – Tatom Merzos, U.S. Marshall’s Office - Special Operations
Agent RAPUNZEL (deceased) – Yuki Anderson, FBI Forensic Pathologist
Agent RASPUTIN (retired) – Gregori Ruspokov, CDC Researcher
Agent REAPER - Master Sergeant Jack Jack, Delta Force Operator
Agent REDLIGHT (deceased) – Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops (formerly Agent SID)
Agent RICHARD (deceased) – Major James McGinnis, AMEDD General Surgeon
Agent ROBIN (deceased) – Chika Takahashi, EPA Biologist and Environmental Scientist
Agent ROSE – Gia Jones, FinCEN Investigator, Leader of R-Cell – Computer crimes specialist (formerly Agent SAM)
Agent RUBY (retired) – Amelia Larce, DoE Nuclear Emergency Support Team
Agent SÁBADO (deceased) – Marcus Hernandez, IRS Investigator – Computer crimes specialist
Agent SERGE (missing) – Ferdinand Bazinet, Federal Research Division, French-language occult documents specialist
Agent SETH (reassigned) – Ian Trotter, INSCOM Special Agent – Army Intelligence criminal psychologist
Agent SLEEPLESS (deceased) – Reginald Longbottom, NSA Cult Infiltration Specialist

The agents got about 12 hours of downtime before I threw them into the next Opera. They struggled with surveillance, but I know they can handle a simple disappearance investigation.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 1a*

It had taken Agent REDOX all of about ten minutes to book his flight  home, and in that time Agent ALPHONSE had replied to his emailed report.  That wasn’t something the scientist had been expecting; ADAM, maybe,  but ALPHONSE tended to take his time. It probably had something to do  with age. Delta Green’s leader always sounded old and weary over the  phone, but REDOX had never met the man. Not that he was likely to know  it if he had.

The response from A-cell only briefly acknowledged receipt of the  report. It seemed there was another matter that needed R-cell’s  attention. The email gave a phone number and the name of Agent MARCUS of  M-cell. The instruction was short: _Before dismissing R-cell, meet with Agent MARCUS. He has an urgent matter which needs attention. He will give the briefing._  It also advised REDOX to be prepared to welcome a new agent to his  cell; one with abilities which should be particularly suited to the task  at hand.

Well, damn. No rest for the cell yet. At least the area code indicated a  New York City number. As it was already after midnight, Agent REDOX  cancelled his flight and alerted his cell before getting some sleep.

Agent ROMEO was in the process of painstakingly photographing each page  of the Italian’s book when he got the call. His response was hardly more  than an assenting grunt. He had more important things to do than talk  to his cell leader. A few hours later, ROMEO had a complete copy of the  book in the form of digital images, and so he handed it off to REINHARD.  The IRS agent took the book outside to an alley and set it on fire. He  was relieved to see that it burned easily. Burning a Nazi book – the  irony wasn’t lost on him.

On his way out in the morning, Agent REDOX stopped by the front desk to  make sure the rooms were booked for another three days just in case.  Then it was breakfast time. He hadn’t been to a Denny’s in a while, so  he hailed a cab. After ordering his food, REDOX gave Agent MARCUS a call  to set up a meeting for 10:00 AM, and then he relayed to information to  his cell. The meeting was at the FBI office. Did that mean MARCUS was  actually FBI, or was he FBI followed by a ‘wink, wink’? Not that it  mattered, really. For REDOX, the bigger question was this: “If Delta  Green already had a cell in New York, why the hell did his get sent in?”

Most of R-cell arrived at the FBI office on time. Agent RIVER hadn’t  responded since fleeing the chaos of the previous night, but REDOX  wasn’t worried. She’d turn up. Hell, maybe she was the smart one. All he  really wanted to do was go to ground.

Agent MARCUS directed the agents to a secure briefing room and asked  them to make themselves comfortable. MARCUS was probably in his early  30s, but his face seemed to have a sort of permanent scowl of suspicion  which somehow made him seem older. His first order of business after the  door was closed and the blinds were shut was to ask if the agents were  followed. When they indicated they weren’t, he asked if they could  account for all their waking hours. Yes. Yes, they could. Agent MARCUS  accepted their answers, but he didn’t seem to believe them.

“Okay. This should be a milk run; a simple in and out. It’s going to  take weeks, and if you’re lucky, it’ll be the most mind-numbingly boring  job you’ve ever had.”

“And if we’re not lucky?”

Agent ROMEO likely just wanted to cover all possibilities.

“If you’re not lucky, Agent, your mind will still be numb.”

Agent ROMEO conceded that everything seemed to sound fair enough. MARCUS nodded, and then he wasted no more time.

“Abigail Laura Wright is missing. She is a successful commercial  illustrator and artist, and she was last seen four days before she was  reported missing by her father, Thomas Wright. Thomas Wright is a Nassau  County police officer and he pulled some strings to get the NYPD more  involved than is usually the case.

“Abigail has been living in Manhattan for more than seven years and has  only been to the police once, to report a mugging in 2007. Besides this,  she has a distinguished academic record and an impressive list of  credentials and former clients. Late last year, her first show was held  on Franklin Street downtown at The Mercury, a small but trendy art  gallery.

“Six months later she disappeared. Her father says he tried reaching her  for four days before calling a friend at the NYPD on May 13th. When the  police opened her apartment, they were baffled. It was an  obsessive-compulsive’s dream. Every available surface was covered in  junk, glued or taped to the walls. Only the floor was clear. The carpet  had been yanked up to reveal battered linoleum. Prior to this, by all  accounts, Abigail had been a fastidious young woman not given to  accumulating odds and ends. There were no signs of a struggle or any  other sort of violence, and the neighbors could offer no useful  testimony.

“On July 13th, Abigail’s credit card was used in Patience, Maryland to  purchase a pack of Old Gold cigarettes, and the case was given to the  New York FBI as a possible interstate kidnapping. We re-examined the  tenants of the building and Abigail’s associates and friends, and soon  come to the same dead end which stopped the NYPD. The employees at the  gas station where Abigail’s credit card was used had no particular  recollection of the transaction and did not recognize her from  photographs. The signature on the receipt was her name, but not her  handwriting. The gas station had no surveillance cameras.

“Among the debris found in Abigail’s apartment was a piece of paper with  a Yellow Sign hastily scrawled on it in blue ballpoint pen. The occult  symbol caught the attention of a Friendly here who reported it to me.

Agent REDOX had to stop MARCUS for a question.

“A Yellow Sign?”

“Yes.”

“In blue ink?”

“Yes.”

“Was the paper yellow?”

“White.”

“Then why is it called a Yellow Sign?”

“Pray you never find out, Agent REDOX. I need your cell to examine  Abigail’s disappearance, with an eye towards any possible occult  connections. I understand two of you have badges already. Give me a  couple days, and I’ll get some for the others. Welcome to the Bureau,  boys.”


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 1b*

The agents had a few follow up questions. They were told Ms. Wright had  an apartment in the Macallistar Building which was a co-op for young  artists. It was owned and operated by a non-profit called ARTLIFE. Agent  MARCUS gave them a list of tenants.

There were three floors with four apartments each, and a basement  consisting of storage and a boiler room. On the first floor were Thomas  Manuel in 1A, Abigail Wright in 1B, and Roger Carun in 1D. Apartment 1C  was vacant. Each apartment on the second floor was occupied; Louis Post  in 2A, Michelle Vanfitz in 2B, Penny MacLaren in 2C, and Daniel Gray in  2D. Only one apartment on the third floor was taken. Clarice Milner  lived in 3B.

When the cab dropped the agents off in front of the Macallistar  Building, they looked up at it in an odd mix of confusion and wonder.  The surrounding buildings were normal apartment buildings and small  businesses, but the Macallistar stood out. Someone had gone to great  lengths to make it look like a castle. The wall along the rooftop was  done like the stereotypical castle rampart, and cheap concrete gargoyles  stood watch. There was even a non-functional portcullis over the front  doors.

The doors were locked, but REDOX had an idea, and it was worth a shot.  There was an intercom system with twelve buttons. The scientist ran his  hand down the entire intercom, hitting each button. When the door  unlocked, Agent ROMEO shrugged.

“Everyone’s always expecting someone.”

The entry was lined on both sides with the tenants’ mailboxes, and then  another set of doors opened to the main building. A single hallway  carpeted in plush burgundy ran the length of the building, and there  were two apartments on either side. At the end of the hall, a staircase  led up on each side. On the south side – to their left as they entered –  another staircase led down to the basement. On the north side, directly  opposite the stairs to the basement, was a door claiming to lead to the  janitor’s closet. ROMEO checked just to be sure. He was happy to find  the door spoke the truth.

Back near the entrance, REDOX and REINHARD were trying to figure a way  into Abigail Wright’s apartment. The door was locked. Agent RIVER would  be the one to call if they needed a lock picked, but she still hadn’t  returned any calls. ROMEO rejoined his cell outside apartment 1B and  took a driver’s license from his wallet. One quick slide, and the door  opened.

REDOX was the first to enter, and he shuddered as he took in the sight.  Papers and objects of all kinds lined the entire apartment with the  exception of the uncarpeted floor. There was no furniture, but there was  a wooden chair leg stuck to the wall just below a light switch. A DVD  player had been glued to the ceiling, and a cassette tape-playing  Walkman had been glued to another wall.

The agents split up and wandered around the apartment in a sort of awed stupor. Agent ROMEO was the first to break the silence.

“What do you want to bet the Temple of Gozer is in the refrigerator?”

“What refrigerator?”

REINHARD had called from the kitchenette. No furniture in there either,  unless you count the wheelchair glued sideways to the ceiling. All three  agents admitted to being just a little unnerved, but it was no wonder  Agent MARCUS wanted to pawn this of on R-cell. Even when RIVER and the  new guy show up, it was going to take the five of them a week and a half  just to catalogue each item, and that didn’t count time spent  interviewing the other tenants.

“I think I got something here. It looks like the plans for the building.”

Agent REDOX was carefully peeling what looked like a map from the wall  with his knife. He showed it to the others when they gathered around. It  was a map of the Macallistar Building. It showed all three floors with  stairs leading to the roof and the basement, but something didn’t feel  right.

Each closet was marked by an ‘X’, and there were cryptic notes. One  closet was labeled “Roses and butter”, while another said “Door on  7/12”, and yet another said “Man with briefcase and white shoes”. The  agents decided not to bother with the one labeled “Slaughterhouse”.

In addition, the third floor map showed what appeared to be doors  opening to the outside of the building, but there weren’t any balconies.  One door was labeled “Mr. Castaigne”, and the other said “The Parlor”.

Agent REDOX announced that he’d be back in a little while. He was  stepping out to buy a camera. He pointed to a spot on the wall near the  front door and grinned as he told REINHARD and ROMEO to start there, and  move clockwise cataloging each and every scrap of paper and strange  item. He then left the apartment laughing quietly to himself.

About a minute later, Agent ROMEO announced that he’d be back in a  little while. He was stepping out to interview the staff of The Mercury  art gallery about Ms. Wright’s exhibition. He slapped REINHARD on the  shoulder with a quiet laugh on his way out.

REINHARD looked nervously about the apartment in which he now found  himself alone, and he sighed. Sure. Leave the accountant to catalog the  crazy lady’s wallpaper. One creepy map. One yo-yo, Duncan. One take-out  menu, Chinese. One set of dentures. One newspaper, Spanish-language. One  shoe, Air Jordan, left.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 2a*

It wasn’t long before REDOX returned with a camera, but he didn’t stay long. He had one more thing on his list that he wanted to do. As he had done previously with the map, REDOX carefully peeled a piece of newspaper from the wall. He frowned at seeing another newspaper article beneath that, and he briefly wondered just how many layers there were. He placed the scrap of newspaper in a plastic bag and let REINHARD know he was headed to the FBI lab to run chemical analysis on the paper and adhesive.

On his way out of the building, he received a text from RIVER letting him know she was alive and still in New York. After hailing a cab, he sent her a quick response: _Meet REINHARD at the Macallistar Building. Apt. 1B. He’ll catch you up._

Agent ROMEO found The Mercury art gallery with no trouble. It was a small, two-story building, but the open space inside made it feel much larger. The walls were lined with paintings, and there were aisles of temporary walls also lined with paintings. Below each painting was the artist’s name and an asking price.

While the gallery seemed to have a focus on painting and photography, there were several sculptures interspersed. There was also a corner beneath the loft level which was set up with several sets of studio headphones so that patrons could listen to the music and poetry of New York’s less-visually-oriented artists. The gallery’s stereo played a selection of music by local artists. In addition to this atmosphere, the gallery also had its own coffee shop.

ROMEO’s first impression of the place was one of hipster overload, and the gallery manager only added to the effect. He looked to be in his mid-20s with a zippered hoodie open in the front to show his Radiohead t-shirt, and ROMEO suspected the kid’s glasses were more for show than anything.

The agent introduced himself and gave the name Howard Phillips. The gallery manager shook his hand and introduced himself as well. His name was Alan Conaco. Agent ROMEO said that he was a collector, and he was in town on business. As long as he was here, he’d like to see about ‘discovering’ a new artist. He was actually pretty interested in a few of the paintings by Thomas Manuel, and he’d been told to check out someone named Abby Wright.

Mr. Conaco was happy to talk about the paintings. Manuel apparently had a preference for darker - but vivid - colors; lots of reds and blues especially. His subject matter tended to show entropy with lots of decaying plant life and collapsing buildings, but the colors and brushstrokes brought life to them.

Ms. Wright’s paintings had all sold. The gallery was expecting more from her, but she hadn’t sent any over in a couple months. Still, they were hopeful. Ms. Wright was one of Mr. Conaco’s favorite new artists, mainly because she brought in money.

Agent ROMEO asked for an introduction to Mr. Manuel, but Conaco said it was against gallery policy. There would be another large exhibit next month, and many of the artists would be in attendance. ROMEO thanked him but mentioned he was only in town on business. He then left the gallery and headed back to the Macallistar.

When Agent RIVER arrived at the Macallistar building, there was a man examining the intercom outside the front door. He pressed a button near the top, and the door unlocked a moment later. RIVER asked him to hold the door, and he did so. They both entered, and RIVER was a little surprised to see the man stop in front of Ms. Wright’s apartment.

She flashed her FBI credentials and told the man there was an active investigation, so he should move along. The man just shrugged and said that he knew all about the investigation, and he was there to help. In fact, he was looking for someone named REDOX. Agent RIVER was a little suspicious. Her cell leader hadn’t mentioned anything about help.

A few questions back and forth, and she was pretty sure she knew what was going on. The man gave his name as ROCHE, and he said he was a Postal Inspector assigned to assist Agent REDOX in his team’s investigation. Agent RIVER called REDOX, and he confirmed that A-cell was indeed sending a new agent to assist. RIVER thanked her cell leader in a tone dripping with sarcasm for letting her know ahead of time.

Agents RIVER and ROCHE entered Abby’s apartment, and RIVER introduced REINHARD to the new cell member. After the initial shock of the scene had worn off, REINHARD explained the situation to the others. They got right to work photographing and cataloging all the various items on the walls and ceiling. RIVER hadn’t been in the apartment longer than ten minutes before the hairs on the back of her neck started to tingle. She had a strong sensation of being watched.

REDOX completed his chemical analysis of the paper, and he determined it had been stuck to the wall with a strong epoxy. He called RIVER to tell her what he’d found, and also to say that he was going to stop at a building supply store for a solvent before returning. She gave the wheelchair on the ceiling a dirty look and asked him to get a stepladder while he was at it.

Just as Agent ROMEO returned and was getting acquainted with ROCHE, Agent RIVER found something odd next to a Denver-area phonebook from 1983 – okay, so she’d found two odd things, but one seemed more interesting than the other. It appeared to be a typewritten page from a poorly-written play:



> SCENE: The Smoking Lounge, a larger parlor on the fourth floor. In the room are THE DOG, THOMAS and MICHELLE.
> 
> ENTER MARK ROARKE.
> 
> MARK: Abigail is gone, she moved upstairs today.
> 
> THOMAS: And?
> 
> MARK: I miss the kid.
> 
> MICHELLE: Her dad, that pig, came around. She doesn't like you Mark, no one likes you. Anyway, she ran off with that salesman, everyone knows it.
> 
> MARK: F--- you, you c---.
> 
> THOMAS: Come on guys... come on...
> 
> THE DOG: Arf.
> 
> Someone is heard coming up the steps, a loud racket reverberating up and down the staircase.
> 
> MARK: Who is that?
> 
> Everyone stops to listen.
> 
> MICHELLE: Who could be down there? Who is that?
> 
> MARK steps to the doorway and leans to look down the stairs.
> 
> MARK: Hello? Hello?
> 
> ENTER FBI AGENTS.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 2b*

Two of the speakers had the same names as tenants of the building, and  they seemed to be talking about Ms. Wright. That was a little odd. Then  RIVER realized the scene was set on the fourth floor, but the  Macallistar only had three floors unless you counted the basement also.  That was odd, too. It must be set in a different building. Then the last  line caught her attention: “ENTER FBI AGENTS.” That sent a chill down  her back.

RIVER handed the page to REINHARD after carefully removing it from the  wall. The other agents all agreed that it was a bit disturbing, but  given all the other things they were seeing, it wasn’t exactly out of  place.

They got back to work, and a little while later, REDOX arrived with the  solvent and stepladder. His first order of business was to get that  damned wheelchair off the ceiling, and while he did that, ROMEO told him  about the page from the play. The agents decided that no one was going  anywhere in the building alone. This might have seemed like an  unnecessary and paranoid decision if it weren’t for the fact that this  was a Delta Green op sparked by an occult picture. This was as good a  time as any to break for the day, so the agents all left the building  and agreed to meet back at 9:00 the next morning.

The night passed uneventfully, and R-cell returned to the Macallistar  right on time to get a fresh start. No sooner had Agent RIVER entered  the building than she felt watched once more. She already disliked this  place, and Agent ROMEO’s half-joking suggestion that they just torch the  building and catalog the ashes was sounding more desirable every hour.

By noon, the tedium of methodical cataloging was even getting to  REINHARD. Day two. It was only day two, and by the looks of it, they had  at least a week left. And it was so disheartening to remove the fourth  or fifth layer of newspaper articles and magazine covers only to find a  laminated maple leaf, and under that another newspaper article. When  REDOX finally got down to plaster, the agents decided to break for a  celebratory lunch.

Agent ROMEO didn’t particularly want to go back to cataloging, so he  placed a call to ARTLIFE and spoke with the building manager, Cynthia  Lechance. He told her he had a few artist friends who were hoping to  find an inexpensive place to live in the city, and as he was in town on  business, he thought he’d look around. A chance encounter had led him to  her.

Ms. Lechance was happy to tell him all about the Macallistar, and how  ARTLIFE managed to keep rent so affordable. ROMEO casually steered the  conversation around to the tenants of the building, and the woman didn’t  even seem to notice she was giving out more information than she  probably should. She told him none of the tenants had paid rent in over a  month, no one returned calls, and eviction notices had been sent out.  She mentioned almost to herself that she’d never had to evict an entire  building before. Agent ROMEO thanked her for her time and said that he’d  have his friends get in touch.

When he returned to the apartment, the other agents were examining what  Agent RIVER felt might be a breakthrough. She’d found a hand-written  receipt on what looked like very old pre-printed receipt paper. It  indicated that Abigail Laura Wright had paid $850 for July rent on  apartment 0B. According to the building’s numbering scheme, she thought  that had to be in the basement. She also thought that apartments like  these in New York City had no business going for any less than $1,500.  It didn’t matter if the company that owned it was non-profit. Agent  ROMEO mentioned that either the receipt was fake, or it was from an  earlier year. None of the tenants had paid rent since May.

Everyone wanted out of the apartment, and it looked like they had a  couple excuses. ROMEO and REINHARD were going to see about interviewing  some of the tenants, and the others were going to check the basement  apartments. ROMEO knocked on the door across the hall, and a  clean-shaven man in his late 20s answered. He only opened the door  enough to look out, so consequently, the agents had difficulty seeing  in. What they could see seemed to be a clean apartment, and there was a  plastic tree in a pot next to the door. As the man didn’t speak first,  ROMEO opened the conversation.

“Mr. Manuel? My name is Phillips, Howard Phillips. My partners and I are  looking into the disappearance of your neighbor Abigail Wright.”

“Ah, yes. I’m not sure what to make of it. Laura’s a good kid, but she’s  such a free spirit. She must have just left because New York just  couldn’t hold her.”

“Excuse me. Laura?”

“That’s right. Laura’s her middle name, but that’s what I always called her.”

“Then you knew her well?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, she just lived across the hall. We talked a lot.”

Agent REINHARD asked if Manuel would mind if they came in, but Mr.  Manuel said that he didn’t think that would be a good idea. The place  was something of a mess. From what they could see over the man’s  shoulder, the agents felt it was clean by most standards, and especially  in comparison to Ms. Wright’s apartment. ROMEO asked if he knew a Mark  Roarke, but the man said it didn’t ring a bell.

“Did Ms. Wright know the other tenants? Did they get along well?”

“I don’t think she ever really talked with anyone else except Penny.”

“Penny MacLaren, you mean?”

Mr. Manuel indicated that was indeed who he meant. When the agents asked  for an introduction, the man was happy to take them upstairs.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 2c*

The rest of R-cell headed down to the dimly lit basement. The basement  had the same overhead lighting as the ground floor, but only half of the  lights seemed to be on. The floorplan was the same as well, though  there was no plush carpet running the length of the hall; only concrete.  Room 0A appeared to be the boiler room, and while it was dark and a  little damp, there didn’t seem to be anything particularly sinister  about it. The door to 0B was locked, but that only delayed Agent RIVER  by about ten seconds.

She easily picked the lock, and the door slowly creaked open. With no  windows, the room was very dark, but fortunately the light switch was  functional. Apartment 0B had the same layout as Abby’s ground floor  apartment, but this one had bare walls and a bare ceiling, clean tan  carpeting, and a refrigerator. The apartment was empty and showed no  signs of habitation.

Agent ROCHE checked the bathroom but found nothing of interest. RIVER  found a carton of milk in the refrigerator that looked like it might  burst. Given how odd this case was, she almost expected to see a picture  of Abigail Wright on the carton. The expiration date indicated the  contents hadn’t been drinkable since May, but RIVER opened the carton  anyway and nearly vomited. The smell was absolutely awful, and even  ROCHE could smell it from the bathroom. She quickly closed it up and put  it back.
Agent REDOX said he’d found something in the bedroom. As this was an  efficiency apartment, the bedroom was really just an area toward the  back of the room that was intended to hold a bed. REDOX held up a sheet  of paper which had just been resting on the carpet with the print-side  down. He frowned as he read, and he declared the writing to be complete  garbage before handing it to the others for their opinions. It appeared  to be another page of a play, and it was likely written on the same  typewriter as the page pulled from Abby’s wall.



> SCENE: The hallway outside the Smoking Lounge. DANIEL GRAY and THE NIGHT
> MANAGER stand facing each other.
> 
> Singing rises to a crescendo, then explodes into a feverish scream.
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: Penny is in fine form tonight.
> 
> DANIEL: I'm going to miss her keeping me up at night.
> 
> DANIEL laughs.
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: I'm going to miss you. You were one of my favorite tenants.
> 
> DANIEL: I was a pain in the ass, man, and you never did fix that leak.
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: I'll get to it tonight. There's a new tenant due soon.
> 
> DANIEL: Yeah, so I hear. Well, you take care, man, okay?
> 
> DANIEL and THE NIGHT MANAGER shake hands.
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: It's been good, Daniel. Take care.
> 
> DANIEL: You too.
> 
> DANIEL starts to walk down the hall.
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: Daniel, it's the other way.
> 
> DANIEL laughs.
> 
> DANIEL: Sorry, man. Must have gotten turned around!
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: Understandable.
> 
> DANIEL: Guess I shouldn't have clawed my eyes out, huh?
> 
> THE NIGHT MANAGER: It's a statement. The super will set you up with a new pair, I'm sure.



ROCHE and RIVER agreed with their cell leader’s critique, and RIVER  added that the poor writing didn’t keep it from being creepy as hell.  The agents all agreed never to see the play if it was performed, and  ROCHE muttered something under his breath about starring in it anyway.

They moved on to apartment 0C, and again RIVER’s hairpin had the door  open in no time. This room was just like the last one, only flipped. The  bathroom was on the right as they entered rather than the left. There  was no furniture in the apartment, but there were six easels covered by  sheets, and painting supplies were tossed in a corner.

The agents decided to see what was under the sheets, and so they each  took two easels to examine. The two paintings Agent ROCHE found were  unfinished. What had been painted already was pretty, but the colors  were dark. The first was a millhouse with a waterwheel in a dark stream.  There was a faint hint of red in the dark blue of the water. The  building itself was very detailed for such an early stage in the  painting. At first glance, it seemed like a strong and well-built  structure, but closer examination revealed cracks and damage, and the  building seemed almost to be falling apart.

The other painting was hardly a painting at all. It was a sketch on a  canvas, and only the very first brushstrokes had been made. Upon  completion, it looked like it would depict the collapsing entrance to a  deep mineshaft. It also seemed that a landslide was in the process of  tumbling down the side of the mountain.

The first painting Agent RIVER uncovered was a partially colored and  unfinished painting of a bowl of rotting fruit, and the second painting  showed a fireplace and the legs of a man in brown dress pants. The rest  of the man was only an outlined drawing.

REDOX wasn’t particularly impressed with the paintings he found. The  first was of a rat-like animal jumping out of a dark pool of water and  catching a rather surprised-looking fish out of the air. The second  painting was nearly complete, and it really only needed some detail  work. It showed a top-down view of a wooden box containing several  marionettes piled and tangled together.

After the paintings had been uncovered, both ROCHE and REDOX got the  feeling they were being watched. It was the same feeling RIVER had been  having for some time now. They all agreed it was probably time to get  back up to Abby’s apartment.

Thomas Manuel knocked lightly on the door of apartment 2C, and when the  young brunette answered, he introduced her as Penny MacLaren. Penny was  short and a little on the heavier side, but she was very pretty. Then  again, everyone tended to seem more attractive once Agent ROMEO entered  the room.

Agent ROMEO introduced himself and Agent REINHARD as Howard Phillips and  “my assistant”. As part of the promised introduction process, Mr.  Manuel mentioned that Phillips and his assistant were investigating  Laura’s disappearance. Then to the agents, he mentioned that Penny’s  singing voice was of the purest gold. Upon achieving smiles and thanks  all around, Thomas Manuel took his leave and went back downstairs.

After what the fire had done to ROMEO’s face, he was very fortunate that  he was as personally charming as he was. Even so, it took a few moments  before Ms. MacLaren allowed them inside her apartment. The living room  was clean and sparsely furnished with only a mismatched loveseat and  chair, a small coffee table, and a desk. There was also a television on a  short bookcase. The desk held a laptop computer which displayed a  rather sophisticated-looking sound recording program. Thick cables  connected the laptop to a microphone on a stand and a pair of studio  headphones.

Agent REINHARD asked if they were interrupting anything, and while the  young lady said they weren’t, it really did seem like they were. It  served ROMEO’s purpose to believe her, and so that’s just what he did.  The agents led with small talk about her career and upcoming shows, and  ROMEO managed to talk her into singing a song for them. He even gave her  $40 as a token fee.

She sang a song from an obscure French opera, and she sang it with such  passion and talent that the agents were actually brought to tears. ROMEO  was so moved in fact that he elbowed REINARD and demanded the IRS agent  cough up at least a $20 of his own.

After a little more talking, it was obvious that Ms. MacLaren had no  knowledge of Abigail’s whereabouts. They weren’t the closest of friends,  but they were more than acquaintances. Agent ROMEO eventually steered  the conversation around to the subject of an early dinner, and he was so  charming that despite Penny’s protest that she never does this sort of  thing, she accepted his offer. ROMEO turned to REINHARD with a subdued  grin and shooed him away dismissively.

“You may be excused, Benson. I won’t be needing you any longer tonight.”

REINHARD rolled his eyes as he stood and said that he did have other  work he could be doing anyway. The trio walked down the stairs together  and along the plush ground floor hallway, parting ways at the door to  Abigail Wright’s apartment. The rest of R-cell had already returned from  the basement, and so REINHARD caught them up on what little they’d  learned from Thomas Manuel and Penny MacLaren.

Agent REDOX didn’t want anyone alone in the building, and he didn’t want  anyone there after dark either, so he decided it was about time for  everyone to finish up for the day. Work could start again early the next  day.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 3a*

Penny MacLaren and Agent ROMEO exited the Macallistar building and  crossed the street to the car ROMEO had rented to assist in his  kidnapping of a member of The Review. That plan had fallen through, but  it seemed the car was fated to assist in a kidnapping after all. ROMEO’s  intentions weren’t completely altruistic. Sure, he wanted to get Penny  out of the building for her own safety, but he wasn’t going to let her  return. Again, he told her, it was for her own safety.

Penny argued that none of her fellow tenants wished her harm. If anyone  had kidnapped Abby – or worse – it wasn’t anyone from the Macallistar.  ROMEO dropped the subject for the time being. If he could drag out  dinner, and possibly move the evening in a more romantic direction, he  may not even need the tranquilizer gun. Still, better to be prepared.

He chose a classy restaurant which seemed like it might sufficiently  stall the evening, and he made a point of comparing and contrasting the  entirety of the wine menu. When his food arrived, he sent it back and  had it remade. All the while, he talked to Penny.

After dinner, ROMEO drove all over the city, and eventually Penny asked  to be taken home again. He explained that she was in danger, and he was  keeping her away for her own good. She argued that whether it was for  her own good or not, it still amounted to kidnapping. She was still  smiling, and so it didn’t seem she felt it was as serious as she made it  out to be.

All the same, ROMEO took advantage of a red light to make a move for the  tranquilizer gun. As his hand moved, Penny quickly pulled back the  jacket on her lap to reveal a small caliber pistol. She shook her head,  still smiling.

“It’s been a fine evening, Mr. Phillips. Let’s not ruin it. Take me home now, please.”

Agent ROMEO hesitated for only a moment. He assessed the situation, and  he felt he had the advantage. He drew the tranquilizer gun in a flash  and fired. He hit the girl in the neck, but before she lost  consciousness, she fired her own gun. The bullet hit ROMEO in the right  side, below the ribs, but the armored vest under his shirt absorbed most  of the impact. A nasty bruise was all he was likely to suffer.

The music was loud enough, and Ms. MacLaren’s gun was small enough that  no one outside the car seemed to notice a shot had been fired. The light  turned green as Penny drifted off to sleep. ROMEO called REDOX to ask  about the local Green Box, and when his cell leader pressed for a  reason, ROMEO told him what had happened.

“I need a quiet place to question her, preferably somewhere she can be held for her own safety.”

“Damnit, ROMEO. Kidnapping? Fine. I’ll tell you where the Green Box is,  but I’m meeting you there, and I’m bringing RIVER and REINHARD.”

Agent REDOX told ROMEO where to go, and he made his calls. REINHARD said  he was on his way, but RIVER’s phone seemed to be disconnected. REDOX  couldn’t even leave a voicemail. There was no time to worry about that  now.

The Manhattan Green Box was a large maintenance room in a deep sub-level  of a parking structure. The door was heavy, and the walls were concrete  at least a foot thick. A-cell had given REDOX the combination to the  door, and so as soon as he arrived, the three agents carried Penny  MacLaren inside and shut the door behind them. ROMEO handcuffed the  sleeping woman to a pipe and blindfolded her.

Agent ROMEO went through her phone looking for contact information, and  what he found gave him reason to pause: Her call log showed that she’d  been in contact with every tenant of the Macallistar building at one  time or another, as well as Mark Roarke and the Night Manager. All the  numbers seemed normal except for Mark’s. His number was  “TRafalgar-4-3314,” but that style of telephone exchange number had been  discontinued over 80 years ago. Further, the various calls – both  incoming and outgoing – came at all hours. It seemed Ms. MacLaren might  not ever have time to sleep. As he scanned the call log, he noticed that  calls to and from Mark Roarke and the Night Manager were only at night.

Then he saw it. Several times in the past week, always at night, Penny  had talked to Abigail Wright, or someone using her phone. Agent ROMEO  pulled the battery from the young woman’s phone before telling the  others what he’d found.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 3b*

REDOX called Agent ROCHE, and ROCHE said that he and RIVER had gone back  to the Macallistar to look around and to interview some of the tenants.  REDOX told the Postal Inspector he was in danger, and he needed to get  out and to the Green Box immediately.

“Ummm … okay. I’ll be right there. Lemme just get RIVER. She went upst—“

The line went dead.

ROMEO produced a syringe and vial from his bag. He carefully  administered what he called “compliance drugs” to Ms. MacLaren while  Agent REDOX made only a weak, token argument. After a few minutes to let  the chemicals take effect, ROMEO shook the woman awake and began asking  her questions. Penny cooperated for the most part, but she didn’t act  like a young woman being held captive and drugged. She was calm,  slightly irritated, and more than a little sarcastic.

The agents were able to determine that Penny knew everyone in the  building including the Night Manager, Henri Castaigne. She talked to  Abby a lot. After all, Abby only moved up to the sixth floor.

REINHARD handed a page of the script to ROMEO and had him ask about it.  ROMEO read the end of the second page where Daniel Gray had apparently  clawed his eyes out, and the Night Manager said the super would probably  replace them.

“Yeah. The super is usually good about things like that.”

She delivered the line as if it was a given; as if Daniel Gray had  actually clawed out his own eyes, and the super, being the nice guy he  was, would probably give him a new set. Nothing odd about that, right?

The agents, through ROMEO, asked more questions, and Penny answered each  of them in a credible and believable manner. If her story was to be  believed, Clarice Milner had a thing for removing body parts, draining  blood, or just cutting a hole in someone and digging around. After she  finished with her “patient”, the super would generally fix them back up  later in the night; not always, but usually. Penny had never seen the  super, and Clarice had never operated on her or Louis Post.

On a hunch, REINHARD had ROMEO ask if any new books had been floating  around, and Penny rather enthusiastically said there had been. A couple  months ago, Abigail had found an old book at a used book store. It was a  play, and it had been making the rounds at the Macallistar; each tenant  had read it at least once, and Louis had it the last Penny had heard.  The play was a translation of an old French play called Le Roi en Jaune.  The King in Yellow.

REDOX thought the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The  others felt sure they’d never heard of it. The cell leader excused  himself silently to step outside and call A-cell. He was only a little  surprised when his call was answered. It was Agent ALPHONSE, and he  sounded tired.

ALPHONSE admitted he knew little of the Opera MARCUS had assigned, but  he did know it was sparked by the discovery of an occult symbol. He  suggested REDOX contact MARCUS with any questions and reports. MARCUS  would keep A-cell apprised. Agent REDOX thanked ALPHONSE and said he had  one quick question before he hung up.

“A play called _The King in Yellow_ has been passed around between the tenants of the building recently. Ever heard of it?”

ALPHONSE was quiet for a long moment before giving his instruction.

“That is a very dangerous book. Retrieve it at all cost, and destroy it.  Do not read it. Do not even open it. Do not so much as read the title.  Understand, Agent?”

Agent REDOX acknowledged his instructions, and he indicated that his  team could handle the execution. When he re-entered the Green Box, he  saw ROMEO making a clumsy attempt at a sleeper hold. He waved ROMEO off  and performed the maneuver himself. Once Penny was asleep again, he  informed the other agents of what ALPHONSE had said.

REINHARD and ROMEO were now surer than ever that the best course of  action would be to bomb the building and leave no survivors. They may  have been innocent artists before, but now they were probably a cult of  some sort, and their cult was centered on a book the leader of Delta  Green had declared dangerous.

REDOX was against anything so flashy and high-profile for the moment,  but he was willing to keep it on the back burner. For now, the mission  parameters had changed. Find the play. Burn the play.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 4a*

Agent REDOX returned to find the other two agents whispering to each  other as Penny slept blindfolded, gagged, and handcuffed to the pipe;  ROMEO had even stuck earplugs in her ears and set his phone to play  white noise near her. REINHARD and ROMEO stopped whispering as their  cell leader stepped back in.

Agent REDOX filled them in on their updated orders. He suggested someone  should try calling the number for the night manager, and ROMEO  nominated him.

“If you’re going to talk to him, you’ll need to be careful. He’s  probably the one turning these artists into cultists. He might be able  to control you through the phone.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, deadly serious. He supposedly lives above the third floor, and  Penny’s phone says she only talks to him at night. You read the page  where the guy had clawed his eyes out, and this guy told him the super  would probably give him new ones.”

“And how is it that the night manager is the leader of the cult if it’s the super with all the power.”

Here, Agent REINHARD offered the theory that the night manager might be  the cult leader, while the super would then be like their deity. ROMEO  agreed completely as it supported his argument. REDOX rolled his eyes  and handed over his gun. Agent ROMEO then asked him to hand over his  phone as well in case the night manager forced him to call A-cell or  something else just as dangerous, and the cell leader did so with a  sigh.

Agent ROMEO wasn’t quite satisfied, and so he asked REDOX to take a seat  and allow himself to be handcuffed for the duration of the call. This  was all getting to be a little ridiculous, but REDOX agreed to the  demands. Once ROMEO was satisfied, he dialed the number and held the  phone so that REDOX could talk.

There was no answer. The phone didn’t even ring. It was just like  RIVER’s phone. Of course the call wouldn’t go through. Nothing above the  third floor existed, at least not on this plane. They couldn’t contact  RIVER or ROCHE. Why would they think they could contact the night  manager? At least they tried. ROMEO could let REDOX loose now.

Only, ROMEO refused to remove the cuffs. It took REDOX a moment to  realize what was going on. It was a mutiny! Agent REINHARD felt it  necessary to point out that they weren’t on a ship, so that wasn’t  strictly accurate. His helpful correction only drew a cold stare from  the EPA scientist.

REDOX remained calm as he assessed the situation. He had no gun or  phone, and he was handcuffed to a chair. He would eventually get free,  and it would be a small matter to pin the kidnapping and/or murder of  Penny MacLaren on Agent ROMEO. If ROMEO realized that, he’d never be  able to let his cell leader live; not after this. Best to stay calm and  let ROMEO think he’s in control.

“What’s this about? He didn’t answer, and I’m not mind-controlled. You  can let me go and give me my phone and gun, so why won’t you?”

“REINHARD and I were talking while you were outside. We think you’ve  been making some dangerous decisions. You wanted to give that Nazi book  to someone outside of the group instead of destroying it, and now you  want us to go back into that building and look for another book.”

“Under orders from A-cell. It’s a dangerous book, and it needs to be destroyed. It’s probably what’s causing all of this.”

“If A-cell is ordering it, I’m not getting in the way, but I can’t work  with you anymore. Nothing personal. I just think you’re a menace.”

Using the phone he confiscated from his cell leader, ROMEO dialed  A-cell, and the call was answered quickly. The man on the other end  didn’t immediately identify himself, but when ROMEO told him who he was,  the man gave his name as ADAM.

Agent ADAM wanted to know why ROMEO was calling and who gave him the  number. Agent ROMEO informed him that he took the phone from REDOX who  was currently unavailable. He explained all the reasons he felt REDOX  wasn’t fit to lead, and all the while, REDOX gave him dirty looks.

ROMEO asked to be reassigned, and ADAM said the matter would be handled.  ADAM instructed ROMEO to hold the phone up so REDOX could speak, but  ROMEO said that wasn’t going to be possible. This prompted REINHARD to  draw his gun and point it at ROMEO who calmly ended his call.

“I’m going to have to go now, ADAM. Agent REINHARD is pointing a gun at  me. Don’t forget: You said you’d have this taken care of.”

He then hung up and put the phone away. Penny stirred a little in her  sleep while the three agents discussed just what the hell was going on.  Apparently, REINHARD had agreed that their cell leader was acting  dangerously, but now he felt it was ROMEO who had taken leave of his  senses.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 4b*

ROMEO’s plan was to take REDOX’s phone and leave his own in exchange,  leave his cell leader’s gun, and just disappear for a while until A-cell  could get him a new identity and assignment. REDOX sarcastically wished  him luck. With that, Agent ROMEO left the green box and drove away in  the car he’d rented for the previous kidnapping.

A moment later, REINHARD’s phone rang. It was Agent ADAM. The mutiny of  R-cell had become a concern for A-cell. This wasn’t how Delta Green  handled a situation like this. REINHARD resisted the temptation to  correct ADAM’s use of the word, and instead, he agreed.

The IRS agent asked ADAM what he should do about REDOX, and he was told  that it was his call. A-cell was too busy for amateur-hour theatrics.  However they wanted to handle things, the job needed to be done, and  A-cell wasn’t going to hold their hands. REINHARD said he was releasing  REDOX, but that they were only two agents. They needed reinforcements.

“I’ve only got one person I can send, and he’s a Friendly. It’s time to  bump him to full agent. Until recently, he was a member of Secretary  Clinton’s Secret Service security detail, but he’s in the process of  reassignment. She didn’t like the tone in his voice when he said good  morning. He should be in New York City now. I’ll email a bio and photo  to REDOX. Now see that the job is done.”

After freeing REDOX, the next order of business was to figure out what  to do with Penny who was still unconscious but showing signs of waking.  REINHARD felt they were simply screwed. He didn’t want to kill her, but  if she went free, she’d turn him over to the police.

REDOX wasn’t so sure, and he had a plan. She’d seen REINHARD’s face, and  she would associate him with ROMEO, but she didn’t know his real name,  and as far as she knew, ROMEO was acting alone. If they hit her with  another tranquilizer to keep her out long enough to move her, REINHARD  could meet up with the new agent. When Penny started to wake up, REDOX  would burst in and be the heroic FBI agent coming to save her.

Agent REINHARD agreed the plan might work, and so they put it into  effect. In the early-morning hours, they transported Penny to the  abandoned store where only a few days earlier the accountant for a  Holocaust denial group had met with a sorcerer of some sort. REDOX set  to work handcuffing her to a nearby pipe while REINHARD headed back to  the relative safety of the Marriot.

Agent REDOX took the earplugs out of Penny’s ears, and when she finally  began to show signs of waking, he slipped quietly outside. After a  ten-count, he kicked the door in and shouted some things he’d heard FBI  agents on television shout in similar situations. He rushed over and  took off the young woman’s blindfold and removed the gag. He held out  his FBI credentials.

“Everything’s going to be okay, ma’am. I’m …”

Oh, damn. Who was he again? Norman, Nelson, Millsap? He risked a quick glance at his badge.

“… Agent Morrison of the FBI. I’m going to get you free. Are you okay?”

Penny nodded slowly and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the lighting.  Agent REDOX spent a minute pretending to pick the lock on the handcuffs  before using the key. He asked her some questions while he worked. Did  she know who had kidnapped her? Did he have any accomplices?

She told him that it was a man who said his name was Howard Phillips.  She had met him recently – she had no idea how much time had passed  since she was drugged. They had gone to dinner, and he shot her with a  dart gun. The next thing she knew, she was here. When she met Phillips,  he was with another man he called Benson, but she didn’t know if he was  in on it. As far as she knew, Phillips was working alone.

Once the cuffs were off, REDOX helped the young woman to her feet and  put his jacket over her shoulders. He told her not to worry. He’d make  sure she got taken into protective custody. This was apparently exactly  the wrong thing to have said. She stopped short, dropped his jacket to  the ground, and took a step away.

“That … That’s exactly what Mr. Phillips said. Just like that.”

Judging from her tone and the look in her eyes, REDOX was sure she was  just in shock. He offered to call another FBI agent to give her a ride  home, and she accepted. REDOX called Agent MARCUS and asked him to send  Agent Udagawa whom he had worked with recently. Agent Udagawa took Penny  back to the Macallistar building, and REDOX caught a cab back to the  Marriot.

After a brief nap, REDOX looked over the file Agent ADAM had sent on the  new agent. His name was Dimitri Benedict Salazar, and he was with the  Secret Service. He was a decorated agent with specialized training as a  driver and a sniper. A skilled driver who could handle pressure would be  a real asset. He hoped the agent’s skill with a rifle would never be a  factor in the outcome of an Opera, but he knew better.

REXDOX called REINHARD and Agent Salazar to set up a meeting in the  hotel bar. Both remaining agents of R-cell found the new recruit  acceptable if a little stiff and formal. His tendency to call them sir  particularly got to REDOX, but he let it go for the time being. The  agents brought Agent Salazar up to speed and welcomed him to the group.  REDOX mentioned that the choosing of a codename was a sort of symbolic  rite of passage, and so Salazar selected the name RON.

In the space of two weeks, R-cell’s membership had gone from one to two  to four to five to three to two, and back to three. Even a fast food  restaurant didn’t have that kind of turnover. Did that say anything  about REDOX as a leader? He decided it didn’t.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 4c*

R-cell spent a couple hours discussing possible plans of action, and the  one they finally settled on was to simply interview Louis Post and  examine his apartment for the play. If that failed to turn up anything,  Plan B was to carry in large evidence boxes filled with propane tanks  and gasoline canisters, place them in strategic places like empty  apartments and janitor’s closets, set them to detonate with the press of  a remote trigger, and then wait for nightfall before torching the  Macallistar.

As Penny had seen his face, Agent REINHARD opted to wait in the car with  a walkie-talkie while the other two agents conducted the interview.  Before talking to Mr. Post, REDOX wanted to test a couple theories. He  and RON went up to the third floor and looked around for doors to the  outside which the map showed labelled as ‘The Parlor’ and ‘Mr.  Castaigne.’ As he suspected, there were walls rather than doors.

To test the other theory, the agents took the stairs to the roof, but  the door seemed to be locked. They decided to leave the roof until  later, and they went to interview Mr. Post instead. Louis Post was below  average height and above average weight. His hair was a messy brown  mop, and the circles under his eyes implied he hadn’t slept well  recently. Still, when REDOX asked to speak with him, he was happy to let  the agents in. He asked only that they excuse the mess.

If it weren’t for the fact that none of the furniture was broken or  overturned, the apartment might look as if a tornado had blown through.  There were papers, drawings, soda cans, pizza boxes, and graphic novels  all over, but no sign of an old play. Agent RON stayed silent and  observant while REDOX asked about the King in Yellow. Mr. Post said he  had never heard of it, and both agents felt he was telling the truth.

REDOX then asked about the door to the roof, and Mr. Post said there was  a trick to opening it. He’d be glad to show them if they liked. Agent  REDOX said they would, and so Louis led them up to the door. He jiggled  the knob with his left hand and seemed to be aligning it, and then he  smacked it sharply with his other hand. There was a soft click, and the  door opened onto the roof. The agents thanked Mr. Post and stepped out  onto the roof while Louis returned to his apartment.

The roof of the Macallistar was nothing special. Small gravel covered  the ground, and a large air conditioning unit hummed loudly. The  perimeter of the roof was lined with a low wall designed to look like a  castle rampart, and a concrete gargoyle stood watch over each corner of  the building.

The agents decided there was nothing more to see, and so they returned  to the car and began to put Plan B into effect. It took a couple hours  of work to place the fuel containers in the right places and wire them  to blow, but in all that time, none of the tenants left their  apartments, and so there was no one to question their activities. With  the groundwork laid, REDOX and REINHARD left to find food and wait until  nightfall. As this was Agent RON’s first official assignment, he wanted  everything to go smoothly, so he watched the Macallistar from an alley  across the street.

Once sufficient darkness had fallen, R-cell regrouped. Each agent took  up a different position to watch the building, and they remained in  contact with their walkie-talkies. REDOX gave the word, and RON hit the  button. There was a long second of silence followed by a series of soft  explosions only REINHARD was in position to hear. All three agents could  see the flashes of orange in windows on all three floors, and REDOX  told them to remain in position for a few minutes to make sure the job  was done.

The flickers of orange in the windows gained intensity, but no one left  the building. Windows shattered from the heat, and yet no emergency  vehicles came. Cars passed by, and no one seemed to notice. In fact,  REDOX decided, it was as if only the agents themselves knew the building  was burning. He uttered a few choice epithets and gave the order to  meet at the rendezvous point and return to the hotel. In the morning,  they’d decide whether or not to come up with Plan C.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 4d*

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away in Lexington, Kentucky, Agent ROMEO  returned to his third floor motel room with a bag of snacks from the  convenience store down the street. His first clue that something wasn’t  right was the figure lying back against the headboard of his bed. In the  dark, he couldn’t see clearly, but before he flipped the light switch  the figure spoke. Her voice was soft and emotionless, and it dripped  with authority.

“Let’s not spoil the mood, Terrance.”

Terrance. That was his real name. Whoever this was knew him. In his line  of work, that was never good. Agent ROMEO set his bag on the table and  pulled the curtain aside. He didn’t see anyone, but he got the strong  impression he wouldn’t get far if he ran out the front.

“Now, Terrance. You and I both know how this is going to play out. I have dinner plans, so shall we make this quick?”

“You have me at a disadvantage, ma’am.”

Agent ROMEO was stalling for time while he scanned the room for other  exits. There was a window overlooking the alley behind the motel, but it  was a thirty foot drop, and he’d have to cross the room. He began  inching along the perimeter making sure to keep his eyes on the dark  figure on the bed.

“I have everyone at a disadvantage. It’s my job.”

The woman didn’t move. She simply remained still in the cover of  darkness as ROMEO moved. Half-way there. If she wanted to kill him, she  could have done it by now. So what was this about? He decided his best  bet was to just keep stalling until he made it to the window.

“Is this about the Nazi book? You’re a little late for that.”

“I’m not really a bookish sort of woman, but keep guessing. I’m sure you’ll get it.”

She was obviously toying with him, but her demeanor never slipped from  the professional. Agent ROMEO was an interrogator with Homeland  Security, and he was used to getting information out of people, but that  required a position of strength. Right now, this woman was in control,  and she knew it.

One slip up is all it would take, and he might be able to turn this  around, but she was so cold and calculating that he felt sure she wasn’t  going to slip. Best to just make a break for it. ROMEO bolted the rest  of the way across the dark room and dove shoulder-first into the window.

The next few moments seemed to take forever. His eyes were closed, but  he could hear. He heard the breaking of glass, and then the sounds of  the city got louder. He heard the wind as he fell. He thought he heard  the woman’s voice say something like “take him.”

He didn’t hear the shots, but he felt the three bullets hit his armored  vest. They hurt, but they only foreshadowed the impact. A second later,  Agent ROMEO heard a sickening crunch and felt his legs break. Opening  his eyes, he saw a man in black tactical gear standing over him with a  pistol pointed at his face. The man had a square jaw and a black, knit  cap covering his hair.

A moment later, he sensed the woman from the room coming up behind him.  He couldn’t see, but she knelt down and cradled his head in her arms.  Her voice was still professional.

“Now, Terrance. Was this really necessary?”

Agent ROMEO coughed and fought for enough breath to speak.

“Who … who are you?”

The woman made a soft, soothing sound as she held him.

“Oh, sweetie. You can call me ANDREA.”

Then with a quick and well-practiced motion, the woman snapped ROMEO’s neck.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 5a*

The agents of R-cell met up at the designated rendezvous point a few   blocks from the Macallistar building. The plan was to return to the   hotel, and come back in the morning, but the whole situation had been   nagging at REDOX. After talking it over for a few minutes, the agents   decided to go back. It was Agent RIENHARD’s question which made the   decision for them.

“We carried the gas inside in FBI evidence trunks. Did we bring those back out before lighting the place up?”

Back at the Macallistar building, the agents could still see flames   clearly through all visible windows. Agent RON slipped into the alley   across the street from the Macallistar and climbed to the roof of a   convenience store where he set up his rifle and scope with a clear view   of the face of the Macallistar building. 

REDOX wondered why none of the windows had broken yet. In such an old   building, they really should have by now. He and REINHARD casually   walked up to the front doors of the building. Agent RON’s voice came   over the walkie talkie.

“I’ve got you in my sights, sir. Blinds are drawn, but there’s movement   on the third floor. Fire everywhere inside; no smoke outside.”

That was an interesting observation. If the building was on fire, the   occupants should have come out the front doors, the windows, or on to   the roof, but none of that had happened. And even if the windows refused   to break, there should be smoke.

Agent REDOX could see through the front doors and the entry way that the   entire hall was in flames. He cautiously reached his hand out to touch   the door. It was cool to the touch. REINHARD suggested that there  might  be some sort of hallucination going on. That would explain why  only the  agents seemed to notice the building was burning.

REDOX ran his hand down the intercom making sure to hit each button.   Someone was kind enough to buzz them in, and as they opened the door, a   gust of air rushed inside, and the flames disappeared. REINHARD propped   the door open with a chunk of cement which had broken free of the  curb.  The smells of gasoline and propane were very strong, but there  was no  fire, and no sign of smoke. Agent RON confirmed he no longer saw  flames  in the first floor hall, but they could still be seen elsewhere  in the  building.

On a hunch, REDOX had RON fire a shot through Abigail Wright’s window.   It was covered in layers of glued paper and other objects, but light   could be seen through it. Agent RON fired a single round from his rifle.   While it did have a silencer on the barrel, the crack of the shot  could  still be heard over the sounds of the city night. The shot  shattered  Abby’s window, and glass and paper fell away. As REDOX had  suspected,  the fire disappeared, and a strong odor of gasoline and  propane came  blowing out.

The agents decided they’d need gas masks to enter the building. Agent   RON watched the building while the other two went to get masks from the   FBI equipment room. Shortly after REDOX and REINHARD had gone, there  was  movement in Abby Wright’s apartment. Agent RON used his rifle scope  to  get a closer look. A man wearing khaki pants and a plain dress  shirt  seemed to be setting up a microphone in the center to the  apartment. A  thick cable ran out the door, across the hall, and into  the apartment  opposite Abby’s.

RON relayed this information to his cell leader along with a   description, and REINHARD confirmed it was Thomas Manuel. Why he was   setting up a microphone, none of the agents knew. 

Ms. Wright’s apartment was technically a federal crime scene, and while   Manuel hadn’t noticed the propane tanks and gas cans yet, RON was sure   he’d spot them soon. REDOX gave the order to fire, and RON shot without   hesitation. One shot, and Thomas Manuel was dead. He’d never even  known  what hit him. Then RON fired again, taking out the microphone.

REDOX and REINHARD returned a short time later, and RON confirmed he had   eyes on them. Their first action was to enter Abby’s apartment and  dump  Mr. Manuel’s body out the broken window into the recessed area  below  which held the building’s garbage cans.

Next, they followed the cable across the hall to Thomas Manuel’s   apartment. It was clean and rather Spartan. Manuel was a painter, but as   REINHARD pointed out, there was a distinct lack of artwork on the   walls. A plastic tree stood in a corner near the door, and there was   little else in the way of decoration.

The cable led to a computer with three monitors displaying the same sort   of software Penny MacLaren’s computer had. One window displayed a  sound  file titled My_Great_Work_15.wav, and it was still recording.  There  looked to be some activity early on, and then a spike as if  something  very loud had happened, and then there was simply a flat  line.

Agent REINHARD stopped the recording and scanned the contents of the   hard drive. There was nothing particularly interesting aside from the   folder where the recording was stored. There were 15 files all titled   My_Great_Work and numbered sequentially. It appeared Thomas Manuel had   made a recording each night for the past two weeks. Agent REINHARD shut   down the computer and removed the hard drive. He planned to listen to   the recordings later.

Before they left, Agent REINHARD checked the closet near the door. It   was quite a bit darker on the inside than he expected, but before he   could get his flashlight, the clanging of a large bell of the sort one   might expect atop a church tower came ringing out from deep in the   darkness. REINHARD slammed the closet door, and both agents made a   retreat to the hallway.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 5b*

The agents then went upstairs to Louis Post’s apartment. He was reportedly the last tenant to have the play, so that was a good place to start. As they reached the second floor, they spotted a very large, greyish-brown dog walking up the stairs to the third floor. The dog looked to be nearly three feet tall at the shoulders and probably outweighed both agents together. The mastiff stopped halfway up and turned to look at them with slobber dripping from its sagging features.

REDOX took a step backwards and down, but the dog simply turned away and continued up the creaking stairs. Once it was out of sight, the agents hurried to Mr. Post’s apartment and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, Agent REINHARD bypassed the old lock by sliding a credit card between the door and the frame.

The door creaked open to reveal the same disaster of an apartment they’d seen before, only this time it was bigger. There was more space between the furniture, and the apartment itself was wider than the building should have allowed. Even still, nearly every square foot was covered by pizza boxes, soda bottles, and discarded drawings. One other thing was different; there was a three-foot-high ornate mirror on the coffee table, and Mr. Post’s desk chair had been pulled up to face it. REDOX opened the blinds on the side facing the street, and Agent RON radioed to let him know he had eyes on the apartment.

While Agent REINHARD fished through the mess looking for the play, REDOX examined the mirror, and he almost immediately regretted it. He noticed that the reflection was a bit darker, like the lights were dimmed, and the closet door opened into darkness. He turned to look, and his suspicion was confirmed; the door was closed, but the reflection showed it open.

As REDOX looked back to the mirror, the reflection showed a man with a briefcase and white shoes entering the closet, but when he turned, he saw the door was still closed. He pointed this out to REINHARD, and both agents agreed the mirror should be smashed. REDOX did the honors, and REINHARD examined the closet.

The map they’d found had this closet labelled “Slaughterhouse.” He slowly turned the knob and pulled the closet door open. No sooner had he done so than the sounds of automatic gunfire could be heard, and bullets started to pepper the opposite wall. Agent REINHARD stepped out of the way, and REDOX drew his gun and began firing into the darkness. Agent RON also fired a couple shots from his rifle.

The automatic gunfire stopped abruptly, and the agents could hear a blood-curdling scream from deep in the closet. REDOX shined his flashlight inside, and while the first several feet were carpeted and lined by hanging coats, the closet eventually opened up into a much larger room. The floor was hardwood, and the ceiling was high. It looked like a ballroom.

That was enough for REDOX. He gave the evacuation order, and the agents climbed out the broken street-facing window and down to the sidewalk below. No sign of the play, but maybe they’d done some good in there anyway. There was no longer any doubt in either agent’s mind that this building and its occupants were a threat.

REDOX radioed RON, but the sniper heard only static. He radioed back, and REDOX heard only static. REDOX tried the phone, and that seemed to work just fine. He told RON to meet them at the rendezvous point, and they’d carpool to the hotel. If the tenants of the Macallistar building didn’t retaliate somehow, maybe they could go back in the morning. Once in the relative safety of the Marriott, the agents split up and headed to their respective rooms.

REINHARD had one thing to do before bed: listen to Manuel’s recordings. He plugged the hard drive into his laptop and listened from the beginning. Each recording began with an introduction by Thomas Manuel stating the name and number of the recording, and at first they seemed to be followed only by white noise, but soon there seemed to be something faint and musical in the background. Agent REINHARD listened to a few of the earlier recordings multiple times, and eventually he could hear the voices clearly.

It seemed rehearsed like dialogue from a movie or play. One voice, a young woman named Cassilda, sang a haunting song about a city named Carcosa near a lake called Hali. Some of the dialogue mentioned a masquerade ball thrown in the court of the king. The king was sometimes mentioned as wearing tattered yellow robes. One other person who seemed prominent was a visitor who was unknown to the other guests and was referred to simply as the Phantom.

Agent REINHARD listened closely to each recording several times, and at some point the dialogue began to be spoken in French. In every incarnation, Cassilda’s song chilled him, but he couldn’t keep himself from replaying it. He had the distinct feeling the song would never leave him; when a song would get stuck in his head as songs tend to do, that song would always be this one.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 6a*

After six hours of restless sleep, Agent REDOX called R-cell to group up. They met over breakfast to discuss their options going forward. The Macallistar building and its tenants seemed normal during the day and different – almost sinister – at night. They agreed daylight would be their best friend when dealing with the building. The only trouble was that daylight made it harder for their actions to go undetected.

REDOX was disappointed with the fact that the building wouldn’t burn, but REINHARD offered the suggestion that the building might be somehow more resilient at night. Maybe burning it during the day might work better. REDOX nodded and looked to Agent RON for his input. The secret service agent only offered a few words:

“You make the call, sir, and I’ll follow.”

Agent REDOX narrowed his eyes. He’d dealt with many agents who refused to listen, or who decided to take matters into their own hands; ROSE, ROCHE, REAPER, RAJEEV, RIVER … All he wanted was a cell that would follow orders, and now there was RON. His obedience to the supposed chain of command was annoying bordering on the infuriating. REDOX sighed and sipped at his coffee.

According to A-cell, the primary goal was to find the book; destruction of the building and removal of what R-cell saw as a cult were secondary objectives. The agents determined all three objectives would be easier if the tenants were evacuated from the building first. With the tenants out of the building, it could be searched without the need for the FBI act which REINHARD and REDOX agreed was getting tiring. Then the building could be torched, and assuming it burned, no bodies would be found. Finally, with the cult at an undisclosed location, they could be executed and disposed of.

The plan the agents decided on called for REDOX to rent a storage unit outside the city under an assumed name while REINHARD procured a moving truck and six large trunks. While they did that, RON would keep eyes on the building.

It was nearly 11:00 AM by the time the agents reassembled in front of the Macallistar. Agent REINHARD parked the truck right outside. As Penny MacLaren could identify him, Agent REINHARD decided he should stay in the truck.

RON and REDOX carried the trunks inside to Abby’s apartment. The first thing they noticed when they entered was that the smell of gas was still strong. The propane tanks were sealed, and the gas cans were open just as the agents had set them. The blasting caps hadn’t detonated, and the fuel had never ignited.

The next thing they noticed was that the front window which had been shot out the night before was once again in place and buried beneath layers of papers and glue. REDOX speculated that maybe the Macallistar building regenerated every morning.

RON knocked on Mr. Manuel’s door, and he was relieved when no one answered. Maybe the super hadn’t yet brought him back to life. Not that they had evidence that he could, but both agents felt there was truth to the odd pages they’d found in the building. One page had implied that the super might give Daniel Gray his eyes back.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 6b*

Next on the list was the last remaining tenant on the first floor: Roger Carun. Mr. Carun was a little on the shoter side with thinning brown hair. Other than the hair, he seemed to be in his early 30s. When he opened the door to his apartment, Agent REDOX flashed his FBI credentials and introduced himself as Special Agent Morrison. He introduced RON as Special Agent Densmore. Mr. Carun invited them in.

The apartment was very clean, but the walls were covered in posters for science fiction movies. It was the bedroom of a rich, geeky teenager, or it was the home of a geeky adult science fiction writer who was doing just well enough to get by.

REDOX informed Mr. Carun that he was their main suspect in the disappearance of Abigail Wright, and that meant they were going to have to take him in. The man’s eyes widened, and he protested that he had nothing to do with the disappearance; he’d only really even spoken to Ms. Wright once when he asked her to keep her New Year’s Eve party to a dull roar.
REDOX countered that new evidence had come to light implicating the science fiction writer, but he refused to say what evidence when pressed. Mr. Carun demanded that they show him a warrant, and while the agents were pretty sure the FBI had authority to arrest or detain without a warrant, they weren’t as sure as Mr. Carun seemed to be.

RON made a motion with his hand indicating the REDOX should shoot the man with his tranquilizer gun at the first opportunity, and then he cleared his throat.

“We don’t have a warrant, but we don’t need one either. We’re sorry, Mr. Carun.”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be when I talk to my lawyer.”

When the man turned to address RON, Agent REDOX shot him in the neck with the tranquilizer. He caught the man as he fell, and both agents placed him in a trunk. Next up, second floor; Louis Post, Michelle Vanfitz, Penny MacLaren, and Daniel Gray. REDOX only had three doses of tranquilizer left, and there was still Clarice Milner on the third floor. They decided Ms. MacLaren might be difficult given what she’d recently been through, and so they left her for last.

The encounter with Mr. Post went about the same. Post swore he had nothing to do with the disappearance, and he asked for a warrant. RON got his attention while REDOX tranquilized him, and the agents dumped him in a trunk. Neither agent seemed particularly bothered by how routine this was becoming.

There was no answer at Mr. Gray’s door, so they picked the lock and entered. The apartment was empty. The carpet showed evidence of furniture, but it had apparently been removed in the past few days. Oh well. That was one less kidnapping/murder on their conscience. It also meant they were only short one dose.

Michelle Vanfitz was a tall woman with dark hair barely long enough to be tied back the way she had it. This had the effect of tightening her already severe features into an inscrutable mask of mild surprise and disdain. REDOX flashed his FBI credentials and made the introductions. This time, he elected not to inform her that she was their main suspect. Ms. Vanfitz invited them in, and while RON looked around at the many shelves of books on feminist literature and poetry, REDOX opened the conversation with a question. He wasn’t quite prepared for her answer.

“Ms. Vanfitz, have you ever heard of a play called the _King in Yellow_?”

“Heard of it? Of course I’ve heard of it. Abby found a copy at the little bookstore down the street, and we’ve all read it at least once. You know, it is one of the first feminist plays! It portrays a patriarchal society shifting to a matriarchal one. It’s really remarkable.”

Just then, RON found an old, thin book tucked between Women’s Studies textbooks. He slid the book out, and examined the cover. There was an odd yellow symbol sort of like an abstract of a creature with three spiraling tentacles. Something about the symbol filled him with dread, but he opened the cover anyway. The title page confirmed his suspicions: _The King in Yellow_, translated from the French.


----------



## Audrik

*Night Floors - Session 6c*

With Ms. Vanfitz’s back to him, RON held the book up for REDOX to see and made a show of concealing it beneath his jacket. He then got her attention by asking about one of the books on her shelves. As she turned, REDOX shot her in the neck like he had the others.

Once she was in a trunk of her own, the agents headed quickly up to the third floor and knocked on Clarice Milner’s door. The young woman answered, but she had little time even to smile. REDOX was in a hurry.

“Clarice Milner?”

“That’s me.”

“Good.”

He shot her in the neck with his last dose of tranquilizer, and the agents dragged her down to Abby’s apartment to dump her in a trunk.

That left only Penny MacLaren. REDOX knocked on her door. She answered the door with a blanket around her shoulders. He may have recently rescued her from her captor, but she didn’t seem happy to see him. She did invite the agents in, however.

Ms. MacLaren wasn’t in the mood for talking, and the agents were all out of tranquilizers, so RON improvised. He got her attention and then sprayed mace in her eyes. She screamed and tried to run for her door, but she was disoriented. She ended up tripping over her coffee table instead, and REDOX used the opportunity to jump on her and try his sleeper hold again.

Once she was out, the agents dumped her in the last trunk. They loaded the trunks into the moving truck, and REINHARD and REDOX drove away. RON had one last task to complete. This all started in Abigail Wright’s apartment, so it was only fitting it should end there.

Ron dropped the King in Yellow in the middle of her floor and poured gasoline over it. He then dropped a match and watched until the book had turned to ash. Once he felt certain the book was gone, he fled the building and took watch from the alley across the street. This time, there were real flames and smoke. This time, windows shattered. This time, the building burned.

By the time emergency responders had put the fire out, all that remained of the Macallistar was a crumbling, three-walled stone ruin. That was good enough for him.

After dropping REDOX at the storage area and unloading the trunks, REINHARD caught a cab to the airport. He was about done with this job. He’d be happy to ride a desk and keep Delta Green informed, but he was done with field work. No more Agent REINHARD; only Michael Pollander, the Friendly.

REDOX fired three rounds from his silenced pistol into each trunk before opening them. He placed each body in turn on a table covered in thick plastic, and he calmly sawed them into easily manageable chunks. The blood drained down the plastic and into buckets. He worked all day, and as night fell, he loaded two plastic-lined trunks filled with the remains of the tenants and some iron scrap for weight, and he drove out of town until he found a reasonably secluded pier on a dark section of beach.

Two months ago, it was Agent ROSE into the Pacific. Now, he dumped the Macallistar tenants into the Atlantic. Yeah. He could handle the job of cell leader.


----------



## Audrik

Okay, soooo ... I could have sworn I had posted that last session nearly two years ago. My apologies to anyone following this Story Hour. On the bright side, we've picked the game back up. We'll now be playing every other Sunday to accommodate a player with an odd work schedule.

I would much rather take an extra week between sessions than force a player into a minor support/recurring role. This way, I'll have an extra week to prepare plot lines and handouts, and none of the players will miss out.

We had the first session in nearly two years last week, and the next session is set for this coming Sunday.


----------



## Audrik

*Interlude*

After two brutal Operas in New York over the span of a week, R-Cell evidently merited some time off. During that time, R-Cell was approached by a woman claiming Delta Green clearance who knew them by their real names. She informed them that several years ago, Delta Green had regained its legitimacy within the U.S. government, and since then the Program, as she referred to it, had been working to track down members of the cells to “bring them in from the cold.” She offered official government sanction and black budget funding in exchange for official oversight and stacks of paperwork.

The offer sounded good to REDOX, but the others were unconvinced. Why now? Because R-Cell had finally been tracked down. Why hadn’t they heard about this supposed legitimization of the Delta Green conspiracy? Well, “conspiracy.” How could they be sure this wasn’t an elaborate trap set by Delta Green’s numerous enemies? She knew their names, and they were still alive. That was good enough for REDOX, or Dr. Michael Pepper, as it were. In the Program, codenames weren’t necessary.

And there it was. Codenames weren’t necessary? The things Delta Green agents had been doing for decades could be classified as domestic terrorism, albeit with an eye toward the security of the nation. Codenames were often the only real protection they had. REINHARD and RON took that opportunity to thank the woman for her time, walk away, and go as dark as they possibly could.

Dr. Pepper, on the other hand, accepted the offer. With this new, legitimate Delta Green, he’d obviously be getting a raise, an office, an invitation to the Delta Green Christmas party … No, not exactly. Well, he’d get a badge and Delta Green credentials … Again, no. Could he sew a green triangle onto his shirt? He could if he wanted to, but it wasn’t advisable. Delta Green wasn’t an agency. It was a security clearance, and it was above Top Secret. The first rule of Delta Green was still “Don’t talk about Delta Green.”

Then what, exactly, was the difference between the cell-structure conspiracy and the Program? It sounded like all he got was a lack of codename. The woman reminded him that his Delta Green ops would be officially sanctioned by the U.S. government, and he’d have the support of every agency and military branch from which Delta Green pulled its members.

So, he could call in an air strike on Peoria? No. But he could have a wiretap placed in his neighbor’s house to get proof that the jackass was pirating his Wi-Fi and using his Amazon Prime account, right? Not without a warrant. Spy satellite photography? Nope.

So, he lost his codename, and he gained government oversight and increased paperwork. There was an upside to all this, but he was missing it. The woman reminded him that he was currently classified as a domestic terrorist, but if he played ball, he could do all the things he used to for all the same reasons, and he’d be a patriot instead. Fair enough.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 1a*

It wasn’t until about ten months later, in May of 2013, that Dr. Pepper got his first call for a legitimate Delta Green op. The Program was assembling a task force at the FBI headquarters in Knoxville, Tennessee. His supervisor had already been notified of his impending absence, so that was nice. No more burning his sick leave and pretending he was home in bed. The EPA had also already arranged his flight to Nashville and reserved a rental car. This legitimate status just might work out after all.

The drive from Nashville took about two hours, and on arrival at the FBI office, he was directed to a conference room down the hall and to the left. There were two men already in the room. The one in the black suit was standing, and he directed the doctor to close the door and take a seat.

The other man was obviously not FBI. He introduced himself as Thomas Lakefield, a park ranger for the National Park Service. After the pleasantries, the man in the suit jumped straight to the briefing. He was Special-Agent-in-Charge James Derringer, a Vietnam veteran and career lawman.

SAC Derringer tapped a few keys on the wireless keyboard, and the 55” widescreen monitor mounted to the wall flickered to life. It displayed a grainy, black-and-white picture in the center with a wide strip of black to either side. Another keystroke and the video began to play. It was security camera footage showing the counter and register of a convenience store.

_A young man, probably in his late teens or early twenties, wearing a t-shirt and jeans entered the store and approached the counter. There was no audio, but it was apparent the man was agitated. He shouted some things at the clerk who merely stared at him with a blank expression. The man threw a punch at the clerk, striking him in the temple and caving in the side of his head before the follow-through tore the head clean off the shoulders. The dented skull bounced and skidded along the counter and off onto the floor. The headless body stood and trembled for a long five or six seconds as blood spurted from the neck like an erupting volcano. Eventually, it lurched forward and collapsed on the counter.

The man disappeared off-camera briefly before returning with an armful of pill bottles. He pressed some buttons on the register before getting frustrated and bringing his fist down on it a few times, smashing it and causing the cash drawer to pop open. The man grabbed a handful of cash and fled the store._

As the video ended, SAC Derringer hit another key on the keyboard to stop the playback. He turned to the two agents.

“This was four days ago at a Quik Mart in Florence, Alabama. The kid in the video is William Raymond Spivey. Billy Ray. He held up six gas stations and drug stores in the last two weeks – first in Tennessee, then Alabama, and finally in Georgia. He was stopped at a roadblock in Georgia just after his last robbery. An FBI agent and a state trooper put four bullets in him before he went down. He lived, and he is being held under sedation in an interrogation room down the hall.”

Ranger Lakefield pointed out that the sort of mauling displayed in the film would be a tough feat for a grizzly, much less a bare-handed kid. Derringer simply nodded and continued.

“That’s why you’re here, agents. Eight days ago, Billy Ray vanished from his home in Waynesboro, Tennessee. He returned six days ago, dazed and with no knowledge of what had happened in the meantime. He felt sick, and he was in a lot of pain. After his parents put him to bed, they called the local doctor to examine him. The doctor was unable to find any explanation for the boy’s pain. What’s more, Billy Ray had a hell of an appetite. He ate anything put in front of him whether it was something he liked or not, and despite the increased eating, he had no bowel movements and didn’t urinate.”

Both agents were taking notes, but they evidently found different things to be of interest.

“Four days ago, he went into some sort of a fit. His father tried to hold him down and quiet him, but Spivey punched clean through his father’s chest, killing him almost instantly. Billy Ray fled the house and ran off toward town. He robbed Murray’s Gas, taking $65 and several bottles of aspirin. He also took the cashier’s car and sped off down State Road 13.”


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 1b*

SAC Derringer then detailed the results of the medical examination performed on Spivey after his arrival in Knoxville. Analysis showed muscle tissue in his arms and legs had been entirely replaced with a strange tissue that mimicked human muscle tissue, but which was decidedly non-human. The boy has tremendous strength, but only his muscle tissue had been replaced; his skeletal structure remained the same. This meant that while the kid was strong enough to lift and throw a small car, his bones would still snap under stress. Further examination revealed extensive surgery evidenced by many tiny scars over his arms and legs. The incisions had been closed with the same non-human tissue as the replaced muscle tissue. The replaced tissue of his arms and legs was hairless, and he no longer had fingerprints, handprints, or footprints. His hands and feet were smooth yet possessed an increased friction.

Lakefield seemed a little bothered by this revelation – understandable since this was his first official Delta Green op – but Pepper took it all in stride. Not even a year had passed since he’d seen a Nazi necromancer shoot a cab driver and switch places with the corpse to effect a getaway. Never mind the indestructible building with the extra floors at night or the gasoline that could make a person’s truck run him over in his hotel room. Compared to what he’d seen quite recently, a quadruple amputee with replacement limbs and an addiction to painkillers was a mild episode of Dr. Phil.

Their assignment, Derringer said, was to head to Waynesboro and find out what happened to Spivey during his missing days, and to handle the situation under standard Delta Green protocol. To Derringer and Lakefield, Delta Green protocol meant elimination and cover-up of supernatural threats. To Dr. Pepper, “Delta Green protocol” probably meant scorched earth. He didn’t want to destroy an entire town, but if it came to it, he knew Lakefield wouldn’t light the fuse.

The briefing essentially over, Derringer directed them to the interrogation room where Spivey was heavily sedated and cuffed to a chair under armed guard. The agents asked the kid several questions, but his answers were slow and not always clear. They were able to learn that Billy Ray had a girlfriend named Jane Allen who lived a few miles away from his place, and he had been to see her the night he apparently disappeared. He remembered leaving the Allen farmhouse and returning home. The walk typically took an hour or so, but his parents said it took two days. In Spivey’s drugged condition, he couldn’t possibly be considered of sound mind, and yet Dr. Pepper ignored that detail when he gained Spivey’s permission to take a tissue sample. While Lakefield prepared a vehicle for the trip to Waynesboro, Pepper prepared a slide with the tissue sample for examination by the doctor Derringer said was being sent from Washington.

The two agents decided to stop in Nashville and get a hotel room. Waynesboro was a town of about 2,000 people, and there was only one small motel in the area. Until they were sure it was safe to stay in town, a two-hour commute was fine with them.

It was just about lunchtime when they arrived in the small town. The agents stopped at Murray’s Gas and grabbed sodas, chips, and fresh-made deli sandwiches before checking in with the local sheriff. Lakefield pointed out that this Murray person must either own the town or be a local legend after whom the entire town chose to name everything. Murray’s Gas was next to Murray’s Auto Body. Murray’s Diner was down the street to the north. A block or so to the west were Murray’s Chinese and Murray’s Laundry and Dry Cleaning.

Waynesboro was a modern, small southern town, but the Wayne County Sheriff’s office was straight out of the Andy Griffith show. There were three cells with comfortable-looking furnishings and a set of iron keys hanging within reach of two of those cells. The sheriff was sitting back and reading a magazine with his feet up on his desk. They didn’t look like FBI, but Pepper and Lakefield had FBI consultants badges displayed; Lakefield’s on a lanyard around his neck, and Pepper’s in a leather wallet clipped to his belt.

The agents introduced themselves, and Sheriff Dan Oakley said he’d been expecting them. The sheriff was friendly yet businesslike, and he offered the assistance of his office if the agents needed it. He was happy to direct them toward the Spivey and Allen residences. Angel Spivey had a sister and brother-in-law in town to keep her company, and Nancy Allen could generally be found at home except for Sunday mornings and Wednesday afternoons when she’d be at church. Her husband, Joseph Allen was one of the town’s aldermen, and as it was the county’s tax time, he’d be spending almost every available hour at City Hall.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 1c*

The agents thanked Sheriff Oakley for his time and headed to City Hall. Most of the buildings in town were relatively modern, or they had at least been modernized. City Hall stuck out as a relic of the earliest days of the county. It was a two-story wooden building, and the inside was dusty and poorly lit.

A kid of about 16 was listening to music behind the counter. When the agents entered, he removed his earbuds and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Dr. Pepper showed his FBI consultant’s badge.

“We’re with the FBI. We have a few questions for Joseph Allen.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. If you want to give me your name, I’ll see about getting you an appointment for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow wasn’t good enough for Dr. Pepper, but the clerk insisted that since it was the county’s tax time, the mayor and aldermen were only available by appointment the following day, even for the FBI. Well, he’d just have to see about that.

“He’s upstairs?”

“Yes, sir, but the mayor and the aldermen are too busy to be disturbed. If you’ll just leave your name …”

Dr. Pepper started up the stairs with a determined stomp, but the clerk shouted after him.

“I’m supposed to call the sheriff if anyone disturbs the aldermen without an appointment.”

The doctor stopped on the third step and hung his head with a sigh. Fine. There were other Allens he could talk to. He came back down the stairs, told the clerk and Lakefield he was heading to the Allen residence to speak with Nancy and Jane and left the building.

Ranger Lakefield shrugged and set up an appointment to speak with Joseph Allen as early as possible in the morning. The clerk informed him City Hall would open at 8:00, but the mayor and the aldermen would be there much earlier. He could stop by anytime after 6:00, and Joseph Allen should be available. The ranger thanked the clerk and said he’d be back in the morning, definitely no later than 8:00. He then had the clerk direct him to the local library; he had a few ideas he wanted to check out.

The Allen residence was a two-story farmhouse about six miles down an old dirt road from the Spivey residence. Dr. Pepper knocked gently on the door, and it was only a moment before Nancy Allen answered. She was middle-aged and looked every inch the typical southern housewife. He showed his badge and introduced himself, and Mrs. Allen invited him in with a smile.
The interior was immaculately kept. The furniture was dusted and polished, the hardwood floors were swept and polished, and there wasn’t a single picture out of place or skewed. Mrs. Allen motioned toward the couch and asked if he’d like some sweet tea. The doctor gladly accepted the hospitality.

Mrs. Allen retrieved a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea from the kitchen and set it gently on the coffee table. She poured a glass of tea for the doctor and one for herself before taking a seat in a chair across from him. Dr. Pepper mentioned he was investigating a potentially drug-related incident involving Billy Ray Spivey. Oh, Mrs. Allen assured him in the sweetest of tones that Billy Ray was a good kid. If he’d ever touched drugs or alcohol, the Allens would never have let him near their daughter. It simply would not do for the daughter of an alderman to be involved with a criminal element. Why, whatever would the other families at church say?

Yes. Of course. And speaking of Jane, was she home? Dr. Pepper had a few questions he’d like to ask her. Mrs. Allen shook her head with a smile. Jane was probably out with some friends. She’d be home eventually.

Dr. Pepper finished his sweet tea and thanked her for her time. He gave her his cell number and asked for Joseph or Jane to give him a call when they had the chance. Mrs. Allen said she’d be happy to pass along the message, and if he felt like having a proper southern meal, he and his partner were welcome to come back for dinner. The doctor thanked her and said they would be happy to accept. After all, a free, home-cooked meal sounded wonderful, and it would be the perfect opportunity to speak with both the alderman and Billy Ray’s girlfriend.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 1d*

At the library, Lakefield went over past issues of the local newspaper, The Wayne County News. The most recent issues had very little actual news. They were mostly advertisements for various local businesses and crackpot UFO conspiracy stories. Lights had been reported over the hills to the northwest by many different residents. There were mutilations of cattle and other livestock. Several times over the past few months, Elvis had been seen in town. Just last week, the King of Rock and Roll had even been overheard arguing with Jim Morrison over whether Murray’s Diner or Murray’s Chinese had the best food in Waynesboro; Elvis preferred the diner.

There was no mention of how Billy Ray had disappeared for two days, how he had accidentally killed his father, or even how he’d robbed Murray’s Gas and stolen the clerk’s car. In fact, Ranger Lakefield had to go back about four months to find anything resembling real news. The local Christmas festival had gone over very well. It drew hundreds of folks from all over Wayne County, and even some from as far away as Memphis and Nashville. Before the first issue of February, The Wayne County News was a legitimate small-town paper, but somewhere around that time, it degenerated into its current format.

Lakefield made a few photocopies and asked to use one of the library’s computer terminals. He logged into Facebook and watched a couple cat videos before tracking down Jane Allen’s page. There were several Jane Allens in Tennessee, but there was only one in Waynesboro.

He poked around her page a bit, and it didn’t take long for him to become a little bothered. Her status was updated recently to “Complicated,” and Jane had only posted a few selfies at irregular intervals over the past four months. Just like the newspaper, before early February, she seemed to be a regular teenager who made regular updates to her Facebook page, “Liked” just about everything, and posted an endless stream of selfies. Then, she slowed down and eventually ended up only adding a picture or two every few days.

He checked Billy Ray’s page. Same thing. He checked their friends’ pages. For those friends in Waynesboro, it was the same; things slowed down and became subdued beginning around February. For those friends outside of Waynesboro, it was business as usual, except that about the time the Waynesboro teens stopped posting, and the newspaper began running only garbage stories, the people from out of town started asking about all the UFO and dead singer sightings. Waynesboro had become a local laughingstock in a short time.

Dr. Pepper was on his way to the Spivey residence when Lakefield sent him a text. He’d found something interesting at the library, and he wanted to get Pepper’s opinion. The doctor pulled over and responded that he was on his way. Also, the Allens had invited them to dinner tonight.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 1e*

Once at the library, Dr. Pepper confirmed Lakefield’s observation. Something odd had apparently happened in the vicinity of Waynesboro this past winter. For a scientist, Pepper was very willing to accept the UFO conspiracy theory. It was all there in black and white, literally. It made sense, too, when you considered Billy Ray’s lost time. That sort of thing was commonly reported in alien abduction stories. Cattle mutilations, weird lights in the skies … He apparently considered The Wayne County News to be an unimpeachable source. Ranger Lakefield wasn’t nearly so convinced. He’d seen some strange things in his time – in fact, it had been a skin-walker that acted as a catalyst for his induction into Delta Green – but aliens? Really?

One other thing the Facebook pages showed: the local teen hangouts were Murray’s Diner and the reservoir northwest of town. Northwest of the town was where the lights had been reported. The agents decided to split up again. Dr. Pepper was going to interview Angel Spivey, Billy Ray’s mother, and Ranger Lakefield was going to check out the reservoir. They’d meet back up at the Allen residence for dinner and conversation.

Like the Allens and all the other families who lived south of town, Angel Spivey lived in a farmhouse. It was clean enough, but Nancy Allen’s housekeeping would put it to shame. Mrs. Spivey was also friendly enough, but she wasn’t quite as cheerful or accommodating as her neighbor had been – understandable, given how her family had been destroyed so recently.

She gave a story similar to Nancy’s. Billy Ray was a good kid who would never touch drugs or alcohol. He was too small and weak for most sports, but he did have a gift for music. Billy Ray and Jane had been childhood sweethearts, but it wasn’t until a couple years ago that Billy Ray had mustered the courage to ask her out. Dr. Pepper thanked her for her time, offered condolences on her loss, and promised to do everything in his power to return Billy Ray to her safely. Then, it was off down the old dusty trail toward the Allen place and what he was sure would be the best fried chicken of his life.

Ranger Lakefield looked around the reservoir and surrounding woods without much luck. It was no Olympic National Park or Mount Rainier, but the scenery would be pretty to an unspoiled eye. The pump house which supplied water to the entire area was sealed with a heavy chain and a Master Lock. He found the tracks of several types of animals in the woods; everything from foxes and rabbits to black bears and boars. That was a good sign. The animals weren’t afraid of the area. At least, they weren’t scared enough to go somewhere else in search of water.

He also found teenager tracks. Several clearings and sites around the reservoir showed signs of teen hangouts; mostly soda cans and empty chip bags. No lights in the sky though, but then, those were always reported at night. He might have to come back, but first, dinner with the Allens and Dr. Pepper.


----------



## Audrik

We picked up another player for this session. Actually, he's a returning player. He'd played Agent SETH in the beginning of the campaign. To make this work, though, we had to shift the game to Mondays. That, and given the fact the write-up is a little more than 1,000 words longer than my usual, means I'm a little late in posting.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 2a*

As he was preparing to meet Pepper at the Allen residence, Ranger Lakefield had a thought. There was animal activity at the reservoir, and it was a favorite hangout of the local teen population. While he couldn’t confirm the lights had been seen over the reservoir, all reports placed the lights in this direction. He felt a little surveillance was in order, and for an NPS Ranger, surveillance meant game cameras.

He sent Dr. Pepper a quick text before hitting the road for Nashville: _Not gonna make dinner. Got a plan._

Pepper sighed. It looked like he’d be questioning the Allens on his own. Then again, there were no other cars to be seen at the Allen farmhouse. He headed up the porch stairs and knocked on the door. Maybe he should have brought something; wine, cake, a loaf of marble rye … Too late for that now. As Mrs. Allen opened the door, he could smell everything. There was fried chicken, apple pie, fresh bread, and he was pretty sure he could even smell the mashed potatoes.

Mrs. Allen took his coat and hung it by the door and asked about his partner. Pepper was sorry to say his partner had been called away at the last minute. Mrs. Allen’s story was much the same; Joseph had to work late, and Jane was out with friends. She hoped he brought his appetite because there was plenty of food for them and all those who were missing out.

Dr. Pepper was more than a little disappointed to miss an opportunity to interview Joseph and Jane, but the food was even better than he’d expected. Wanting to make the most of his time, he steered the dinner conversation as masterfully as he’d steer a riding lawnmower with a broken axle. Still, he managed to learn a few interesting items. Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and though Nancy hadn’t heard from her daughter in a few days, she wasn’t particularly worried. She wasn’t particularly worried that her husband hadn’t been home from work in a week or so. After all, it was tax time for the county. The aldermen were very busy, but soon enough, Joseph would get a break.

Mrs. Allen had seen the lights in the sky at night. The scientist, always the rational skeptic, suggested they might be aliens. She didn’t think so, however. No, they were probably helicopters. Dr. Pepper pointed out the nearest airports were Nashville and Memphis, two-hour drives in either direction. Nancy admitted she hadn’t seen helicopters during the day either, but surely helicopters were a rational explanation. To the scientist, however, this whole thing screamed “aliens.”

Also, while none of the Allen’s or Spivey’s animals had been abducted or mutilated, several of their neighbors had mentioned things. Bob Gaines a few miles down the road toward town had said there was something strange about one of his cows, but Mrs. Allen couldn’t remember just what it was. He’d mentioned it at church a few weeks ago, and so she’d only half-listened.

When they’d finished dinner, and he’d had about all the sweet tea his stomach could hold, Dr. Pepper thanked her and excused himself. Mrs. Allen put together a couple bags of leftovers for him and his partner, and he was all too glad to accept. Once in his car, he backed out of the driveway and headed down the dirt road a little bit. He turned around and parked on the shoulder within view of the Allen residence, turned the radio on and watched for anyone at all to come home.

The DJ had a good voice for radio. It wasn’t obnoxious or subdued. “All right! If you’re where I think you are, it’s probably 7:32 PM. We’ve got a request from Kelly out there in the heartland of Tennessee. Here is Avicii with _Wake Me Up_!”

Dr. Pepper may have just had a full meal, but the leftovers smelled great, so he decided to have a snack while he listened to the song and watched the house. The song ended, and a different DJ came on the radio. “And that was Fall Out Boy. _My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark_, also known as _Light ‘Em Up_. It’s 11:43, and you should be in bed. Of course, I’m glad you’re not. Keep that dial tuned here, ‘cause after this hard break, I’m comin’ right back with some big news. Is Jay-Z a time traveler?”

Wait, what? He looked down at the clock on the dash. It sure as hell said 11:43. It was a little darker out, too, and worst of all, the chicken was cold. Screw this town with its super-strong teenagers, and its aliens, and its Murray’s Just-About-Freakin’-Everything.

Still no cars in the driveway at the Allen place, and no lights visible in the sky to the northwest. Dr. Pepper killed the radio and drove off to check the reservoir anyway. No lights from there either. It was midnight now, and there was no way he was staying at Murray’s Shut Eye, so it was back to Nashville. Just after 2:00 AM, he crawled into bed. No sooner had he set his alarm for 9:00 than he passed out.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 2b*

Unlike Pepper, Lakefield had finished his shopping with plenty of time to get some rest. He’d used his government credit card to purchase six infrared-capable game cameras and additional memory sticks. He knew his supervisor wouldn’t think twice before approving the charges, and that was if he even bothered to review the travel authorization. As long as expenditures didn’t stick out, Lakefield’s supervisor was happy to sign off. It was federal money, and under the eco-friendly Obama administration, it was a deep pool of funds for National Park Service business.

He threw his gear into the car and hit the road around 6:00. Alderman Joseph Allen should be ready for him at City Hall by the time he got there. The trip was quiet and uneventful, and when he arrived at the Waynesboro City Hall, the alderman was indeed waiting. Joseph Allen was an exhausted-looking man probably in his early 40s, and while his suit was nice at one time, it didn’t appear to have been cleaned and pressed in quite some time.

After introductions and pleasantries, Lakefield got right to business. He was investigating a possible narcotics connection to the Spivey case. Oh, the alderman assured him, Waynesboro was a small town in rural Tennessee. Teenagers might have a few beers up at the reservoir once in a while, but nothing remotely related to actual drugs. 

What about the lights people have been reporting at night? Could those be drug traffickers making their drop-offs? Not likely, but if he wanted to report a crime, the sheriff would be happy to assist. Well, actually, it was the sheriff who had referred him to the alderman. In that case, no. There was nothing to worry about.

And his daughter Jane? She was Billy Ray’s girlfriend, right? But her mother hadn’t seen her in a few days. Mr. Allen yawned with a shrug. She’d turn up. She was a good kid. If there was nothing else, he really did have to get back to work. Tax time for the county, you know.

Actually, Lakefield said, if this was tax time around these parts, he might be interested in buying some land around here. It was beautiful country, after all, and the way tax season falls in Washington State, it complicates his finances. But taxes in May … that might actually be a good investment for him. The alderman agreed, but he really didn’t have time to discuss it. Fair enough. The ranger thanked him for his time and headed back out to his car. On his way out, Lakefield made a note of the fact that Joseph Allen’s car was parked under a large tree and judging by the layers of leaves, pollen, and dust, it hadn’t moved in at least a week.

He drove down to the diner and parked outside. He wasn’t hungry, but he did want to borrow their Wi-Fi. A quick look at the Waynesboro website confirmed his suspicions. Property taxes were due the first Monday of October. Sales taxes were due quarterly, so January, April, July, and October. He wasn’t seeing “middle of May” listed anywhere as a busy season. One other item of interest on the town website: The mayor was one Murray Barnes. It was the mayor’s name – his first name – on half the businesses in town. Gotta love small towns.

Right about when Lakefield was meeting with the alderman, Pepper’s phone rang. He grumbled as he pried his eyes open and tried to focus. It was just after 8:00, and he wasn’t planning to get up for another hour. He answered the phone, but he didn’t sound chipper. The person on the other end identified himself as Special Agent Curtis Atwood. SAC Derringer had attached him to the Waynesboro taskforce. He had been fully briefed on the Spivey case, and he had several gallons of Hexa … Hexafluorace … well, some clear citrus-smelling chemical solution. Evidently, it would turn some contaminant or other purple. Atwood was leaving Knoxville now and would meet Pepper and Lakefield at Waynesboro City Hall at noon. Dr. Pepper relayed the relevant information to Lakefield through text and then got dressed. If he had to be up before his alarm, maybe he could grab some breakfast first.

With his tax research done, the ranger played a hunch. If he were lucky, Jane Allen’s Facebook account and her phone would tell him where she is and where she’s been. It took only a minute, and he had it. Murray’s Shut Eye. The girl was at the motel, and she had been for a few days now. He could see the motel from the diner parking lot, so he just settled in.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 2c*

Once Dr. Pepper made it to Waynesboro, he headed for the Gaines farm. He was interested in seeing just what sort of cattle mutilation was going on. It was about 10:30, but there wasn’t any activity to be seen out in the fields. Pepper was a little surprised when Mr. Gaines answered the door. He was probably in his mid-60s or so, and while he wasn’t out plowing the fields or tending to the livestock, he at least looked the part. The farmer agreed to show Dr. Pepper his cow, Clementine.

He took the scientist out into the field and over to Clementine. He squatted down and pointed to the udder. Or rather, he pointed to a smooth, gray spot where the udder should be.

“Now, you see, this right here … this ain’t right. Now, watch this here.”

The farmer reached out and lightly touched the gray spot, and it quickly expanded to take the shape of an udder. Dr. Pepper had to take a step back and cover his mouth. “This ain’t right,” had to be the understatement of the day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

“You wanna see what’s really strange though …”

Mr. Gaines took hold of the dangling gray bits and tugged. They shot out something that looked like milk. Pepper turned away and took slow, deep breaths as he struggled to keep his breakfast down. That wasn’t an udder. So, was that milk? If it was milk, it couldn’t possibly be safe. If it wasn’t milk, what the hell was it? The farmer agreed to let him take a bottle of the liquid, but he frowned when Dr. Pepper told him to keep Clementine away from the other cows and under no circumstances let anyone near that milk.

He was a dairy farmer. Milk was his livelihood. Since Clementine’s transformation last month, she’d begun producing more milk than ever; so much that it took every container he had to hold it all. But he never had trouble selling it at the farmer’s market every week.

Dr. Pepper’s heart skipped at least one beat. He was selling that … the stuff from that … from the retractable udder? He filled every container every week and sold it all? Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all. Without even thanking the farmer, he stumbled back to his car and called Lakefield to give him the news. The ranger took it all in stride and then told the Pepper where Jane Allen was holed up. The agents decided to relax a bit while they waited for the newest member of their task force who should be arriving within the hour.
Once Special Agent Atwood pulled up at City Hall, Lakefield and Pepper met up with him and got him up to speed on everything they hadn’t yet reported to Derringer. Up to and including udders. Atwood gave them each a garden spray bottle with the citrus-smelling solution. He’d also brought six one-gallon jugs for refills. Pepper wanted to test it out, so he sprayed the handles and trunk of Joseph Allen’s car. Not much reaction, but a few flecks of purple did appear with each spray.

The car had been parked here for quite some time, so any residue had likely been weathered. Fortunately, SA Atwood had a few tricks for popping locks. It took no time at all to open the doors on Allen’s car, and the surfaces inside produced far more purple than the outside surfaces. That meant the alderman was likely contaminated. Or Jane was, and she’d been driving his car? Maybe they both were, and that was why they seemed to be avoiding each other and home. Whatever the case, they had leads, and they had a reliable method of detecting whatever was contaminating the town, but they still had no idea what the contaminant was or where it was coming from.

The agents decided on a plan of action. Atwood would check in with the high school and take a look at attendance records for Jane Allen and Billy Ray Spivey. He’d then arrange to do an after-hours locker search with the spray. Billy Ray was obviously affected, and Jane Allen probably was, too. It was as good a guess as any that other teens in town might be as well. Lakefield was going to head to the reservoir and set up his cameras, and Pepper … well, he was hungry again, so he was going to pick a booth at the diner where he could keep an eye on the motel.

Atwood found the office at the high school and flashed his badge. That got him shuffled straight into Principal White’s office. The principal seemed happy to cooperate, but he assured Atwood there was no reason to suspect any of his students of drug use or possession. All the same, Atwood said, he’d appreciate the opportunity to search. Of course, the school would cooperate in any way it could.

Principal White’s secretary brought in the attendance records for Billy Ray and Jane. They’d both been out all last week and this week so far; since Mr. Spivey’s unfortunate accident. Neither the principal nor the secretary seemed overly concerned. They were good kids, and they’d turn back up eventually.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 2d*

Meanwhile, up at the reservoir, Ranger Lakefield spotted a bobcat drinking. Out came the rifle. He picked up a stone and threw it in the animal’s direction. It splashed close to the bobcat’s head, but the animal wasn’t startled. It slowly looked up and at the ranger before stretching and getting another drink.

Lakefield nodded grimly. It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, but it was the one he expected. He took aim and killed the bobcat with a single shot. He then headed around to examine it. A few sprays of the solution, and he nodded again. The cat turned purple, and so did the water in the reservoir. In fact, the water in the reservoir turned the brightest, deepest purple he’d ever seen.

He sent a quick text to the other two: _It’s in the water. Don’t drink it._

Well, that didn’t sound good. Luckily for Pepper, he hadn’t touched the water in town. Though, he had been drinking all the sweet tea he could get, and that was probably made with local water. The dry heaves came fast and hard, and his stomach twisted. Whatever was contaminating this town – whatever the aliens were doing – was in him. Whatever Clementine’s udder was made of was in him. Whatever Billy Ray’s arms and legs were made of was in him. And yet … he still had an appetite. All he wanted was to get everything inside to be on the outside, but he could still really go for some more fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

Dr. Pepper sent a response: _I’m compromised. I’m getting a room at the Shut Eye and informing Derringer._

It may have been a tad defeatist, but whatever. They were probably better off if he quarantined himself. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally punch a hole in someone’s chest.

Atwood took things much better; presumable because he’d only been in town an hour or so. Don’t drink the water. Fair enough.

Ranger Lakefield dragged the bobcat a little further from the water and set about rigging his game cameras. He arranged the six cameras so that each one had a clear view of at least one other. That way, he could record activity around the reservoir and also hedge against tampering. Once he’d finished with that, he headed back to the diner to meet up with Atwood.

Dr. Pepper walked across the street to Murray’s Shut Eye and stepped inside. It was well-maintained, as far as small-town motels go. The wallpaper was a bit dated, and the ceiling fan in the lobby was missing a blade, but it should work fine. The clerk behind the desk had fallen asleep and was snoring, so Pepper rang the bell. The clerk stood with a start and cleared his throat. A quick glance outside told the clerk it was day and another glance at a clock told him which part of the day it was.

“Good, ummm … Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?”

Dr. Pepper wasn’t in the mood for mundane interaction, so he slapped a couple bills on the counter and indicated that he’d like a room for the night. The clerk was happy to assist, and Pepper even had his choice of room number. Well, of the twelve rooms in the motel, Rooms 8, 11, and 12 were currently rented, but he had his choice of the others.

“Gimme Room 3.”

The clerk nodded and handed him the key to Room 3 before scooping up the cash. He was about to say something else, but Pepper just grumbled and stalked off down the hall. He opened the door, threw his briefcase at the big, flat, horizontal bit of the table, and looked around. He had a few samples he wanted to test with the spray; a bit of blood from Clementine, some of his own blood, the milk or milk-like substance from the retractable udder, and a water sample from … well, he hadn’t collected a water sample, but there was a sink in his room.

Cow’s blood: Purple. Check.

His blood: Not purple. Score one for the good guys, at least. It still didn’t make him feel any better.

Milk: Purple. On track so far.

Now for some water. Dr. Pepper heard a thump from the bathroom just as he was standing to collect a water sample. He drew his gun and approached cautiously. Thump. Thump, thump. It sounded like metal on metal, but muffled. He turned the knob to the bathroom door and gave it a gentle push to let it open slowly on its own.

Thump. There was something in the wall near the bathtub, and it sounded like it was hitting the pipe. The wall may have shaken a little, too, or it may have just been a trick of the shadows and his mind. But the thump was real. Okay, so screw that. He slowly and quietly closed the bathroom door. He set his gun on the counter by the sink and put a glove on his left hand before picking up the complementary plastic cup. With his ungloved hand, he turned the cold water knob, and the faucet sputtered a little before spitting out a few stray jets of water. Then something thick began forcing its way out. It looked like Clementine’s udder, but it had the consistency of pudding that had been left out overnight.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 2e*

No way in hell was he reaching past that for his gun. As a gray mass of pudding about the size of a loaf of bread oozed out of the faucet and into the sink, Dr. Pepper stepped back. About ten feet should be enough distance. Right?

Wrong. The mass leaped … or maybe shot was a better word? He didn’t really have much time for semantics, but one way or another, the mass was in the sink one moment, and it was across the room and on his face the next. He could feel it oozing into his nostrils and trying to pry his lips and eyelids open. He did his best not to panic, but all he could think of as he fumbled blindly for his phone was something along the lines of “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! I knew it! Aliens! Xenomorph! Facehugger! Chestburster!”

He tapped his phone screen by memory and prayed he was hitting the right spots. He heard it dial, and that was good enough. He tossed the phone on the floor and used both hands to pry the mass off his face. He pushed and pulled with everything he had, and the mass flew back toward the overflowing sink. After blowing his nose to be sure it was all out, he ran for the hall and slammed the door behind him.

Dr. Pepper had to admit that while he was still alive, that whole situation was a decisive victory for the slime. The mass was now occupying the room he’d paid for in advance, and it had possession of his briefcase, phone, gun, and spray bottle. Well played, slime. Well played.

Having heard the struggle on the other end of the phone, Lakefield and Atwood rushed across the street and into the motel. Atwood was flashing his badge, and Lakefield was casually holding his shotgun at the ready. Pepper explained what he could through panicked and gasping breaths, and Atwood ordered the clerk to evacuate the building. The clerk was hesitant and pointed out that Mayor Barnes wouldn’t be happy. Atwood was insistent and pointed out he had a badge, and his partner had a shotgun. Check and mate.

The clerk led them down the hall. Pepper said his partners should go next, and he’d take the rear. Lakefield just shook his head, but Atwood was more verbal.

“No. No, no, no. Hell, no.” And just in case there was any confusion, “No.”

Pepper sighed and followed the clerk to Room 8. Then Atwood and Lakefield brought up the rear. The clerk knocked, and when the door opened, Atwood ordered the occupants to evacuate. The three men in Room 8 gathered up their belongings, mostly cameras and cases of electronics, and they complied. A brief discussion uncovered that they were a documentary film crew from New Jersey that was in town to investigate reports of UFO activity. And no, they hadn’t been drinking the water. They were beer guys.

Room 11 had a towel shoved under the door. The clerk knocked, but there was no answer. Atwood shoved the towel out of the way with his crowbar and had the clerk unlock the door. As it swung open, it was immediately apparent someone had an aversion to light. Blankets were duct taped over the windows, the lamp was on its side with the light bulb removed, and the television had been overturned with the screen down. The light switch on the wall did nothing.

Lakefield went outside, broke the windows, and tore down the blankets with his shotgun. That shed plenty of light in the room. Atwood and Pepper entered and looked around. There was a laptop on the table and a sloshing sound in the bathroom. That was more than enough for Dr. Pepper, so he stepped back into the hall.

With one hand, Atwood took the laptop, and with the other, he pointed his gun at the bathroom door. It was directly across from another door which joined Rooms 11 and 12. He covered both doors while Lakefield moved to Room 12’s window. He broke it with his shotgun and called inside.

“Come on out, Jane. We’re with the FBI, and you’ll be safe.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the door to the room opened. The girl who stepped out into the hall looked like the girl from the selfies on Jane Allen’s Facebook page, except this girl was at least six months pregnant. She wasn’t pregnant as of a week ago according to the picture she’d posted.

Pepper didn’t care. He knew what had happened. Aliens. Aliens and face-hugging slimes. This was stage two. The next stage was chest-bursting, and that wouldn’t be pretty. He stayed out of the way while Atwood escorted the girl outside. Lakefield asked her to sit on the curb for a few minutes while his team finished up inside, and then he rejoined them.

Pepper had just reclaimed his gun, briefcase, and phone. The slime had disappeared, so he had turned off the faucet and plugged the drain. There was now just the matter of the thumping pipes and the slime in Pepper’s room, and then the sloshing in the bathroom of Room 11. Lakefield asked the clerk if there was a boiler room, and the man pointed to a door near the office.

Atwood opened the door and flipped the light switch. A set of metal stairs led down to a concrete basement with at least an inch of water standing at the bottom. The behemoth of an antique boiler in the far corner was corroded, and it was leaking water and gray slime from cracks and loose joints. All concrete and metal, so torching the room wasn’t an option. Atwood turned off the light and closed the door.

“That’s a health code violation. We’re going to have to shut this place down until it’s fixed.”

The clerk didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged and told him they could take it up with the owner. That meant Mayor Murray Barnes.


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## Michael Silverbane

I just wanted to drop in and say that I'm super glad that I found this story-hour, and even more so that it is being updated again. Your dry, workmanlike style of reporting is very fitting for the subject matter. I look forward to dread seeing what happens to your poor player characters next


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## Audrik

Thank you. I'm glad someone is enjoying it. My players are glad to be getting back to Delta Green, and I'm finding out just how much I missed doing the write-ups. I'd say the style of these write-ups is probably about 50% my personal writing style, 35% because I'm trying to capture the actual feeling around the game table, and 15% because of time constraints and word count.


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## Wystan

More please...


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## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 3a*

Jane Allen was visibly nervous as she sat on the curb outside the motel. She wasn’t jumpy, but her eyes darted back and forth at any movement. When Special Agent Atwood sat next to her, she inched away. When he smiled and moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she shrunk further still. Atwood was a Behavioral Analyst, but he didn’t need to be to realize the girl had been traumatized.

Still, traumatized or not, he needed answers. They could do it the easy way or the hard way. He started with some easy questions, and she answered the best she could while keeping a little distance. About two or three weeks ago, she’d been walking home alone from Billy Ray’s house – something she’d done dozens of times – and the next thing she knew, she was in her bed about eight hours later. She was hungry all the time after that.

Only a few days later, or maybe a week, Billy Ray was on that same road when he had missing time. It was just after Billy Ray left town that she realized her belly was growing, but it wasn’t only from all the eating. Her parents would understand, but they’d never forgive her if word got out that their unmarried daughter was pregnant.

She panicked and left the house. That’s when she met Scott Adams. He was a journalist from back east somewhere, and he was in town investigating UFO activity. Mr. Adams bought her some food at Murray’s Diner, and they talked about her missing time and the accelerated growth of her belly. He convinced her aliens were involved and offered to give her a safe place to stay. There was a room next to his at Murray’s Shut Eye, and he rented it out for her. He had told the clerk it was for equipment storage.

Atwood watched her body language intently as she related her story. She was telling the truth, or at least, she believed she was, and that was good enough. He said they needed to check on the baby, so he was going to take her to a hospital for an ultrasound. She refused. He informed her he wasn’t asking and made a grab for her arm.

Jane was unusually quick for a pregnant and traumatized young woman. She leaned out of his reach, stood, and ran. Atwood sighed. The hard way, then.

Lakefield and Pepper happened to glance out the window to see Atwood run after the girl. They thanked the clerk for his time and stepped outside. Atwood should be able to handle that on his own, so they decided it was time to meet the mayor.

City Hall was just a block or so down the street. The building was quiet except for the muffled music coming from the clerk’s earbuds. When the agents entered, the kid turned off his music and removed the earbuds. Lakefield got right to the point.

“We’re here to talk to the mayor.”

“Of course, sir. Would 8:00 AM tomorrow work for you?”

“No. We need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“Okay, well …”

The kid glanced down at a clipboard.

“I might be able to get you in tonight around … 7:00 PM?”

That wasn’t good enough for Lakefield. The ranger started up the stairs.

“Now works for me.”

When the clerk protested and said he had standing instructions to call the sheriff if anyone interrupted the mayor and aldermen, Lakefield came back to the bottom of the stairs just long enough to toss a pair of handcuffs to Pepper.

“We’re not asking, kid.”

Using Lakefield’s handcuffs and his own, Dr. Pepper confined the clerk to his desk chair and wheeled the kid into a file room. After closing and locking the door, Pepper joined Lakefield at the top of the stairs. There was a small landing, and the door was locked. Pepper knocked, but there was no answer. He identified himself and Lakefield as FBI and demanded to speak with the mayor. A moment later, a voice on the other side of the door told them to make an appointment.

While Dr. Pepper engaged the voice in a discussion of urgency and legality, Lakefield went back downstairs and found a hefty paper cutter. The mayor had still not opened the door by the time Lakefield returned, and so the ranger bashed the knob with three solid hits from the paper cutter.

The door swung slowly open to reveal almost total darkness. The only light in the room filtered in through the slats of the window shutters and only managed to illuminate thick dust in the air. Pistol in one hand, Dr. Pepper took his flashlight in the other and shined it into the room. Both he and Lakefield immediately wished he hadn’t.

Filing cabinets lined the walls, and a large table had been shoved to one side of the room. The rest of the area was taken up by an enormous gray mass similar to the smaller one that had attacked Pepper. This mass, however, was much larger, and it had four faces. The faces all shouted.

“Get out!”


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 3b*

That sounded good to the agents, but first, Pepper felt the need to fire his gun indiscriminately. The bullets struck the mass solidly, but the faces continued to shout. The mass began to churn and reform itself. Tentacles or pseudopods stretched out as the thing oozed forward. The door failed to latch as Lakefield closed it. The agents ran down the stairs to regroup. The thing wasn’t following, so maybe they had time.

Dr. Pepper opened the file room and released the clerk at gunpoint. As the kid fled the building, Lakefield grabbed a couple road flares from the car. This building was the oldest, driest, wooden structure in town. Two flares should do the trick. He threw one up the stairs and another into a pile of papers before the agents casually retreated.

They drove a short distance away, waited a few minutes, and then called 911 to report a fire at City Hall. There was no way emergency services would get there in time, and whatever that thing was, it would hopefully die along with the building.

On a hunch, Lakefield got on his laptop and looked into available real estate in the area. He was expecting something south of town to be available since both Jane and Billy Ray had disappeared on the same road. It took only a few minutes before he found what he was after. It wasn’t south of town, but northwest. A little west of the reservoir, a farmhouse had been seized by the county for failure to pay property taxes. That was roughly four months ago, and it fit the timeline perfectly.

He and Pepper were about to check out the farm when Atwood called. He was tailing Jane Allen. She was crossing through yards, dodging between houses, and even sometimes going through houses. She was generally heading south, but she was taking seemingly random turns. He didn’t think she knew he was following her, but he needed a ride for when he made his move. Lakefield told him they were on their way.

Atwood gave a running commentary describing her route, and Jane happened to be in a backyard when the car pulled up. Pepper got out and slid across the hood for dramatic effect. The girl screamed and ran for the back door of the house.

Atwood deftly hopped the chain-link fence and raced across the yard. He reached the girl and got his arms around her just as she started banging on the door. As the FBI man was dragging the girl back toward the car, Pepper slid back across the hood and got in. He had done a quick calculation and determined the likelihood of a random house in rural Tennessee being the residence of a gun owner was roughly 100%.

Once all three agents and the girl were in the car, Lakefield drove away. Atwood handcuffed Jane as a precaution. He felt sure she needed medical attention, and whatever was in her belly needed to be examined. He planned to take her back to Knoxville and put her in a room with Billy Ray to see what would happen. For that, he needed his car which was a few blocks away.

Atwood promised her food if she cooperated, and that seemed to calm her enough to transfer her to the backseat of his car. Knoxville was a four-hour drive, and that meant he would have to reschedule his locker search at the high school.

As the other car left town, Lakefield and Pepper drove north toward the reservoir. Dr. Pepper was still going on about aliens and how the thing at City Hall was proof. Lakefield humored and encouraged him by reminding Pepper he couldn’t entirely rule out the Bigfoot angle yet.

When they reached the reservoir, Lakefield reviewed the photographs from his game cameras. There were pictures of a couple deer, a rabbit, and a black bear, but nothing out of the ordinary. He took down one of the cameras, and they got back in the car. There was suspicious land for sale, and the agents hoped they weren’t about to buy the farm.

The land was covered in about four months of untended growth, but the farmhouse and the barn looked to be in decent repair. Lakefield mounted the game camera on a tree along the edge of the property and focused it on the barn. Once that was done, the agents proceeded cautiously toward the structure.

The large, sliding double-doors were closed, but the doors to the hayloft immediately above were open. Another door in the side of the barn and all the doors from the stalls to the corral were closed as well. Lakefield took up a position to the left of the double-doors with his shotgun ready. Dr. Pepper pushed the doors open, but they opened to reveal a wall of some sort of dark resin. The wall was solid and hard.


----------



## Audrik

*Convergence - Session 3c*

Lakefield began waving frantically for Pepper to close the door and retreat. Before he did so, the EPA scientist tried unsuccessfully to cut through the resin with his survival knife. The agents got back up to the car and regrouped for the second time in less than an hour.

Whatever was in that barn had sealed the main entrance and had likely done the same to the rest of the ground floor. The hayloft doors were open, so it – or they – could probably fly. Lakefield called Derringer and gave a full report. He requested a support team, but Derringer reminded him the situation needed to be resolved without alerting too many outside people if possible. Lakefield grumbled, but he knew Derringer was right. All the same, he wanted Derringer to have a cleanup crew ready in case his team disappeared. Derringer agreed. It would be a last resort, but if the agents couldn’t handle the situation, something would have to be done.

Back to the barn. They needed a way in, and Lakefield had spotted a ladder behind the farmhouse. They quietly moved the ladder to the barn and rested it against the open loft. They had a quick match of Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who would climb up. Lakefield threw Rock. Pepper threw Paper. Lakefield had a shotgun. Pepper climbed the ladder.

Once in the loft, Pepper looked around. The entire interior of the barn had been coated and reinforced with the resin. There were soft lights of various colors and frequencies coming from somewhere down below, and so he peeked over the edge. He had been preparing himself for this the entire time, and yet he was still not ready.

In one corner were various machines that looked somehow biological in origin. Two of the devices had vats of liquid, and a human body floated motionlessly in one of them. There were several flat slabs of the same resin which lined the walls and ceiling, and they appeared to be tables. All of this was secondary in Pepper’s estimation. More important, he decided, were the six child-sized, gray humanoids with long, wiry limbs, almond-shaped heads, and large, black eyes. Aliens! He was right all along.

Dr. Pepper held back a shout and crawled back out of the loft and down the ladder. He was motioning for Lakefield to retreat, and for the third time in an hour, the agents regrouped after a retreat.

“Aliens! I told you! Aliens! The thin, gray kind. There were six of them in there. And a human body in a tube.”

Lakefield had seen some strange things in his time so aliens might be a possibility. Or they might be something worse. He needed to take a look for himself, and he was taking a gas can and flares with him. The ranger slung his shotgun over his shoulder and carried the flares and jug of gasoline up the ladder into the loft.

He ventured a look over the edge of the loft just to get his aim, and he found that Pepper’s account was mostly accurate. The one difference was that the human body was not in a tube. It was on a slab now, and the little, gray things were gathered around it. That’s right … a little closer. Now, say cheese!

Lakefield lit the flare and tossed it along with the gasoline right into the center of the grouping. Almost immediately, the creatures simply stopped moving and hung motionless like powered down robots or discarded dolls. At the same time, large pieces of the resin wall began peeling themselves off with a loud buzzing. Those gray things weren’t the only creatures in the barn! And he suddenly felt himself wishing they were.

The new creatures had been camouflaged against the walls. They were large, spongy crablike things covered in fungus and resin, and there were six of them. When they moved, it was sometimes fluid and sometimes stuttered as if they were cutting in and out of three-dimensional space. They didn’t have wings that he could see, but three of them seemed to fly anyway. They landed in the loft forming a semicircle around him with the loft doors at his back. A fourth darted below the loft toward a dark corner of the barn, and the remaining two just faded from view.

Pepper saw these two fade into view on the roof of the barn. He screamed and shot at the one on his left. It was a perfect shot, center mass, only … the damned thing flickered at exactly the wrong moment, and the bullet passed clean through.

Lakefield scowled at the three arrayed against him and leveled his shotgun at the one on his left. He pulled the trigger and scored a direct hit. A spray of pellets and spongy flesh splattered against the resin wall. Score one for the good guys.

The buzzing increased in volume, and one of the things dashed toward Lakefield with a shiny, black object in its arm-like appendage. The object sliced through him and he felt himself cut in places and directions he didn’t realize he had. Everything went red and then black as he felt most of his upper body slide away from the rest of him. The buzzing faded soon after.

Dr. Pepper heard the shotgun blast at the same time the two creatures dove at him. They each had a long baton that hummed almost as loudly as the creatures buzzed. He didn’t have time to wonder what they were, however. One of the batons brushed his flesh, there was a sizzle-crackle-pop, and Pepper had disintegrated.

Three hours later, Special Agent Atwood arrived at the FBI office in Knoxville. SAC Derringer took Jane Allen into protective custody and promised to get her medical attention. When Lakefield and Pepper hadn’t reported in by the next morning, Derringer told Atwood not to wait up. The Spivey case was closed.


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## Audrik

With a couple days to go before the game, I had to switch gears. One of the players was going to make it this week, but then he'll be on vacation for a month or so. Rather than have a player start an Op and miss the middle and end, I decided to try for something I hoped could be resolved in one session. Another player missed the game, though, so we weren't able to have the discussion about whether to continue with two agents for a couple sessions or just take the holidays off. I hope to have that figured out soon, but I think I'll be good either way. I know my wife wouldn't mind having me home for the holidays, so to speak.


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## Audrik

*Whereabouts Unknown - Session 1a*

The summer months in Knoxville were always busy for Special Agent Atwood, but there was almost never any overtime authorized. The days of late May and early June blurred into routine, and he spent much of his free time reading. This month, the FBI profiler’s focus was social and cultural anthropology. Next month, it might be anyone’s guess.

One Monday morning in mid-June, SAC Derringer quietly invited him to a briefing room. There was a young man in a blue-and-white striped shirt and wool jacket reclining in a chair at the table. The man’s bright red hair poked out is tufts from beneath his cap, and it stood in contrast to his pale skin.

Atwood raised an eyebrow. This was a first for him. A wool jacket in June. In Tennessee. It was at least 75 degrees outside already, and the forecast was calling for mid-80s by afternoon. His psychologist’s mind began its analysis. The man couldn’t be cold, so it wasn’t for warmth or fashion. He had a handgun, but it was openly displayed, so he wasn’t afraid to show he was armed. The extra layers, Atwood decided, must reflect a need to insulate himself from his surroundings. This man was either trying to hide something, or he was very insecure. Maybe both.

Derringer made the introductions. The man was Cualin Dempsey, an Irish-born contract employee with the CIA. As of this morning, and for the purposes of this Operation, he was also an FBI consultant. Dempsey tipped his cap with a grin and sat up straight. Atwood took a seat at the table, and Derringer jumped right into the briefing.

“Migdalia Valladares is an associate professor of Mathematics at Dartmouth College in Hannover, New Hampshire. Two years ago, she assisted in decrypting an untitled 18th-century text that dealt heavily with the astrological and topological secrets of gates and other magics. According to her colleagues, she became obsessed with the document. Eventually, she took a sabbatical to further her work.

“Three weeks ago, she was reported missing by her family. The FBI office in Boston was called in to assist with the missing persons case, but nothing had been turned up until yesterday. Ms. Valladares used a credit card to pay for a pizza in the town of Westmore, Vermont. Locals in Westmore reported Valladares had come into town regularly over the past year or so, though, in recent months, her visits were becoming increasingly rare. She had taken up residence at the White Caps Campground at the southern tip of Lake Willoughby.”

SAC Derringer paused for a moment while the agents caught up with their notes. He had a tendency to roll through the facts of a case more quickly than his audience could process them, and it was a habit he’d spent a career trying to break.

“Ms. Valladares has been renting Cabin 17 at the White Caps Campground for the past fifteen months. The Program was alerted when FBI agents from the Boston office reported radio and electronic interference coupled with what they called ‘objects of an occult nature.’ They were told to stand down as specialists were being sent in. You are those specialists.

“Determine the current circumstances of Ms. Valladares and if she is a danger to the Program, the United States, or herself. She is 51 years of age, 5’8”, 140 lbs. She has brown hair and eyes and is of Hispanic descent. By all accounts, she is a quiet and bright woman who lacks any obvious vices or personal complications.”

The Irishman interrupted with a question about her personal habits. SAC Derringer wasn’t used to being stopped in the middle of a briefing, but he didn’t let it show. He replied that she was a very thorough, neat, and organized person who kept a Spartan office. Dempsey nodded and scribbled something on his steno pad. The senior agent concluded the briefing without much ceremony.

“You are booked on an 11 AM flight from Nashville to Montpelier by way of Philadelphia. A rental car will be waiting for you, and you have a room at the Capital Plaza Hotel.”

Atwood and Derringer took a little time to get to know each other on the drive to Nashville and the flight to Vermont. Atwood decided his initial determination on the Irishman was accurate. Dempsey composed no fewer than 20 crude and/or insulting limericks about Atwood, but he shared them only with his steno pad for the time being.

The agents arrived Edward F. Knapp State Airport in Montpelier a little after 3 PM, and before they could head to the White Caps Campground, Dempsey wanted to stop at a few hardware and department stores. If they weren’t on an Op, Dempsey’s purchases otherwise seem normal, but under the circumstances, the fact that they could all be used to make an explosive device was not lost on Atwood.

From Montpelier, it was an hour-and-a-half drive to the campground. Lake Willoughby in June was a beautiful sight. It was a long body of water with low mountains edging it on either side. The sun was beginning its descent, but it would be a few hours yet before sunset. The lake was dotted with kayaks, canoes, sailboats, and swimmers. Several columns of smoke from campfires and grills filled the sky.


----------



## Audrik

*Whereabouts Unknown - Session 1b*

Dempsey rented Cabin 16 and immediately went to set up a camera for surveillance on the cabin claimed by Ms. Valladares. Atwood’s badge earned him the key to Cabin 17. He asked the clerk a few questions about Ms. Valladares, and he learned she’d always paid cash on a monthly basis and generally kept to herself. That was nothing new, as far as the clerk was concerned. People came to the campground for a variety of reasons, and it was really none of his business. She was always cheerful and respectful, so there was never any problem. Her car had been gone since yesterday.

The agents regrouped to investigate Cabin 17 together. As Atwood pushed open the door, they were assaulted by a pungent odor and hot air. The cabin was a mess. The bed had been stripped, and it was covered by a large map of the region. The map was covered by a clear plastic board upon which many lines and notations had been added with marker.

Every piece of electric equipment, except the coffee maker, had been tossed in the bathtub. The table near the front window was buried beneath piles of books and papers, and moldering take-out food was stacked on the dresser. This was nothing like the description of the neat and orderly woman about whom they were told.

Dempsey was about to sweep the room for hair, blood, fingerprints … whatever he could find to show Ms. Valladares was actually the one staying in this cabin, and to determine if she had been staying here alone. Before he could find much, however, he sliced the meat of his left thumb on a steak knife which had been hiding beneath take-out containers. It stung, but it didn’t cause any lasting damage. Still, there was blood, and he was going to need a bandage. He informed Atwood and left for his cabin.

Atwood removed his jacket and tie, and he hung them from the open door. He put on a pair of latex gloves and began a thorough search of the room. Being a behavioral analyst, this wasn’t his area of expertise, but he’d seen his share of crime scenes.

It took an hour or so to sift through everything in a rushed yet systematic manner, and he managed to find several things of interest. The first thing he found was several sheets of copier paper with the text of a computer program. He wasn’t a computer guy, so he had no idea of its intended purpose.

Next, he found a staple-bound monograph titled “Wisdom of the Hyperboreans and their Magicks.” Hyperboreans … weren’t they from Conan? He shrugged and read a little further. The manuscript claimed to detail the creation of portals and gates to connect points across great distances. Okay, well that sounded a little more interesting than anthropology textbooks. It may be a bit dense, and there seemed to be a lot of math involved, but still, it was definitely of interest.

The third manuscript he found was a stack of photocopied pages from Janus Cornelius Wassermann’s “The Occult Foundations.” There were highlighted sections which discussed the theory that the fabric of reality itself was weaker in certain places. That made sense. It was like how the wall between the spirit world and ours would become thinner on ancient battlefields or in deep forests.

Under that pile of papers, he found the object he was pretty sure he was after. It wasn’t occult, per se, but he could see how the boys in Boston might have thought so. It was a clay disc about 8” in diameter with various astrological symbols etched around the perimeter and on the face. It was meticulously detailed but seemed to be otherwise mundane.

Atwood took out his phone to take pictures of the disc, but he couldn’t get the phone to cooperate. Something was interfering not only with his cell signal, but it was also interfering with the phone itself. The interference weakened the further he moved the phone from the disc, and so he determined it was the source. Clay shouldn’t do that though, right? Maybe there was something inside the disc that was jamming things. He shrugged and placed the disc in his briefcase. That seemed to help.

With the source of the electronic interference contained, Atwood turned his attention to the large map on the bed. There were points marked and lines drawn between them. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, but judging by the topography, he would guess the lines signified what Alfred Watkins called ley lines, paths of spiritual or magical energy. If that were the case, each point where lines intersected would be a strong nexus of power.

Looking at it through that lens and taking into account the manuscripts he’d found, he guessed Ms. Valladares had found a way to ride these lines from point to point like a subway train. It would also be significant, then, that there was a roughly half-mile diameter area at the center of all the lines where none of them passed. It was possible this area was a sort of magical void, but he felt it was more likely the opposite. Atwood suspected this area between the lines was more likely a concentration of energy with the perimeter acting as a sort of fence or dome to hold it all together. That had to be where she’d gone!


----------



## Audrik

*Whereabouts Unknown - Session 1c*

He set his briefcase outside and went back to take a picture of the map. He then grabbed his coat and tie, his briefcase, and the manuscripts before rushing next door to Cabin 16. As he entered, he found Dempsey putting the finishing touches on what he was sure was an improvised explosive device of some sort. He wasn’t sure why they might need that or why the kid was tinkering with it, but it was something to keep an eye on.

Atwood explained his theory to the Irishman and was more than a little surprised to hear that the kid not only agreed with him, but Dempsey also seemed to know a fair bit about ley lines and magic himself. Astrology eluded him, but magic and ley lines were the stuff of every Irish lad’s bedtime stories.

If the center of those lines was where she’d gone, that’s where they were going to look. Dempsey checked his camera one last time to be sure it was recording and had a clear view of Cabin 17 in case anyone came back. The agents then drove west down an old state road. They had a few hours of light left.

They’d only been driving a few minutes when Atwood noticed frost on the ground and the trees. It was 70 degrees at the campground, and a couple miles west the thermometer display on the dashboard was telling him it was 30 degrees and dropping. Another mile or so, and the frost was so thick it almost looked like it had snowed. Now the Irishman’s sense of fashion seemed to have been incredible foresight. Atwood turned the heater up and drove on.

Eventually, they came upon an abandoned Ford Fiesta, the same car Ms. Valladares drove. Atwood pulled the SUV off to the shoulder of the frost-covered dirt road, and the agents got out. The car was every bit as messy as Cabin 17. Fast food containers and plastic water bottles littered the backseat. The keys were still in the ignition. A trail of footprints led away from the car and into the woods.

The agents began to follow the trail. They hadn’t made it fifty yards inside the tree line when Dempsey slipped and fell nose first down an embankment. Atwood rolled his eyes and suppressed a sigh as he watched the Irishman tumble to the bottom. Dempsey laid motionless for several seconds before raising an arm and giving a thumbs-up. This was presumably to tell Atwood he was uninjured, but the profiler took it as his cue to leave the dead weight.

He continued to follow the footprints to a white clearing at least 100 yards in diameter where he found a thermos of cold coffee, a commercial star chart, and surveying equipment. There was also a circle of silvery powder in the frost which seemed to circle the entire clearing. Atwood wasn’t sure what the powder was, but it held significance for whatever ritual Ms. Valladares had performed. He took out the disc, and the glyphs were glowing faintly. He hadn’t noticed anything in the etchings that might cause that sort of reaction, so he decided it was some sort of magic. That also helped him explain the electronic interference.

The clearing was flat except for something jutting up in the very center. Atwood was just taking out his binoculars when Dempsey caught up. The agents took turns looking at the thing. It looked like a hole with a mound next to it, but they couldn’t be sure, so they followed the footprints closer. They stopped about twenty yards away when it dawned on them what they were seeing.

It wasn’t a hole and a mound. The earth and air had turned in space. It was as if a twenty-foot-diameter invisible sphere half in the ground and half out had rotated roughly 30 degrees counterclockwise and forward. The dirt revealed both inside and outside the sphere looked perfectly smooth. The footprints led directly to the edge of the area, and they continued inside the sphere, but they, too, were shifted. Atwood tossed a rock in the direction of the sphere, and as soon as it entered, it disappeared from its point in space and appeared roughly 30 degrees to the right. It was still heading toward the center of the sphere, but its trajectory had altered. Space inside the sphere was tilted.

The footprints led to the center and stopped. Okay, so … she was gone. That’s all there was to it. She wasn’t coming back. Or, as Atwood pointed out, it was probably for the best if they ensured she never came back. He planned to disrupt the circle of powder, but Dempsey knew that wouldn’t be enough; the ley lines would still converge. This area would still hold power, and someone else could do what Ms. Valladares had done. No. They had to disrupt the ley lines themselves.

The agents headed back to the abandoned car and drove it to the clearing. Dempsy couldn’t rig it to explode with what he’d brought with him, so he did the next best thing. He aimed the car at the sphere and placed a weight on the accelerator. When he put the car in gear, it drove right where he hoped it would, but the result wasn’t quite what he expected.

When the car entered the sphere, everything – car, air, dirt – the whole sphere rotated wildly like a giant hamster ball. The car was thrown straight up into the air and fell back to earth. Dirt, rocks, and snow were thrown in all directions, and the glyphs on the disc faded.

That was that. Migdalia Valladares of Hannover, New Hampshire had driven into the Vermont woods and abandoned her car in a clearing. If the boys in Boston wanted to follow her trail from there, best of luck to them.


----------



## Audrik

Just a quick holiday update. The plan is to get back to the game on the 15th, so regular updates should resume after that. We'll have at least two of the three players, and at the moment, I'm contemplating a slow-developing (at first) police procedural sort of Op with an occult hook to draw Atwood in. Ranger Lakefield's player has made an old-school NSA spook, and given that he's a longtime Shadowrun player and real-life chemist, it should add nicely to the group's overall level of professionalism and tradecraft.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 1a*

Atwood and Dempsey had gone their separate ways. While Dempsey returned home, Atwood called in a couple weeks of leave and remained in Vermont to test a few theories on the disc and ley lines. The rest of the summer passed quickly, but not quite a week into autumn, both agents were activated again. They were to report to Federal Office Building 10A in Washington D.C. for an operational briefing on Friday, September 27th.

Neither agent was an accountant, but even they knew the governmental bean counters were easily stressed this time of year. The federal fiscal year ended on the 30th, and that translated into deadlines for reimbursement requests and added scrutiny on expense accounts. If travel and unusual financial activity could be put off for a month or so, everyone would calm down, but that’s not how Delta Green worked. Fortunately, a Delta Green taskforce typically had black budget funding, and that meant fewer questions if any.

The sky over the nation’s capital was a beautiful and endless blue. Standing in rather stark contrast, the designated meeting place was a dull and endless tan with nine floors of identical windows. The U.S. flag outside Federal Office Building 10A snapped rhythmically in the wind as each agent arrived in turn.

The interior of the ground floor was split with a post office to the right and the familiar metal detectors and security checkpoint of the Federal Building to the left. Once through security, the agents had been directed to a large meeting room on the third floor.

Standing outside the door was a tall, thin Hispanic man in a dark suit. As each agent arrived, he matched them to a photograph and name on his clipboard before standing aside to allow them to enter.

The meeting room was large but otherwise identical to a thousand others in Washington alone. There was a long wooden table with several chairs designed to be just uncomfortable enough for a person to remain awake through an all-morning meeting. On the table was a round speaker connected to a desk phone for conference calls. One wall had maps of the U.S. and its territories, while the opposite wall had whiteboards, a clock, and a large flat screen monitor. The wall with the door had photographs of President Barack Obama, Vice President Joe Biden, Secretary of Homeland Security Rand Beers, and FEMA Administrator W. Craig Fugate. The opposite wall had several windows overlooking C Street and Hancock Park.

Dempsey arrived first and had his choice of seating. When Atwood entered, he was a little disappointed yet unsurprised to see the Irishman. It wasn’t long after Atwood’s arrival before the third and final member of their taskforce showed up. Mark Porter was a man in his 60s who radiated experience. Just what sort of experience wasn’t clear, but it didn’t matter. If it could happen, this guy had either seen it, done it, or caused it at least once.

As Porter entered and took a seat, the Hispanic man from the hall followed and closed the door behind him. He paused for a moment before placing his briefcase on the table, rolling the combination locks, and opening it with a click.

“Good morning, everyone. I am Supervisory Special Agent Gomez. I trust you’re all quite interested to know just why you were selected for activation, so I’ll get right down to it. A number of federal personnel have died after spending some time in Bedford, Iowa.”

Atwood said something about being sure to never go there, but Gomez ignored it.

“Following the possibly questionable death in Bedford of Neil Badagian, an FCC investigator, our computers turned up the long-forgotten suicide of Jerry Heathcliff, after publishing an article on Bedford in 2004."

Agent Gomez produced a sheet of paper with an excerpt from the article and allowed the agents to pass it around.



> *Bedford, Iowa: The New Muncie?*
> by Jerry Heathcliff (Iowa State University)
> American Demographer Summer 2004 pp. 961-977
> 
> Excerpt: At the turn of the century, sociologists studied Muncie, Indiana as an “ideal type” of the American mentality. Demographically speaking, Bedford, Iowa is an even more accurate picture of modern America. Bedford’s breakdown of income, age, gender, and employment groups is identical to that given by U.S. Census data for the nation as a whole. Bedford’s demographics have matched national trends for 25 years. This should make Bedford an ideal subject for follow-up studies. Only in racial breakdown does Bedford not match national averages, since it is nearly all-white.




"Heathcliff was a sociology professor at the Iowa State University in Ames. On July 15, 2004, nearly two months after his article appeared in print, he committed suicide rather than be fired from the University; evidence of his obsession with deviant pornography was found in his home. Nobody knew how his unsavory interests had become known to the University, as the whole matter seems to have been hushed up.

“Heathcliff had served in Vietnam as a State Department analyst from 1971 to 1973. The coincidence raised a red flag and triggered a subroutine in the computer; it cross-checked all federal government files for deaths following overnight stays in Bedford, Iowa as determined from itemized expense accounts. Two more deaths turned up, bringing the total to four in nine years, far above statistical norms.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 1b*

"Heathcliff was the first. The second, Shelley Emmett, was a researcher with the Census Bureau, based in Kansas City. She visited Bedford four times between October of 2005 and March of 2006. On April 10, 2006, she failed a drug test, showing signs of cocaine and marijuana use; she was fired a week later. Unable to find a new job and suffering from clinical depression, she died of exposure aggravated by alcoholism on December 5, 2007.

"Third, Captain John Rush was a Marine recruiter stationed in Des Moines in 2011-2012. He visited Bedford several times during his tour; following a painful and expensive divorce, he committed suicide by jumping off his sailboat in Chesapeake Bay on February 17, 2013. The only common factors in the deaths of Heathcliff, Emmett, and Rush are their presence in Bedford, and a large number of late-night phone calls they received in the two months previous to their deaths. Tracing the numbers, where possible, turns up nothing -- a random scattering of business, cell phone, and personal phone numbers. Either the calls are coincidence, or someone is cleverly covering their tracks in the system.

"The latest victim is Neil Badagian who died in an automobile accident on the night of September 25 on the business highway just outside Bedford. Forty-five minutes before his fatal crash, he placed a call to his older brother, John Badagian, who works for the NSA. In that call, he said he’d uncovered something 'more in your line' than his; what he meant is unknown."

Agent Gomez produced another sheet of paper from his briefcase and placed it on the table.



> NSA Telcom Transcript
> 2227 hrs EST 25 September 2013
> 
> Incoming call to Chevy Chase, MD home number of JOHN BADAGIAN from cellular phone number registered to NEIL BADAGIAN; packet retrace places origin of call within 15 mile radius of Bedford, IA cellular tower.
> 
> (conversation begins)
> NEIL BADAGIAN: John, pick up. Pick up, John. It’s Neil.
> JOHN BADAGIAN: Hello? Neil?
> NEIL B.: Look, I don’t have time to go into details right now. I’m in Iowa, in a town called Bedford, on FCC business, and I think I’ve found something more in your line than in mine.
> JOHN B.: My line? What are you talking about? Are you drunk, Neil?
> NEIL B.: Look, I don’t have time. Call me back at the scrambled number in exactly one hour, okay? I can’t stay on too long.
> JOHN B.: Should I call anybody else?
> NEIL B.: Not until I can fill you in. An hour. I’m deadly serious.
> JOHN B.: One hour. Right. Take care, Neil.
> NEIL B.: You know it, John.
> (conversation ends)
> 
> (Case officer notes: Neil Badagian apparently had access to a cellular scrambler with its own number; no further calls were received or made on either of Neil Badagian’s cellular phone numbers. John Badagian did not report the call until after learning of his brother’s death. John Badagian was unable to complete any calls to Neil’s numbers, receiving only a “cellular phone not in use” recording.)




“John Badagian claims not to know what, if anything, his brother meant. Your job is to find out. Seats have been booked for you on the noon flight to Des Moines. You should arrive by 4:30 PM local time. If you have any gear you don’t want going through the TSA checkpoint, I will ensure it’s waiting for you in the trunks of your rental cars at the Des Moines airport. If you have cover identities, I strongly suggest their use. For those of you who may be a little newer to the job, I can provide FBI or DHS consultant’s credentials. Any questions?”

Of course, there were questions. What were the specifics of Captain Rush’s divorce? What was the name of his sailboat? Was he successful in recruiting anyone from Bedford? Speaking of which, what was a Captain doing handling his own recruitments? When, exactly, were each of the victims in Bedford, and where did they stay? What is John Badagian’s job at the NSA? Did the agents all have to be on the same flight? And if so, who got the window seat? Was there any special funding to be had … just in case, of course?

John Badagian worked for Unit F6, the Special Collection Service which works closely with the CIA. This revelation caused both Porter and Dempsey to nod in apparent understanding, though this was probably for different levels of understanding. The agents were booked on the same flight, in the same row, and they could decide for themselves who sat where.

As for special funding, SSA Gomez placed two credit cards on the conference table. There was no cardholder name on either, but they both displayed the logos of the Department of Homeland Security and FEMA. Dempsey was quick to snatch both cards in one fluid and well-practiced motion like a Las Vegas Blackjack dealer. Gomez informed them each card had a spending limit of only $3,000, and receipts would have to be provided for any purchases, but he would ensure accounting staff asked no questions. With the end of the federal fiscal year only a few days away, they had bigger things to deal with anyway. Even still, he cautioned, the money attached to those cards was disaster relief funding. Every dollar they spent was a dollar that couldn’t go to the victims of hurricanes, earthquakes, mudslides, or volcanoes. Dempsey just gave Gomez a sly wink and shot a finger gun at him like they were sharing some private joke.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 1c*

Both Porter and Dempsey had items they would prefer not be checked by the TSA. Gomez said there were two FEMA equipment containers waiting for them in the parking garage. Anything they placed in those containers would be transported to Des Moines for them without questions.

Atwood used the in-flight Wi-Fi as much to do some preliminary research on Bedford as to have an excuse to ignore Dempsey. Everything looked normal enough at first – population 1,440 as of the 2010 census, the county seat of Taylor County, Iowa – but then he began to notice a rather obvious pattern. The sheriff was Woodrow “Woody” Taylor. Three of the five members of the Bedford City Council were Taylors. Several of the businesses in town were Taylor-this or Taylor-that. Both construction companies in town – Bedford Erectors and Taylor Drywall – were owned by Robert and Samantha Taylor, two of the three Taylors on the City Council. Atwood didn’t like the implications there one bit, but Porter pointed out it’s not uncommon for a small town to be dominated by one or two powerful families. Atwood grumbled something about telling that to Murray, but the reference to the events in Waynesboro, Tennessee were lost on the veteran spook.

Upon landing in Des Moines, the agents picked up their rental cars and FEMA equipment trunks. While they decided on a course of action, they received an encrypted email from SSA Gomez with a little more information obtained after the briefing.



> *Jerry Heathcliff*
> Expense Account: Three nights at the Walkright Inn in Bedford, reimbursement for mileage in personal vehicle, per diem
> 
> *Shelley Emmett*
> Expense Account: Two-night stays at the Skylark Motel in Bedford on four separate occasions, rental car from Des Moines airport, replacement battery and USB adapter for laptop from Computer City in Bedford, per diem
> 
> *John Rush*
> Recruited thirteen young men from local high school: Three went to Camp Pendleton, two to Marine Corps Base Quantico. One each went to Logistics Base Barstow, Marine Corps Base Hawaii, Stone Bay, and Air Station Yuma. The other four were stationed overseas; two at Camp Leatherneck in Afghanistan and two at Air Station Iwakuni in Japan.
> 
> Per divorce documents: The wife, Emily Rush, accused the captain of being unfaithful to her with a woman, Allison Cherry, from Bedford.
> 
> Expense Account: Three separate two-night stays and four week-long stays at the Skylark Motel in Bedford, long-distance calls (to his office and to his home phone) charged to his room
> 
> *Neil Badagian*
> Inspecting the wireline and wireless telecommunications network. He stayed overnight at the Motel 6 in Bedford.
> 
> Expense Account: Nothing charged




That changed things a little. The plan the agents devised was for Atwood to track down Captain Rush’s ex-wife and see what more she could tell him while Porter and Dempsey spent disaster relief money.

According to the divorce decree, Mrs. Rush got the house, and it was right there in Des Moines. Atwood needed a disguise, and he decided not to ask when Porter produced a complete Marine Corps battledress uniform. The spook had three suitcases of various disguises.

Dressed as one Lieutenant Wilson of the U.S. Marine Corps, SA Atwood made his way to the Rush residence. It was a beautiful two-story house with a chain-link fence in a quiet neighborhood. Atwood placed his right hand on the fence for a moment to allow the cold metal to chill his hand for effect, and he then knocked on the door.

Emily Rush answered after a moment. She was pretty enough for a woman in her mid-40s who wasn’t expecting company. Atwood introduced himself as Lieutenant Wilson and asked if Captain Rush was at home. Of course, he wasn’t, and Mrs. Rush seemed a little annoyed that he’d even ask. She even refused to shake his carefully chilled hand. Atwood then asked when he’d be home, and she replied with a wry smile that this was no longer his home and that even if it were, he’d never be returning.

Well, that was too bad. Captain Rush, he said, had recruited him straight out of high school in Bedford, and he … That was apparently exactly the wrong thing to say, and as a trained psychologist, he sensed it immediately. The woman’s eyes instantly narrowed, her lip curled slightly, and she even pushed the door closed a bit more. For all his acting, there was no sympathy Atwood could elicit from this woman, and he felt it. He thanked her for her time and apologized for the intrusion before returning to his car and heading to the Des Moines Hilton to book a couple of rooms. The agents had all agreed not to stay in Bedford until they’d had a chance to scout it out.

While Atwood was interviewing Mrs. Rush, FEMA had apparently purchased two drone quadcopters with powerful cameras and a virtual reality setup for control. Disaster relief funds were also evidently needed for pressure cookers and other bomb-making materials which should land someone on several watch lists. Their shopping spree concluded, Dempsey and Porter grabbed dinner, also on Homeland Security’s tab, and returned to the hotel.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 1d*

All three agents got an early start the next morning. Atwood wanted to have a look around Bedford, Dempsey wanted to find lodging closer to the town yet still outside, and Porter wanted his own rental vehicle – one not tied to the Des Moines airport or a federal expense account.

Atwood reached Bedford first. It resembled every small town in every American movie of the last thirty years: red brick and granite downtown, leafy side streets lined with modest ranch homes, local-brand gas stations and convenience stores on the corners and on the highway exit ramps. The “Welcome to Bedford” signs where U.S. Highway 148 turned into Madison Street claimed a population of 1,406; sported the emblems of the Lions, Kiwanis, Elks, United Church of Christ, and other respectable organizations; and proudly boasted of being the “Home of the Fighting Bulldogs – Division Champs 1987, 1991, 1997, 2000, 2007; State Champs 1992.” The closest other towns were 10 to 15 miles away in any direction over rolling, sparsely-wooded farmland.

Banners hanging over Main and Madison Streets and flyers all around town announced the Corn Queen Pageant at the high school which coincides with the Bulldogs’ homecoming game on September 30th. Every street light had a small camera covering the road, sidewalks, and businesses. Atwood decided Bedford Cable and Electric must be doing good business because only one building in town – the HelpLink Regional Training Center – had a satellite dish.

The street light cameras seemed out of place in a small town, but they were only the beginning of the subtle but oddly disturbing qualities of the town. Almost every building had sliding glass doors that slid open when an electric eye detected motion. The buildings that didn’t have these doors instead had keycard or keypad locks; even the private residences.

Taylor’s Diner looked like a welcoming sort of place, and there were only a few tables not occupied by high schoolers in letterman’s jackets or cheerleader’s sweaters. The diner was directly across from the Bedford Times-Press. Next to the diner was the Brave New World Daycare Center which not only had the electric eye and sliding glass doors – very unusual for a daycare, Atwood thought – but it also had a sign in the window depicting a masked individual crying and holding the bars of a jail cell while a smiling couple held a baby. The caption on the sign read “Foil kidnappers! Fingerprint your baby!”

Still dressed in his borrowed battledress uniform, Atwood decided to see what he could learn from the kids at the diner. As he entered, he was slightly unnerved to hear The Police playing _Every Breath You Take_ over the speakers. Without sitting, he claimed a seat at the counter by setting down his cell phone and keys.

_Every breath you take, every move you make …_

Atwood scanned the diner for a table with the greatest concentration of young men, but the entire group seemed to be rather fluid. Some remained in one spot the whole time, but others would sit for a minute and talk before moving to another table to socialize.

_Every bond you break …_

When the waitress, Diane, asked to take his order, he said he’d like some coffee and a slice of Key Lime pie. He raised an eyebrow when he realized rather than scribble his order on a pad like at every other diner he’d ever visited, she instead checked a few digital boxes on her tablet and submitted his order to both the kitchen and register electronically. Fewer than 1,500 residents in an otherwise typical small town, and yet such high technology and security everywhere he looked.

_Every step you take, I’ll be watching you._

Atwood approached the largest group of young men and jumped right into a Marine Corps. recruitment speech. None of them seemed interested at all, not even when he not-so-subtly questioned their bravery. Every one of them seemed convinced the homecoming game against the Taylor County Cornhuskers would be the springboard for their college and professional football careers. When he asked what made them so sure they could even play college ball, a few of them stood up and completely dwarfed him. These kids were big. Not all of them, but the ones who stood up, for sure, were over six-feet tall and probably 200 pounds.

_Every single day, every word you say …_

Whatever. If Captain Rush pulled a dozen kids from this town, he had to have been a fantastic recruiter. Atwood shrugged and returned to his coffee and pie. It was only a minute or so before he had a cheerleader on either side of him, bouncing and smiling. The blonde on his left introduced herself as Shannon and the brunette on the other side as Ashley. They were seniors at Bedford High, and they were selling tickets to the homecoming game Monday night. Tickets would be $15 at the gate, but if he got them from her, they were only $10. He had to admit, she had a hell of a sales technique. Sure. Why the hell not? He bought three tickets with cash. The brunette handed him three credit card-sized laminated cardboard tickets. Each ticket had the logos of both teams, the date and time of the game, and an obvious RFID chip. They were also numbered sequentially, 0002 through 0004. That meant not only had they sold very few tickets but also that they had probably sold at least one other.

_Every game you play …_

Ashley wasn’t really his type, but damn. There was something about her that … Atwood stopped his train of thought right there. That was definitely not why he was here. He needed to be on his guard in this town because it seemed to be a death sentence for federal employees. Besides, she was just a girl, a senior in high school. Of course, that meant she might be … Atwood shook it off again. Something wasn’t right here, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was probably a trick of the light or his mind, but looking from Shannon to Ashley, he could have sworn the blonde’s eyes changed from blue to violet. When he looked back, though, they were blue. He thanked the girls for the tickets and finished his coffee before leaving the diner in haste.

_Every night you stay, I’ll be watching you._


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 1e*

Nothing about this damned town added up, and it was creeping him out. Never mind that he wasn’t really a Police fan either.

Porter and Dempsey had followed Atwood through Bedford but continued on when the behavioral analyst stopped at the diner. Dempsey drove while Porter searched the internet for nearby lodging. Both agents got the same vibe as Atwood did from the cameras and electric eyes, so they didn’t want to take a chance on staying in town. Just across the state border, a real estate company in Hopkins, Missouri was running a deal on a few fully-furnished houses where the cost to rent one for a month was less than the hotels in town were charging for a week. There was no contest.

Dempsey dropped Porter off at an Enterprise Rent-A-Car before heading off to close the deal on a safe house. Porter paid cash for his rental car and immediately headed back toward Bedford. On the way, he called the sheriff’s office. He told Sheriff Taylor his name was Walter Scott – a lie backed up by a full set of false identification in his briefcase – and he was an attorney representing the Badagian family. He would be in town later in the day to perform his duties for the family; claiming the personal effects, reviewing the official reports from the coroner and police, examining the vehicle, ensuring the body is cremated in accordance with the family’s wishes, etc … Once the call was done, he popped the battery and sim card out of his phone. Something about that town didn’t sit well with him, and the fact that the most recent death was someone inspecting the telecom network, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Porter’s face-to-face meeting with the sheriff went well. Woody was a nice guy and seemed willing to help. And yet, some of his answers weren’t acceptable to the NSA agent. Sure, the investigation could take a while, but it really shouldn’t. Today was Saturday. Why would he have to wait until Tuesday to collect the body? A homecoming game. Really? So what if the entire town supported their high school. The sheriff had a job to do. Porter wasn’t happy, and he pressed the sheriff to accelerate his timeline. Sheriff Taylor said he would try, but a big city lawyer just had to accept the realities of small-town life. The Bulldogs were a big deal in this town, and homecoming and the Corn Queen Pageant might slow the investigation just a bit.

Atwood decided he would get a room at the Skylark Motel. He didn’t want to stay, but he was a little paranoid, and he wanted to stay in character. A sign on the desk politely requested “three forms of ID for personal checks,” so naturally, he paid cash. Even still, the transaction was finalized with a signature on an electronic display. Screw this town with all its security and surveillance. Watch the room key be electronic, too …

Yes, as it turned out. The door to his room was unlocked by a keycard. Everywhere he went in this town, he felt he was being tracked. Cameras watching everything, electric sliding glass doors probably recording every time they open, keycards to open his motel room door. Whoever they were, they knew his every move, and he didn’t like it. At least there was a fire escape. He could just leave the window unlocked and come and go that way.

Atwood’s heart sunk when he unlocked the window, and yet somehow, he felt he shouldn’t have been surprised. Attached to the frame outside the window was a laser tripwire. A freaking laser tripwire! At a cheap-assed motel. Who had the money for this? Who had the need for all this surveillance? Where was all this information going?

The building with the satellite dish? That had to be it. But why? Why, damn it? Oh, he hated this place. Screw Bedford. Screw Taylor County. For that matter, screw all of Iowa.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 2a*

Since his phone was disassembled, Porter was unable to receive the many text messages Atwood sent regarding all the electronic surveillance in the town. Dempsey had received those messages and the one where Atwood said he was staying at the Skylark. The Irishman sighed. Why, when you know someone is watching everything, would you send a text saying you know they’re watching? When you’re in town investigating the death of someone who was probably killed because he found out something about the telecommunications system in the town, why would you send a text that is probably only going to get you killed, too? And then to follow it up with one giving your current location and room number? Those weren’t even rookie mistakes. Those were suicide notes.

He was across the state line in Missouri, but Atwood’s text was to his number which compromised his phone. Good thing it was a burner. A shame it still had more than 100 minutes on it though. Dempsey called SSA Gomez to let him know the situation and to request access to a satellite phone for the duration of the Operation. Gomez said he’d have it sent directly to the safe house, but it wouldn’t arrive until morning. That was fine.

Topping Dempsey’s list of leads was to check out the scene of the accident. From the briefing, he knew it was on the business highway just outside of town, but he wasn’t sure where. Hopefully, Porter would find that out when he talked to the sheriff. Also, when he went to check it out, he was going to need a cover. The Irishman called one of his contacts for a favor. He needed a convincing forgery of Iowa State Department of Transportation credentials. Wallet, please; lanyards were for losers. His connection said he’d charge it to Dempsey’s tab and have it dropped off in a few hours. 

Dempsey then went out to the shed and smashed his burner phone into a million pieces before putting them in a metal bucket with a bit of gasoline and torching them. Thanks, Atwood. Now he was going to have to get another phone and more minutes.

Porter asked Sheriff Taylor for access to Mr. Badagian’s vehicle and personal effects as well as a copy of the official police report. The sheriff was happy to help. On the way to the evidence lockup, he asked the clerk to get the responding officer’s report printed for Mr. Badagian’s family lawyer.

The evidence lockup was downstairs, as was the jail. In fact, the two men had to walk past the four cells on the way. Porter was surprised to note one of the cells was occupied. The man was asleep, and he had a hat covering his face. The hat was well-worn and sported a logo of a praying mantis with a man in a suit standing behind it holding a gun to its head.

Porter didn’t have a list of Badagian’s possessions, but what was retrieved from the evidence lockup looked about right. He knew the investigator had a cell phone and a laptop computer. In addition to those, there was a wallet with Badagian’s ID, a Leatherman brand multi-tool, and a toolbox with pretty much everything the spook would expect from an FCC investigator. Porter nodded and asked to see the vehicle.

“Of course, Mr. Scott. The car is being held at Archer’s Wrecking and Salvage a couple blocks down the street. Tell you what: I’m about to take off for lunch anyway. I’ll walk you down there.”

Sheriff Taylor led the way back up the stairs. The clerk handed the spook a manila envelope with the police report as they passed.

Porter and the sheriff walked down to the salvage yard and over to Badagian’s white Buick LeSabre from the FCC motor pool. As he examined the car, Porter could feel the sheriff watching his every move, so he made it quick. He wasn’t a forensic scientist, but there were a few things that stood out as potentially interesting. First, the windshield looked like it was smashed inward, and the glass was spidered out from a few different spots. The driver’s side window was also completely gone. Also, the impact didn’t seem to have damaged anything past the front crumple zones. Another thing he noticed was a lack of blood anywhere. Surely the wreck that caused this wasn’t fatal? In fact, Porter got the impression the car would probably start right up. It appeared to his eye the car was fully operational except for the deployed airbag. He nodded matter-of-factly and thanked the sheriff for his time.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 2b*

The laser tripwire on the window bothered Atwood. Almost everything in this town bothered him, but the tripwire was too much. He decided not to leave the room until dark. While he waited, he dismantled the phone in his room and looked it over. He wasn’t sure what a bug would look like, but he wanted to check just to be sure. As far as he could tell, everything appeared right, so he put the phone back together.

He had been periodically peeking outside through a small space between the curtains, and this time, he saw something. A brand new, red Lexus RC Coupe pulled into a parking space a couple spots down from his rental car. The man who stepped out was big. He was one of the darkest-skinned black men Atwood had ever seen, and the FBI man estimated he was about 6’3” and maybe 240 pounds. The man wore a finely-tailored black suit and carried a briefcase.

The behavioral analyst guessed from the way the man dressed and carried himself, he was probably a highly-paid bodyguard. The man hit a button on his key, and the car doors locked with a beep. Atwood watched as he walked up the stairs and entered the room two doors down from his. The agent didn’t want to step outside his room just yet, so he got his binoculars to see if he could get a read on the license plate. Apparently, the guy was from Maryland. Well, at least he wasn’t the only out-of-towner here.

If he was going to be stuck in his room until nightfall, he might as well make some use of his time. What was the name of the woman the Marine recruiter supposedly had a relationship with? Cherry? That was it. Allison Cherry. Atwood opened the phonebook and flipped to C. There was only one Cherry, and it was the right one. He had her number and address. As he was dialing the number on the motel phone, he thought to himself how interesting it was that with all this technology in town, they still bothered to put names and addresses in a phonebook.

Ring … ring … ring … ring … Early afternoon on a Saturday, and he got Ms. Cherry’s answering machine.

He left a message telling her his name was C.H. Brown. He was in charge of administering Captain Rush’s will, and she had been named as a beneficiary. He was in town for a few days and staying at the Skylark Motel, and he’d like to get together with her to discuss the specifics. He left the number for his room phone in case she’d like to get back to him.

While he left the message, he continued to watch outside. At one point near the end of his call, he spotted a charcoal gray Chevrolet Camaro pull up. There was a man in the driver’s seat, a blonde girl in the passenger’s seat, and a brunette girl in the back. He recognized the girls from the diner. The brunette – what was her name? Ashley? – got out and looked around. She looked at the windows of the rooms like she was either making sure she wasn’t being watched or was trying to determine who might be in the rooms. She bounced over to Atwood’s rental car and looked inside before running her hand along the fender. The girl took one more look around before bouncing back over to the Camaro and getting in.

As the car drove away, Atwood put his binoculars to use once more. Most of the Iowa plates he’d seen were white and blue and numbered in black in the format ABC 123, but the Camaro’s plate was white with red lettering and numbered F1403. It also had the firefighter’s insignia on the far left and said ‘FIREFIGHTER’ in place of the county name. Whatever just happened, he didn’t like it. Were the girls stalking him? Did one of them get her father to help?

He didn’t trust the motel Wi-Fi, so he turned his cell phone into a mobile hotspot and connected his laptop to the internet through it. He sent SSAC Gomez an email with a request to trace the two plates. It took about an hour before he got the response:



> *Iowa plates:*
> Will Taylor – Member of Bedford City Council, Captain of Taylor County Fire Department.
> 
> *Maryland plates:*
> Kellan Dunn – Assistant Director of Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), Director of Information Innovation Office (I2O)




A Taylor in the Camaro. No surprise there. But what the hell was an assistant director of DARPA doing in a town like this? Nothing good, for sure. Plus, DARPA meant federal, and that meant this Dunn guy was either a likely candidate to add to the list with Heathcliff, Emmett, Rush, and Badagian, or he was responsible for the list. He sent another text to Porter and Dempsey. Why the hell weren’t they responding? It only added to his feeling of isolation.

While he waited, he decided to look up DARPA and the Information Innovation Office. According to what he could piece together from their website and Wikipedia, this Mr. Dunn was in charge of or related to various projects in the interests of national security, but the projects were wide-ranging, and in a few cases, he questioned their ethics. There was a social engineering project aimed at correcting and directing the behavior of large groups of people with the express purpose (supposedly) of increasing the security of any cyber-networks they might have access to. There was a project for neural implants on soldiers, one for remote-controlled insects, and another for using plant physiology to detect chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear threats.

Damn. All of that was apparently real. And that’s just what made it to the internet. Wait … there was one more that caught his eye, and it sent a shiver down his spine. Combat Zones That See. The project’s goal was evidently to track everything that moves in an area by setting up a massive network of surveillance cameras to a centralized computer system and using artificial intelligence software to identify and track all movement. All movement. Seriously? Sure, DARPA claimed it was for battlefield use, but that could be abused. And if it were abused in the United States, he thought, it would look a lot like Bedford, Iowa.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 2c*

His business in town concluded for the moment, Porter returned to his rental car – the one with Missouri plates and no federal connection – and headed back to the safe house. By the time he got there, Dempsey had received the Iowa DOT credentials from his contact and was ready to go. He ran his plan by Porter, and the NSA man agreed checking the scene of the accident was a good idea. But where exactly did it happen?

Porter dropped the manila envelope on the dining room table next to all the bombs the Irishman had been making, or as he called it, “Irish Coffee.” That was his code word since it was much less likely to be flagged. Porter opened the envelope and read the police report out loud.



> *Taylor County Sheriff’s Report*
> 
> Incident: Auto wreck w/fatality
> Time of Incident: appx 9:35 pm (officer arrived on patrol 9:47 pm)
> Reporting Officer: Larry Funderburk
> Location: 300 yards past mile marker 9 on IA-2.
> 
> Reconstruction: While traveling at a high rate of speed, subject swerved suddenly, ran into a tree growing in the drainage ditch, and was thrown from the car. Swerving may have been caused by headlights of oncoming truck, as many truckers in a hurry use IA-2 as an alternate route to the Interstate.
> 
> Notes: Subject seemed dead when officer arrived; officer took him to St. John’s after examining scene (9:50 pm). Subject wallet ID’d as Neil Badagian, FCC official from Des Moines.




Porter frowned as he read, and his frown only deepened as he neared the end. The information in the report didn’t agree with the state of the vehicle. Again, he wasn’t a forensic scientist, but he didn’t believe the car was going very fast at all judging by the limited damage to the front end. And there was no way Badagian had been thrown from the car. The windshield was spidered from a few solid hits from the outside, but there were no body-sized holes.

Dempsey pointed out another inconsistency: The incident was listed as an auto wreck with fatality, but the note said the subject “seemed dead.” Also, he didn’t believe it was a common practice for a responding officer to load a body up into the patrol cruiser and take it to the hospital. Surely the hospital had an ambulance and EMTs? Never mind the obvious issues with contaminating the scene of an accident. The officer arrived at 9:47, examined the scene for three minutes, and threw the body in the cruiser?

Porter was in complete agreement with the Irishman’s assessment, so they decided to check out the area noted in the report. State Road 2 was a quiet road with inadequate lighting. Fortunately, it was still late afternoon. The agents had no difficulty finding mile marker 9, and 300 yards beyond that, they found the scene of the accident.

Porter may not have been a forensic scientist, but Dempsey had some experience in the area. The Irishman noticed several things on a quick survey of the scene. First of all, there was only one tree, and that tree … That tree? There was no way a Buick hit that tree at a high rate of speed and left it standing. It was big enough to damage a car, sure, but only if it was hit at a slower rate of speed. There were tire tracks which indicated a car had driven off the road here, but the angle was all wrong. They were pointed directly at the tree at an angle and depth which implied the car was lined up and set in motion. He had done that exact thing with the car in Vermont not long ago.

So the car had stopped before being positioned. Porter suggested the only reason to stop here would be if you were being pulled over by the police. The NSA man also spotted broken glass on the shoulder of the road. Glass shouldn’t have broken until impact with the tree. The two men began to put together their reconstruction of events, and it didn’t agree with the police report. It seemed to them, Badagian was pulled over, removed from the vehicle, and beaten to death before being thrown in the police cruiser. The officer then smashed the windshield and pointed the car toward the tree before allowing it to drive off the road. An examination of the body might confirm the assessment, but the agents felt confident they had the right sequence of events.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 2d*

Before concluding the examination of the scene, Porter wanted to be sure they weren’t missing anything. He booted up the VR headset and released one of the quadcopter drones he’d bought with money a hurricane victim would never see. The bird’s eye view revealed rolling hills, farmland, and the occasional tree. A little further down the road, the drone spotted a dense grouping of trees which stood out. Porter directed the drone that way, and he was rewarded. From above, it was easy to see the six-wheel tanker truck parked between the trees, but it would have been well-hidden from the road. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to camouflage it from the side.

He flew the drone closer, and he noticed a familiar logo on the tank: A praying mantis about to be shot execution-style by a man in a suit. It was the same logo on the hat of the man in the jail cell. The name on the tank said “Brewster Pesticide, a Brewster Holdings Company.” This Operation just kept getting better and better. Porter brought the drone back and packed it in the trunk of the rental car.

The two agents walked down to the truck and inspected it. The cab was unlocked, and the 500-gallon tank was locked tight. Dempsey checked the passenger’s side, but the glove box was locked, and so was the center console. No keys above the visor either.

Porter checked the driver’s side. No manifest in the door like most truckers would have, but he found it under the seat. He scanned it for relevant information, and other than the driver’s name – Peter Travis – one thing jumped out. One really big, really bad thing. According to the manifest, the truck was hauling pesticide. The language used would be meaningless to most people, but Porter had had a long career in the spy and anti-terror game. He knew a thing or two about chemicals. What this manifest said to him was that the truck wasn’t just carrying pesticide; it was carrying pesticide enhanced with teratogenic toxins, deadly PCBs, and other hazardous waste.

Dempsey followed all that. It meant this was no pesticide truck. It was a 500-gallon chemical weapon. But who would want it, and why? Porter nodded. Those were good questions. As for who … the driver, Peter Travis, was in lockup, and Sheriff Taylor was holding him for some reason. It was a good bet those two might have a few ideas. Either way, this truck was dangerous, and it needed to be immobilized. Dempsey drew his hunting knife and slashed the three tires on his side before tossing it over the truck lawn dart-style with a “heads up!”

Porter looked up just in time to dodge the blade. He grumbled, but the truck was still the most dangerous thing in the area. He slashed the tires on the driver’s side and handed the knife back to the Irishman as they headed back to the car. It was starting to get dark, and they didn’t want to be near Bedford after sundown. They hoped Atwood was okay on his own, but neither agent was willing to go looking for him or to give him a call. Not in this town. Back to the safe house.

Ms. Cherry had still not returned Atwood’s call, and it was dark enough out by now. The profiler put on his jacket and headed down to his car. He wanted to get the hell out of this town, but that might blow his cover. Even still, he was getting hungry, and … He jumped. Three or four bees landed on his right shoulder or buzzed around it. He swatted them away, but they came back. Not on his left. Not above his head or near his feet. Just his right shoulder. He hurried to the car but stopped short.

There were at least a couple dozen more bees on and around the fender the girl had touched. She’d touched the right side of his neck at the diner, too. Had she sprayed something on him and on his car? Something to attract bees? Or … she couldn’t be working for the guy from DARPA. Right? One of the projects the agency was working on was remote-controlled insects.

He took off his jacket and scooped a few bees from the car. He hurried back inside his room, smashed them, and then opened his jacket. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He wasn’t a biologist or entomologist, but if someone wanted to control an insect remotely, they would need to attach something, right? Like a bee-sized headset? Or maybe turn them into cyborg bees? Then again, maybe this town was just getting to him. Cyborg bees? Really?

All the same, he wanted to be sure. Atwood took a magnet from the refrigerator and touched it to the smashed bees. Little bits of bee did stick to the magnet, but it wasn’t because they were magnetic. Okay, good. Atwood breathed a sigh of relief. That probably meant his cheerleader stalker sicced bees on him on her own. Time for a shower and more waiting. Why the hell didn’t the other two respond to his calls and texts?


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 3a*

The shower didn’t do much to calm his nerves, and so Atwood maintained a careful watch out the window through a crack between the curtains. Every so often, he shot a disapproving frown toward the phone. It was about 7:30 PM when he saw the large black man, Kellan Dunn, leave his room and head down to his car. Atwood took a deep breath. He wasn’t crazy about the idea of leaving his room before the rest of his team made contact, but he needed to know what was so important about Bedford, Iowa that DARPA would send the Assistant Director. As Dunn backed his cherry red Lexus out of the parking space and began to drive away, Atwood quickly slipped down to his rental car to tail him.

Dunn was in no hurry, and there were few other vehicles on the street, so Atwood maintained what he hoped was a safe distance. He watched as the Lexus pulled into the parking lot of the HelpLink building and parked next to the white Honda Civic which happened to be the only other car in the lot. No surprise there. That building was the only one in town with a satellite dish, and those industrial air conditioning units on the roof were just big enough to make him suspicious.

He continued past the HelpLink building and was about to turn around when he noticed the red and blue lights in the rearview mirror. His heart skipped a beat, but that was okay because his lungs forgot to take a breath or two anyway. Should he make a run for it? That didn’t work out well for Badagian. He was near the center of town in a rental car anyway. No way was he getting away by running. Any other time, all the camera coverage would make him feel much safer.

Atwood took a deep breath and pulled over across from the diner. He kept his hands on the wheel and watched his driver’s side mirror. The deputy stopped near the back of the rental car and leaned like he was getting a better look at the license plate. Atwood heard the plastic of his taillight smash, and that seemed to confirm his fear. There was nothing routine about this stop. He rolled down the window as the deputy approached and shined a flashlight inside. The name on the deputy’s uniform identified him as L. Funderburk.

“Know why I pulled you over?”

“I have a few guesses.”

Atwood did his best to keep the snarl and fear out of his voice, but he wasn’t sure it worked. After handing over his rental agreement and driver’s license – his real identification since he didn’t have anything else – he waited patiently as Deputy Funderburk returned to his cruiser to run his checks. So that was it. They knew he was an FBI agent. That put him on the list. Now, the only question was whether they were going to try to kill him now or start calling him from random numbers until he killed himself.

That question was answered when the deputy came back with his license and a $150 ticket for a broken taillight. Phone tag, it was, then. Well, screw this town. They might get his money, but they’d never get the satisfaction of his death. He threw the car into drive and headed cautiously back to the motel. His heart and breath may have skipped earlier, but they were making up for lost time now. After locking the door to his room and barricading it with the dresser, Atwood decided he needed another shower and some very light sleep.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 3b*

Porter was pretty light on sleep as well, and he’d gotten up around 4:00 AM, made some coffee, and started researching. By the time he got his first refill, he had a few relevant items of interest. The Capitol Gazette in Annapolis, Maryland had run an obituary for Captain Rush and a single paragraph a few days ago with the title “Body Found in Bay Believed to be Marine Recruiter.” The Kansas City Star had run only an obituary for Shelley Emmett with no surviving family members listed. The Ames Tribune had run a front-page story following Heathcliff’s arrest. It was light on details, but it promised more information as it came available. It seemed to sensationalize the story, but that was the only story the paper ever ran on it. It made national news, but even those stories seemed to die out after a few days, and nothing substantial was ever reported other than the obvious "tenured professor fired after arrest."

Then there was the Bedford Times-Press. It had a website, but only the day’s brief headlines were available. For a subscription fee of only $32 and an email address, however, he could have access to previous editions and receive an electronic copy of future editions for an entire year. The NSA spook was already connected to the internet through an encrypted chain of proxy servers which changed every five minutes. He also had a refillable gift card for just such an occasion. Now, all he needed was a new fake email address.

A couple of minutes later, Porter was browsing back issues of the Bedford Times. The website was clear and reasonably laid out, but it still had the feel of an amateur website. There were no ads or pop-ups, but there were also no flashy banners proclaiming headlines, and the pictures were all thumbnail size until clicked. Still, it served its purpose. The paper was published on a weekly basis, and the issues were relatively short. They dealt only in items of local interest - mostly bake sales and high school sports - and the articles were rarely more than a paragraph long. It had the feel of a school newspaper.

The most recent edition had a paragraph about the "tragic car accident" on IA-2 east of town, but it spelled Badagian's name wrong - Badaggian. It stated the time of the accident as approximately 9:35 PM. According to police, he was speeding and likely swerved to avoid oncoming headlights.

There were no articles on the other three deaths, but two other articles from past issues did pop out. Merle Vaughn, pastor of the Bedford Evangelical Church of God, hung himself in the church office in 2008. The paper speculated that it had something to do with the fact that he was recently outed as gay. The other article mentioned the fatal electrocution of Steve Gibbs, an Ameritech telephone repairman who was helping bring the town’s phone system back up after the 2010 flood. That could potentially raise the body count to six. Maybe seven if Atwood wasn’t careful. Porter decided that should probably be the first line of business for the day; finding Atwood and regrouping.

Dempsey agreed. Of course, he had just woken up and hadn’t had his coffee yet, so he reserved the right to change his mind before lunchtime. It was Sunday morning. Hopefully, they could get everything resolved today and get out of Iowa before the homecoming game and the Corn Queen Pageant.

Porter and Dempsey resisted the urge to grab breakfast a safe distance from Bedford, and they arrived in town about 7:00 AM. Atwood’s last communication had been the text reporting he was staying at the Skylark Motel. That was just before Dempsey’s burner phone became a literal burner phone. A quick scan of the Skylark on their first pass revealed Atwood’s rental car and a cherry red Lexus a few spots down from it. As they were in the other car provided by FEMA, Porter was okay with pulling up next to Atwood’s car.

Dempsey was about to get out and run up to Atwood’s room, but he didn’t need to. Atwood had apparently been watching. The FBI agent came quickly down the stairs and hopped into the backseat. The agents had no trouble on the way out of town, and while it was highly unlikely anyone could hear them, none of the agents spoke until they were a few miles clear of Bedford. Something about that town hit all the triggers for paranoia.

The first stop was to switch vehicles for the one Porter had rented on his own. Then it was off to the Denny’s in Hopkins. Each agent filled the others in on what he’d found, and then they discussed the situation to put everything in perspective. Porter didn’t like the thought of the Assistant Director of DARPA in Bedford. It didn’t help that he apparently had business to conduct at that HelpLink place. That’s where the answers were going to be. Whatever reasons were behind all the security, surveillance, and secrecy, they were in that building and Assistant Director Dunn’s head.

But how the hell were they going to get in there? It was a good bet there were at least half a dozen traffic cameras with a view of that place, not to mention the electronic eye on the front door and the keycard locks on the side doors. Stealth wasn’t an option. Maybe just walk in the front door during business hours and have a look around? Badges might get them access, but they’d almost certainly get them on the murder list.

Dempsey pointed out Atwood was already on that list, and Atwood pointed out that Dempsey could take this fork and shove it straight up … Porter slapped the table which spilled some coffee but seemed to diffuse the already overly-tense situation.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 3c*

They all agreed no one was going anywhere alone in Bedford for the time being. Atwood was already on someone’s radar, and to be safe, they were going to assume his calls and internet use were monitored if not traced. The plan, then, was to head back to the safe house and put Gomez and his team to work digging up any and all information on Assistant Director Kellan Dunn and why he might be in Bedford. Anything he could get on HelpLink would be a plus as well.

The waiting was tough, but it was preferable to the paranoia of that damned town. It was after noon before Gomez got back to them with a brief email.



> My sources can confirm Dunn had close association with MJ-6, Project PLUTO though details are hard to come by. No connection to Delta Green or any of our operations. I've got feelers out on his Project PLUTO connection. Will let you know what I find tomorrow afternoon. Recommend caution. If you disappear him, he'll be missed.




Porter growled. The other two had a bad feeling, but they were too new to realize the implications. MJ-6, Project PLUTO.

“I don’t know what the hell Project PLUTO is, but MJ-6 is bad news. It’s … It _was_ a section of Majestic-12. But those bastards were infiltrated and dismantled, and their assets were reallocated. They were Above Top Secret U.S. black budget just like us. DARPA and Majestic … son-of-a-bitch. This ain’t good, gentlemen. Whatever he’s doing there, and whatever is in that building, you can be sure nothing good is going to come from it. Gomez is getting us more information tomorrow, so I say we hit up a liquor store and drink to the dead tonight. We’ll probably be seeing ‘em soon.”

Atwood nodded solemnly, but the Irishman wasn’t convinced. In fact, the way Dempsey saw it, that whole town, HelpLink, DARPA, and whatever the hell PLUTO was could all go screw themselves somewhere very uncomfortable. There was no reason for any of them to die tomorrow. Except maybe Atwood. He was on the list, after all.

No. Porter was finishing the job. So was Atwood. Dempsey sighed and declared none of his team was dying in that hellhole tomorrow without him. On one condition, of course: The Irishman does the liquor shopping. None of this Budweiser swill those Americans like to drink. It was going to be Bushmills 21-Year-Old. Straight. There was a nod of agreement from Porter. Atwood wrinkled his nose, but he agreed as well. He’d much rather have the Budweiser.

With nothing more to do but wait until tomorrow, the agents shared the Bushmills and old war stories while they played poker for pretzels. Morning came early.

Delta Green work aside, Porter’s life had become rather comfortable in recent decades. Whereas he had been somewhat of a risk-taker as a young field operative, his promotion to case officer capped off his gradual conservative slide. With that promotion came the comfort of a nice house, two cars, and a couple of ex-wives. He slept well any other time, but never on a Delta Green Op. When the Program activated him, he knew he was in for light and broken sleep for the duration. He was always the one to make the coffee because he was always the one awake at 4:00 AM.

Dempsey was up in time for breakfast, but the Bushmills had done a number on Atwood. The FBI agent was dead to the world, and it looked like he might be in that condition until noon or so. Porter and Dempsey decided to head out for breakfast, and when Atwood still hadn’t rolled off the couch several hours later, they headed out for lunch, too. The Irishman decided if they survived and worked together again, he and Porter would split the good stuff, and Atwood could have all the Budweiser he liked.

True to his word, Gomez sent an encrypted email just before 3:00 PM. It contained some useful information that Porter immediately wished it didn’t.



> MJ-6 PLUTO evaluated all scientific and technological information received from Extraterrestrial Biological Entities. It had a host of sub-projects.
> 
> ARC DREAM was a sub-project of MJ-6 PLUTO which handled biotechnology transfers from an alien intelligence known as the Greys. ARC DREAM primarily served a management and bureaucratic function for its own sub-projects.
> 
> Sub-Project BOUNCE was designed to develop Super-Soldiers based on alien DNA and anatomy. The goal was to make "clean" soldiers who were immune to CBR/NBC warfare.
> 
> Sub-Project CATALYST handled the main body of ARC DREAM research and had become more of a production house which occasionally spun off further sub-projects. Catalyst had perfected the accelerated growth of human embryos and fetuses to adulthood in a period of several weeks. However, the more growth factor used to accelerate development, the greater the risk of biological failure.
> 
> Sub-Project CORE had the greatest potential for drastic, world-altering effects. If each experiment is taken separately, CORE simply altered microbes, animals, and biochemistry. Viewed as a whole, CORE provided the advent of a new global ecology; an ecology based on genetic engineering and alien science.
> 
> Sub-Project RECOIL had been producing physiologically altered NRO DELTA and MJ-5 BLUE FLY personnel since 1993. The test subjects had been given enhanced strength through the use of advanced steroids and specially designed adrenaline-producing organs. The musculature had to be nanotechnologically enhanced in order to prevent injury from the increased biochemical strength. One RECOIL test subject had even been given a musculature which had been wholly replaced by extra-dimensional myomers. The skeletal structure had also been regrown and gradually converted into a diamond matrix by nanotechnology in order to bear the great weights and stresses imposed by enhanced strength. All this caused great agony in RECOIL subjects which was partially cured by neurosurgery and painkillers.
> 
> An ARC DREAM researcher, one Dr. Brian Cherry, is confirmed to have a daughter, Allison, in Bedford, Iowa. He went underground after reappropriation of Majestic assets. Fortunately, ARC DREAM has been shut down, and Dr. Cherry has not resurfaced. Dr. Cherry may have sought out his daughter. If your group finds evidence of ARC DREAM activity, eliminate it covertly. There are elements in governments worldwide which would love to get their hands on Dr. Cherry's research.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 3d*

As Porter read the email aloud, Atwood opened his bleary eyes and tried to focus on the ceiling. The FBI man swung his feet around and stood up.

“So, we’re talking aliens and genetic engineering? Okay. Let’s forget for a moment that Gomez is suggesting aliens are real, and our government has supposedly been dealing with them like Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones. Whatever the source of the genetic engineering, that’s got to be why DARPA is there. That Assistant Director Dunn guy is in charge of some messed up stuff. I mean, neural implants on soldiers, using plants nuclear threats, remote-controlled insects … Aliens or not, that’s some mad science.”

Porter agreed. He confirmed that aliens were, in fact, real. And genetic engineering for super soldiers was not something he was going to let happen. ARC DREAM was shut down for a reason, and if this Dr. Cherry was continuing his research in Bedford, it was going to stop.

“If we find evidence of ARC DREAM activity … Atwood, you said there was something off about those cheerleaders you got the tickets from, yeah?”

Atwood nodded.

“If you call color-shifting eyes and bee summoning ‘something off,’ then yeah. But I’m not eliminating cheerleaders, covertly or otherwise.”

Dempsey had no such moral dilemma. The Irishman announced he’d be happy to off a couple unnatural athletic supporters as long as it turned out they really were unnatural. But first and foremost, the mad science needed to stop. And to that end, some not-so-mad science might help. He suggested rigging the Brewster Holdings dirty bomb to take out the HelpLink building, but Porter didn’t think it would be enough. The air conditioning units on the roof screamed multiple sub-basements, and what they were after was most likely at the very bottom.

Okay, then. How were they going to get down there? The sheriff had said the police investigation would be on hold until Tuesday if it didn’t wrap up by Sunday night. He’d suggested the whole town would be at the game. If that was even close to accurate, the HelpLink building might be empty, or lightly guarded at worst. Sure, the traffic cameras would probably pick them up entering the building, but as long as no alarms were tripped, they might make it in and out and be long gone before anyone even thought to check the tapes. And if they were really cautious, there might be no reason for anyone to check the tapes at all.

Atwood was on their radar – whoever the hell _they_ were – and he was expected to be at the game. Then again, he’d bought three tickets and said he had a couple friends in town with him. Score another one for Atwood. Dempsey grumbled.

Well, they couldn’t all go to the game. In fact, Porter said, all three of them would be needed for the HelpLink raid. But what if someone noticed they weren’t there? The tickets had RFID chips. That was it, then. Porter suggested they all attend the game long enough to ditch their tickets at the stadium. They might even do a little recon while they were there. Then they could leave the game and head to HelpLink. Anyone tracking their tickets would think they were still at the game.

Kickoff was at 6:30 PM, but Atwood said the cheerleaders would be getting the crowd pumped up by 6:00. Just in case things went pear-shaped, the agents decided to each take a different car. Porter would drive the car he rented, and Dempsey would drop Atwood off at the motel to pick up the other car. Then they’d caravan to the game, ditch their tickets, and caravan to HelpLink.

The agents headed out a little before 6:00. It was breezy, and storm clouds from the southwest followed them all the way to Bedford. The wind steadily picked up the closer they got, and by the time they arrived, all of Bedford was blanketed in the dark clouds.

The streets seemed deserted. Local businesses were closed, and the few vehicles to be seen were parked in private driveways with two exceptions: a cherry red Lexus RC coupe with Maryland plates and a white Honda Civic were parked next to each other in an otherwise-empty HelpLink parking lot. That was something. Assistant Director Dunn and … probably Dr. Cherry were there, but the building looked deserted. The raid might go smoothly after all.

As the bright lights over the Bedford High School football field come into view, the reason for the empty town was confirmed. Nearly every available parking space for a half-mile around the school was taken. It would seem the entire county had shown up for this game and the Corn Queen Pageant to follow it. Kickoff wasn't for another 20 minutes yet, but true to their word, the cheerleaders could be heard leading the crowd in various chants.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 3e*

Despite the distractions created by the lights, music, and chanting, the agents were quick to notice the Taylor County school bus with the Taylor County Cornhuskers logo emblazoned on the side. A stocky man leaned against the large front tire next to the door. His face was shrouded by the bill of his trucker hat, but the orange dot of a cigarette shined out from the shadow. On the bus and near the back seats, another man seemed to be yelling angrily into a cellphone and pacing very tight circles in the aisle. The only available parking space within a half-mile happened to be right next to the bus.

Dempsey pulled into that spot while the other two circled the lot and headed off to find somewhere else to park. The smoking man put out his cigarette and approached Dempsey’s car waving his hands in a shooing motion, but the man on the bus calls to him from a window.

"Don't worry about it, Jim. Let him park there. Coach Anderson's not gonna make it anyway. Neither is Cody."

Jim just shrugged and headed back to the front of the bus as the other man stepped out into the parking lot. The Irishman thanked Jim in a tone that was smart-assed even for him, but Jim just narrowed his eyes, spit, and lit another cigarette. The man who had been on the phone continued talking to the smoking man.

"Damnit, Jim. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Kickoff is in twenty minutes. Somebody knifes Cody's tires and keys his car, so he catches a ride with Coach Anderson. Then the coach ties his car around a tree. Now I gotta go out there and coach this team on my own without a damned quarterback? Damn! I hate this town."

Jim just listened along and made small grunts of agreement. It sounded to Dempsey like the smart money was on the Bulldogs, and maybe someone had made a point of ensuring that. Once Porter and Atwood walked up, the Irishman joined them, and the three headed toward the stadium entrance.

The stands on both sides of the field were packed with supporters of each team. A quarter-mile track of asphalt divided into six lanes encircled the chain link fence containing the football field. The teams were warming up at opposite sides of the field, and each school's cheerleaders were bouncing, swishing, kicking, and cartwheeling on the track in front of their respective team's stands.

A cheerful young man with thick glasses and a Bedford High School Academic Team sweater passed their tickets below a scanner which beeped happily. Just on their left as they entered was a concession stand selling hamburgers, hot dogs, pretzels, nachos, and sodas of all sizes. Atwood took the tickets and dumped them in a trash can, and after Dempsey finished buying a pretzel and a Dr. Pepper, the agents walked back out to the parking lot. The kid in the glasses and sweater called after them as they exited.

"Make sure you have your tickets with you so you can get back in!"

While the parking lot was full of vehicles, it seemed to be devoid of life. It was an odd realization, but it was one that couldn’t be denied. There were no people or animals anywhere around, the trees had all long since lost their leaves, and the agents were alone in the middle of it all. Everyone in town seemed to be packed into the stadium.

The wind picked up even more in a sort of escort as they made their way back to their vehicles. It looked like storm clouds were still rolling in at a frantic pace, packing them more and more densely together. They were churning and swirling directly over the HelpLink building. In fact, as they pulled their respective vehicles into the HelpLink parking lot, they could see a vortex directly above the building. The only electrical activity in the sky was around the vortex, and it caused the dark clouds to light up periodically. Between those times, the agents could make out a clear, starry sky in the eye of the maelstrom of roiling clouds.

As the agents got out of their vehicles, the lightning flashed around the vortex again, and all three agents had their eyes drawn to the sky. As the clouds lit up, they could make out the contrast of something – a ball, a meteor, a van … Something big and dark streaked from the stars directly through the hole in the clouds and into the HelpLink roof. They didn’t have time to comprehend what they’d seen much less take action before it hit.

The sheer force of the impact knocked them flat on their backs from 50 yards away, and it shattered the glass doors and windows of the building. It took a minute or two before the agents could regain their senses and stand up. By that time, everything was quiet again. All that could be heard was the wind and a football game in the distance.


----------



## Michael Silverbane

I have not read the new installment yet, but I wanted to stop in quickly and say that I am so glad that there are further updates. This Story Hour has been very cool


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## Audrik

Thanks! Once you have read it, please do feel free to let me know what you think.

We've had numerous scheduling conflicts and random occurrences recently, so the next installment may be the last for a while. We fully intend to continue with the game, and I'll definitely write up every session, but we need to iron out scheduling and venue. It's looking like taking the game to Roll20 is going to be the most likely result. One player is deciding whether he's going to stay in town (and if so, where) or find another place in Alaska where he can put his education to use. My wife and I are also discussing moving back to the Lower-48 possibly as soon as this Fall.

I've definitely got plans for the game though. I have two solid Ops worked out at least 80% or so, and a million other ideas as usual. Roll20 might provide a wider pool of players, too. My city has about 30,000 people or so, and I can almost guarantee I'm the only person here ever to run Delta Green. Still, I've [-]subjected[/-] brought the wonders of Delta Green to ... 20 people, I think.


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## Audrik

It's the end of the fiscal year here in Alaska, and that means as a governmental accountant, it's by far the busiest time of the year for me. Add to that the fact that my step-kids are visiting for the summer, and it adds up to almost no free time for me. That alone should be enough of an excuse for taking so long to post the finale to the Opera, but wait! There's more! The write-up is about twice as long as my standard session write-up, so ... well, there's that.

Unfortunately, this represents the last installment until we manage to get schedules worked out again, and that may be after summer. Still, we do plan to continue.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4a*

As the agents regained their senses and rose to their feet, it was Atwood who broke the silence.

“The hell was that? A meteor?”

Dempsey was staring wide-eyed with a grin. At times like this, when he was truly and entirely enthralled, his accent could become heavy and thick.

“Oi don't nu, but if i'd 'av 'ad wan, oi might not 'av 'ad ter leave Éire.”

Atwood blinked at the Irishman for a moment, and his blank expression gradually became one of contempt. When he replied, he lingered on the initial ‘W’ and dragged it out.

“What?”

Dempsey had either not heard the FBI profiler, or he was ignoring him. Porter clarified the Irishman’s words for Atwood as he started covering the ground to the building.

“He said he doesn’t know, but if he’d had one, he might not have had to leave Éire – Ireland. For the record, I have no idea what the hell that was either, but I don’t hear alarms or sirens.”

No alarms or sirens. Porter saw it as an opportunity. Dempsey saw it as an invitation. Atwood was sure it was a trap. Regardless, they were all sure there were answers somewhere in that building, and now there was an easy way in. The Irishman jogged to catch up with Porter, and Atwood followed but lagged behind. All three agents drew their guns.

The three stepped through the shattered glass doors. The building was eerily quiet. They could hear dripping water and a dull wind near the center of the large room, but the only light came from the light posts in the parking lot and the sliver of moonlight filtering through a large crack in the ceiling.

All three agents lit their flashlights, and each had a different way of holding it with his gun. Porter held his with his thumb closest to the lens and just below the grip of his pistol. Atwood held his with his pinky closest to the lens and to the side of his pistol with his wrists touching. Dempsey held his out to one side and pointed his gun in the other direction.

Beyond the reception area with brochures, newspapers, magazines, and teal couches, the room was essentially just a large secretarial pool. Ceiling tiles in the center of the room had either fallen or were hanging precariously. The crack in the roof had to have been almost 100 feet long, and the satellite dish was hanging inward on a sagging section of roof.

A door on the far wall was labeled ‘Training Evaluation Office,’ and not far from that was the steel door of an elevator. Closer to the agents, another door was labeled ‘Stair Access to Roof and Basement.’ Dempsey and Atwood were about to head up to the roof when Porter stopped them. He said they needed to clear the ground floor first before heading off. Besides, there was something off about that Training Office. For all the security in this town, why did this one door have a standard mechanical lock and no electronics?

Porter led the way, and the other two followed. The NSA spook was the only one trained in this sort of thing, and whatever fell from the sky would probably still be on the roof when they cleared this floor. The door was unlocked, and Porter stood to one side and pushed it open. When nothing exploded, screamed, or shot at them, he whipped around and pointed his gun at the room in general.

Power seemed to be out to the rest of the building, but this room had three computer workstations running at full power. It was difficult to tell at a glance just what the computers were doing, but it was obviously not “training evaluation.” Each computer had three monitors, and each monitor displayed continuously updating graphs, charts, and lists. One monitor also had an open window cycling through live-streaming video from traffic cameras in Bedford. Each workstation had thick cables running through holes in the floor, and Porter said they were likely connected to a mainframe on a lower level.

The three workstations had various personal touches of the workers who manned them; pictures of family members, Bedford Bulldogs Football bobblehead, birthday cards, Bedford High School desk calendar with "Homecoming game and pageant!!" written in red ink on today's date, etc ... The room looked like the typical IT office, just with overly-expensive computer equipment. There was nothing to imply an evacuation any more hurried than your usual end-of-the-workday exodus, but Atwood still didn’t like the feeling he was getting.

Other than the door through which the agents entered, there were two other exits; a concrete-walled stairway in the opposite wall leading up and down and a door to their left with a mechanical lock and a plaque identifying it as the office of a Dr. Clark.

The door to Dr. Clark’s office was unlocked and opened easily to reveal a small, windowless office containing a desk, computer with a single monitor, and a modular shelving unit. Several computer printouts were stacked neatly on the desk, and Dempsey flipped through them. They contained a wide variety of charts, graphs, and lists ranging from a complete traffic-flow map of Bedford to the likelihood of Bedford residents to call phone-sex lines broken down by demographic subcategories. Porter and Atwood would have found all of that quite interesting and important, but the Irishman just yawned and failed to mention it.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4b*

Atwood checked the drawers of the desk. In one, he found two brown folders. One was packed with what appeared to be blackmail evidence on Sheriff Taylor; pictures of him and various official-looking people exchanging briefcases and folders for thick envelopes, two years of his bank statements showing countless large cash deposits, and an envelope with a lock of brown hair and a small glass jar of what was probably blood. The second folder contained several printouts of emails between Dr. Clark and people from various .gov addresses and a company called Brewster Holdings. One email from Kellan Dunn marked Top Secret mentioned DARPA projects called Mind's Eye (to develop visual intelligence in machines) and CTS - Combat Zones That See (to "track everything that moves" in a city by linking up a massive network of surveillance cameras to a centralized computer system). Another email mentioned a late-September visit to inspect progress and to meet with someone named Dr. Cherry regarding his research.

Before the agents could discuss the implications, the relative silence was broken by the sound of twisting or snapping steel from somewhere down below and off in the direction of the elevator followed immediately by a crash. Porter spoke in a hushed growl.

“Put it all back. We need to move, and we can come back for it later if we need it.”

The sound came from below, and that’s where Porter wanted to go, but Atwood and Dempsey wanted to check the roof first. Atwood thought it would be good to clear the building systematically from top to bottom; he also didn’t want anything to do with the sound of ripping steel. Dempsey just wanted to see what hit the roof and find out if he could make one. It was two against one, and none of the agents wanted to be the one to go off alone, so the roof it was.

The concrete-walled stairwell from the Training Evaluation Office led up to a heavy steel door. Porter tested the handle and found that it was unlocked on the inside, but pushing it open, he saw that it would lock behind them with an RFID keycard lock if they let it close. Dempsey propped the door open with his flashlight, and the agents stepped out to examine the roof. The wind was starting to settle, and the vortex of clouds directly above the building seemed to be dissipating.

There was a three-foot wall around the perimeter of the roof to prevent accidental falls, and while the HelpLink building was only one story above ground, the entire town of Bedford could be seen from their vantage. The town was dark as far as the eye could see - everywhere except the Bedford High School football field. It appeared for all the world that literally the entire town was there. The wind carried the faint sounds of a marching band which seemed to indicate halftime.

The industrial air conditioning unit was even more imposing up close. It was most definitely too large for a building the size of the HelpLink Training Facility. The satellite dish hung at a precarious angle as it dipped down into the building through the long gash in the roof. Something large hit at an angle very close to the dish and came to a skidding and bouncing halt after almost 100 feet. Whatever it was, it likely weighed at least 500 pounds, and it was probably closer to 1,000. It was also probably a little smaller than a Volkswagen Beetle. A meteor that size would have devastated the town, and besides, it hadn't been glowing; it had been black against the electric glow of the storm.

Following the path of the object's landing led the agents' eyes to the other hole. There had been a second roof-access door near the front of the building where the other stairwell was, but the twisted sheet of steel and electronics which had once served as that door now laid discarded several feet away. Dempsey's assessment was the object had to have come to a stop at least 50 feet away from the stairwell so the impact couldn't have destroyed the door, never mind that it had been ripped outward rather than pushed inward. Either the door had already been in this condition, or something had demolished it. A shiver went down their spines at that assessment. Porter frowned.

“It look like something landed on the roof, picked itself up, and demolished that big-assed steel door to anyone else?”

Atwood nodded slowly with a gulp. Dempsey just looked down at his pistol and sighed.

There were no scorch marks visible anywhere on the roof which lent further doubt to the meteor possibility. The concrete of the roof access appeared to have been toppled backward away from the door while the door itself was pulled in the other direction. Exactly _how_ it happened might have been a mystery, but it would have taken something with the size and strength of a construction vehicle to yank the door free, and whatever did it had left patches of a sticky black residue like battery acid.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4c*

Looking down the stairwell illuminated by flashlights and emergency lighting, Atwood spotted a mangled security camera. Dempsey’s quick scan of the roof access through which they'd emerged revealed another well-hidden and intact camera. Given the lack of a door on the other stairwell, the Irishman decided it was safe to retrieve his flashlight.

With Atwood in the lead, the agents carefully descended the concrete stairs. The metal handrails had been severely corroded in many places, and so they were less than useless. They gave the impression that if someone were to put a little weight on them, collapse would be imminent.

The door to the HelpLink lobby from the ground floor stairwell landing was in bad shape as well. The handle, hinges, and other metal components were so severely corroded that they'd likely never work as intended again, though they'd been so weakened that a good kick would probably bring the door crashing down.

From this landing, Atwood could see a body slumped against the wall on the next flight down. The body was easily identifiable as private security by his body armor and other gear. Like the rails and door, everything metal on the guard's person seemed corroded and useless. The handgun in his hand, a Glock 36, looked like it might still be in working order. Once the agents made it down to the body, a closer look revealed brown and black streaks around his mouth. His skin had a slightly bluish tinge, the tongue was swollen and black, and he was covered in brownish-black vomit. The man’s skin was dry, tight, and flaky as if he’d experienced rapid dehydration. Porter was no doctor, but he was a chemist. He gave his diagnosis in a grim tone.

“Call me crazy, but this looks like the fatal side of sulfuric acid poisoning. That would explain the corrosion on all the metal, too.”

Well, yeah. It would explain the corrosion, but Atwood wanted to know just what the hell explained the sulfuric acid in the first place. There wasn’t an explanation for that unless they wanted to go with the “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang goes rogue” angle. Dempsey joked that Dick Van Dyke had some explaining to do, but he was met with glares from the other two, so he just shrugged.

Disney-based explanations aside, the evidence seemed to support Porter’s theory. Atwood suggested they all put on gloves just in case, but the other two held up their already-gloved hands. Well, Dempsey held up an already-gloved middle finger, but the message was the same; you don’t raid the enemy stronghold in an overly-secure town under cover of darkness without gloves. Then again, as Dempsey pointed out, it wasn’t like Atwood was going to get added to Sheriff Taylor’s kill list a second time, though he might move up a spot or two.

The initial shock and witty banter out of the way, Dempsey studied the landing. The body was slumped against the wall at the mid-floor landing. He had apparently been running up the stairs from the room below when he turned back toward the room and fired several rounds.

The air down at this level irritated the agents’ eyes and nasal passages. The heavy steel door at the bottom of the stairs had been ripped from its frame with the digital keypad lock still in place. The room beyond was well-lit and apparently running on generator power rather than emergency power like the ground floor and stairwells. There were white flashing lights near the ceiling at regular intervals which appeared to be some sort of silent alarm.

Only a few feet inside the doorway were six lumps of copper with a thick turquoise patina and a scattering of rust. So, whatever they were following could not only dehydrate a man and turn him blue, but it also worked fast enough to rust and corrode bullets. Fantastic.

Several racks of computer equipment lined the walls of the room. It appeared to be a server room with expensive equipment. None of it seemed to have been touched. The only other exits from the room were the other stairwell leading to the Training Evaluation Office and an open elevator shaft. The elevator doors had been removed and cast aside much like the other stairwell doors.

Dempsey questioned whether Bedford really deserved their help. After all, no one in this town had proven themselves to be worth helping. Plus, nothing good went down that open elevator shaft, so nothing good was likely to come back out. It’s not like there was a surprise party at the bottom with birthday hats, Guinness, and Pin the Beard on the Leprechaun. No. There was an evil, flying Disney car armed with acid and who-knows-what-else. Screw Bedford. Screw Iowa.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4d*

That last bit got no argument from the other two, but all the same, this was their job. This was small-town America. That alone meant Bedford deserved their help. Dempsey wasn’t so sure.

The Irishman inched up to the elevator shaft and slowly peeked down. The corroded ends of what used to be elevator cables hung in the shaft, and he could see the mangled remains of the elevator car about 30 feet down where the elevator doors to the sublevel had been ripped away. This seemed like the only way down to the sublevel, but no amount of button mashing or security badge scanning would bring that elevator car back up. There were iron ladder rungs driven into the walls of the shaft for maintenance and emergencies, and the ones Dempsey could see clearly looked only slightly corroded.

He sighed and started carefully descending the shaft. He was careful to test every rung before putting his full weight on it. Seeing the Irishman disappear into the depths, Porter followed, and Atwood brought up the rear. The FBI profiler grumbled something about being seriously pissed off if he died in Iowa.

Most of the rungs were still relatively safe, and after a minute or so, all three agents stepped over the landing and out of the shaft on the sublevel. Like the stairwell outside the room above, the air on the sublevel stung their eyes and nasal passages. Beyond the elevator shaft was a wide hallway extending about 200 feet. The concrete floor was littered with the same copper lumps with the same turquoise-patina as they’d found on the floor above, and it looked as if handfuls of rust had been scattered about.

A large steel door at the end of the hall was closed and fully intact. Two bodies were slumped below it. They seemed to have suffered the same fate as the man in the stairwell. A camera in the ceiling at the end of the hall was positioned to capture anything that occurred between the elevator and the door. There was also a panel and computer screen to each side of the door. Porter said they were designed for synchronized handprint and iris scans.

Dempsey gave the camera the same single-fingered salute he’d given Atwood earlier when he had a terrifying realization. Apparently, Porter had had the same realization, because the NSA man spoke barely above a whisper.

“Anything seem off about this door to you two?”

The Irishman nodded.

“You mean the fact that it’s still intact? Yeah. But how?”

Atwood gave voice to the suspicions the other two had already formed. Someone on the other side had let it through.

Dempsey shivered. He then glared at the camera before picking up one of the blue-skinned corpses.

“Right. I’ll get Brainy, here. Atwood, you get Jokey. Let’s muppet these bastards and get the door open. Then we can execute Papa Smurf and get the hell out of here.”

Atwood lifted the other corpse while Porter aimed his gun at the door. Sulfuric acid poisoning, or whatever, at least their hands and eyes still worked. The steel doors slid open. The room on the other side was an odd mix of chemistry lab and surgery room. In the center was a wooden podium with a scroll of some sort clipped to the flat surface and blood-covered pottery shards littering the base.

On the right-hand side of the room, a large black man – Kellan Dunn – lied face down on a steel operating table. His wrists and ankles were held by steel restraining cuffs, and he was naked from the waist up. The flesh of his back had been peeled open, and his spine was visible. He was conscious and not sedated, but he was handling the pain remarkably well. A middle-aged man in a white lab coat stood over Mr. Dunn, and he had just finished injecting something into the man's spine with a nasty-looking syringe.

The only other exit from the room was a single steel door to the left-hand side. It had been ripped from its frame in the same manner as the others, and the agents could see a long, dimly lit tunnel beyond.

Porter stepped into the room with his gun pointed directly at the doctor’s face. Dempsey followed next and aimed his weapon at the man on the table. Atwood stepped in last, dropped his gun, and turned to vomit.

The doctor dropped the syringe and raised his hands.

“Wait, wait! Don’t shoot! It’s not us you should be worried about.”

Kellan Dunn lifted his head enough to scan the room with glazed over eyes that didn't seem to focus before he dropped it back to the steel operating table. Porter growled. He wanted to shoot someone, but now he got to sit through the whole “villain giving away the evil plan because the heroes are too late” cliché instead. At least it would buy time for Atwood to recover. Dunn was strapped down with his spine showing, but they just might need all three guns for this.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4e*

“I’m guessing you’re Dr. Brian Cherry? Okay, doc. What should we be worried about instead?”

Dr. Cherry’s leisurely speaking pace contrasted sharply with the urgency of his words. He nodded his head toward the tunnel.

"What you _should_ be worried about went that way. The tunnel lets out on the far side of the HelpLink parking lot."

“Yeah? And we should believe you … why? Tell me why you’re not blue, doc.”

“You’re down here, so you must have some idea why. My associate here needs me, so that thing he called – the thing you _should_ be worried about – let me be.”

Atwood, who had recovered, felt Dr. Cherry's blasé demeanor despite the guns and the open-back surgery in progress indicated a psychological blockage, as though the doctor was suppressing recent trauma or stress by being overly-cold and logical. Much like Atwood himself was doing, actually. Doctor Cherry continued in his same calm tone and leisurely pace.

"You should take a look at the scroll on the podium. It's fascinating reading ... not that there's anything you can do to stop the thing now. It's discharged its duty, and now it collects payment."

Whatever that meant, it sounded bad. Porter was about to press for more details when Dempsey let loose a string of expletives in a heavy Irish brogue. The other two agents jumped at the sudden outburst, but Dr. Cherry hardly blinked.

The Irishman called attention to Dunn and the operating table. The surgical steel restraints and operating table were rusting. Surgical steel was extremely resistant to corrosion and rust, and yet they were rusting. The source seemed to be the man on the operating table, the man whose opened back and exposed spine were healing.

Dempsey fired two rounds, and almost immediately, half of the back of Dunn's head exploded like an egg with a spongy black yolk. The agents froze momentarily. Two rounds from Dempsey’s gun should have killed Dunn, but they shouldn’t have caused his head to explode. Ignoring that fact for the moment, Dunn’s brain should most definitely not have been a spongy black.

As the chunks of brain-mass spattered across Dr. Cherry's face, he hit the ground with a blood-curdling scream. The man frantically clawed at his face in a futile attempt to clear it. That wasn’t quite good enough for Porter. The NSA spook kept his gun trained on the fallen doctor.

Dunn's body went limp and motionless on the still-rusting table. His restraints were now little more than red dust. His wounds still seemed to be healing slowly, so Dempsey took the opportunity to toss one of his special explosive “Irish Coffee” devices into the opening in Dunn’s back before it healed completely. There’s no way that body should be healing like that, and he was sure there was no way it would heal completely … or so he told himself. All the same, it was far better to be safe.

While the Irishman handled Dunn and Porter had Cherry covered, Atwood stepped forward to interrogate the doctor. First, he dropped a towel on Cherry’s head and set a gallon jug of distilled water next to him. It could be tough to get anything useful out of a man whose face was literally melting. Doctor Cherry furiously mopped the black brain-mass from his face and took slow deep breaths to calm himself. Though he’d never say it, Porter admired the man’s ability to withstand pain and remain in control.

Once his face was relatively clear of the acid, Dr. Cherry looked up from the floor and spoke between gasping breaths.

"Look ... I don't know who you are ... or what you want, but ... you just cost me one hell of a steady paycheck. You let me gather my research, and cover me while I get to my car, and I can promise you I'll make it worth your while. I have a few off-shore accounts. How does $5 million each sound? Just to walk away from this. I'll disappear again. Win-win, right?"

Despite the gravity of his situation, the doctor honestly seemed to believe he had the upper hand. Atwood laughed, but the other two agents appeared to consider the offer. Porter was close to retirement anyway; he had another year or two left with the NSA at most, and he wanted to be done with this sort of work for good. And Dempsey … hell, give the Irishman $5 million, and he might almost be willing to trade his Bushmills for Jack Daniels for life. Well, ten years. Actually, make that a year, minus special occasions like his birthday, his mother’s birthday, St. Patrick’s Day, Tuesday, and Christmas. Okay, never mind all that. Give him the $5 million, and he’d have a shot of Jack as long as no one was looking.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4f*

“You guys can’t seriously be considering …”

Atwood was in disbelief which was odd because he was a professionally trained psychologist. It must have been his young idealism or the fact that no one in the FBI had cause to throw him under the bus for purely selfish or political reasons yet. Either way, both men answered his unfinished question with shrugs. Atwood growled, and Porter rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Fine, kid, but you owe me $5 million. And him, too.”

The Irishman shrugged again and turned his gun on Dr. Cherry who snarled in disgust as he stood up slowly to keep his knees from shaking.

“If you're going after that thing Dunn called down, you can shoot me now. Whatever your plan is, you'll only piss it off. You'd need a bomb capable of leveling a building to have a chance. You might as well let it collect its payment and leave. The beast did its job, and Dunn offered it the town of Bedford; 1,500 souls. You'd be fools to step in the way of that."

He collected a black leather briefcase from a cabinet beneath one of the counters, carefully skirted the black foam on the floor, and headed toward the podium. Porter stopped him with a shout.

“You’d best stop, doc. If I’m not getting my $5 million, you’re not getting to keep that scroll or that briefcase. If you want out of here alive, tell me just what the hell you’re doing in this town.”

Cherry sighed and turned back to face the agents. His eyes darted toward the body on the rusting steel table and back, but if any of the agents noticed, they didn’t turn to look. His voice was still warm, proud, and even excited. He hardly even seemed to notice the deep burns on his face.

"My research has made great strides in recent years. I've been able to cause beneficial genetic mutations with a series of ten weekly injections. One young lady, I injected with a mutagen derived from various bee species, and the results were better than I could have hoped! She can influence and direct everyone in this town! It's exactly what Dunn wanted, and DARPA was paying handsomely for the process. Can you imagine the battlefield potential? Soldiers silently following wordless orders? Covert agents leaving invisible trails and messages? It's pure genius if I do say so myself!”

Porter made a hand gesture indicating the doctor should wrap it up. What he had to say was important, but at the moment, there was supposedly a creature from some deep ring of Hell heading out to catch the tail end of the Bulldogs’ homecoming game.

"Well, anyway ... Dunn wanted to test my research for himself, and he said he had access to a creature of unbelievable power and ability. The only catch was that he wouldn't be available for ten weekly injections; it had to come all at once. That meant the injection had to go directly into his spine, and it had to be pure. The thing he called was terrible, but it obeyed him. He got the material I needed, and he sent it to collect its payment while I prepared the injection."

Porter wanted to pull the trigger, but two things stopped him. First, Atwood stepped in the way and began handcuffing the doctor, and second, there was another string of expletives in Irish brogue which culminated in a single word: “Run!”

The Irishman fled down the hall toward the exit Dr. Cherry had mentioned, and when Porter saw why Dempsey had shouted, he fled, too. Atwood was a little preoccupied, and he was really tiring of Dempsey. It wasn’t until the shadow settled over him and Dr. Cherry laughed manically that Atwood knew it was too late. The table had utterly rusted, Dunn’s wounds had healed, and he was different. His eyes were a shiny black, and his skin was somehow even darker. Even worse, an irritating and acidic aura seemed to radiate from him.

Atwood’s eyes watered and his nasal passages burned. He wanted to run, but he was dizzy. Anything more than the slightest and slowest twitch might cause him to vomit or lose his balance. His knees were weakening, and Dr. Cherry’s coughing laughter sounded miles away. The FBI profiler was starting to lose consciousness. He fell to his knees and then slumped onto his side on the cold concrete. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t even crawl. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even whimper.

As Porter and Dempsey ran, the Irishman counted. After a ten-count, he pressed the little red button in his hand. Neither man broke stride, instead following the words of the angel to Lot as he fled Sodom: “Escape for thy life; look not behind thee.” They prayed Atwood had made it out.


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## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4g*

Only, Atwood hadn’t made it out. The FBI profiler was struggling to stay awake while the Thing-That-Had-Been-Dunn towered over him. Without bending, it reached down to him. Its arm elongated impossibly, and just before it grabbed Atwood … eight … nine … ten!

Dempsey’s “Irish Coffee” bomb splattered the creature to all corners of the room. That was it. Even the shrapnel and acid weren’t enough to keep Atwood awake. In his final moment of consciousness, he could just barely hear Dr. Cherry laughing through the ringing in his ears, and he could taste metal.

The concrete tunnel was about 150 yards of acidic air and flickering florescent lighting. About halfway down the tunnel was another breached security checkpoint complete with unhinged and rusting doors, scattered rust and oxidized copper, and two blueish-skinned corpses. At the end of the tunnel were two more dead security guards with the usual signs of a failed gunfight. The bodies were slumped against the wall opposite a rusted mine shaft elevator. It was in rough shape, but it appeared operational.

Dempsey had a few reservations about using what was essentially just a rusted grate, corroded cables, and a pulley. Porter had even stronger reservations about heading back the way they came, so up they went. The elevator control was nothing more than three buttons on a box; one for each direction and one to stop.

The elevator creaked, and the gears ground, but it was apparent whoever had it installed wanted the best quality. Despite the sounds and a few stuttered jerks, the elevator ride was otherwise smooth. It came to a halt at the top to reveal an eight-foot square hole in the landing where a grated floor had rusted away. A steel door had been ripped from its hinges, and it bridged the gap. On the other side of the door-covered hole, the floor was concrete, and there were two more corpses who appeared to have been taken completely by surprise.

The air at the top was fresh, and the night sky could be seen through the open doorway. The storm clouds had dispersed. The small concrete building leading to the elevator was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire, but a sizable hole had rusted away.

Porter and Dempsey paused for a moment and took deep breaths to clear their lungs and nasal passages. The Irishman looked back toward the elevator, but he didn’t have to speak. Porter was thinking the same thing. Atwood wasn’t going to make it. If they made it out of this town alive, they’d have a drink or two in his honor and then another drink or two for good measure.

The men could hear the sounds of whistles and cheering in the distance. That was a good sign, right? That meant the thing hadn’t collected its payment yet. All the same, Porter wasn’t confident, and his words implied as much.

“You know we can’t take that thing, right?”

“Aye. But we can’t just not try.”

“Maybe – and hear me out on this ‘cause I hate myself for thinking it – maybe we can just not try. Not saying those people don’t deserve to be saved, but there’s nothing we can do besides throwing ourselves at it.”

The Irishman frowned, but he nodded in agreement. Porter swallowed hard before he continued. Yeah, he didn’t like what he was thinking.

“It’ll probably all be over before we get there anyway. Maybe we just … you know, maybe we go the other way. We grab that chemical truck and ride it on the rims nice and slow. Not our fault we didn’t make it in time, right? Hell, we tried our best.”

Dempsey was quiet and solemn. He didn’t like the plan, but it made sense. And the NSA spook had an air of experience about him that lent strength to the idea. The agents headed around the HelpLink building to Porter’s rental car.

They sat in silence all the way out IA-2 until they reached the Brewster Pesticide truck. Both men knew the play, and neither felt particularly like discussing it until they had to. Dempsey would take the truck, and Porter would follow at a safe distance.

The pesticide truck’s engine fired right up, but rolling on six flat tires slowed things down. The Irishman didn’t particularly care about ruining the wheels or the road, but the last thing he wanted was a rollover in a 500-gallon chemical weapon. Still, if he had to go out, there were probably worse ways. Hell, for all he knew, this might be his origin story, and he could come out of the rollover with super powers.


----------



## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4h*

The drive back to Bedford was tense for both agents. While saving an entire town would be great, neither man wanted to get to the game too early.

As they reached town and neared the school, signs of the creature’s passing became more evident. All along Taylor Street leading toward the school, the creature had left a trail of incidental destruction. Cars had partially rusted, and in some cases, this had resulted in tires rolling away like tumbleweeds and gasoline leaking into the gutter. The street was mostly dark; the only light was coming from the moon, the stadium lights of the football field in the distance, and a few fallen street lights which were still operational but shining at odd angles.

Though he was pale even for an Irishman, and he was driving slowly, Dempsey’s knuckles were whiter than usual as he gripped the steering wheel tighter than his last bottle of Bushmills. It was difficult enough to drive a truck with no tires and full of deadly chemicals in the direction of the last place he wanted to be. Now he had to drive it through an obstacle course.

As Dempsey carefully navigated the debris scattered across Taylor Street, the stadium lights were a beacon in the relative darkness of Bedford. Just across the street from the school, a jet of water was shooting into the air where a fire hydrant used to be. Whatever Dunn had called down, it had made it at least as far as the high school parking lot. Several light posts in the parking lot had fallen, and many cars had been heavily rusted.

The Taylor County Corn Huskers team bus suffered worse than the other vehicles in the parking lot. To initial observation, it appeared the middle of the bus rusted away leaving two halves. The rear half of the bus had tipped forward leaving the rear emergency exit up in the air. The front half of the bus had done the same thanks to the weight of the massive engine.

No loud sounds were coming from the stadium; no cheering, no collisions, no whistles, no announcer … no screaming. Maybe it was all over? But the scoreboard indicated the Bedford Bulldogs were leading the visiting team by a score of 77 – 3 with 3:13 still left to play in the 4th quarter.

Porter pulled his rental car up next to the truck. The trail of rust and corrosion led straight to the stadium, and the turnstiles had rusted away, but there didn’t appear to be any bodies in the parking lot. Dempsey thought maybe that meant the thing had hit fast and taken everyone by surprise, but Porter pointed out the kid checking tickets at the gate and the people running the concession stand were gone. There didn’t appear to be anyone up in the announcer’s booth either.

The bee girl, then? Cherry had mentioned she could influence and direct everyone in town. Maybe she called everyone together and had them sit quietly while the thing ate? The thought sent shivers down their spines, but they agreed it was likely. Well, just as long as it was gone …

The parking lot side of the field was lined with a concrete structure for the home team’s fans. It was this structure which, until the turnstiles had rusted and corroded away, had guarded the entrance to the stadium. Metal bleachers for the visiting team’s fans lined the other side. Behind the west end zone was the field house with the announcer’s booth above it, and beyond that was the rest of the Bedford High School campus. Beyond the east end zone was a grass field and Madison Street. The entire stadium was enclosed by a chain-link fence.

Now came the tricky part. The truck had to get on the field. The only way that was going to happen was for Dempsey to take it around to Madison Street, and then drive it through the field and the fence. While he was getting into position, Porter would enter on foot. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the stadium, but someone had to be there in case the Irishman couldn’t finish the job.

Both men nodded respectfully at each other, and Dempsey threw the truck in gear. The wheels cried under the strain as he moved into position.

Porter crossed the parking lot quickly until he reached the turnstiles. No bodies, no sounds. As he moved slowly out of the tunnel and onto the track around the field, he became aware of a crunching sound under his feet. There were no cheerleaders in front of the stands, but right where they should have been were hundreds of dead bees; maybe even thousands. The NSA spook turned quickly on his heel - grinding a dozen or so bees to a pulp in the process - and aimed his gun up into the concrete structure. He didn’t bother to count the blue-skinned bodies littering the stands, but if it turned out to be the same number as the population the “Welcome to Bedford” sign boasted, he wouldn’t be surprised. It sure as hell looked like it could be 1,406.


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## Audrik

*The Bedford Project - Session 4i*

Porter gave a beckoning wave, and Dempsey threw the truck in drive. He managed to gain enough momentum through the field to roll over the thin metal fence surrounding the stadium, and he was able to maintain it enough to get through the other fence around the field.

The Irishman let the truck come to a rest at midfield on the home team side. To his right, he could see a pile of blue-skinned athletes and referees, and beyond that, metal bleachers with more bodies draped about. To his left, he could see the bodies in the stands of the concrete structure and Porter waving. Between Porter and the stands, he could also make out what seemed to be a dense, roiling fog of pale yellowish-pink seeping out of the stands and staying low to the ground. He jumped out of the truck and shouted for Porter to run.

That was the last thought he could spare for the NSA man for now. He had a job to do. Running around to the back of the truck, Dempsey began disabling all the fail-safes and planting explosive charges. They couldn’t kill whatever that thing was, but if all went according to plan, they could at least make it look like domestic terrorism rather than cosmic horror.

Porter didn’t even bother to look. He just ran. He ran out onto the field toward the truck and met up with Dempsey. Then both men ran toward the visiting team’s bleachers. The idea was to keep the truck between them and the thing. Then, when the creature was close enough to the truck, Dempsey would hit the button on the remote detonator. The explosives would open the tank and release the chemicals which the agents hoped would at least make the thing think better of remaining in Bedford.

They made it to the visiting team’s sideline and turned to wait. They could see the fog rolling onto the field. They watched as it closed in on the truck. Dempsey hit the button.

Nothing. He hit the button again, and still nothing. He hit it frantically several more times and still nothing.

Porter closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. He knew what he had to do. He knew he had to be the one. Of the two remaining agents, he was the older man, and he was the American. He loved his country as much as he hated his job. There was only one way this ended.

He gave the Irishman a nod and a tired smile before running full speed back to the truck. Back to the thing that killed Bedford. Dempsey let him go. Porter was a good man. He’d be sure to drink twice as much in his memory as he would in Atwood’s.

Dunn’s creature roiled beneath the truck as it seemed to wait for the fresh soul. It was futile, he knew, but Porter instinctively took a deep breath and covered his face with his shirt as he reached the truck. The thick fog seeped out and engulfed his feet. He felt the burn, and even though he held his breath, Porter felt the sting in his eyes and nasal passages. He felt his throat tighten around his swelling tongue. Any moment now, his stomach would turn black and force its contents up that tightened throat, but there would be nowhere for it to go. He would choke as the stomach acid forced its way up and out anywhere it could – eyes, ears, nose, mouth; he could feel it happening already. It would come out with explosive force, so he had to move fast.

Through blurred and stinging vision, he found the detonator. His knees were giving out, and he thought briefly that he could feel his soul being drawn out through his pores. He wanted to give Dempsey one final salute, but his knees buckled. On his way down, he slapped desperately for the button. A series of small detonations told him he had succeeded. He never felt his blue-skinned head hit the grass.

Dempsey saw the truck blow, and then he ran. He wasn’t much for quantum physics, but he’d heard of a guy and his cat. If he never turned to look, he’d never have to know. As he ran north down Madison Street, he heard the horn from the stadium indicating time had expired. Only in America could the home team be outscored by more than 1,400 and still call it a win.


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## Audrik

Update: The Roll20 group has been assembled! Actually, it's been cobbled together from the remnants of my Alaska and Kentucky tabletop groups. Still, the result is the same.

Character creation and schedule arrangement will get rolling soon, and the first Roll20 session is set for two weeks from now, Sunday, August 26th. That means updates to this Story Hour will begin shortly thereafter.


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## Michael Silverbane

Excellent! I cannot wait to see what sort of terrible things happen to your player characters.


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## HubHacken

Not bad! Will read on weekend.


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## Audrik

Gotta love scheduling difficulties before the first game with new  players. We managed to put a session together Sunday with two of the new  players; one character started as Delta Green, and the other did not.  Dempsey's player was on a fishing vacation, but he should be back next  session.


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## Audrik

*Let's Learn Aklo - Session 1a*

According to numerous studies, speaking two languages fluently has a profoundly positive effect on cognitive skills and health. How much smarter and healthier, then, might someone be if he or she spoke several languages fluently? If Dolf de Jaager is any indication, the answer is simple: Very. The Dutch American linguist was a software engineer for the U.S. State Department who not only spoke several languages fluently but also designed translation software. He was also an extraordinarily brilliant man by all accounts. Even the other members of The Collar Club, a group of people who call themselves furries and wear anthropomorphic animal costumes, would unanimously agree, Dolf was by far the smartest of their number.

Dolf was intensely curious and inquisitive by nature. He was never one to let a mystery go unsolved, and the FedEx package he found on his doorstep one Saturday morning in December provided exactly such a mystery. The sender’s address indicated, in his own handwriting, that he had sent it from the Old First Ward Community Center in Buffalo, NY. That was plausible since he lived in Lewiston, about a half-hour drive north of Buffalo, but he had no recollection of having sent the package or ever going to the Community Center. Neither did Leah, his significant other.

As it was a weekend, and this was an unusual occurrence, to say the least, Dolf brought the package inside and took it upstairs to his home office. He opened the box with a pocket knife from a desk drawer. The contents only served to encourage his curiosity. He found five rewritable compact discs in jewel cases marked sequentially in Sharpie, and the numbers were just as he would write them.

Below the CDs, he found a steno pad with notes in his own handwriting; notes he had no memory of having taken. The written notes appeared to be the sort which a person learning a new language might take; an English phrase on one side and (presumably) the translation on the other side. The notes identified the language as Aklo, but he had never heard of it despite his many years of language studies. He was able to identify specific grammatical patterns, and he felt sure that, given enough time, he could learn to read and write Aklo. As for speaking it … well, maybe that’s what the CDs were for.

Dolf popped the first CD into the optical drive of his computer. The disc contained a single 74-minute .mp3 file which he played. As he suspected, the recording was done in the same format as the written notes; English phrase, translated phrase. It was his voice speaking the words, but he was no longer surprised. He may have had no memory of taking these notes, making these recordings, or mailing this package, but he had had a long night of drinking a few days ago, so … maybe? He didn’t sound drunk on the recording though.

There was an intense blue flash from the tree line outside his office window, but when he looked, he saw nothing. Dolf let the CD play as he retrieved binoculars and his shotgun from the far side of the office. The gun was loaded with birdshot, so it was unlikely to be of much use against anything so far away, but he still felt better with it nearby.

He scanned the trees again, this time with magnification. Still nothing. Whatever it was had gone. He leaned the shotgun against the wall next to the window and returned to his computer. He flipped through the steno pad again. There was a web address written on the last page. It was for a company he’d heard of but never thought much about. The Modern Languages School of America (MLSA) was a correspondence school which taught foreign languages by CD, textbook, and postal exam.

There was no mention of Aklo anywhere in their catalog, but less than an hour ago, someone had started a thread for it on the MLSA forum. The user, MightySkag, posed a question in his initial post: “Anybody else out there interested in learning Aklo?” In the signature portion of his post, MightySkag indicated he also went by the name Heir of Tarzan, and he claimed to have been raised by apes to be the new lord of the jungle. It also stated his location as Buffalo, New York. Dolf created an account and posted a response. He told MightySkag that he, too, was interested in learning Aklo.

Over the next several weeks, Dolf and MightySkag made frequent posts, and a few others joined the thread. They were a varied group, and the only common threads seemed to be that they all lived in or around Buffalo and had received a package from themselves. Only Dolf and MightySkag seemed concerned about that fact. The rest were far too excited about learning this exotic new language.

Dolf had asked a few of his colleagues to look into the identity and background of MightySkag, but it turned out to be unnecessary. One of his coworkers was a big wrestling fan, and he immediately recognized the name. Charlie Skaggs was a professional wrestler based in Buffalo who went by the stage name of the Heir of Tarzan, and he had a match against “Savage” Sammy Sutton coming up. Dolf decided to attend.


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## Audrik

*Let's Learn Aklo - Session 1b*

The fans were rabid in their excitement, but Dolf paid no attention to them. He was there for Charlie Skaggs. It was easy to see how Skaggs could use a ring name like the Heir of Tarzan. The man was big and built, he was of mixed white and African American descent, and when he climbed the turnbuckle, he could almost fly.

The match didn’t last long. After a brief back and forth to work the crowd up, the Heir of Tarzan sent “Savage” Sammy Sutton running across the ring. As Sammy rebounded and ran back, the Heir of Tarzan had made his ascent. He dove at his opponent, and his shoulder made solid contact. Sammy’s head whipped back. The man was unconscious, but it took a moment for his legs to get the message. The Heir of Tarzan took a knee in a prelude to the pin.

Dolf shouted “Go, Charlie” in Aklo, and that got the wrestler’s attention. The Heir of Tarzan pointed straight at him with a grin and a wink before pinning the comatose Sammy. The next match was between a 700-pound giant named Girth and a much smaller man in a gimp mask known as King Pain. Dolf wasn’t interested, but he held his position.

Once Charlie had cleaned up, he made his way through the crowd to where Dolf was waiting. The two men discussed Aklo briefly, and Charlie admitted he had seen a blue flash as well. They exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and then Dolf squeezed through the crowd on his way out.

The next six weeks passed about the same as the previous five had. The Aklo group on the AMLA forum was up to eight members, and they were all quite active. What the group lacked in numbers, they made up for with enthusiasm.

Winter was coming to an end, and the early-March weather promised great things for the spring. For the Aklo group, these great things were also heralded by a call to meet. Group member Willie Adams, a widower who had retired from both the Air Force and his own small business, proposed the idea on the forum. He would reserve a conference room at the Old First Ward Community Center in Buffalo, NY, and they could practice speaking for a bit before recording themselves for their postal exam. The other members thought that sounded delightful. Only Charlie and Dolf seemed to notice that was the same community center from which they had mailed themselves the packages in the first place, but even they weren’t deterred. This new language was far too fascinating.

Dolf had shared very little new information with the group over the past eleven months; he instead pretended to participate by parroting ideas others had previously put forth. He had noticed language markers linking Aklo to many otherwise-unrelated languages, and he guessed it must be some sort of precursor; an ancient ancestor of most – if not all – other languages. If he was correct, Aklo could provide the U.S. with something similar to a universal communicator.

Of course, he had another theory: It was possibly a nearly-impenetrable code, and this was all a test being administered by the Illuminati. If that was the case, he wanted to be the one to crack it. He wanted to be the first kid to decipher the Ovaltine Message of the Week with his decoder ring. When the doors to the chocolate factory were opened, he wanted to be sure he had his golden ticket. No way in Heaven or Hell was someone going to learn this Aklo stuff before he did.

There was more Dolf hadn’t shared with the group. He had written a program to search the internet for any mention of Aklo. Despite the fact he routed his encrypted signal through several proxy servers around the world, this immediately tripped several red flags in Delta Green computers and put him on a watch list, but he had no way of knowing that.

The program also turned up just what he was looking for. One particular website dedicated to Asian pornography had several mentions of the language in a members-only VIP section, but they were all old enough to have been archived. No way was he putting membership on his credit card, so he bought a refillable gift card.

Once he had access, he found every instance of the word. In every case, it was associated with some combination of the same twelve actors and actresses. They were some type of Asian, he was sure, but just specific ethnicity, Dolf had no idea. From the context, Aklo seemed to be their language, or at least, one of them. One of the actors had an Aklo phrase tattooed on his upper arm. It said, “Go, Bulls!”


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## Audrik

*Let's Learn Aklo - Session 1c*

Dolf packed up his laptop and the package he’d mailed himself, and he set out for Buffalo. He wanted to arrive early so he could have time to get coffee somewhere in case none was provided. He was the first to arrive, but the room was already prepared. Several folding tables were arranged in a horseshoe shape, and Dolf chose a spot on one end with his back to the entrance. He would still be able to see the entire room thanks to a large mirror directly opposite his seat.

Charlie was the next to arrive, Dolf greeted him. As others began to file in, Dolf saw the blue flash again. This time, he got a good look. It was bright, but it was vaguely humanoid. It was on the roof of the office supply store across the street. Rather than call attention, he excused himself and made his way to the store. The employees were busy preparing to close, so they paid him little attention. No one seemed to notice as he slipped through the door to the stairwell at the back. He headed up the stairs and out onto the roof.

Nothing. Just an empty roof, a low wall around the perimeter, and an industrial air conditioning unit … which was just large enough for a person to use as cover. He readied his camera to capture video, snuck quietly toward the air conditioner, hit record, and whipped around. Dolf came face to (probably) face with what appeared to be a crouching man, except the man was made of bright, blue light.

In fact, he could see through the man if he tried, but it hurt his eyes to look directly at the man for too long. Not that the man gave him much chance. The blue figure was utterly motionless for a full ten seconds or so after Dolf popped around the corner, and then, in what seemed to be a much-delayed reaction, it ran for the wall. Tracers created a disorienting effect on Dolf, but he watched as the thing jumped from the roof to a tree much farther away than the software engineer would be comfortable jumping to.

Instead, he made his way back down the stairs, into the store, and then out of the store as quickly and inconspicuously as he could. Once outside, he was unable to locate the figure. He returned to the conference room to find the rest of the group enthusiastically making their recordings on their laptop computers.

Dolf took his seat and watched the video on his phone in slow motion. There were a few frames where the features of the blue figure were clear enough to make out. It bore a strong resemblance to one of the group members across from him; a former Navy SEAL named Anthony Hash. Dolf suppressed a shudder and emailed the video to his work address before deleting it from his phone. He then began his recordings for the postal exam.

It wasn’t long, however, before he saw the blue figure again. This time, he saw the reflection in the large mirror as the figure passed by the open doorway. The rest of the group was too engrossed in their work to notice anything else. The software engineer paused his recording and went to the lobby. There was no sign of the blue figure, but Dolf was sure it couldn’t have gone far.

As the software engineer nosed around the lobby and other two conference rooms, he heard a crash of glass followed by shouts coming from the direction of the Aklo group’s room. He rushed to see what the commotion was all about, and he was horrified to find out. Tables were overturned, laptops where smashed, and the big mirror on the far wall had shattered. Worse still, a few of the group members had retrieved particularly jagged shards of the mirror and appeared to be engaging in a rumble like something straight out of the West Side Story. Fortunately, there was a little less dancing.

Charlie Skaggs held his arms high over his head and roared at Lois, a 15-year-old Hmong girl who had been the last to join the group. Lois was frothing at the mouth and making threatening gestures with a shard of the mirror. The Heir of Tarzan grabbed another group member, Buffalo University Linguistics Professor Mabel Lively by the bun of her hair and yanked her back. He then lifted the woman effortlessly over his head and tossed her at the Hmong girl. Professor Lively was impaled on the mirror shard, and the girl was knocked unconscious. Another quick motion and Skaggs had snapped the girl’s neck.

Dolf fled outside and called the police. The local first-responders arrived a few minutes later, but by that time, there was no one left alive in the conference room. The only survivors were Dolf and a security guard who had put Charlie down. It also appeared the former Navy SEAL, Hash, had disappeared. Dolf gave his statement to the police, and they asked him not to leave the scene for the time being.


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## Audrik

*Let's Learn Aklo - Session 1d*

Only a few miles away, DEA Special Agent Carl Clark was enjoying a visit with his cousin. Clark was from Virginia, and he was on vacation. Of course, he was also Delta Green, which meant he was never truly on vacation. His cousin was in the kitchen ordering a pizza for dinner, so Clark had taken the opportunity to check his email. As he was clearing his spam folder, a window popped up on the screen of his laptop. Clark knew his way around computers, and he had taken every precaution necessary to block that sort of thing. This pop up could only mean one thing: an Opera.

The message was nothing more than a television channel and a phone number. His cousin didn’t have a television, so Clark brought up the station’s live feed on his laptop. There was a press conference in progress, and Police Captain James Kerr was relating the known facts. A language studies group had reserved a conference room at the Old First Ward Community Center. There were multiple deaths. He could not comment just yet on numbers, causes, identities, terrorism, or anything else until a proper investigation had commenced and next-of-kin were notified.

Great. Some nerds got together, and things went pear-shaped. It was possible the Program would only need him to cover the bases and make sure nothing supernatural needed to be covered up, but it was much more likely they had a good reason to believe a cover-up was necessary.

He called the number. The number wasn’t familiar, but the voice on the other end was. It was his handler, a man he knew only as Agent Voss. After confirming that he had seen the news, Clark asked what it had to do with him. He was on vacation. Voss told him an informant on the scene, a firefighter named Sam Misner, had reported a possibly paranormal event. Clark was the only person with Delta Green clearance in the area, and so it fell to him to investigate. He was to survey the crime scene and conceal or destroy any evidence of the paranormal.

There was one known survivor who had recently tripped red flags in Program databases, a State Department software engineer named Dolf de Jaager. So far, de Jaager was not considered a threat, but his interests were suspicious and merited monitoring. He may be a potential recruit, or he may need to be put down.

Clark told his cousin he was going on a beer run and would be back shortly. He then made his way to the community center. Once on scene, he flashed his DEA credentials to the officer guarding the entrance. The officer nodded and stepped aside with only a caution that Clark should not disturb the crime scene while the investigation was in progress.

The conference room was a bloody mess. The bodies had been removed, but there were masking tape outlines and numbered A-frame evidence markers to show where each had fallen. Clark looked around but didn’t see anything unnatural at first; not until he saw sunlight in a large mirror shard. He took a knee and picked up the shard. It was definitely from a mirror, but no matter which direction he turned it, the reflection never moved. It was well past 10:00 PM, and yet the piece of mirror seemed to reflect the room at a point during the day. That was strange, but whatever. He figured the less he knew, the better.

He couldn’t let the Buffalo Police collect any of the shards, though; at least not any which were big enough for anyone to realize they weren’t quite right. He also couldn’t let them catch him disposing of them, but at the moment, the only other person who could see him was the guy Delta Green has told him to watch. As casually as he could, Clark began to break mirror shards into smaller pieces.

He then interviewed de Jaager. The software engineer gave a faithful recounting of the past twelve weeks, omitting only the parts about the glowing blue man. Like Charlie and Dolf, Clark also thought the FedEx packages sounded unusual. Still, de Jaager seemed relatively harmless for the time being, so Clark wrapped up his interview and investigation.

He placed a call to his handler and gave his report. Evidence had been contained, and de Jaager didn’t appear to be a threat. Voss instructed Clark to maintain a watch on de Jaager over the next few weeks. If the software engineer kept quiet about the event and still seemed harmless, Clark should make a recruitment pitch. In most cases, someone in de Jaager’s position would be allowed to remain oblivious if he could stay quiet, and he would disappear or be discredited if not. In this case, de Jaager was the only survivor of a group which had studied Aklo, a language the Program knew to be supernatural. He would be a strong asset.

Clark agreed, but he wasn’t doing anything further tonight. Tonight, he was on vacation. Tonight was for pizza, beer, and family.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 1a*

Clark watched de Jaager for about a month before determining the software engineer would be a good fit for the Program. The experience at the community center had unnerved de Jaager, but he handled it well. He had refused interviews with local and national media outlets, and he said nothing of the incident to coworkers or his significant other, Leah. He also refused to forget what had happened. Instead, de Jaager had continued his study of Aklo and was making progress. Either that burning need for understanding would make him a fine asset for Delta Green, or it would be his downfall. Probably both.

Clark had never given the Delta Green sales pitch, but de Jaager made it easy. There was a Special Access Program with black budget funding and a mandate to defend the United States against just the sort of thing which had happened to him? Where did he sign? There was nowhere to sign. In fact, there was to be no written record of the Program at all. Special access, and all that.

Dolf felt that was all he needed to know. Well, that and the secret handshake. Clark knew there was no secret handshake, but that didn’t stop him from teaching one to de Jaager. It closely resembled a game of Patty Cake with a thumb wrestling element near the end. For his part, de Jaager was sure Clark was messing with him, but he wanted to see how far the DEA man would take it.

That handshake was the last contact the two men had for the next two months. It was early June when Dolf got his first call. He was to attend a briefing in Albany, New York the following day.

He arrived at the ordinary, three-story office building about a half-hour early and sat in his car to drink his coffee and watch the people. A steady stream of people in suits arrived for what appeared to be just another day at the office. He didn’t see Clark in the crowd, but one man did stand out.

Damn, did he stand out. While everyone else was dressed for office work in midsummer New York, this guy was wearing a wool jacket and cap. The man was almost pale enough to hurt Dolf’s eyes from across the street.

With no Clark in sight and briefing time approaching, de Jaager headed into the building and found the room. Everything about the building screamed generic office building, and the briefing room was no different. It was an internal room with no windows. There was plenty of seating, a podium, a whiteboard, and a table with coffee and hot water for tea. The pale man nodded and introduced himself as Cualin Dempsey, CIA.

The two men took their seats as another entered. The newcomer was tall and athletic with short hair. He wore a neatly-tailored blue suit.

“The name’s Voss. I’ll be your handler for this Operation. It’s just the two of you for now, but a third will be briefed separately and sent after as soon as he’s cleared. I’ll get straight to the point: Reverb. The DEA is investigating a network of otherwise unrelated gangs engaged in smuggling and drugs. DEA auditors reconstructed some of the network’s financial books from interviews and uncovered financial records. This audit found a disturbing pattern of mid-level ‘employees’ – dealers – vanishing without a trace. A common factor seems to be involvement with a hallucinogen called Reverb, but this drug doesn’t seem to be a part of the network’s activities. We don’t know if these dealers are all in hiding, or if the organization is cleaning house.”

Dolf was new to all this, so he sat quietly and listened. Not Dempsey. The Irishman interrupted the briefing several times to ask questions which Dolf was sure Voss would have gotten to in time. Did the Program care about some drug dealers in … Where were they going? Chicago, and no. The drug dealers themselves weren’t the focus; they were the catalyst and the lead. Then, the Program wanted them to get a hold of some of this Reverb for sampling? Yes, and no. Program chemists had no samples of the new Reverb for analysis, but they might be able to confirm if it bears any relation to the original.

Original? Dempsey was lost, but Voss assured him that if he’d only sit back, shut up, and listen, he would be fine. In the 1990s, Reverb was connected with Chicago Tcho-Tcho street gangs. The Tcho-Tchos, Dolf explained, were a people from somewhere in Southeast Asia. He didn’t know much other than what he had been able to piece together from his research on Aklo, but the impression he got was that they were bad news. Voss confirmed Dolf’s impression.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 1b*

“The Tcho-Tchos are a corrupted people. Don’t trust them. As for Reverb, it didn’t just get people high. It exposed them to unnatural forces. Your assignment is to confirm whether this new Reverb has unnatural effects, find the source, and cut off the supply. DEA Spec Ops Agent Carl Clark is currently on assignment, but he is being pulled. He will meet up with you as soon as possible. Clark will be your contact with the DEA in general and the DEA auditor specifically. Mr. de Jaager, you are vital to this Operation due to your knowledge and understanding of the Tcho-Tcho language. Mr. Dempsey, you are being assigned for your … rather unique set of skills. The two of you and Agent Clark are being designated Task Force 138. You’ll likely be working closely with each other on future Operations.”

Voss slid a Visa card out toward the agents, and Dempsey quickly grabbed it. The card had a limit of $5,000.00. If more was needed, Voss might be able to get additional funding. Flight, rental car, and hotel reservations had already been made.

To no one’s surprise, Dempsey had a few questions. Voss had short answers.

“First class tickets?”

“No.”

“Are we getting a BMW?”

“No. A Jeep Cherokee. You will be moving around some of the shadier parts of Chicago, and you’ll be expected to keep your rental from being stolen or stripped.”

“Okay. That makes sense. Are we in the Ritz-Carlton or the Waldorf Astoria?”

“Neither. You have a single room with two beds and a foldout couch at a Motel 6.”

Dempsey glanced at the Visa and then looked over to de Jaager with a wink. Dolf shrugged.

With the briefing concluded, the two men headed for the airport. On the way, they discussed their qualifications and their strategy. Anything shady and drug-related, Dempsey would handle. If the Irishman didn’t get them all killed, Dolf would handle the Tcho-Tchos. It was foolproof!

So, where did they start? Dempsey said the best way to find a new drug on the street was to find a source of marijuana. Once they’d bought enough, the dealer would open up about other opportunities. What they didn’t use themselves, they could use to bribe the drug users they would need to interview.

Dolf was a little skeptical, but the Irishman seemed to think he knew what he was talking about. In that case, the question was still the same. Where did they start? The first combination tanning salon/laundromat they could find. All the best drugs came from tanning salon/laundromats.

Task Force 138 landed at Chicago O’Hare a little before noon. Dempsey took the opportunity to mention how nice it was to see an Irishman’s name attached to the busiest airport in the world, and de Jaager took the opportunity to point out that Butch O’Hare was from St. Louis, and O’Hare was closer to 5th or 6th busiest. Atlanta, Beijing, Dubai … probably Tokyo and Los Angeles, too, were all busier.

The Irishman shrugged and led the way to the rental car counter. Once they’d collected their gear and luggage, they loaded it all into the Jeep Cherokee and headed out. Dolf wanted to drop everything off at the Motel 6, but Dempsey was driving, and he wanted to get to work. They drove around for nearly an hour. They passed by several tanning salons and several more laundromats, each with someone out front who could easily have sold them something illegal. Dempsey was adamant they find a combination tanning salon/laundromat, however. Eventually, they found what they were after: Tan ‘N’ Wash.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 1c*

It wasn’t the most inviting building, as the bullet-damaged fake brick façade could attest, but it did meet both of Dempsey’s criteria. And the scrawny white kid in the Jim Croce t-shirt out front was their guy. Dolf waited in the Jeep while Dempsey went to make the buy and get some information. The initial marijuana purchase was fast and effortless, and that opened the door for further talk. Dempsey wasted no time asking about Reverb, and that seemed to catch the kid a little off guard.

Dempsey seemed every bit the dumb tourist, so the kid figured he was harmless. He said he didn’t sell anything harder than what Dempsey just bought, but if anyone could point the Irishman in the right direction, it would be High Sally. High Sally didn’t use Reverb as far as the kid knew, but she knew everyone. She could usually be found behind the Salvation Army next to the Tan ‘N’ Wash over on Fulton Street. Dempsey thanked the kid and returned to the Jeep to fill in de Jaager. Another tanning salon/laundromat … Maybe the Irishman did know what he was talking about.
The kid’s directions were excellent. Once they’d found the Tan ‘N’ Wash, Dempsey had no trouble finding High Sally. As before, de Jaager stayed in the Jeep.

Dempsey confirmed that the pale and obviously high woman he was talking to was indeed High Sally, and then he told her the kid at the other Tan ‘N’ Wash had given him her name. He asked if she could point him in the direction of some Reverb, and High Sally said she wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard of that but maybe if she thought about it … or more to the point, maybe if she had a few portraits of U.S. presidents done up in a beautiful monochrome green …?

Dempsey gave her the last $60 in his wallet and the bag of marijuana he’d bought from the kid at the other place. That seemed to help a little. High Sally was now able to remember how Reverb dealers had been going missing lately. She was pretty sure there were a couple who were still around, but just what their names were or where they could be found … Dempsey told her to hold that thought, and he grumbled all the way to the nearest ATM. Then he grumbled all the way back.

When he returned, he gave High Sally another $60. That brought back the names. There was Roofie and Bad Luke. To her knowledge, they hadn’t disappeared. Roofie was Rufus LaRoyal Brown, and Bad Luke was Lucien Riggs. As for where Dempsey might find them … she was trying to remember. Dempsey narrowed his eyes and handed her the rest of the cash he’s pulled from the ATM; $140. Ah, there. That was better. High Sally paraphrased William Blake.

“There, now. It’s like the doors of perception have been cleansed.”

The reference went straight over Dempsey’s head. So, too, did the implication that a druggie in a Salvation Army lot in Chicago might be more widely-read than he was.

He didn’t care. Locations. Did she know where Roofie and Bad Luke were? She did. Roofie had been arrested earlier that morning on charges of heroin possession with intent to sell. Dempsey could look him up at the station down the street. The Irishman briefly contemplated hitting High Sally and taking his money back. Okay, and Bad Luke? Bad Luke was usually at the Tan ‘N’ Wash on Ashland Avenue.

Dempsey thanked High Sally for her time and returned to the Jeep. High Sally thanked Dempsey for his cash and returned to her Hunter S. Thompson novel.

Again, Dempsey related the information he’d learned, but he left out the bit about getting taken for $260. Dolf nodded as he considered the leads. His suggestion was to get lunch, head to the Motel 6, and see just when Agent Clark was going to arrive. If they were going to have a talk with Roofie, a DEA agent would make things a lot easier.


----------



## Dannyalcatraz

Many of your last several posts are nearly invisible, Nomessiah.  Here’s why and how to correct it.
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?348563-Dark-Text-on-a-Dark-Background-Tutorial


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 2a*

Dolf called Agent Clark and gave a quick, sanitized synopsis of the current Opera and requested assistance. Clark had already been contacted by the Task Force’s handler, Voss, and he had been pulled from his assignment. He was already booked on a flight to Chicago and would be there before dinner time. That was good enough for de Jaager. He and Dempsey had a late lunch, and de Jaager passed the time by researching mentions of Reverb in old news stories.

Once Clark had arrived, de Jaager and Dempsy gave him a more detailed briefing. The next step seemed to be an interview with Roofie, so they made their way to the precinct where the drug dealer was being held. Clark showed his DEA credentials to the officer at the front desk who then called for a Detective Johnson.

Clark and Johnson spoke briefly and reached an agreement. Clark and Dempsey would interview Roofie in Interrogation Room 1 on an unrelated matter, and de Jaager would observe and film the interview from behind the one-way mirror. In exchange for privacy, the agents would gladly turn over any names or leads they gained. Of course, Roofie knew his rights, and so he might not be willing to say anything without his lawyer present, but the DEA agent was confident he could get the dealer to talk freely.

Detective Johnson had Roofie moved to the interrogation room and left the agents to their work. Rufus LaRoyal Brown, aka “Roofie,” was a tall, African American man, but slumped in his chair as he was, he was unintimidating. Clark introduced himself as Agent Plant and was about to introduce Dempsey as Agent Bonham, but the Irishman interrupted with a cover of his own: Tate. Clark shot Dempsey a quick glare. Did he mean Page? Did he not understand that when you choose a cover identity, it should be the name of a rock star?

Agent “Tate” took over the interrogation from there, and he didn’t waste any time before throwing out the word Roofie seemed to feel was coming: Deal. If Roofie answered their questions about Reverb, they would do their level best to get him released.

Not good enough. Roofie sat up straight and leaned forward with his hands folded on the table. An ear to ear grin spread across his face.

“Reverb ain’t illegal. Look, man, they got me in here on heroin charges. Heroin! I don’t mess with that, and they know it. But you. You can get me out of here. You’re the DEA, man. Flash that badge of yours and take jurisdiction. Trust me. Detective Johnson gets off on that sort of thing.”

Dempsey doubled down on his offer. They couldn’t get him released unless his information checked out, but if he would give up some names that turned out to be good, he’d be out on the streets tonight. Again, not good enough. Roofie seemed to feel he had the upper hand.

“I’ll give you the name of the guy I get my stuff from, and I’ll tell you where he is. Then you walk me out that door and tell Johnson he’s got nothing.”

“Sure. You give us that, and we’ll walk you out the door.”

“Guy named Spider J gets it to me. He’s got a room long-term at the Talbott Hotel.”

Neither man noticed Clark go stiff at the mention of Roofie’s source. He knew Spider J. Spider J was Jacob Simmons, a 32-year-old African American veteran of the U.S. Army. He was a former contractor with the heavily militarized security firm Academi which had previously been known as Blackwater. Simmons had done two tours in Afghanistan before being court-martialed for suspicion of smuggling. The charges didn’t stick, and so he received an honorable discharge.

He was also the man responsible for the incident which put Clark in Delta Green’s sights. Clark was running surveillance for a DEA operation targeting an opium smuggling ring. Spider J got spooked and slipped out the back. Clark hopped out of the van to intercept him, but Spider J threw a pinch of something right into Clark’s face. Not long after that, the hallucinations hit, only they weren’t hallucinations. At least, Clark was confident, some of them were honest to goodness visions. He was placed on extended medical and psychiatric leave, and that’s when Delta Green had contacted him. Spider J had dosed him with something they called the Liao drug, a powerful hallucinogen with unnatural properties. The psychiatrists thought he was crazy, but the man from Delta Green believed him. More importantly, the man from Delta Green could get him out and back to work.

Dempsey nodded to Roofie and let him know they’d be back for him if the information was good. Roofie’s eyes narrowed. He was mad, but he didn’t lose his composure or his smile.

“That wasn’t the deal, man, but you know what? I don’t care. You’ll be back in twenty minutes. You ain’t gonna find Spider J at the Talbott.”

Dempsey didn’t listen. He walked out. Clark decided to follow up.

“Why won’t we find him there?”

“He’s not there under his name, man.”

Clark sarcastically feigned surprise.

“You mean, he didn’t check into a 4-star hotel under the name Spider J?! We’ll find him. I know his real name and his aliases.”

“He ain’t there under those either. His girl pays cash for the room. You want to find him, you need her name. You want her name, I walk out that door. That’s the deal.”


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 2b*

Clark wasn’t in the mood to be pushed around by a smalltime dealer. He repeated Dempsey’s words: “We’ll be back for you if it checks out.”

The agents stopped at the front desk to let Detective Johnson know they could have Roofie back and to ignore him if he mentioned anything about a deal. Clark gave Johnson his card in case he needed anything. He told the detective Roofie had named Spider J as his source, but he left out the part about where he could be found. Detective Johnson was pleased enough with the new lead.

Clark used de Jaager’s laptop and his own DEA login to access the NCIC, the National Crime Information Center. Spider J had never been arrested, but he had been investigated, so there were plenty of photographs.

On their way to the Talbott, the agents discussed their leads and their strategy. They had the name of a source, and they knew where to find him – sort of. Dolf would get a room at the Talbott and then sit in the lobby watching for Spider J or anything suspicious. Meanwhile, Clark and Dempsey would check out a popular but shady nightclub called Studio Overground for anyone who might know about Reverb.

First, though, Clark needed to get ready. It had been months since he’d been to a nightclub. He was what he called a recovering bro, and the nightclub scene brought all fratty bro culture screaming back. As Dempsey drove, Clark hopped into the backseat of the Cherokee and put on his cargo shorts, sandals, and oxford shirt being careful to leave the top three buttons unbuttoned. By the time they arrived, his hair was adequately spiky and stiff enough to hold his sunglasses. Dempsey rolled his eyes and asked if Clark was supposed to be Abercrombie or Fitch.

Inside, Studio Overground was dark, and the dancefloor was packed with people dancing to old hip hop and pop rock. Dempsey recognized some of it, but Clark could sing the words to everything from Coolio, Run-D.M.C., and Beastie Boys to Third Eye Blind, Maroon 5, and Nickelback.

Dempsey sat at the bar while Clark mingled. After an hour or so, they had two leads. A waitress and a kid in his early 20s had talked to each other for a couple minutes, and they had mentioned Reverb. Dempsey flagged down the waitress and pointed to a random appetizer on the menu.

“I’ll take one of these, and I was hoping you could get me something special that’s not on the menu.”

The waitress winked and said she wasn’t that kind of girl, but she’d be happy to get his fried spinach. She seemed surprised. Nobody ever ordered that, but then, Dempsey was quite obviously not from Chicago.

Dempsey whispered loudly enough for her to hear over Salt-N-Peppa. What he meant was, you know, something like Ecstasy? Oh, well, in that case … She wasn’t that kind of girl either. When she came back with his fried spinach, he asked about Reverb. Now, she did know about that.

She said it didn’t just get you high; it made time stretch, and it felt like you repeated the same instant over and over. It also made physical activity like dancing much more intense. She didn’t have any to spare, but if Dempsey wanted some, the guy she got it from would probably be in soon. His name was Roofie.

Dempsey thanked her and went for a piece of whatever appetizer it was he had ordered, but it was already gone. Clark had eaten it all, and to make it worse, he got glitter in the ranch dressing. It was probably time to meet back up with de Jaager anyway.

On their way out, Clark’s phone rang. Detective Johnson had something the DEA boys might want to see. Clark asked if Roofie was okay. The answer was a nervous laugh followed by a curt ‘no.’ The two agents hopped in the Cherokee and sped to the precinct.

Detective Johnson was visibly shaken but holding together well. He thanked them for making it so quickly, and if he noticed the glitter on Clark’s hastily donned suit, he ignored it. First thing was first: the cell. The bars of the cell had been bent outward like something the size and mass of a small truck had hit them. The mattress had been flipped and shredded, and the concrete of the walls and floor had deep gouges. It was like an animal the size of that hypothetical small truck had scratched deeply into the cement.

But there was no Roofie, and there was no blood. The detective confirmed Roofie had not escaped, and he waved them to his office. He shut the door, closed the blinds, and hit play on the digital playback of the closed circuit television security footage. Roofie had been lying on the mattress with a smile on his face when he appeared to hear something from the corner by the toilet. He sat up and looked, and then his eyes went wide. He screamed, but whatever he was seeing wasn’t showing on the video feed.

Suddenly, Roofie’s body was lifted into the air like a doll. If there was indeed something in there with him, whatever it was, it tossed him around like he was a pillow before shredding the meat from his bones. Blood, flesh, and bone went in all directions and none all at once. Nothing made contact with a surface, however; it all vanished into thin air, piece by piece, drop by drop, and splinter by splinter. In about twenty seconds, the cell was demolished, and there was no longer any trace of Rufus LaRoyal Brown.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 2c*

Clark only flinched and shuddered as if he had been watching a movie. Dempsey became visibly angered and muttered something about how it was just like his brother trashing his room all over again. Clark didn’t ask. Whatever it takes to cope …

Johnson didn’t watch. When it was over, Clark said the words the detective was hoping he would.

“Of course, you realize I’ll have to claim jurisdiction for the DEA on this one. I’ll need that video and your word there are no copies. And no one mentions this until my investigation is complete.”

Detective Johnson was only too happy to turn the case – and the explanation – over to the DEA. Clark and Dempsey left to meet up with de Jaager and let him know one of their leads had vanished. Fortunately, they still had others. The kid at Studio Overground might still be there, and he might want to talk, Spider J was supposedly staying at the Talbott in a room paid for by his girlfriend, and to their knowledge, Bad Luke hadn’t yet disappeared.

Clark was tempted to go back to the nightclub, but he really didn’t want to get his bro gear on again, and he’d used all his glitter on the first run. Instead, he would get another room at the Talbott and then take a self-guided tour of the building. Dempsey and de Jaager could take the club.

Once Clark had checked in, he began to walk the halls on each of the Talbott’s sixteen floors and the stairwells between them. Fortunately, he only had to go as high as the fourth floor before he found what he was sure he was looking for. Someone had installed small wireless cameras in inconspicuous places in the hall; two overlooked the hallway itself, and on was pointed directly at Room 412.

Now, the question was whether the occupant of Room 412 was paranoid and rich or if he was paranoid, rich, and tech savvy. Clark went back to his room and powered up de Jaager’s laptop. He connected to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, and from there, it was a simple matter to find all other devices connected to it. He determined there were the three cameras he’d seen in the hall and one other.

Whoever had installed the cameras had neglected to change the default password, and so with a few keystrokes, Clark had a live feed from all four cameras. The fourth was overlooking the fire escape. The cameras weren’t recording directly, though; they were transmitting. That meant he couldn’t watch anything but the live feed without access to the device to which the cameras were transmitting. He could, however, start a recording of his own.

Once he had that in place, he called de Jaager. Nothing was panning out at the nightclub. Dempsey had come on too strong and spooked the kid. They were headed back to the Talbott.

The agents decided to settle in for the night and get some rest. Dolf took the first shift monitoring the video feed, and Clark took the second. Dempsey refused to do his share and flopped onto one of the beds. The night was uneventful until partway through Clark’s shift. At around 3:00 AM, the cameras picked up a woman exiting the elevator on the fourth floor. The footage was grainy, but she seemed to be Hispanic and in her 30s or 40s.

The woman stopped in front of Room 412, placed her right palm on the door, and bowed her head. She seemed to mutter something, and then she disappeared. A few minutes later, she reappeared on the fire escape seemingly out of thin air. She had something like a briefcase or laptop in her hands which she tossed into the alley below. Then, just as she had appeared, she disappeared. A moment later, the woman appeared once more in the hallway and headed for the elevator.

Clark wasn’t sure what he had just seen, but it was a live feed, so the footage hadn’t been edited. He had been knocking back the Red Bulls like water, so he was sure he wasn’t just tired. He woke de Jaager and showed him the replay. The software engineer confirmed he saw what Clark saw.

On his way out of the room, Clark shoved Dempsey hard enough to wake him up. He pointed to de Jaager and then headed for the alley. The Irishman rubbed his eyes, yawned, and moved to get a look at the replay of the video feed. After seeing it once, he went to check the lobby.

In the alley, Clark found the remains of a laptop computer. It appeared to have been sturdy, but a four-story drop onto concrete caused significant structural damage. Clark was confident; this wouldn’t be his first time salvaging a hard drive from a laptop. He gathered up the pieces. While he worked to pull what he could from the drive, Detective Johnson might be able to pull fingerprints from the case and keys.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 3a*

Something had happened in Room 412. Hispanic women didn’t just teleport into and out of hotel rooms to destroy laptops. Dempsey figured it was just a Chicago thing. Whatever the case, they needed to know what happened in there. The laptop hard drive might give some answers, and since Clark was going to be playing with computer stuff anyway, he could also watch the camera feed. Dempsy and de Jaager would handle the breaking and entering. The earpieces from Clark’s kit would allow the three to stay in contact.

After a quick regroup in their room, Dempsey was set to take the elevator down to the fourth floor, but de Jaager suggested the fire escape. Room 412 was on their side of the building, so they’d just have to go down three flights. Also, given it was 3:00 AM, it was probably darker outside than in the hallway.

Clark cracked open another Red Bull and waved them off without looking. Of course, the fact Spider J had dosed him with pure Liao drug only a couple years earlier had nothing to do with his staying in the room; he had work to do. Not just anyone could be trusted to monitor four camera feeds while performing forensic analysis on a damaged hard drive. Dolf could, and he could do it every bit as well as Clark, but that was beside the point. Clark had already settled in the chair and opened a Red Bull.

The Irishman and the Dutchman stepped out into the fire escape while the American sat at the computer with a case of energy drinks. Dempsey felt sure there was a joke in there somewhere, but there was a job to do. Breaking and entering. Good work if you could get it.

The blinds were drawn, but the window to Room 412 was unlocked and open slightly. The room was dimly lit, but the early Chicago morning was darker. Through the gap in the blinds, they could just make out a large African American man slumped in a chair. The agents readied their guns. Dempsey could hold his own in a bar fight as long as he only had to look after himself, and de Jaager wasn’t exactly a 98-pound weakling, but this guy was former U.S. Army.

Dempsey quietly slid the window up far enough that they could fit through. He made no announcement before stepping in and holding the man at gunpoint. It was Spider J. The drug dealer didn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seemed a little out of it. The glassy eyes and the pipe in Spider J’s hand prompted Dempsey to state the obvious. The dealer was high.

Once Dolf was through the window, he, too, pointed his gun at Spider J. Dempsey ordered the man to put his hands in the air, but Spider J only smiled and said something about a reptilian in a silk robe and a dinosaur out the window.

He didn’t resist when Dempsey handcuffed him or when de Jaager took the pipe from his hand and placed it in a plastic bag. Dempsey checked the dealer for weapons but only found empty shoulder and ankle holsters.

The agents began searching the room for a stash of Reverb or Liao. While they looked in cabinets, under beds, and between mattresses, Spider J’s demeanor took a turn. He began to babble something about pulsing lights and energies intersecting. Dempsey and de Jaager had a little trouble following, but it sounded like these energies were full of malice; like the vision he was describing was of the essence of evil.

The agents continued to toss the room looking for drugs.

Spider J held up his still-cuffed hands with his pinky fingers together like the American Sign Language sign for ‘book.’ He deliriously described two surfaces converging, and … something coming out of the line where they met. He sounded terrified.

“It’s … It’s like all the evil of the universe. It’s concentrated. It’s alive. It’s … It’s hungry.”

The agents continued to toss the room looking for drugs.

Spider J shrieked.

“No, no, no! No! It sees me! Why? Why can’t I come back to myself? Please!”

Dempsey continued to toss the room looking for drugs. Dolf paused and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, God! It’s in my brain!”

Spider J rose into the air, lifted by the same invisible force that had lifted Roofie. Just like Roofie, Spider J’s body was shaken back and forth like a doll in the teeth of a giant, invisible, rabid dog. Blood and flesh scattered in all directions, winking out of existence just before hitting a surface.

Dempsey continued to toss the room, but now he was looking for a fire extinguisher or something else he could use to reveal an invisible creature. This guy called himself a drug dealer, and yet he couldn’t be bothered to have several bricks of cocaine the Irishman could slap together like chalkboard erasers?


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 3b*

In a matter of seconds, Spider J was no more than a rapidly splintering cyclone of bone fragments. That was good enough for Dolf; he was willing to call this avenue of the case closed. Unfortunately for Dolf, as soon as he turned away from the swirling carnage, he saw it. Looking directly, it was invisible, but in the peripheral vision, he could see it. The thing was composed of a seemingly infinite number of sharp, glittering fragments of space and time which moved, rotated, swirled, shattered further, and reformed. It was like the mirror shards from the community center had risen up to form a vague dog- or cat-shaped creature with no real structure of its own; only distorted reflections from all angles and directions at once.

The software engineer let out a very unmanly yelp before running for the door to the hall. He slammed the door shut behind him. It may have been preoccupied and possibly too large to fit, but there was no sense giving that thing a chance to follow. As for Dempsey, he had hands. He could open the door himself. The real question was whether or not the Irishman was smart enough to run. Three gunshots in quick succession told Dolf all he needed to know about that.

Dempsey had fired at the invisible creature that was destroying Spider J in the bloodiest possible way. No sooner had the gunshots faded than what remained of the drug dealer hit the floor. Dempsey could feel whatever it was studying him. There was no way he could have missed, but he had missed. Maybe a full retreat was in order. He turned toward the window, but that proved to be a mistake. Just like de Jaager before him, he saw the beast.

The Irishman wasn’t sure from where he pulled the instinct, but something told him to duck and roll backward at the same time. As he did, he saw a thousand razors of distorted space dart toward where he had been only a moment before. He didn’t get away clean, but he wasn’t sharing Spider J’s fate just yet. He had avoided the worst of it, but the shards had still nicked him in thousands of tiny multi-directional cuts like a head-to-toe shaving accident. As he rolled to his feet and ran for the door, Dempsey stumbled. It felt as if even the bottoms of his feet were covered in tiny cuts.

Dempsey fired twice more before slamming the door behind him as he made it to the hall. Dolf winced when he saw the Irishman, but neither man spoke. Instead, they ran for the stairwell and took the stairs down as quickly as they could. They had just passed the second-floor landing when Dempsey saw the creature again. It shot out of the angle where the two walls met like water forced by intense pressure through a tiny crack. Dolf didn’t see the beast, and so he ran straight through it. He paused only briefly, making damned sure not to look when he heard Dempsey make the same shrieking cry Spider J had made. Then he continued down to the lobby and out the front doors. He had a plan, and he hoped Dempsey would survive long enough for it to work.

Dempsey watched de Jaager run straight through the creature as if it wasn’t even there. Hundreds of shards stretched from the thing like an octopus growing new tentacles. Once again, they darted for him, and this time he wasn’t so lucky. He felt the razors slice his flesh from everywhere at once, and he could see pieces of himself carved away in chunks and strips.

He made a desperate lunge for the door on the second-floor landing a few steps above him, and he was able to turn the knob. As he flopped into the second floor hallway, the wood chipper scene from Fargo played through his head. Wasn’t it a character named Carl that got put through that? And yet the Carl in his group was nice and comfy with his laptop and Red Bull. The Carl in his group should have been the one raiding Spider J’s room anyway. The Carl in his group was no Steve Buscemi for damned sure. Screw you, Carl. This mess should be you.

Dempsey played dead. He had no idea if the creature would be fooled, but the three surprised and horrified hotel guests in the hall were. They screamed and ran, leaving Dempsey like a pile of roast beef in his own blood. It seemed Chicago had its pros and cons: Fire a gun five times in a nice hotel, and no one investigates; get shredded by a giant, invisible razor-tiger and fall into a pool of gore, and no one helps. On the bright side, he had lived long enough to have that thought.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 3c*

Dolf jogged at a quick pace and checked every alley he found. It didn’t take long for him to discover a particularly filthy and miserable-looking man slumped against a wall. He wasted no time producing the pipe from his plastic bag. He offered the man $100 to smoke what was in the pipe, no questions asked.

The man may have been a junkie, but to his credit, he still balked at the offer. It was only momentary, and the promise of money won out over the potentially dangerous mystery high. Couldn’t be too much more dangerous than some of the stuff he’d done. The man asked for the money upfront, but de Jaager countered with an offer of half in advance, and half after. Dempsey would undoubtedly disapprove of the delay for negotiation, but de Jaager felt the man might be too sketchy. He handed over the pipe, a $50 bill, and a Bic lighter.

The man eyed the residue on the pipe and searched the Dutchman’s face for any sign of trickery. Seeing only impatience, the man shrugged and took the biggest hit he could. Dolf nodded and thanked the man as he traded the second $50 bill for the return of the pipe. He told the man to keep the lighter.

He had enough time to jog halfway back to the Talbott before a scream from the alley drowned out the light traffic on State Street. He felt a sharp pang of guilt, but he didn’t let it slow him down. If Dempsey were still alive, he’d be in desperate need of medical attention. Dolf yelled in a loud whisper to ask the Irishman if he was still alive. The response over the earpiece was hushed and delayed.

“Aye. I’m still alive. Not going to die without a bottle in my hand. I think the thing left. I’m heading down to the lobby. Get me to the hospital.”

Dolf decided not to mention what he’d done, but he did tell Dempsey he’d have the Cherokee running. He also asked Clark not to move from the camera feed. That suited the DEA man just fine. Crack went another can of Red Bull.

The hotel lobby was empty, and the clerk at the desk was preoccupied with stringing together a chain of paperclips, so Dempsey made it out to the vehicle without causing a scene. Dolf drove to the hospital and stopped in the ER drop-off zone. It was probably for the best if an Irishman walking like a broken Slinky arrived without an escort. Besides, there was blood all over the front seat of a rental vehicle. They couldn’t possibly return it that way.

Dempsey shambled through the doors and down the hall to the ER desk. The nurse on duty was quite professional, and she didn’t so much as flinch. Then again, it was the graveyard shift at a hospital in Chicago. He probably wasn’t even the worst thing she’d seen that night. He was able to fill out the paperwork well enough to be admitted, and the nurse assured him he could take care of the rest of it after surgery. Two orderlies helped Dempsey onto a wheeled bed and took him down the hall. He tried counting the ceiling tiles as they passed, but he only made it to five before losing consciousness.

Dolf looked online for an all-night auto detail shop and decided to go with The Guild of Mute Mechanics. They sounded like they could keep a secret, and they were open at all hours. He paid the $400 in advance and handed the keys to a fair-skinned man of indeterminate ethnicity, and then he went across the street to a diner designed to look like an oversized train car. He drank an hour’s worth of coffee while watching out the window. As soon as he saw the Cherokee appear in the parking lot across the street, he threw a few dollars on the table and left.

Once back at the hotel, de Jaager told Clark everything that had happened before falling over on his bed and immediately passing out. Clark tossed an empty can on the pile, opened another Red Bull, and kept working. Spider J had gotten what was coming to him, and Dempsey had taken the heat. Maybe it was the Red Bull, but Clark almost felt like he could fly.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 4a*

Thomas Edison would take six half-hour naps throughout the day, and Leonardo da Vinci slept for 20 minutes every four hours. Nikola Tesla slept for two hours every night. If they’d had Red Bull, they might not have slept at all, and then Carl Clark wouldn’t consider them lazy amateurs.

When de Jaager awoke around lunchtime, Clark had just finished his forensic analysis of the laptop hard drive. The computer appeared to have been used solely for surveillance camera feed monitoring and storage. Over the past few days, there had only been two visitors; the Hispanic woman and an African American woman who kissed Spider J when he opened the door.

Clark ran the faces through every database he could. The Hispanic woman remained unidentified, but the other woman was Tanyika Tillerson. She was unemployed and was not known to have any involvement in drug trafficking other than the fact she seemed to only date people who did have such involvement. Her last known address was Room 412 at the Talbott Hotel.

All three agents had lunch about the same time; Dempsey got Jello and what the nurse swore was Chicken Cordon Bleu, and de Jaager and Clark headed to a place called Leng in a neighborhood controlled by the local Tcho-Tchos. Leng was a restaurant which served traditional dishes from all over Asia. Clark knew the place because the owner had been a person of interest in a DEA investigation years ago. It was the same investigation where he had met Spider J, though this wasn’t the place.

The restaurant was busy but not packed, and the staff was an assortment of many different Asian cultures. They all looked the same to Clark, but de Jaager could easily tell the Japanese from the Laotians, the Chinese from the Vietnamese, and the Tcho-Tchos from anything else. The Tcho-Tchos were notably smaller, and they just looked … off. It was hard to explain, but there was something about them that didn’t seem natural.

The Tcho-Tchos at the restaurant seemed to be working in a management or security capacity. They watched everything without expression, except for two who spoke Aklo in hushed tones closely enough that de Jaager could hear. He was able to make out phrases and words well enough to infer the rest of the conversation from context. The two were concerned about the Reverb-related disappearances of so many drug dealers, but it wasn’t because the Tcho-Tchos were doing the smuggling or manufacturing. They didn’t seem to know who was behind the recent resurgence of Reverb, but they wanted whoever it was to die in the second-most terrible of ways. Evidently, the most terrible way would be for a dog from somewhere called Tindalos to come for you. That was probably the invisible razor-tiger which mauled Dempsey.

It sounded like the Tcho-Tchos had nothing to do with Spider J’s Reverb operation, so the agents finished lunch and headed out. The next stop was the police station to talk with Detective Johnson. The detective wasn’t in much of a talking mood, but he was able to tell them where they could find the last known Reverb dealer in Chicago, Bad Luke. As it turned out, Bad Luke was likely to be at the Tan ‘N’ Wash near their hotel, but he always had a few armed thugs with him. Detective Johnson said the best way to get a word with Bad Luke would be to identify themselves as law enforcement; his men wouldn’t shoot. They thanked the detective for that handy piece of information and headed to the Tan ‘N’ Wash.

The detective was right. Bad Luke and three armed guards were out front just standing around. They evidently didn’t see the sign in the window which said ‘No Loitering Allowed.” Dolf waited in the Jeep while Clark went to talk with Bad Luke. The thugs stiffened as he approached, and their hands moved closer to openly-displayed pistols. Bad Luke only smiled. It was Luke’s turn to stiffen a bit when Clark showed his DEA badge.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 4b*

Clark eased the tension by promising he only wanted to talk. He was investigating the disappearances of Reverb dealers, and he had some information Luke needed. It wasn’t the sort of thing they could talk openly about, but if Luke would just follow him over to the Cherokee … Maybe it was something in Clark’s voice, maybe it was the expression of genuine concern on his face, but Luke trusted him enough to follow. No, you know what? It was probably the traces of glitter in his hair and the fact Luke’s men had guns ready. That was more likely. Either way, Bad Luke followed and got in the back seat.

Clark and de Jaager told him what had happened to Roofie in a locked cell. The same thing had happened to Spider J in his hotel room. Luke was the last one, and the same thing was probably going to happen to him, too. The dealer took the news remarkably well. He’d heard rumors from people he trusted, so he was prepared to believe the agents. Reverb was a big money maker, but it wasn’t worth being ripped to oblivion. Besides, Spider J was the source. With him gone, it wasn’t like Luke could get more. Or … could he? No. Clark let him know in no uncertain terms that Spider J’s contacts were not going to be made available. Luke shrugged. It was worth a shot.

One more thing. Clark wanted to know where Spider J mixed the Reverb. That, Bad Luke didn’t know. He would meet Spider J at the Talbott for all their transactions. He kept it all in a black duffel bag, and the bag was never out of reach. Clark and de Jaager shared a quick, quizzical glance. There was no bag in Spider J’s room. The Hispanic woman hadn’t left with one either. They thanked Bad Luke for the talk and wished him the best of luck.

After the dealer went back across the street, they were going to stop by the hospital to check on Dempsey, but they quickly scrapped that plan. Dolf had been watching the live feed from the security cameras, and he saw Ms. Tillerson enter Room 412. The new plan was for de Jaager to call Dempsey to check on him while they headed back to the hotel. The hospital said Dempsey had checked himself out as soon as he saw what they called chicken.

As it turned out, the Irishman was waiting for them in the hotel lobby. The thousands of tiny nicks on his face and hands were bright pink, but he otherwise hid his injuries well. Dolf was in a hurry and either missed Dempsey or ignored him on the way to the elevator. With two quick bro-nods, one upward and the other directional, Clark both acknowledged Dempsey and told him they were headed to the elevator. The implication was that he should follow.

In the elevator, Clark and de Jaager briefed Dempsey on the situation. Spider J’s girlfriend was in his room, and she might be the only person who knew the dealer’s operation well enough to give them something to go on. Dempsey asked if they had a lead on the invisible dog, but the other two just shrugged. 

Clark knocked on the door, but he was met with silence. A second knock and he could hear quiet shuffling on the other side of the door. It took several minutes of reassurance and persuasion, but eventually, Ms. Tillerson let them in.

She was wary of talking to federal agents, but Dempsey told her they were with the CIA, and that meant they had no jurisdiction on U.S. soil. They couldn’t arrest her or Spider J if they wanted to, which they didn’t. They had some bad news about Spider. He was dead. The thing that killed him was … Ms. Tillerson cut him off.

“Wait. The thing?”

“That’s right. The thing.”

She asked if the thing was an invisible dog, and the agents all nodded. She knew about the hound? She didn’t seem to believe it, but she did know about it. Spider’s contacts in Tibet warned him some kind of dog from a place they called Tindalos might come for him if the stuff he was buying from them was improperly handled. They told Spider if the dog came for him, he should immediately meditate on either an empty void or a perfect sphere, and that might ward the thing off. If he was in a group, they should all meditate on the same thing, or it wouldn’t work.


----------



## Audrik

*Reverberations - Session 4c*

Clark asked if it was Reverb he was buying in Tibet, but she shook her head. No. It was a dark purple flower they called Liao. Spider had been bringing it into Chicago and mixing it with MDMA. Clark explained that was 3,4-Methyl​enedioxy​methamphetamine, more commonly known as Ecstacy. Dempsey narrowed his eyes disapprovingly and called Clark a nerd.

Ms. Tillerson nodded. She said Spider J would mix a tiny bit of the Liao and some MDMA in gelatin capsules, and then he’d sell it to the dealers who had been disappearing lately. Clark asked where Spider J mixed the Reverb, and Ms. Tillerson said he had a small condo he used only for mixing batches of Reverb. She gave them the address but told them they wouldn’t find anything. Spider never left anything but the furniture there. The agents thanked her and asked if she had somewhere else to stay. She did, but she had no way to get there, so Clark offered to take her. Ms. Tillerson accepted a ride to a Burger King near where she was headed, but she didn’t want to show up with obvious cops. None of the men could fathom what she could mean by that. In their estimation, they couldn’t look less like law enforcement.

The agents dropped her off and headed to the address she’d given. On the way, they agreed to meditate on a perfect sphere at the first sign of glittering razors. The condo was the leftmost of four in the same building. It was thin, but it was two stories. The door was locked. The window next to it was locked as well, but it was poorly latched. Dolf jiggled the window a bit and loosened the latch enough to open it. He climbed in, closed the window, and opened the door from the inside.

There wasn’t much to the place, and Ms. Tillerson’s description was accurate. The bottom floor was a living room and kitchen. The living room held only a couch, coffee table, and 55” plasma television mounted to the wall. Dempsey took the kitchen while Clark headed upstairs. Dolf searched the living room.

Dempsey didn’t expect to find anything in the kitchen. As he searched, he recited the Old Mother Hubbard nursery rhyme with himself cast in the title role.

“Young Agent Dempsey went to the cupboard to give the poor dog a bone, but when he got there, the cupboard … was full of gelatin capsules and Yuban coffee?”

Clark shouted down the stairs that there were a bathroom and an empty bedroom with no furniture. Dolf shined his flashlight inside a vent near the ceiling, but it was empty. Or rather, it was empty until he looked away. Then his peripheral vision caught something shiny, glittery, and razory.

“Sphere!”

All three agents immediately dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged while meditating on a perfect sphere. Nothing happened, and nothing continued to happen. They weren’t sure how long they had to concentrate because they’d forgotten to ask.

It didn’t matter anyway. The sphere in Clark’s mind eventually began to expand and contract, pulsing to the beat of a random bit of house techno which popped into his head. It was still kind of a sphere, though, so maybe he hadn’t totally screwed them.

Clark’s pulsing rave sphere elongated into a puffy cylinder, and so he gave up. He imagined several more puffy cylinders, and then he watched as his mind arranged them in a vaguely humanoid shape and put a sailor’s suit on it.

“Uh, guys … I just want you to know that if the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man crushes this place, I …”

“Nice thinking, Ray.”

Dolf’s delivery was unamused, but it was evident he’d seen Ghostbusters enough times to quote it.

Dempsey opened his eyes and stood cautiously. He was done with this place, especially if a razor-marshmallow tiger thing was going to show up. They’d met their objectives, right?

Determine if the new Reverb has unnatural effects. Yes, it did. Find the source and cut off the supply. Check. That was good enough for the Program, and so it was good enough for the Irishman. The others agreed, and they left in haste. Back to the hotel to report their success to Voss, then they’d get a good night’s sleep and hit the airport in the morning. Goodbye, Chicago. You can keep the dog.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 1a*

Task Force 138 had reached consensus. They were done with Chicago. Morning came, and the city hadn’t been destroyed by the spongy, sweet physical manifestation of Gozer the Gozerian. That fact was, of course, bittersweet for the agents, but it meant they were still alive, so that was a plus.

Dempsey had wasted no time leaving the hotel in the morning despite the fact his flight wasn’t due to depart until 11:00 AM. He was at his gate and waiting by 9:15. It seemed there was no shortage of people wanting to leave Chicago, but for whatever reason, there also seemed to be many who actually wanted to be there. Maybe they just had connecting flights.

The DEA would likely want to know the situation, and so Clark decided to stay another day and write up some sanitized reports for the official file. He also practiced forming a perfect sphere in his mind, because he felt he might be right after Dempsey on the invisible razor-tiger’s hit list. He hadn’t shot at the thing, but he had been dosed with the Liao drug.

De Jaager’s flight was later in the day, and so he went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. He sat in a booth and turned the empty coffee cup he found there right side up to let the waitress know he’d be having some. It wasn’t because of the coffee – at least, he didn’t think so – but as soon as he had taken his first sip, he was assaulted by swiftly-vanishing memories almost like waking from a nightmare. He could have held on to the memories if he’d wanted to, but he felt it best to let them fade. Besides, the whole restaurant was looking at him.

Had he screamed out loud? The waitress seemed to think he had, and for a good 20 seconds at least. She was nice, but she looked worried. Dolf apologized.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that – how can I put this? – Well, I’ll just come out and ask. Did you give me decaf?”

The waitress stared in bewilderment for a moment before indicating that she had not. He had the regular, caffeinated coffee they always serve.

“Then it must be instant coffee.”

“No, sir. It’s Yuban.”

“Ah, then no flavor crystals … You know, I think I’ll pass on breakfast. Thank you.”
Dolf tossed a $5 bill on the table and exited as casually as he could. He couldn’t explain what had just happened, but he needed to tell someone. He went back up to the room only to find Clark had experienced the same sort of fading nightmare effect at the same time.

Clark’s phone rang. It was a Chicago area code, but he didn’t recognize the number. He was still a little out of breath when he answered. The woman on the other end asked him to attend a briefing at 3:00 PM. Without waiting for his confirmation, she gave him an address and hung up. Was that Delta Green? The fact de Jaager’s phone rang immediately after and showed the same number told them it was. After hanging up, De Jaager called Dempsey.

The Irishman confirmed he had been detained by TSA for screaming uncontrollably just as he was about to board his flight. He was fine now, and he thought he could still make his flight as soon as he answered the call coming in on the other line. De Jaager told him he and Clark would be seeing him at 3:00. Dempsey was confused until the woman on the other line told him pretty much the same thing. So … more Chicago. Excellent. Someone or something out there hated him with a passion. He was sure of it.

The agents all met at the address they were given. It was a plain office building much like the building where they’d had their briefing for the previous Op. There were two women waiting in the briefing room. The first was a quiet and businesslike Asian woman with an ID badge identifying her as Inspector Hua of the Department of Energy hanging from a lanyard. The other was a middle-aged woman with weary eyes. She introduced herself as Carpenter, their case officer for this emergency operation. It had been her voice on the other end of the calls that morning. Once everyone was seated, Carpenter began the briefing.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 1b*

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. As I said, this is an emergency, and you were the nearest agents. You will be heading to the Olympian Holobeam Array. It’s a new, high-tech physics lab not far from Fermilab, and it is run by a handful of academic researchers from MIT and the University of Chicago. The Array is funded by the U.S. Department of Energy’s Office of Science and a private consortium of donors and venture capital firms, most notably Olympian Advances, Inc.

“The Array’s website says it’s built to study the theory that space itself is a sort of three-dimensional hologram cast on a two-dimensional surface … whatever that means. The Program has determined the Array secretly uses technology derived from Air Force research programs defunded years ago. The Air Force projects were too dangerous to continue and were terminated, but during that process, certain elements were reclassified, privatized, and sold to some of the same donors who sponsor the Array. The Program has an interest in that technology.

“At 10:00 today, the Array went online for the first time. The history of the Array’s technology and certain other anomalies indicate an incursion of unnatural forces at the Olympian Holobeam Array. You will go to the Array, isolate it by shutting down its communications with the outside world – including cell phones – and stop the incursion.”

At that point, Carpenter paused to hand out Department of Energy ID badges and two sets of keys. Each agent received a badge with his face and someone else’s name and employee number. They were also being provided with an unmarked DOE-issued sedan and an unmarked DOE-issued cargo van.

Clark took the keys to the van while de Jaager claimed the sedan. Dempsey announced he’d be in the van because he would need workspace during the drive. Clark immediately tried to trade vehicles, but de Jaager was already welcoming Inspector Hua to Team Sedan. Once the travel situation was decided, Carpenter continued the briefing.

“You have clearance under the cover of an inspection team for the Department of Energy tasked with reviewing the site and its records for wrongdoing. There may be specific documents or pieces of technology in the facility this clearance does not cover. You will have to make do. These cover identities were constructed in a hurry, borrowing names and employee numbers of retired or deceased DOE employees. They won’t stand up to sustained investigation.

“The Program has pulled strings in the DOE to classify the investigation such that no real DOE agent – let alone police or private citizens – can come near it without risking prison. Though, if an emergency at the site attracts first responders, there is no telling whether they will obey that restriction.

Carpenter gave the agents a cheap burner phone preloaded with a single phone number. They could use it to contact her if necessary, and they were to destroy the phone after the Operation.

As the briefing was nearing its end, music came from Carpenter’s pocket. Evidently, her ringtone was the first verse of the theme song from the television show American Dad. She was either a true patriot, or she had a sense of humor. The weary expression on her face implied the former. She answered the call wordlessly, listened for a moment, and then hung up.

“An unexpected power surge shut down power to the Array a few minutes ago. I don’t know how or why, but I wish you good luck.”

Carpenter allowed no time for questions as she gathered her belongings and exited the briefing room. A few short minutes later, the agents were on the road heading for the Olympian Holobeam Array. The drive wasn’t far, but thanks to traffic and construction, it took about an hour. On the way, Dempsey worked unsuccessfully on a batch of “Irish Coffee,” and Clark kept an eye out for razor-tigers and the Michelin Man in a sailor suit. In the sedan, de Jaager tried to engage Inspector Hua in conversation, but the soft-spoken woman wasn’t much for small talk. She was, however, busy researching the Array and Olympian Advances on her laptop computer, and she had found some interesting items.

The Array seemed to be run with a skeleton crew. For a project like this, there were far fewer staff than she would expect, and they were mostly high-ranking experts without a single intern to do the drudge-work. She had heard of the lead researcher, Dr. Jaime Campbell of MIT, too. Dr. Campbell had a reputation as a crackpot, but she had an extensive history of projects affiliated with the Air Force, and over the years, she had garnered extraordinary support from private-sector underwriters like Olympian Advances.

The sedan was in the lead as they turned off the main road and onto an unlabeled driveway leading into the woods. The onlyindications they were going the right way were the Google Maps application on de Jaager’s phone and the partially-obscured sign reading “Authorized Personnel Only.” Beyond that sign, the road wound back and forth through the woods for a hundred yards or so until it ended at a steel gate with a thick concrete wall on either side extending out into the woods.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 1c*

An external security kiosk stood outside the concrete wall. It was manned by a single guard – a fit Hispanic man in his forties whose name tag on his khaki uniform identified him as Officer Gonzales. The man smiled out from beneath a tan Stetson hat as he approached the sedan. He checked ID badges and returned to the security kiosk. A few moments later, the steel gate slid open. Gonzales gave the agents a thumbs-up.

Beyond the gate, a short drive through the woods led to a wide, paved clearing with a small, gravel parking lot to the right. There was a large, main building with another security kiosk outside the front doors, and beyond that was what Inspector Hua said was the Array itself. The Array consisted of a cluster of small, plain concrete buildings connected by an intersecting set of 60-foot-long tubes arranged in a ‘T’ shape.

The agents hadn’t noticed security cameras outside the wall, but inside, they were everywhere, and they were obvious. They decided to check in at the second security kiosk. This one had a bank of video screens, and as they approached, the woman monitoring those screens came out to greet them. She was in her thirties, and while she was polite, she wasn’t quite as cheerful as Gonzales had been. She identified herself as Officer Henson, and she checked IDs just as Gonzales had.

Once Officer Henson confirmed everything was in order, she told them where to find Dr. Campbell’s office. Dempsey and Inspector Hua followed the directions and entered the main building through the front door. Clark and de Jaager asked to see security footage for the day. Officer Henson made a quick call to Dr. Campbell’s office to clear the request before showing them to the security kiosk and the bank of monitors.

Even at 4x speed, a full day of recording from a dozen cameras would take more time and attention than they could spare, but fortunately for the agents, they could limit their search to the time between two specific points. They checked the grainy footage starting at 10:00 AM, and at the moment the Array was activated, every camera showed nothing but static for a few seconds.

To a less-tech savvy observer, it might be easily overlooked, but Clark and de Jaager were both computer guys. To them, the static stood out as strange. If the signal had been dropped, there would be no image at all, just blank frames. The static meant electromagnetic interference, but there didn’t appear to be anything strange happening at the time.

Once the video feeds resumed, everything appeared normal. There were static interruptions again at 11:05:47, 12:11:34, 13:17:21, and 14:23:08. The timecoding on the security footage evidently used the 24-hour clock. Each static interruption lasted for a few seconds each time. At 15:28:55 – while the agents were nearing the end of the operational briefing – the feed went black, but the black screens still showed the same static interference for a few seconds. That shouldn’t happen if the power surge had knocked out all the electronics and the cameras weren’t operational, and yet, there it was.

The video feed resumed at 15:50:58 when power was restored. At that point, the camera in the engineers’ office showed a man sleeping or unconscious on a couch. Officer Henson identified him as Dr. Takagawa, one of two engineers at the Array. One other thing stood out to de Jaager: someone was missing. Before the power surge, there had been eight people on-site, six staffers and two security guards. Now, there were seven.

Clark rolled the footage back to just before the power surge, paused, and counted. De Jaager was right. A woman was exiting the lab just before the surge, and when power was restored, she was gone. Officer Henson identified her as Dr. Helen Klinger and said she hadn’t seen Dr. Klinger leave. Dolf asked her to radio Gonzales at the front gate, and Gonzales said nobody had left the facility. That meant this Dr. Klinger was on the Array grounds in an inconspicuous place, or she had actually disappeared.

De Jaager thanked Officer Henson for her time and tried to keep her attention while Clark made a few quick clicks and keystrokes. He was able to find out the computer had a subroutine in its programming which would transmit the day’s footage to a particular IP address at midnight every night and then delete the oldest day of stored footage. It stored 72 hours of footage at any given time. Clark made note of the IP address, and then he, too, thanked Officer Henson for her time.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 1d*

While de Jaager and Clark were involved in what Dempsey called nerd work, the Irishman and Inspector Hua met with Dr. Campbell. The director of the Olympian Holobeam Array was a gray-haired African-American woman. She was as thin as a stick, but she seemed anything but fragile. Dr. Campbell was very businesslike in her demeanor.

Inspector Hua got right to the questions. How many staff were here today? All of them. This was the first day of operation, and it was far too important for sick days. There were three researchers (Dr. Campbell, Dr. Philip Black, and Dr. Helen Klinger), two engineers (Dr. Ishi Takagawa and Evan Kozac), and one IT support specialist (Jingfei Tsang). There was also a janitor who services the offices three times a week, but he was not scheduled for today.

What caused the power surge? Dr. Campbell had no idea, but it had to have been something outside the facility. In the hours the Array was in operation, had they learned anything? The Array had collected data, but it was too soon to know what to make of it, if there was anything of value to be learned from such a small sample. Tsang would be in the lab going over everything now. That was all Dempsey and Hua had for the moment, and so Dr. Campbell called the junior engineer, Evan Kozac, to show them around and assist them. Evan was a wiry man in his forties with nervous eyes, and he seemed to have a habit of humming to himself. The humming was a brief series of atonal, nonsensical notes, but they were consistent.

As they exited Campbell’s office, de Jaager and Clark met up with them. After introductions, de Jaager asked about the unconscious man in the engineers’ office. Evan explained he had found Dr. Takagawa unconscious in the Atrium of the Array shortly after the power surge. He had managed to bring the doctor back to consciousness long enough to walk him back to the office, but Dr. Takagawa was incoherent and passed out again.

Evan led the group to the engineers’ office where Dr. Takagawa still slept. De Jaager, who was no doctor, felt for vital signs and found nothing. He announced the man was dead, but Clark pointed out the slow, even rise and fall of the man’s chest. Okay. So, he wasn’t dead. That was good news.

Dempsey, who was also no doctor, examined the man. There was no evidence of injury; no blood, no swelling, no perspiration. Dr. Takagawa seemed to be resting peacefully, so Dempsey shook him gently. When the man didn’t wake up, Dempsey shook more violently and called his name. Still nothing.

Evan assured them he’d tried all of that, but Takagawa only woke long enough to stumble to the office. Dempsey wasn’t buying it.

“Damnit! This man probably has a concussion. And even if he doesn’t, he obviously needs medical attention. You need to call 911 right now, and if you don’t, I will!”

Clark, de Jaager, and Hua all shook their heads as casually but forcefully as they could to remind him they didn’t want emergency services or first responders anywhere near this Op.

“Uh, or, you know … maybe we could let him sleep a bit and see if he wakes up on his own. But I’m watching you, Kozac. Something’s not right here.”

The other three agents spoke over each other in an attempt to redirect the conversation. Realizing it was better for one person to ask a question at a time – and better still for that person to be the one who had conducted an investigation like this in the past – Clark and de Jaager stopped to let Hua take over.

“Mr. Kozac, what can you tell us about the technology used by the Array?"

“Well, I could get killed for telling you this, but …”

Evan grinned to show that he was at least half-joking, but even still, he leaned forward conspiratorially and spoke in a hushed tone.

“In a nutshell, the Atrium’s lasers detect jitters in space-time, and the computer – we call it Dee – records the data and makes it comprehensible.”

“Can we see this technology and your computer, Dee?”

“Well, I’d be happy to show you around the Array and the lab, sure, but you can’t open up the laser array’s casing. The technology is extremely expensive, fragile, and precise. Also, Dr. Campbell says you’re not cleared for it. Same goes for Dee.”

Inspector Hua nodded in understanding. Dempsey, Clark, and de Jaager nodded to each other in the silent agreement that they were, indeed, going to be inspecting every inch of that laser and the computer.

Hua had another question. Once the Array had detected enough of these jitters in space-time, what use would that data be? Again, Evan started with his disclaimer about potentially being killed for telling them. He then explained it might be easiest to think of it as a very compact particle accelerator, but really, it caused quantum reactions that would fold and spindle space-time itself. Keying that beam to patterns of data detected by the Holobeam might open brief, controllable gaps in reality.

Inspector Hua nodded some more.

“Then, you might produce instantaneous movement or communication.”

Oh, good. At least someone here was following. Clark and de Jaager were both highly-intelligent and well-educated, but they weren’t physicists. They managed to catch the main idea, and when Hua gave her summary, they, too, nodded in understanding. Dempsey just shrugged and called them all nerds.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 1e*

The agents decided to let Dr. Takagawa rest for now, and Evan suggested passing through the lab before heading out to the Array itself.

The lab consisted of seven computer workstations. Only one workstation was currently in use. Jingfei Tsang, as Evan introduced her, was a Chinese-American woman in her thirties, and she seemed so intent on watching the data flowing across her screen that she failed to even acknowledge anyone else was in the lab.

Evan explained that Ms. Tsang loved the computer, Dee, like a junkie loved drugs. He gestured to indicate a well-ventilated cabinet near the woman. It certainly seemed unremarkable; a typical rack of processors and motherboards connected to several workstations.

Again, as Hua was the experienced DOE Inspector, the other agents let her start. Ms. Tsang answered questions without looking away from the monitor. She told them several interesting things. During the hours it was operational, the lasers of the Array didn’t jitter with purely random movement which would be represented by white noise when plotted as data on a graph and converted to sound, but with strange, unexpected pulses. She indicated the data streaming across her monitor as if that would clarify, but she seemed to be the only one who could make any sense of it.

Ms. Tsang continued to volunteer information, consciously or not. She had had Dee generate an audio feed from the data, and she gladly played the result. It was a strange and eerie series of atonal whistles of various high frequencies. It was the same pattern as the tones Evan hummed unconsciously, but the tones were much higher. These tones were also punctuated by very low-frequency pulses that were barely audible to human ears but rattled the computer’s speakers. Clark and de Jaager, who were watching the graphed patterns while listening to the audio, instinctively felt a connection between the two, and they felt a connection to an unseen and unknowable aspect of reality.

There was more. While the Array was offline, Dee was powered by the backup generator. The computer showed anomalous readings. The tones were gone, but the pulses were still there. They were much weaker, but they shouldn’t have been there at all. Ms. Tsang explained it meant either there were unexpected energy sources leaking into the carefully isolated sensors, or else the sensors were damaged and reading phantom signals – a point Evan strongly discounted.

Whatever the case, when graphed visually, each pulse looked like an energy signature that began slowly, in low frequencies, and rose in speed and frequency over the course of about one second, until it vanished. An audio representation, which Ms. Tsang was all-too-happy to play, sounded like a drumbeat that rose to a thin whistle.

De Jaager asked if the Array was still picking up the signals after its reactivation, and Ms. Tsang indicated it was. Oddly enough, they were coming more rapidly now than they were in the morning, and they had more energy.

While listening to the exchange, Clark tried to see inside the vents of the computer casing. It looked pretty standard – well, except for the obelisk. It was hard to see it through the vents, but in the center of all the computer parts was what looked like a deep black obelisk, about two feet tall and maybe six inches around. It was run through with veins of softer black where computer cables plugged in.

Clark gave de Jaager and Dempsey a directional bro-nod to tell them to take a look inside the machine while he took over questioning. He asked Ms. Tsang to tell him about Dee, and she was quite happy to do so. Olympian Advances had custom-built Dee to present data from elaborate physics experiments in a more-easily comprehensible form. Dee was a crystal-matrix quantum supercomputer. Data was stored in a crystal framework and retrieved by lasers. It was several decades ahead of state-of-the-art. In a way, Dee wasn’t just processing data; it was thinking. It was constantly updating and rewriting itself to adapt the Array to environmental factors and improve its precision and sensitivity. It was also a good thing it wasn’t connected to the internet, because if any computer could start World War III, Dee would be the one.

It all sounded like technobabble to Dempsey and Hua, but it made even less sense to Clark and de Jaager. They knew computers, and what Ms. Tsang was describing shouldn’t be possible. It just shouldn’t work. But Ms. Tsang was happy to demonstrate. She spoke into a microphone and asked Dee to explain several difficult things from engine tuning to baking a soufflé at high altitude.

The answers Dee gave were detailed and very clear, but it wasn’t enough to convince Clark. He asked if he could direct a question to Dee. Evan tensed up, and Ms. Tsang hesitated, but she was so proud to show off the computer that she allowed it. Clark’s question was interesting: Where was Dr. Klinger right now? Dee’s response sent a chill through the agents.

“Dr. Helen Klinger has decohered out of this reality.”

Right. Not dead. Not abducted by aliens. Didn’t step out for coffee. Decohered out of this reality. Pretty much any other response would have been preferable.

If Evan and Ms. Tsang had heard the response, they didn’t show it. Evan simply gestured to the door leading outside and to the Array while he hummed the same atonal notes as always.


----------



## Audrik

Apologies for letting this go so long without an update. Schedules, holidays, football season, etc ...


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 2a*

Clark and de Jaager stepped outside, and Evan followed. Dempsey and Inspector Hua remained in the computer lab to … well, they weren’t sure just yet. Inspector Hua felt interviewing the final remaining Array staffer, Dr. Black, would be good, and the Irishman wanted to blow something up. He had three doses of “Irish Coffee,” his term for the improvised explosives he carried. Those should be plenty to destroy a computer, and then they could all go home.

Evan led Clark and de Jaager across the asphalt to the Array. A portable clean room – a tent of thick, clear plastic sheets with a blower and filter to clean the air – had already been set up covering the door to the concrete hut which housed the Array’s laser. The engineer was positively beaming with pride as he opened the heavy steel door and allowed the agents access.

“This is it! This is where the magic happens!”

Evan closed the door behind them, and just as he did so, he, Clark, and de Jaager were all struck by brief but sudden vertigo. Along with that, the agents also had a fleeting sense that everything they were experiencing was unreal. It was hard to explain, but it was almost as if they were actors on a television show or characters in a novel; like their reality wasn’t real, or at least like it wasn’t the only one. Professor Pangloss and Candide would have agreed. Though if this truly was the best of all possible worlds, what sort of twisted and uncaring god would have them in Chicago for back-to-back Operas with no rest? Surely, Voltaire would have approved.

De Jaager felt an instinctive awareness of something pressing against the fabric of reality as if trying to force its way through the membrane between dimensions. Not only that, but he also sensed that this awareness itself somehow made a breach more likely. Rather than provide assistance to whatever terrible thing was trying to get through, the Dutchman immediately dropped to a sitting position and concentrated on a perfect sphere. No way was he letting Gozer take Chicago.

Evan raised an eyebrow and gave Clark an inquisitive look. Clark just shrugged.

“Mecca. Must be prayer time.”

That seemed good enough for the engineer. The Array staffers were actually very inclusive for such an exclusive group.

The men out at the laser Array weren’t the only ones to experience vertigo. Back in the computer lab, both Dempsey and Inspector Hua felt it, too. Ms. Tsang looked a little dizzy for a moment, but she never took her eyes off the monitor, and when the feeling had passed, she gave no indication of having noticed it. Dempsey’s bad feeling about this Opera was steadily getting worse. He didn’t understand all the science or technobabble, but he was sure everything stemmed from the talking crystal obelisk masquerading as a computer.

He was just about to rig a dose of “Irish Coffee” to it when a blood-curdling scream echoed from outside the lab in the direction of the offices. He told Hua to keep an eye on Ms. Tsang, and he went to investigate. Dr. Takagawa had awoken, and he now stood on shaky legs in the hallway. Dempsey approached cautiously.

“Dr. Takagawa, what happened?”

“My eyes … Everything is going dark.”

For a Japanese man in his 60s, Takagawa only had a slight accent. He was visibly terrified. As his knees wobbled more and more, the engineer was forced to lean on the wall for support. Dempsey spoke into his sub-vocal mic to let the other agents know Takagawa was awake and his vision was fading fast. Clark responded that they were on their way. Evan remained behind to check on the laser, but he assured them he would follow in just a minute.

Whatever was going on here, Dempsey didn’t want to touch Takagawa, but he did want to help. He told the old engineer to follow the sound of his voice, and he backed slowly toward the computer lab. When Clark and de Jaager reached the computer lab, Dempsey had just backed in. He took a few more steps back, and Dr. Takagawa fell through the doorway and came to rest face first on the concrete floor of the lab.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 2b*

Ms. Tsang paid no attention to the collapsed engineer, so Clark paid all of his attention to her. The utter disinterest was appalling. Clark was a recovering bro, and where he came from, people were supposed to at least feign interest or mock.

Dolf rushed to Dr. Takagawa, and though the Dutchman had no practical medical knowledge, he moved to feel for a pulse. He stopped short, however. The fluids in de Jaager’s hand began to glow a faint bluish-white. As Dolf pulled his hand back, the engineer looked up at him with cloudy, unfocused eyes. As the man spoke, his saliva displayed the same faint glow as Dolf’s hand had.

“Please … A hospital, please … Call my wife and children …”

Yeah … de Jaager hadn’t been on the job long, but it had been long enough to know the engineer could never be allowed to leave or to talk with anyone outside the facility.

“Please …”

Nope. De Jaager drew his pistol and shot the crawling man between the eyes. Dr. Takagawa’s head popped like a cyst, splattering brain matter and faintly-glowing fluids all over. That was not like the movies; it was surreal and yet all too real. It was the right thing to do. It put the man out of his agony and secured a potential breach of the Operation.

Still, he had just shot a man. In the face. He even thought he could taste brain. Brain may or may not have sprayed into his mouth. Even if it hadn’t, de Jaager was pretty sure some of it had found its way into his nose and tear ducts. There might be bits of another man’s brain touching his brain right now in some revolting meeting-of-the-minds that probably wouldn’t even make it into a Lloyd Kaufman film. Of course, he knew it didn’t work that way, but Dolf wasn’t thinking straight at the moment. All he wanted to do was get away.

Clark had seen cold-blooded executions before. It was part of the reason he preferred to run surveillance rather than go undercover. Even when the victim had it coming, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Takagawa had to die. Clark knew that, but it didn’t make the situation easier. He tried to block out reality by focusing on the waves and pulses scrolling across Ms. Tsang’s monitor instead.

Dempsey wasn’t a fan of execution either, but business was business. Besides, Dr. Takagawa’s sacrifice provided the cover he needed to dose the computer, Dee, with “Irish Coffee.” As he slipped over to the rack of computer parts that housed the crystal obelisk, he told Clark to hold Tsang. Rather than do as the Irishman instructed, Clark instead looked up from the monitor with an inquisitive expression.

As Dempsey secured the explosive device to do the most damage to the computer, Ms. Tsang stiffened and then whirled in her office chair. She seemed to sense Dee was in danger, and so she leaped from the chair and tackled Dempsey. In the struggle, a button was pressed. A bomb exploded. Somewhere in the distance, a Dutchman screamed.

When the dust settled, and the ringing in his ears had faded, Dempsey stood and assessed the damage. He’d taken a gash to his shoulder, but he’d be okay. He couldn’t say the same for anyone else in the room. Tsang was dead. Clark was dead. De Jaager was dead. Inspector Hua was unconscious, but she was bleeding out and would probably die without medical attention.

Dempsey sighed and shot her twice with his pistol. Now, Hua was dead, too. And the computer … Dempsey sighed again. The crystal was still intact.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 2c*

Two figures appeared in the doorway, standing over the fallen Dr. Takagawa. It was Dr. Campbell and a man he didn’t recognize. Probably Dr. Black.

The two scientists stood in horror as they took in the sight. Dempsey just shrugged and used the hesitation to shoot them both. The man dropped, but Dr. Campbell was only grazed. She turned and fled for her office.

As Dempsey stepped over bodies and through pools of blood, he tried not to think about anything at all. Maybe the bomb was a mistake, but maybe Clark should have listened to him. Either way, his team was dead, and most of the Array staff were dead. He might as well eliminate the rest and go back to finish off that damned computer.

Campbell slammed the door to her office, and Dempsey heard the click of the lock as he reached it. That was cute. Locking an office door. These people may be smart, but they could have used some Active Shooter training. He put a round into the door just below the knob, and then he kicked. The door swung open in time for him to see Dr. Campbell duck behind her heavy wooden desk.

He could hear a desk drawer slowly slide open, but he didn’t have time for games. Three quick steps and he had a clear shot. Dr. Campbell never had time to grab whatever she was reaching for. Next was … Who was left? Just Evan? Dempsey stepped out into the hall and had only a moment to realize he’s forgotten someone - the security guard from the kiosk with the cameras. Officer Henson greeted him in the hall with a frown and three bullets. Maybe it was more than three, but three were all he lived long enough to count. Dempsey slumped against the wall and slid down as everything turned red and then black.

Moments later – or maybe eternities later? – the agents all screamed as memories faded. Clark and de Jaager were in the Array, and Evan had just closed the door. Dempsey and Hua were in the computer lab. They were all right where they had been when they’d felt vertigo.

Clark, Dempsey, and Hua let the memories fade like barely-remembered dreams, and they couldn’t fade fast enough. De Jaager wanted to let the memories fade, but something told him he needed to remember. He froze, staring at his feet and thinking. Remember. Remember.

And remember, he did. Only, he remembered so damned hard that he remembered things he’d tried to forget before. Yes, he remembered shooting Takagawa, and he remembered dying in an explosion … He had died. He had died in an explosion. Yet, here he was. And this wasn’t the first time.

_Just after the team had wrapped up the Reverb investigation and were preparing to head home, they got an emergency call from Carpenter. They had a quick briefing, and they were sent to the Array at night. The staffers were already insane and murderous. Then, something broke through. Something vast, black, shapeless and mindless, but alive and potent, ripped a hole in the sky over the Array. Thunderous blasts and shrieks of power answered the feeble pulses echoed by Dee. The thing in the sky swept out and absorbed everything into itself.

And he “woke” screaming at 10:00 A.M., hours before, in the hotel restaurant, remembering almost nothing. He called in the barest details to Delta Green. The Program sent the team to stop the disaster — and they failed. Late at night, the great power behind reality broke through again, absorbed everything again.

And he “woke” screaming at 10:00 A.M., hours before, in the hotel restaurant, remembering almost nothing, not even the barest details. The Program sent the team to the Array again._

And now, here they were. Again. Only, this time they “woke” screaming already at the Array, already with the Operation in progress. They were stuck in Groundhog Day, but the timeline was accelerating. If they failed, they’d probably get another chance, but who knew how much time they’d lose. Eventually, failure would be permanent.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 3a*

This had to end, and it had to end now. Clark didn’t seem to remember what had just happened, but de Jaager remembered enough for the both of them. This time, he didn’t sit to meditate, and he didn’t wait for Dempsey to call.

“Come on. Takagawa’s awake, he’s going blind, and I have to give him something.”

Again, Evan raised an eyebrow and gave Clark an inquisitive look, and again, Clark just shrugged.

“He called his psychic this morning.”

That answer, too, was good enough for Evan. Clark and de Jaager hurried back to the Computer Lab, and Evan remained behind to tend to the laser.

Dempsey was in the process of prepping a dose of “Irish Coffee” when de Jaager and Clark entered and passed through the Lab on the way to the hall. De Jaager went straight for the engineers’ office, and Clark followed. As they entered, Takagawa was just starting to stir, and de Jaager put a stop to that. Two bullets to the face, and this time, he was careful not to let anything get in his mouth.

Clark was entirely unprepared. Dolf did say he had to give something to the engineer, but if anything, Clark was even more surprised than Takagawa. What now? Did de Jaager know something he didn’t? Was he next? Was he going to be called upon to uphold the Body Disposal clause of the Bro Code? Clark readied his gun. He wasn’t sure just what was going on, but he was willing to bet there would be more bullets, and he wanted to be on the shooting team.

Without eye contact, de Jaager stepped out into the hall. Clark followed him back to the computer lab. They entered just in time for another wave of vertigo and the accompanying sense that nothing was real, or at least, that everything that was real to them wasn’t all that was real. As vertigo faded, de Jaager could again feel something pressing against the fabric of reality. Clark, Dempsey, and Hua either didn’t feel it, or they were blocking it out. Either way, that was probably for the best.

If Gozer the Gozerian wanted Chicago, he’d have to down a shot of Dempsey’s “Irish Coffee” first. The Irishman had just finished placing the charge when Ms. Tsang blindsided him with a vicious snarl. The woman had torn herself away from her monitor with such speed and force that neither de Jaager nor Clark could react in time.

Dempsey was tackled. A button was pressed. A bomb exploded. Somewhere in the distance, a Dutchman screamed.

Moments later, the agents all screamed as memories faded. Clark and de Jaager had just stepped into the computer lab from the hall, Inspector Hua was standing against the far wall watching Ms. Tsang who, for her part, didn’t seem to notice she had screamed, and Dempsey had just finished planting a charge of “Irish Coffee.”

As Ms. Tsang turned from her monitor, de Jaager emptied the clip into her back. She fell lifelessly to the concrete floor, face first, just like Takagawa had when de Jaager had killed him the first time. Dempsey and Hua blinked in surprise, but Clark had just seen Takagawa eat two bullets as he was waking up. He had to do something about de Jaager, or everyone was going to die. He raised his gun and pointed it at the back of the Dutchman’s head.

Before he managed to pull the trigger, he heard footsteps from the hall. Dr. Campbell and another man were rushing to the lab, so Clark shot them instead. He still had no idea what was going on, but at least he was doing the shooting.

Dempsey ignored all the shooting; he’d process it all later if necessary. He indicated he had two more doses of “Irish Coffee,” and de Jaager told him to set one up in the atrium with the laser. De Jaager led the way.

Clark paused to catch his breath. He could sure use something to calm his nerves; a beer, a Rum and Coke, a Red Bull … He heard more footsteps in the hall. Officer Henson ran in from the security kiosk outside, pointed her gun at Clark, and yelled for him to drop his weapon. There had been enough shooting, but it sure seemed like that was the only way out. Must be a Chicago thing.


----------



## Audrik

*Observer Effect - Session 3b*

While Clark was assessing his quick draw chances, he thought he saw – no, he did see – two people appear out of thin air behind Henson. The first was a wild-eyed and wild-haired woman in a lab coat, and behind her, a man in loose-fitting khakis and a collared shirt with a tie but no jacket. The man carried a pistol pointed down and away but ready.

The man seemed only momentarily surprised by his newfound situation. He lunged forward and locked his free arm around the wild-eyed woman’s neck while he aimed and fired his pistol at Officer Henson hitting her between the shoulders. Officer Henson fired at Clark and his him in the chest. Clark fired at the man who shot Henson, but he hit the wild-eyed woman between the eyes instead.

The man dropped his now-dead human shield and fired again. He hit Officer Henson as she was falling to the ground, and then the next round put Clark down.

With de Jaager’s assistance, Dempsey found the best position for the Atrium’s dose of “Irish Coffee.” They exited the concrete hut and headed back toward the main building. The Irishman held the remote detonator over his head and angled it behind him. He pressed the button with a dramatic exaggeration.

The man who had killed Clark had just stepped out of the main building as the atrium exploded in a concussive shower of concrete and steel. Again, he was unfazed by the situation. He calmly walked forward with his pistol angled down and away. Dempsey and de Jaager both drew their guns and held them in the same manner, stopping about 50 feet away. The newcomer stopped as well and called to them.

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from, but it looks like we’re on the same side. That’s some nice work, but I don’t think taking down the laser is gonna be enough.”

Dempsey scoffed. Of course, it would be enough. The laser was what was causing … well, whatever bad thing was happening. He wasn’t too clear on that point, but he did know the laser had to die. The computer, he could take with him and destroy later. Dempsey’s responded by paraphrasing what President Reagan had called the nine most terrifying words in the English language.

“We’re from the government, and we're here to help.”

The newcomer nodded and cracked his neck like an action movie villain before a fight.

“Yeah. Me, too. You can call me REDLIGHT.”

REDLIGHT was Captain Cramer Gump, INSCOM “Black” Ops. REDLIGHT had also been dead for more than two years. His cell leader had sacrificed him to a wendigo in the middle of a cold, Alaskan winter. None of these men knew that, however. De Jaager and Dempsey were involved with the legitimate Delta Green program, and this REDLIGHT came from a reality where his cell leader, ROSE, hadn’t sacrificed him. She had sacrificed REAPER instead while REDLIGHT passed the time in a remote cabin with RICHARD.

Dempsey felt there was something a little off about this REDLIGHT guy. Whatever it was, the Irishman didn’t trust anyone who hadn’t been in the briefing room that morning. Hell, he wasn’t sure he even trusted the people who were in that room.

He raised his gun as quickly as he could, but Dempsey hadn’t counted on the possibility the man they faced was no more than a human brain in an alien-engineered body. REDLIGHT had shot them both dead before de Jaager could even shout for Dempsey to stop.

After an indefinite period of nothing, Dolf screamed. He was in the restaurant on the first floor of the Talbott Hotel, and he had just finished his first sip of coffee. Everyone was staring at him. This all seemed familiar, and he didn’t like it. Something told him he needed to remember, and something else told him to forget. He’d taken advice from the wrong shoulder before, and he usually knew the difference. Forgetting seemed like the right choice, and so he let the memories fade.

Clark screamed as well, and at the same time. He, too, was back at the Talbott Hotel, and he was staring at the paperwork he’d been filling out regarding the Reverb investigation. There were rapidly fading memories or dreams, but they involved math, so he let them go.

Like the other two, Dempsey has screamed, but he was about to board a flight at O’Hare Airport. After reassuring the TSA officials who responded to the disturbance, he boarded and found his seat; First Class, seat 4A. The man in the seat next to him looked tired and just a little off. He was dressed in loose-fitting khakis and a collared shirt with a tie and no jacket.

As the Irishman leaned his seat back, the other man warned him the flight crew would only make him put it upright again before takeoff. Dempsey narrowed his eyes with a sneer, and the other man shrugged.

“Suit yourself. But as long as we’re going to be on this flight together, we might as well talk. You can call me REDLIGHT.”


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 1a*

One year. Well, not quite one year, but summer had transitioned through other seasons and the northern hemisphere once again prepared for its arrival. In Chicago, Task Force 138 had failed many times to save the world, and each time, the world had ended. The world in which the agents now found themselves was the real world as far as they knew. To them, they had successfully stopped the resurgence of an unnatural drug and headed home. The memories of their many failures at the Holobeam Array were sealed behind the deepest doors their minds could create. They were nightmares. Sometimes, they were half-seen flashbacks, which only self-medication could ease. But the world – this world where the Holobeam Array had never existed – went on. It survived by virtue of not needing Task Force 138 to save it.

The agents had returned to their homes and jobs. They forgot – as best they could – about Chicago, about the Program, about each other. Well, de Jaager and Dempsey forgot about the others. Despite his best efforts, Clark couldn’t forget Dempsey. Someone that pale and always dressed in heavy wool no matter the temperature might be memorable, but that wasn’t why Clark found it hard to forget. Instead, it was because Clark worked for the DEA. Evidently, the Irishman had decided to embark on a cocaine binge that would make Rick James jealous, and he wasn’t always as subtle as he thought.

More out of a sense of self-preservation than adherence to the Bro Code, Clark spent several hours from June through April covering trails that would lead to Dempsey because those trails might link Dempsey to him.

The rise of The Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant kept de Jaager busy. There was always demand for advances and refinements in linguistic software engineering, and there was nothing quite like national security to drive that demand ever forward.

Of course, no matter how they struggled to forget, to immerse themselves in their jobs, to better (or worsen) themselves, Delta Green always called again. The Program did just that the on a Sunday afternoon the following May. Something wasn’t quite right in California, which might be an enormous understatement, but it could also be applied to any other state. This particular something, however, dealt with what the FBI had designated a serial killer. Details would presumably be in their briefing at the Bakersfield, California FBI office in the morning. Special-Agent-in-Charge Kevin Slater ran the field office, and he had Delta Green clearance.

The sky over southern California was a beautiful, deep blue without a cloud in sight. Thermometers everywhere boasted a perfect 72 degrees. Of course, it was only 8:30 AM. The forecast called for temperatures to hit the mid-90s; not record highs, but high enough to make everyone with a desk job appreciate their lot in life.

Special-Agent-in-Charge Slater had the weary look of a man just short of retirement. Whether or not that was the case, and despite the recent Bureau-wide relaxation of the dress code, SAC Slater was still sharply dressed in a black suit and tie. As Clark and Dempsey arrived, Slater waved them toward a room he called his Sea Cabin. Clark guessed the SAC had been in the Navy, but Dempsey was pretty sure the man just liked pirates. As the agents grabbed coffee and took seats around the long wooden table, the stance Slater took at the podium – hands behind his back, chest out, feet shoulder-width apart – supported Clark’s theory.

SAC Slater got right to the briefing. He took a manila folder from the podium and dropped it on the table in front of the agents. Clark opened it and examined the contents while the SAC explained them.

“Clifford Potter, age 68, was a retired steelworker and local treasure-hunter over in Furnace Creek. His mutilated body was found March 5th less than a quarter mile from the ruins of the old Hughes Electrodynamics plant. Cause of death was blunt and cutting trauma, and time of death was placed between 6:00 PM and 8:00 PM. It was ruled a homicide by the county coroner, and a nearby Bobcat light construction vehicle was tentatively identified as the murder weapon. Potter had rented it at his own expense, and he had been digging around at the abandoned lot for some reason. The local investigation dried up after about a week.”

Furnace Creek. Dempsey didn’t like the sound of that. He’d packed nothing but heavy clothes, and he was pale, even for an Irishman. After the past year, Clark wondered if Dempsey was actually just clear and full of coke.

Slater dropped another manila folder on the table and continued.

“Lorraine Minor, age 36, was reported missing in Furnace Creek on the night of April 24th. Her body was discovered by Furnace Creek Sheriff’s Deputy Lucas Androzy. The deputy was drawn out into the desert by a gathering of buzzards. Ms. Minor had to be identified through dental records. There wasn’t much else left. Even parts of her skeleton were missing.”

The picture in Potter’s folder was a black-and-white portrait. The photograph of Ms. Minor was in color and showed her in the desert with her arm around the waist of another woman. The file identified the other woman as Ms. Minor’s partner, Emily Warren.


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 1b*

Clark and Dempsey agreed that a Bobcat light construction vehicle made an odd choice of murder weapon, but they weren’t sure how that caught the Program’s interest. They didn’t wonder long. SAC Slater unlocked and opened a briefcase at the base of the podium and produced a thick, leather folder tied closed with a leather strap. He dropped it on the table just as he had the manila folders, but this one landed with a solid thud. Despite the heavy sound, Clark found only a single 8x10 color photograph depicting what looked like a burnt orange-colored wallet with featherlike buds sprouting from one end.

“After the second victim was found, the Inyo County Sheriff’s Department asked for help. I assigned the case to Agent Grunberg, and he found that stuck to the underside of the construction vehicle. He sent it to the nerds at the Program lab in San Diego, and all they could come up with was that it came from some kind of unknown bird. Now, I saw that thing, and it didn’t look like it came from any bird I’d ever seen, so maybe the nerds are right. They usually are.”

The SAC took two black wallets with badges and FBI credentials from his inside jacket pocket and gave them to the agents.

“As far as anyone knows, you’re FBI from Washington, D.C. until this is handled. If that’s not good enough for someone, refer them to me. Grunberg and I are in the Program, so anything and everything can be run through us. Just keep it quiet. The boys at the home office in Sacramento might look in at any time. Check out an SUV and get moving. I want daily reports, and if they’re not in person, you’d sure as hell better use some codes.”

That seemed to conclude the briefing since SAC Slater then took back the photograph of the feathery wallet and locked it in his briefcase once more before exiting the room unceremoniously.

The 4-hour drive from Bakersfield was uneventful, and the agents arrived in Furnace Creek at about 1:00 PM. It was hot, but it was going to get hotter. Many people might secure lodging immediately, but not the agents of Task Force 138. According to the sign as they entered, Furnace Creek had 24 residents. Dempsey suggested a revised population of 22, but the sign did look old and sun-bleached, so it might no longer be accurate. Regardless, there were three campgrounds, two small hotels, and a bed and breakfast, so they didn’t consider lodging to be their biggest concern. That distinction fell to lunch, and they had just passed a place offering fry bread tacos and shaved ice.

Once lunch was behind them, the agents felt they could concentrate on work. The Inyo County Sheriff’s Office was in Independence, but there was a small station in Furnace Creek. The building wasn’t large, but it was economical in its use of space. Sheriff Alfred Mann was at the Furnace Creek station when the agents arrived. He was big and burly, but he seemed friendly enough. He expressed appreciation that the FBI had agreed to take over the investigation. His office wasn’t equipped for this sort of thing, it was just himself and Deputy Androzy, murders just didn’t happen around there, etc …

The sheriff informed the agents Deputy Androzy had handled the Potter investigation, and when the deputy had found Ms. Minor, they turned everything over to the FBI. He referred them to the deputy for any questions. The sheriff’s office would assist in any way they needed but would otherwise stay out of the way.

Clark thanked the sheriff for his time, and the agents went to speak with Deputy Androzy. The deputy was young, and while he wasn’t exactly eager to assist the FBI, he was willing to do what he could. Something in the deputy’s manner led Clark to wonder if that willingness to help would persist after the sheriff went back to Independence.

Deputy Androzy had the case file ready and on his desk. It contained crime scene photos which were clear but still obviously not professional. The photos from the Potter scene showed a body shredded and mangled near a construction vehicle in a cleared area surrounded by debris and the ruins of a building. The photos of the Minor scene showed a few broken and shattered bones scattered across a small patch of desert.

He told the agents what he knew. Potter was a local treasure hunter who had taken an interest in the old Hughes Electrodynamics plant a couple years ago. He would rent the Bobcat from the Furnace Creek Gas Station for days at a time, and he would come back with truckloads of brass, bronze, and copper. He swore it was like a gold mine, but no one seemed to be interested.

Jarvis Greene was the one who found the body. His grandfather, Montgomery Green, owned the gas station, and Jarvis worked there. According to Jarvis Greene, when Potter failed to return the Bobcat on time, he called and received no answer. He went to Potter’s house, and again, no answer. It was when he went out to the old electrodynamics plant that he found the body.

Emily Warren was Lorraine Minor’s girlfriend, companion, partner … Deputy Androzy wasn’t sure what the polite term was, but the other residents just referred to them as “the lesbians.” There was nothing disparaging meant; it was just the most accurate way the Furnace Creek residents had to describe them. The women were actually very well liked. They were artists; Warren was a painter, and Minor was a sculptor. Ms. Minor had recently begun working with what she called “desert wood” sculptures, and she would go out in the evenings to collect materials. She had gone out on the night of April 24th, but she never returned.


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 1c*

The agents thanked the deputy. As they were leaving, Deputy Androzy asked them if they had any ideas and where they thought they might go next. Dempsey wasn’t about to give out any information. As far as he was concerned, everyone was a suspect. Clark wasn’t sure he wanted to give out too much information either, but he didn’t want to draw suspicion for lack of cooperation. He said they planned to check out the Bobcat at the gas station and take a look at the rental records to see who had been using it lately. Androzy nodded and added that he checked the rental log as part of the Potter investigation. Only Potter had rented it in the last couple years, and he’d been doing so a lot. He didn’t know if anyone had rented it since it had been returned to the gas station following the investigation.

The Furnace Creek Gas Station was a rickety two-story house with a gable roof. The front half of the first floor had been converted into a store. Two old gas pumps sat out front on simple concrete blocks beneath a sun-bleached Coke sign and faded ads for long-forgotten products.

Inside the store, the agents noticed a strong smell of marijuana. A young man with dreadlocks leaned back in his chair behind the counter. His feet were propped on the counter next to the register. He smiled and nodded at the agents when they entered. His smile disappeared instantly when the badges came out. Dempsey waved a hand to calm him.

“Don’t worry kid. That’s not why we’re here. I think that’s legal here anyway.”

Clark shook his head and indicated that, while it wasn’t legal recreationally, he was sure the kid had a prescription. Anyway, as Dempsey had mentioned, that’s not why they were there. They were investigating a couple murders, and part of that investigation involved an inspection of the Bobcat construction vehicle and the store’s rental log.

The rental log was nothing more than a few sheets of paper on a clipboard hanging on the wall behind the counter. The young man handed it to Dempsey. Just as Deputy Androzy had said, the log showed only Potter’s name appeared on the first couple pages of the log. Dempsey nodded and handed the clipboard back.

“Thank you, Mr., ummm … What did you say your name was?”

“Jarvis. Jarvis Greene. My grandpa owns this place.”

“Jarvis. You’re the one who found Potter’s body?”

The man nodded as he showed the agents to the concrete pad where the Bobcat was parked. Clark began inspecting the vehicle while Dempsey continued the conversation. The young man’s answers matched what the deputy had told them. Dempsey mentioned they might need to speak with the owner of the gas station at some point, and Jarvis said that should be fine. His grandfather was very old, however, and he spent most of his time upstairs where it was air conditioned. It would take him several minutes to get downstairs, so the agents should call ahead before they arrive.

Clark was no forensic scientist, so he wasn’t sure what to make of the splatter patterns, but there was still a significant amount of dried blood on the underside of the vehicle as well as traces over the front left. There was also a transparent film spattered lightly in various places and more heavily concentrated near the engine. Again, he was no nerd, but he did know a thing or two about mechanics. That fluid which left that film when it dried wasn’t any fluid which should have come from the Bobcat.

Dempsey wasn’t sure what to make of it either, so he scraped some of the film into an evidence bag before Clark could recommend latex gloves. Maybe the guys at the lab would know more. The agents thanked Jarvis for his cooperation and headed back to the car.

They could see how a trained deputy and a coroner might not be able to envision the murder, but the agents had perspective in the form of a photograph of a burnt orange-colored chunk of leather with featherlike buds. Once back in their car, they discussed their theories.

Dempsey suspected Potter and Minor were killed by a harpy. Clark had only heard that term when a former supervisor would complain about his mother-in-law, and he wasn’t sure how she’d be involved. The Irishman clarified that a harpy was a mythological creature that had the head and body of a woman and the wings and talons of a bird.

Clark felt that was the most ridiculous explanation he’d ever heard, and he countered with his own. Weresnakes. The murders happened at night, and snakes were common in the area. The photograph they saw was obviously a scale – never mind the buds. Deputy Androzy also seemed pretty interested in where they were going and what avenues they were planning to investigate. Clark suspected Androzy was a member of a … werewolves would have a pack, werelions would have a pride, weresheep would have a herd … What would weresnakes have? Well, it was something to look up once they got settled into their room. They drove off toward the Sunset Bed and Breakfast, arguing the whole way over who had the worse theory.


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 2a*

“A knot.”

Dempsey tossed his bag casually in his room and peeked his head into Clark’s room to see what his partner was talking about.

“I would have figured you for a Velcro man.”

Clark looked up from his laptop. He had wasted no time unpacking. He had questions which only the internet could answer.

“No. I mean a knot is what you call a group of weresnakes. Well, it’s what you call a group of snakes, so it stands to reason it’s what you’d call a group of weresnakes.”

Dempsey wasn’t so sure. A knot seemed like a rude thing to call a group of creatures that could actually be tied into one. He’d sure never call a weresnake that to his face, but he would have no problem encouraging Clark to do it.

“I’m pretty sure a group of snakes is called a nope.”

“You’re thinking spiders.”

“Well, I am now. Thanks.”

Clark was all too happy to have helped. Despite the fact it was the hottest part of the day in the hottest part of the world, the agents decided they could unpack later. They were burning daylight. Clark refilled his canteen with Red Bull and clipped it to his belt. On their way to the SUV, they gave a polite wave to Mrs. Bradley, the elderly woman who ran the Sunset Bed & Breakfast with her husband. Mrs. Bradley returned the wave and reminded them dinner would be at 6:30 sharp if they were interested.

Because Deputy Androzy was a weresnake, Clark reasoned, he probably didn’t do a particularly thorough job in his investigations. He had given them the keys to Potter’s house, but Clark figured there would still probably be something to find there. Maybe they should also take a look at where Potter had been digging at the old Electrodynamics plant. Dempsey was pretty sure interviewing the lesbians should be the first order of business.

Lesbian, singular. Clark had to remind Dempsey one of them was their second victim. Okay. That particular interview moved down his list a couple notches, but the Irishman still felt it was an angle they needed to cover at some point. Clark agreed.

Potter’s house was on the northwestern edge of town. It was almost as far to the center of town from his home as it was the ruins of the Hughes Electrodynamics plant. His closest neighbor was about a quarter of a mile in the direction of the town.

The house was a lime green, single-story building with a gabled roof. They had keys, but the agents decided to do a quick sweep around the perimeter first. The windows were locked, and the blinds were down, but it didn’t seem like anyone was inside.

Around back, the agents found the wooden doors of a root cellar. The doors must have been installed in the past few years because they showed little sign of weathering. They couldn’t open the root cellar since it was held shut with a padlock.

They decided to come back for the root cellar after checking the house. Dempsey would go in through the back door, and Clark would take the front. When they were in position, they each counted to three before opening the doors, entering, and coming face to face with each other. Evidently, the two doors were directly across from each other on opposite sides of a well-kept living room.

Like the living room, the bedroom and bathroom were also tidy and free of anything resembling a clue. The kitchen was the only room in the house with a lived-in feel. Where the rest of the house might pass a military inspection, the kitchen was merely neat. On the table, Clark found an old boom-box, two books, a pair of lead-lined leather work gloves, a small black device like a remote control with a digital display, a notepad, a Master Lock key, and a series of twenty-four cassette tapes.

Dempsey went through the refrigerator and cabinets, but he found only canned and boxed food. He shrugged and sat at the table.

Clark picked up the first tape. It was hand-labeled “Monty Interview – 1 of 24.” He put it in the boom-box and pressed play. The agents listened to the tapes while they examined the rest of the items.


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 2b*

_



			“We talkin’ about Hughes?”

“Yeah, Monty, if that’s okay?”

“Sure. Why the Hell not? He said people would talk about him someday.”

“Did he?”

“Sure. Said he was going to change the face of the Earth with what he was working on down at the plant. You know what? I believed him.”
		
Click to expand...


_The gloves were heavy and lined with lead. They were covered in red dirt that didn’t match the surrounding desert. Dempsey pointed out they were the sort of gloves an X-ray lab technician might use to handle radioactive materials. That would explain the remote control. It was probably a Geiger counter.

_



			“Did you ever see what went on below the plant?”

“Nope. I never did. He never really went down there either. He just stayed in his office – the Bathysphere, we called it. It was all decked out strange. I heard it cost a couple million to put it together. It was hermetically sealed with big rubber-lipped, cast iron doors like a damned battleship.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was all lit by those klieg light jobbies; you know the ones? Man, it cooked in there, 110 degrees, sometimes 120 easy. He liked it. Hell, he loved it. He just sat at this weird desk and drew his plans and cooked. No one but me and him could stand it. I was in the South Pacific for a chunk of time, you understand; Guadalcanal, the Solomon Islands … Even I found it uncomfortable after a while.”

“What was he working on?”

“I don’t really know; except he said it would change the world. The man worked freehand, from memory, just drawing out things that looked like blueprints from scratch – I mean with a damned pencil and some paper, and that’s it. He just sat there and rattled it off like he was doing crosswords.”

“What did it look like?”

“They’re hard to explain. Oh, he wrote in this weird code. It looked like math; like symbols. Then he’d redo the whole thing in English when it was ready to be built.”

“So you don’t think English was his main language?”

“I don’t know. He looked white. He looked like he was from Europe or something. He seemed normal, but once or twice I heard him speak in this language …”

“Can you describe it?”

“Well, it sounded like some sort of South Seas lingo. Like something from New Guinea, or something. I heard some in the Corps, you understand.”

“Did he know you overheard him?”

“Once.”

“Did he ever say anything to you about it?”

“Yeah. He said to forget it. He said he could speak twelve languages; that it was a gift. He could write in them, too.”
		
Click to expand...


_The books were textbooks, and they looked well-used. The titles didn’t help Clark’s growing unease; _Radioactivity and Geology: An Account of the Influence of Radioactive Energy on Terrestrial History_, and _Radioactivity and Its Measurement_. The books did fit the emerging theme, however.

_



			“So, his personal habits, they were strange?”

“Well, if he had any personal habits. He never slept. I only caught him dozing once. The guy only ate vegetables; only specially prepared stuff. It was flown in every morning by courier from Los Angeles. He’d only eat it if I washed it by hand. He knew when I didn’t do this. I don’t know how.”

“So, he was odd?”

“Odd ain’t the word. But he was a good boss. Then again, I was used to the Corps. Anything seems good after the Corps.”

“So, he was a good boss?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Do you think you could go into that a bit more?”

“Sure. Don’t get me wrong. He hated everyone; all the guys who worked for him. He never once said a kind word to anyone. Conversations with him were always about three sentences. He’d ask you a question, you’d answer, and then he’d berate you. But he was always right, and he rewarded loyalty and consistency. I had that stuff down from training. I did everything he asked down to the letter; by that time it was second nature.”

“So you think he liked you?”

“Nah, he tolerated me. You understand?”

“Did he ever go outside?”

“Once or twice that I seen. He wore these old goggles – Bakelight goggles with black-out glass – when he went.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He could see just fine in the dark. He walked around after hours, sometimes, in the rooms surrounding his office, in the dark.”

“So, he wore them whenever he was in sunlight?”

“Yeah. He liked the heat, he liked the lamps, but something about the sun bugged him. Not his skin; just his eyes.”
		
Click to expand...


_The notepad was battered and swollen as if it had once been water-logged but had since dried. The poor state and legibility of the writing supported that assessment. Potter had taken hundreds of notes, but hardly anything was clear. There were what appeared to be measurements of distance as well as cryptic phrases like “… machine parts: gold, silver …” and “… be radioactive …” The last page of the notebook showed a simple drawing of what looked like an odd pool with sockets – sockets evidently measuring precisely 2.718 inches by 2.718 inches – in the border. There were wavy lines drawn in the center.

_



			“So, he didn’t like blood? You said something about that earlier?”

“Yes. I cut myself once while preparing his lunch, and when I walked into the Bathysphere, he got up and started screaming at me. He was really, really mad. Really PO’d. He stood away from me like I was contagious.”

“What was he yelling?”

“For me to get out. To come back later. That he wasn’t hungry. That my blood made him sick.”

“So you were bleeding a lot?”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t bleed hardly at all, and just on one finger I wrapped in gauze.”

“So, he saw the bandage.”

“Nah. I had the hand with the cut on the door. He couldn’t see it.”

“Then, how did he know?”

“I think he smelt it.”
		
Click to expand...


_


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 2c*

This Hughes guy must have been pretty strange if those tapes were accurate. Dempsey was starting to come around to the weresnake theory. Hughes preferred the dark, and he liked heat lamps. Snakes like heat lamps. His sense of smell was incredible, and snakes had some of the keenest noses in the animal kingdom.

Tongues. Clark told the Irishman snakes smelled with their tongues. Well, Dempsey wasn’t so sure about that, but whatever. Clark also pointed out snakes weren’t exactly vegetarians, but it sounded like Arthur Hughes was. Still, heat lamps. Clark agreed there was a similarity, and he still liked his weresnake theory. It was something to keep in mind.

Clark took the Geiger counter and the Master Lock key, and the agents headed out back to the root cellar. Dempsey swung the doors open and looked down. The cellar had dirt walls reinforced by wooden supports. A set of slate steps led the way down.

Clark went down first, gun out, and once at the bottom, he pulled the chain dangling from an uncovered lightbulb in the ceiling. The bulb came to life and illuminated the roughly ten-foot square cellar. The cellar was empty, and the soft dirt floor had been meticulously raked. It looked somewhat like an uninspired Zen garden with only parallel grooves. A rake rested against the near wall at the foot of the stairs.

Well, Dempsey wasn’t about to go messing with a dead man’s Zen garden. That’s how you get bad karma. He was about to head back up the stairs when he noticed a clicking sound from the Geiger counter. Clark suggested Potter may have buried something in the dirt and raked it over to hide it. That may be, but if he did, Dempsey reasoned, it appeared to be something radioactive.

Clark shrugged and followed the trail until the counter clicked the fastest. If anything here was radioactive, it wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous in small doses. Clark began to dig, and it only took a moment before he found something.

He pulled a large jar from the ground, and Dempsey immediately wished he hadn’t. It was full of some sort of liquid, but it was what floated in the fluid that made the Irishman flinch. It looked like a dragonfly curled in a death position, and it was at least two feet long. Clark was a little bothered by it, but on seeing just how badly it affected Dempsey, he reverted to his bro days. He teased Dempsey by pretending to throw the jar to him a few times.

The Irishman was not amused. His older brother had tortured him with a dead dragonfly when they were younger, dangling it over young Dempsey’s head or setting it on his shoulder. The incident ended when Dempsey’s brother forced him to eat the thing. Nope. Clark could put that right back in the ground or send it off to the nerds at the lab. Clark laughed and set it aside for the moment.

There was one other thing in the hole; a Ziploc bag with a golden cube. The cube was a little less than three inches on each side, but it had to weigh almost 15 pounds. Either it was gold-painted lead, or it was actually gold. Clark wasn’t sure this much gold should be radioactive. He probably should have studied harder for his Physics class instead of partying. Either way, it had to be worth millions of dollars if it was real. Clark suspected the cube might actually be 2.718 inches, and if so, it would match the measurements of the sockets from the drawing in the notepad.

The edges and corners were rounded, and there were odd symbols etched into each face. Clark thought he knew some of them, or at least he recognized the style. It had been little more than a year since the tragedy at the community center in Buffalo. That was where he met and recruited the State Department linguist Dolf de Jaager. What was it de Jaager called the language they were learning? Anglo? He knew that wasn’t right, but it was close.

Dolf hadn’t been assigned to this Operation, but he could help. Clark took pictures of each face of the cube with his phone and sent them to de Jaager. He received a response on the first before he’d even sent the last. Aklo. That was the language.

The etchings each had a few different translations. One translation would indicate direction – north, south, east, west, middle, and time. Another would indicate relative position – first, last, above, below, transition, and before.

Dempsey wasn’t so sure the second set of translations made sense. Why would one stand for before if another stood for first? Clark didn’t care too much. They had a two-foot-long dragonfly and a multi-million dollar radioactive cube to hide. The nearest Green Box was probably in Bakersfield, so the back of the SUV was going to have to suffice for now.


----------



## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 2d*

Their next order of business was to speak with the old man at the gas station, Montgomery Greene. Clark was pretty sure he was the Monty from the interview tapes, and if so, maybe he had an idea about what happened to Potter. While Clark called the gas station to set up an interview, Dempsey stashed the dragonfly and the cube in a compartment in the back of the SUV. He placed Potter’s leaded gloves over the cube. It might not make much of a difference, but an ounce of prevention, and all that.

The drive to the gas station was quick, but ever with the air conditioning on full blast, the SUV didn’t seem to cool off. It was like sitting in an oven with a dragon breathing in their faces.

Montgomery Greene was old. He looked to be in his 90s, at least. Clark assured him they wouldn’t take much of his time. They just had a few questions.

He was the Monty from Potter’s interview tapes, and Potter interviewed him because he developed an interest in the history of the Hughes Electrodynamics plant after poking around the ruins looking for scrap metal. Potter interviewed him because he was the only living person in town who knew the owner, Arthur Hughes. Hughes was a little creepy, and he was involved in revolutionary and groundbreaking science, but to Monty’s knowledge, no, he wasn’t performing “mad science.” No, Hughes wasn’t a harpy or weresnake skulking around Death Valley murdering people who got too close. He had died in the explosion that destroyed the plant back in ’52.

Now, the old man had some questions for them. Were they serious? They were just covering all their bases. Were they high? No, sir. That was illegal without a prescription. Did they watch too much Scooby Doo? Well, Clark did, but that was beside the point.

The agents thanked Mr. Greene for his time, and Clark bought a few Red Bulls on their way out to the SUV. Lorraine Minor’s house was nearby, so they headed over to speak with Emily Warren, Ms. Minor’s partner. That interview was even shorter than the one with Montgomery Greene.

Ms. Warren was still grieving and understandably upset. There wasn’t anything she could tell them that they didn’t already know, and so the agents thanked her for her time and offered their condolences.

They drove out to the ruins of the Electrodynamics plant. That seemed to be their only unturned stone. If this Hughes guy wasn’t a harpy or a weresnake, and if he really did die in the explosion more than sixty years ago, maybe he had been working on something which was responsible for the deaths. Sure, Monty had said Hughes wasn’t performing mad science, but they only had three theories, and one of them was bound to be right.

The plant was destroyed, but maybe the Bathysphere could still be accessed. It was underground and supposedly structurally sound. If Hughes was a harpy or a weresnake, and he had somehow survived all these years, the Bathysphere would be the place to find him. If he had been a mad scientist, maybe he had Jurassic Parked a monster that Potter released. Harpy, weresnake, dinosaur … could be worse. Could be a razor tiger from Chicago. Clark tried to meditate on a perfect sphere just in case.

The plant was little more than rubble, broken concrete slabs, and twisted metal struts. There were some old typewriters and filing cabinets mixed with the debris. It was easy to find where Potter had been working. It was a cleared spot about twenty or thirty feet in diameter covered in Bobcat tracks, footprints, Dr. Pepper cans, and candy bar wrappers. The Bobcat had broken the ground in a few places, and the dirt it revealed matched the dirt from the leaded gloves from Potter’s kitchen.

It was the hottest part of the day, and the agents couldn’t find stairs or an elevator shaft which might lead underground, so they went back to sit in the SUV. Even an oven with a hyperventilating dragon was preferable to the midday sun in Death Valley.

They decided to drive around the area and see if anything jumped out at them, literally or figuratively. It took only a few minutes for them to find what they were looking for. Not quite a mile northwest of the plant, the ground dropped at least twenty feet in a modest slope. At the bottom of the hill, the desert morphed into a garden of bright green speckled by tiny red fern-like flowers. A muddy stream ran along the base of the slope, and it was coming from a large culvert.


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## Audrik

*Future/Perfect - Session 2e*

The concrete culvert was about twelve feet in diameter, and it led underground in the direction of the Electrodynamics plant. Water from the plant was spilling into Death Valley and creating a ditch teeming with life. That sounded like mad science. Clark half-jokingly said they could cross harpy and weresnake off the list, but they should watch out for dinosaurs. It was at that exact moment when Dempsey found what seemed to be an enormous footprint in the mud. It was only a partial print, and neither of the men was an outdoorsman, so they couldn’t tell what had created it. Still, it had to be huge. Dempsey guessed it was maybe 1,000 pounds, but he had no basis for that estimate.

The clues seemed to lead into the tunnel, and Clark’s Geiger counter clicked its agreement. Clark headed into the culvert, but Dempsey thought he might prefer to stay outside. If there were a real-life Jurassic Park in there, he’d take his chances with the sun. But Clark was welcome to his flashlight if he wanted it.

If Clark was going into that tunnel alone, he did, in fact, want the flashlight, but he only had two hands. He needed one for his gun, one for the Geiger counter, and now one for the flashlight. Grumbling, he turned the volume up on the Geiger counter and put it in his pocket. He paused for what he hoped was a dramatic moment before giving Dempsey an upward nod. He then headed into the tunnel.

The culvert had a slow rush of water about two inches deep, and the walls were covered in deep green moss a little higher than his waist. The tunnel was mostly straight, but it did curve and weave a little at points. It wasn’t long before Dempsey and the sunlight had faded.

At first, Clark thought his Geiger counter might be echoing until he came upon a small recess. In the alcove, he found two overturned milk crates. A device which probably began its existence as a radio sat on one of the crates, and it was clicking cheerfully in unison with his Geiger counter. The other milk crate held a motorcycle battery, and its nodes were connected to the device by thick wires. Potter had died months ago, but Clark was sure a device like this wouldn’t require much power, and a motorcycle battery could probably do the trick for quite some time.

Clark was sure this tunnel led to the answers, but he wasn’t going to find them alone. He turned back and called Dempsey in. The Irishman wasn’t too eager to go, but he grudgingly followed. Not far past the alcove, the culvert opened into a large, concrete room filled with water and odd plants. It looked like this room had once been two rooms until the reinforced dividing wall collapsed.

Clark shined the flashlight over the wet, jagged rubble of the dividing wall. The other side was just as green and full of odd vegetation. Dempsey thought he saw something in the far corner, and Clark shined the light back. It was a large archway of deep black stone tilted forward at a slight angle and pinned in place by debris. Most of the top and right side of the archway were clear, but the majority of the left side was covered.

Clark scrambled carefully over the jagged wall, and Dempsey followed after a slight hesitation. Once on the other side, the agents crept closer to the archway. Judging from the part visible above the debris, it resembled the drawing from the notepad. There was a square slot about the height and width of the gold cube and maybe two-thirds as deep. If they were to slide the cube into the slot, it should protrude almost an inch. That would be enough to remove it easily.

Also, if this was the inspiration for Potter’s drawing, that would imply there were two other 14-pound gold cubes beneath the rubble. They weren’t moving that debris without heavy equipment, though, and really, that wasn’t their assignment.

All of that was secondary, anyway, to the interior of the archway. It was filled with a deep gray mist that swirled and drifted around. It would twirl and twist, almost hypnotically, and then it would congeal into tiny collections of clouds which would dissipate into more swirls. The mist never drifted far from the archway before evaporating.

So, that was it. Mad science. The agents had thrown out three theories and rolled the dice. And yet, somehow, they weren’t feeling lucky.


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