Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
The week went much the same as their first day on the job. Hammer threatened somebody, Jim-Bean explained why it was a good idea to comply, and the drug dealers dutifully forked over their not-so-hard-earned cash.
It wasn’t long before Ridge noticed and inducted them into the “Castle Way.” The Castle Way was the same code of conduct used by the other police officers—brutal, effective, and violent. They were invited to come along as guards for an exchange between a drug dealer and the Castle TADU at a t-shirt factory.
“Think Guppy and Archive can handle backup?” Jim-Bean said out of the corner of his mouth to Hammer. “They’re not exactly the best shots…”
“They know where to meet us,” said Hammer. “They’ll be here.”
They pulled up to a non-descript warehouse. Several of the Castle TADU stepped out and ushered them inside.
Ridge stood before his men, his chest puffed with pride. “Welcome, gentlemen. This is the biggest deal we’ve made in history. We can retire after this.”
The cops laughed in response. They were enjoying their lives as drug kingpins too much to ever retire.
“Today,” said Ridge, “our buyer is going to inspect the goods.”
He strode over to one of the vats. “First, Blink is turned into a solution in one of these vats.” He grabbed a white t-shirt from one of several boxes piled on the floor. “Then we dip these shirts into the solution.”
Ridge pointed at a pile of shrink-wrapped t-shirts that could be on any department store shelf.
“And here is the finished product in a perfectly ordinary shipping package. Next thing you know we’ll run the post office out of business.”
The men got another laugh out of that.
“Now, let’s get rich.”
The drug dealer, a man named Slice, strode into the room, dripping gold from his ears and throat. Even his teeth were gold. “Yo, you got security hanging out front?”
Ridge looked back and forth at his men. They shook their heads. “We got lookouts, but nobody you should be able to spot.”
“Then you been made, man.” Slice started backing up and drew his pistol. “We ain’t—“
All the Castle TADU tensed up, murder in their eyes.
Jim-Bean drew his pistol. “We’ll take care of it.” He nodded towards Ridge. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, you do that,” said Slice. “If this is an ambush—“
“It’s not an ambush!” said Ridge. “We’ve come too far to screw this up. My boys will clean it up.”
He fixed Hammer with a stare. “You better come back dripping blood.”
Hammer padded up to the van with the reflexes of a trained professional. He tore open the door and yanked Guppy out onto the street with a yelp.
“Hammer?” asked Guppy in surprise.
“Great job,” said Hammer, pulling out a knife from his boot. “You guys just parked in plain sight?”
“What? We didn’t think the van would be obvious—what are you doing with that knife?”
“Someone has to play dead,” said Hammer. “And I need it to look real.”
Jim-Bean appeared around the corner of the van with Archive, who looked groggy.
“Uh, if it’s all the same to you I have taken quite a lot of abuse lately,” said Guppy, his voice rising. “So I’d like to nominate someone else besides me…”
Archive snorted. “I’ll do it.”
“Put out your hand,” said Hammer.
Archive put out his hand. Hammer sliced the knife across his palm. Archive winced.
Blood dripped down onto the blade. Hammer splattered the blood onto himself and Jim-Bean.
“Now…you guys are going to lay low in the van. Pretend you’re dead.”
“And if someone comes to investigate?” asked Archive.
“Kill them,” said Hammer. “They shouldn’t expect much trouble since you’re supposed to be dead.”
Jim-Bean reached into Guppy’s pocket and grabbed his cistron. “I need to borrow this. Left mine in my other pants.”
Hammer and Jim-Bean stood up and drew their pistols. “Cover your ears,” said Hammer.
Archive and Guppy, still crouching on the ground, plugged their ears with their fingers.
The retort of two pistols shots reverberated throughout the warehouse district. They were in a part of town where such sounds were common. What was important was that Ridge and Slice heard it.
Bentfeld, the toady, had his pistol out, but it wasn’t pointed at Hammer. Yet. “Well?”
“We took care of it,” said Hammer.
Ridge smiled. “See? Taken care of.”
Bentfeld wasn’t going to let it go. “Oh yeah? I wanna see the bodies.”
“It’s taken CARE OF,” snarled Hammer. “Are you calling me a liar?”
Bentfeld’s pistol was waved in his direction. “Not a liar. But awfully damn suspicious. Ridge, you gotta be suspicious, right?”
“Not now,” said Ridge, the smile frozen on his face.
“I dunno man. I dunno.” Barry started pacing. “Don’t you find it strange that these two show up from New York all of a sudden? I think they’re Feds.”
Slice raised his hands. “I don’t need this drama. I’m out.”
Ridge chuckled. “Calm down Barry before you blow this for us.”
“Fine!” Hammer said with an exaggerated sigh. “Those WERE Feds. We took care of ‘em. We heard about what you were doing out here because we wanted in on the action, and it looks like we picked up a tail in the process. But now they’re dead. So if you wanna make a lot of money, you’ve got about fifteen minutes before someone else comes snooping around. Or if you wanna just waste everybody’s time, please, be my guest, LEAVE.”
Ridge looked back and forth between Slice and Hammer, sweat on his brow.
Slice broke out in a laugh. “Damn man, you are STONE COLD! I like it! Let’s do this thang!”
Ridge forced a chuckle and slapped Slice on the back. “Let me show you how this works…”
He explained the t-shirt process. Barry stalked over to Hammer.
“You may have fooled Ridge but ain’t foolin’ me. I know you’re full of it.”
“Take a step closer and you won’t take another one,” said Hammer. His pistol was still out in his hand.
It was enough to distract Barry from what Jim-Bean was doing. He took a recording of Ridge as he explained the operation. Slice nodded to his men, who began unloading bags of money. T-shirts were loaded on the waiting trucks.
Jim-Bean nodded to Hammer, but Barry was watching. He caught the gesture.
“I knew it!”
He drew his pistol and fired just as the front of the warehouse exploded.
The battering ram of an APC anti-riot vehicle blasted through the doors. Floodlights flared overhead. Men in full SWAT gear shouted for people to get down on the floor with their hands up.
Jim-Bean did as he was told. Now was not the time for heroics.
Hammer fell to one knee, arms up. It wasn’t an act; Barry had shot him in the leg.
Guppy and Archive walked in.
“I f*&(#in’ told you man!” shouted Barry to Ridge as they were hustled off into a prisoner transport vehicle.
Guppy caught sight of Hammer on a stretcher.
“Did you get it?” he shouted as he was carted into an ambulance.
Archive nodded. “Yep, all the footage. We’ll process it. Should have you out in a few hours.”
“Great,” said Jim-Bean. “Just a few hours in prison with them.” He swallowed hard as the other prisoners glared at him. With a last mournful look behind him, the prisoner transport vehicle’s doors slammed shut, sealing him in with the drug-dealers and corrupt police.
“I knew we got the boring part of the mission,” Guppy muttered to Archive. “We missed all the action!”
This scenario, “The Fortress,” is a Spycraft mission from Combat Missions by Yours Truly. You can read more about Delta Green at Delta Green. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!
Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz
Sebastian “Caprice” Creed (Fast/Smart Hero/Techie) played by Bill Countiss
Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
It continually amazes me how these little Combat Mission scenarios, which are at most a few pages long and contain vague outlines of a plot, manages to elicit the best role-playing moments in our game. Our gaming group is better at social, free-form planning than straightforward, precision-style hack-and-slashing – they never think to check for traps and can’t be bothered with details.
On the other hand, when it comes to cover stories, they can come up with some insane ideas. But in this case the real surprise was Bill, who role-played his white drug dealer/turned rapper Snow Dog with such convincing vigor that we took turns laughing at him and struggling to keep up.
This scenario also turned into a chess game. I wanted to keep pressure on the PCs to ensure that they didn’t just waltz right into the drug dealer’s den (a tcho-tcho drug dealer, I might add) and bamboozle him into giving up his information. So Tang “Machete” Chasa plays mind game after mind game, convinced that the agents aren’t the real thing but frustrated that he can’t prove it. In the end, it took the pending death of an innocent NPC to break the tension. And then I just let the events go downhill from there.
Once again, the events that took place played out a lot like Burn Notice.
Defining Moment: You haven’t heard about Snow Dog’s new album? It didn’t get a wide release man, otherwise it would have been big: The Blizzard.
If you put it in a spoon man I would boot it
Some king whose mental house was just a shack
Where do you draw the line when all your friends are dyin
You got to get that monkey off your back
--Monkey on My Back by Aerosmith
MIAMI, FL—“Let me get this straight,” said the Special Agent in Charge of the Miami Field Division of the Drug Enforcement Administration. “You CIFA boys want to horn in my operation for what reason again?”
“Terrorists,” Jim-Bean said with a slow smile. “Tang Chasa is on our wanted list for drug trafficking and money laundering for a terrorist organization known as Al-Hazzan.” They were sitting in Trouville’s office, who was none too pleased to see them. “The profits made from drug trafficking here in the U.S. are being used elsewhere—“
“In Iraq,” chimed in Hammer.
“Iraq?” asked Trouville skeptically. “We’ve seen some trafficking in Vietnam, with Tang being half-Vietnamese, but—“
“That’s right,” corrected Jim-Bean. “The drugs funnel through Vietnam and then the money is laundered in Iraq.”
Trouville sighed. “All right. Fine. Our agency will do everything we can to help. But you have to do something for me.”
“Name it,” said Jim-Bean.
“I want full military support. We’re going to move on Chasa, but when we move I’m going to need serious backup. They don’t call the hotel he’s holed up in ‘La Fortaleza’ for nothing. It really is a fortress.”
Jim-Bean nodded and tapped a few keys on his cistron. “You’ll have it.”
“Good,” said Trouville. He handed out dossiers to the three agents, looking askance at Caprice’s rapper/drug-dealer getup. “These are the profiles of the people you’re dealing with.” He tapped the picture of Chasa. “You already know the leader, known as Machete on the street. He’s fond of hacking people up with his gold-plated knife.”
“Charming,” said Jim-Bean.
“Machete was a small time drug dealer until Blink arrived on the streets. I trust you’re acquainted with it?”
Hammer nodded. “All too familiar.”
“Then you know how addictive it can be. Machete got in first, took over fast, and then set up his little fortress. It’s run with all the precision of a business. The instant addiction of “Blink” and the well-organized guards that Tang employs keep things running smoothly. Tang has already eliminated several competitors and is poised to expand his operations beyond Miami.”
Tourville pointed at the picture of a huge black man, his jowls of fat giving him a sad, hangdog expression. “This is Sluggy Two-Dogs, Tang’s bodyguard. He goes with him everywhere. Don’t be fooled by the fat; Sluggy moves fast when he needs to. He crushed a man’s head with his bare hands.”
He flipped to another picture of a wild-eyed, beautiful African-American woman with her hair in a ponytail. “This is Janky Crank, Tang’s chief of security. Janky is fond of shooting people in the forehead, gangland style. She’s highly erratic and prone to violence. She’s also a crack shot.”
Tourville turned to the third picture. “And this is the brains behind Tang’s operation, Keys. We think Keys was a former employee of Infinicredit and was somehow involved in that credit card scandal a few years ago. Keys programmed La Fortaleza’s security system and is responsible for the encryption of their firewalls. He personally trained a host of programmers who work for Tang.”
“We’re after information,” said Jim-Bean. “We need to determine who is processing Blink. His drugs are too pure to be homemade.”
“We’ll help however we can,” said Trouville. “What do you need?”
Caprice, dressed in a long jersey, low-hanging shorts, a baseball cap, and gold dripping from everywhere, said with a gold-grilled smile, “Bitches, yo. A fly gang like ours is gonna need bitches.”
The music of the Soho Lounge vibrated around their private booth. Hammer, Jim-Bean, and Caprice were all there. Caprice was dressed as his Snow Dog persona, complete with "bitches" -- two vice agents named Mary and Sarah. They made pleasant conversation while they sipped their drinks. The DJ, Spiderpussy, played a pounding eighties mix.
"I still can't believe you requisitioned cash...and got it." Hammer watched Jim-Bean drop a hundred dollar bill on a waitress' tray to cover the tab.
Hammer was dressed in a Miami Vice-style jacket and pants. Jim-Bean looked more corporate.
“I’m team leader on this mission,” said Jim-Bean. “We can’t just walk into Tang’s place like some garbage off the street. If we want to roll with the big boys we have to act like them. And that’s why we’re the Kings.”
Caprice’s eyes scanning the entrance to the club. “The THREE Kings, yo.” His cistron beeped. He looked down. It was an instant text message. "Keys just did a background check on us.”
“If the Three Kings are supposed to be so successful, we've got to look the part in person AND on paper,” continued Jim-Bean. “Thus the cold cash. Besides, we actually have a bit of history now…we WERE tied up in another drug raid…”
Hammer patted the wound where he had been shot. “Don’t remind me.” He looked askance at the women. “I still think we should have hired prostitutes,” he said in a low voice to Caprice. “Vice cops are a liability we can’t afford to--”
Caprice leaned back, put his arms around the two cops, and smiled. "They're here," he said, slipping into his persona as Snow Dog.
A tall black woman with wild, staring blood-shot eyes entered the room. She wore a white overcoat. A posse of four smaller men followed behind her, all of them wearing shades.
"It’s Janky Crank," said Hammer.
After chatting with the bartender, Janky strode over to them.
"You said you wanted to talk to Machete?"
Hammer stood up. "That's right. You don't look like him."
"If it's worth his time, you'll meet 'im," said Janky. "But first you meet with me."
Caprice dismissed the two scantily clad women snuggling up to him with a nod of his head. They scattered, and Janky's men took a few steps back to give them some privacy.
"And you are?"
"Janky. Janky Crank. They call me that 'cause you don't wanna see me cranky." Janky grabbed Caprice's glass and slurped it, finishing off its contents. She slapped it down on the table. "So what's this deal you're talking about?"
Jim-Bean cleared his throat. "Ah yes, Miss Cranky...you see, we were recently working with an organization on the West Coast that was trafficking in Blink--"
"I know it," said Janky. Judging from her bloodshot eyes, she used it too.
"And that operation was shut down. The Three Kings are looking for new opportunities--"
"Three Kings?" Janky eyeballed Jim-Bean. "Never heard of you."
"That'd be us," said Hammer gruffly. "My territory is Southern Cali. Bean's is Northern Cali. Snow Dog's is Hollywood."
"Snow Dog?" Janky barked out a laugh. "Are you serious?"
Caprice got to his feet, gesturing wildly. "Machete's just jerking us around. I'm not gonna take this s#!t from this bitch--"
Janky's revolver was out in a flash, aimed at Caprice's forehead. "See what you made me do? Now I'm gettin' CRANK-AH!"
Caprice slapped the pistol aside, which had the net effect of pointing Janky's pistol at Hammer's head instead. "See what I mean? Small time, yo. Let's go."
Hammer tapped the barrel of his Glock under the table on Janky's knee. It was aimed at her abdomen. He cleared his throat.
Janky's guards tensed up. Then she slowly put the gun back in its holster beneath her overcoat.
"$#!t, I was just playin'. All right, all right." She smiled. "So what's the terms, Kings?"
"Thirty percent," said Jim-Bean. "And the opportunity to expand Machete's empire from coast to coast."
Janky nodded. "All right. We'll see what Machete says."
Hammer handed her a cell phone. "Call us on this. Any time. We'll pick up."
Janky smiled. "You're a handsome boy, King," she said with a tone laden with innuendo. "I'll see you around."
She strode out of the place with the guards in tow.
"That went well," said Hammer.
"Sure did," said Jim-Bean with a grin. "Let us know when your girlfriend calls you."
Entry into La Fortaleza was via two large gates. Inside, there were four lookouts, one at each corner of the building. In the main courtyard, customers walked around in a daze, warmed their hands on flaming garbage cans, and were patted down for weapons by guards. It was as much an insane asylum as it was a careful screening tactic to weed out undercover cops.
Archive joined them as Father Archive, part of the entourage. His presence in a bright white suit seemed to make him nearly invisible to the guards, who regarded “spiritual advisors” the same way they viewed prostitutes – relatively harmless but necessary. The vice agents, also part of the entourage, were allowed as far as the gate. Caprice dismissed them to the car, a stretch limousine/SUV.
Hammer carefully concealed one of his Glocks. Sluggy Two-Dogs didn’t find the gun with his sloppy pat down. The others relinquished their weapons. Hammer wondered where Janky was.
So far, their plan had worked. Their carefully constructed backgrounds had been checked, along with their bank accounts. Now it was time to meet the man himself.
“Welcome!” said a dark-skinned Asian man. He was thin and wiry with an odd bowl haircut. Dressed in a purple suit that looked a size too big, he welcomed them with a wide grin that displayed his gold grill. A gold-hilted blade hung in a sheath from his waist. Machete.
“Welcome to tha FORTRESS!” He said dramatically. His voice was high pitched and squeaky, always on the border of hysteria. “Janky tells me you gentlemen are businessmen like me. You check out.”
Machete offered them drinks, drugs, and women. The agents took the drinks. “Let me take you on the tour of our little operation.”
Beyond the entryway, things turned very professional. “My employees and customers are issued membership cards that they flash to enter the building.” Machete snapped a card out of his suit pocket and slid it through the reader. The light over the door went from red to green.
They climbed to the second floor. “Then you buzz in with a code. The code determines what and how much product you receive.” Machete punched a code and a few seconds later a pneumatic tube thumped in front of him. Machete grabbed the tube and, holding it triumphantly overhead, opened it. A plastic bag containing an eyedropper bottle fell into his open palm. Blink.
“And if you want to…” Jim-Bean searched for the word. “…use your product?”
“That’s Blissland, baby, “said Machete with a sly smile. “Down there.” He gestured down the hallway. “I didn’t fix you for a user.”
“We need to know what we’re investing in,” said Hammer.
“And I need to know what I’M investing in,” said Machete. “You boys seem all right. But I need details. I need numbers.”
They passed a room where people were mixing Blink. There was another ingredient—something else was being added. Hammer noted that there manufacturing room where it was being mixed was filled with dust-covered workers who were naked except for a towel. Machete didn’t trust his own people.
“Our operation is solid,” said Jim-Bean. “Our distribution network and contacts spans all of California. “
“Network, huh? Why ain’t I heard of you?”
“Because we got raided,” said Hammer with a frown. “We had the cops under control and then there was a sting by the Feds…”
Machete muttered a curse about Feds.
“Lots of gang leaders went down,” continued Hammer. “We’re the next wave.”
“No you ain’t,” said Machete. “This is the next wave, right here.” He encompassed the drug manufacturing plant with a sweep of one arm. “But you know, this ain’t a partnership at thirty percent.”
Jim-Bean frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean partners is equals. And that’s fifty percent.”
They made their way over to a lounge filled with garish velour couches. Machete flopped down.
Jim-Bean shrugged. “We don’t know you. Your operation seems sound, but we need to know more about it. Like who supplies your drugs.”
Machete barked out a laugh, a cackle that would have offended a hyena. “And put me out of business? I ain’t stupid, yo.”
“Neither are we,” said Caprice tersely. “But trust has gotta start somewhere, G. And if it’s gonna start, it has to start here.”
Machete pondered that. “I hear ya.” He leaned forward and yanked the gold grill off his front teeth, revealing a mouthful of carefully filed and sharpened incisors. It was like staring into the maw of a shark. “Let’s just say we keep it in the family, dig?”
Hammer didn’t know what he meant. Before he could ask, gunfire went off in the courtyard. A second later a shrieking alarm went off.
Machete swore a vile oath. He hopped to his feet. “You bring cops here?”
“What?” snarled Hammer.
“This seems like the sort of problem that would really destroy our confidence in your operation,” said Jim-Bean archly. They started backing up as Machete advanced.
Dealers, Fortaleza staff, and criminals of all stripes milled about in confusion, some running, others staring blankly at the flashing red lights. In the fracas, Jim-Bean typed a query to Trouville. The raid wasn’t supposed to happen for another day. What the hell was going on?
“We gotta get out of here,” said Machete. “Sluggy, show the men out.”
Sluggy began pushing them out. Machete backed up, hand on the hilt of his blade, eyeing the main hallway.
There was a shudder, like the sound of a battering ram. More gunfire echoed outside.
A second later Jim-Bean’s cistron beeped. It was Trouville. He had typed just two words, all in caps:
Jim-Bean looked over his shoulder. “I think we should stay and fight. We killed those two Feds in Cali and we can kill some more here.”
Hammer caught Jim-Bean’s expression. He turned. “Right. Let’s do it.”
Caprice looked back and forth between them. “$#!*. Somebody gimme a gat!”
Archive just started praying.
There was a moment of stunned surprise and then Machete broke out into more cackling laughter. He held up a remote that tweeted, and the alarm went off. The gunfire and rumbling stopped.
“I was messin’ with ya is all. Gotta be sure.” He slapped Caprice on the back. “I like your style! You ARE stone cold killers!”
Caprice frowned. “We don’t have time for this Mickey Mouse bull$#!*. Let’s go.”
Machete put his hands up. “Nah, nah, nah, come on now. Let’s sit down and talk like the businessmen we are.” He steered Caprice by his shoulder to the lounge.
People were still scurrying up and down the hallways.
“Sluggy, tell those damn fools it was a drill,” Machete said in irritation. Sluggy left the room.
They sat back down. “Now I’m gonna be straight you,” said Machete. “My boy Keys, he checked around. And he knows everything about you. But you kill Feds and folks gonna be snoopin around. So I did some checkin’ on everybody.” He leaned forward. “EVERYBODY.”
Sluggy dragged a woman into the room by her hair. “One of your bitches is a cop, yo.”
The Fortress: Part 4 – What Shall We Do About Sarah?
"Stall," hissed Jim-Bean to Caprice out of the corner of his mouth.
Caprice practically blazed fire from his eyes at Sarah. "You're a f(*#$ing COP? You BITCH!" He slapped her across the face and she went down, hard.
To her credit, Sarah kept her eyes averted and her hair down over her face -- Caprice had barely tapped her, but she sold it.
Caprice grabbed her by the hair. "You know what, TC? I'm gonna throw this bitch off the roof."
Machete cackled. "You hardcore, baby. I like your style. Let's do it!"
They started sauntering up towards the stairwell.
"It's a new world order," said Machete, strutting his way down the hallway. "Mister DEA thinks he can infiltrate my operation? $#!t, he's been watching us for months, couldn't get anybody on the inside. Well we showed him, huh Sluggy?"
Sluggy responded with a deep, grumbling laugh.
"Showed him how, exactly?" asked Jim-Bean.
Hammer had a horrible thought. "Where's Janky?"
Machete grinned. "Doin' my business. Mister DEA's gonna learn not to mess with the MacheTAH!" He kicked open the door and then, as if he were a proper gentlemen, held it open with a bow for Caprice.
Jim-Bean's cistron vibrated. He snuck a peak.
"RAID ON," said Tourville's message. Jim-Bean knew what that meant. Machete wasn't bluffing and neither was Tourville.
Caprice dragged Sarah up the steps onto the roof. The muggy heat of Miami enveloped them.
"Find me a place where she ain't gonna catch on anything," said Caprice. "I want this to HURT."
He shot Jim-Bean a glance. They were running out of time.
Fortunately, Machete and Sluggy's attention was focused on Caprice. He tapped back a response.
"Shoot me in the shoulder." He knew Tourville's men had taken position somewhere out there, and it most assuredly included snipers. "In one minute."
"I'll deal with this hussy," said Jim-Bean. He twisted the handle on his walking stick and slowly drew the blade. "Falling is too good for her."
Caprice snickered, but Jim-Bean knew he was nervous. "Be my guest."
Jim-Bean grabbed Sarah by the hair. Her lip was starting to swell up from being roughed up, even though Caprice was pulling his punches. She was scared but still in control.
"You're not seriously going to--" she began to whisper.
Jim-Bean didn't give her a chance to prepare. With a flash, he sliced her forehead with the edge of the blade. It was a shallow wound, but in the sticky Miami heat combined with her sweat, it looked much worse than it was. An old American wrestling trick.
Sarah shrieked. Jim-Bean knew it was real. "And now let's see if you can fly!" He grabbed her by the back of the neck and started marching her towards the edge of the roof.
Jim-Bean was desperately trying to come up with another means of stalling when a bolt of lightning tore through his shoulder.
The sniper was good. It tore through muscle without hitting bone and went out the other side. That didn't stop his body from going into shock. The blast spun him around and suddenly he couldn't feel anything. He caught a glimpse of the moon, the top of the roof, the moon again, and then the roof rushed at him.
Jim-Bean was treated to the image of the huge Sluggy trying to flatten himself on the roof, which made him look a bit like a walrus flapping around on an ice floe. The other agents followed dove for cover.
Gunfire echoed through Miami. The roar of a heavy vehicle was followed by the shudder of a battering ram tearing through the front gate. Jim-Bean could feel the impact through his cheek.
"$#!T!" shouted Machete. "It's a raid for real!"
Everyone scrambled for the stairs, including the other agents. Left alone with only the sounds of gunfire and screams to accompany her, Sarah carefully clambered down the fire escape.
Caprice ran down the steps past the others. Drug dealers and cops were firing on each other with abandon. Sarah had thankfully been forgotten in the conflict. He only hoped she had climbed down one of the drainage pipes off the roof.
Caprice paused as he caught sight of Keys standing near a server room.
"Keys!" shouted Machete, blade at the ready. "Burn it!"
Keys nodded and came out of a maintenance closet with two bright red cans of gasoline. He undid the stoppers on both.
Caprice grabbed Hammer by the arm before he lost track of him in the smoke. "They're torching the servers!"
Keys kicked open the server room door. Several programmers, unaware of what was going on outside, looked up in shock as gasoline was poured over them. Keys made no distinction between program and programmer, spraying the contents of one of the cans of gasoline everywhere.
He drew a lighter and lifted one thumb to ignite it.
Hammer sprayed Keys with the other can of gasoline. "I wouldn't do that if I were--"
The shock of gas hitting Keys made him involuntarily twitch, and he set flicked the lighter. Flames consumed him immediately. Screaming and wailing, Keys flailed backwards, striking one of the computers. The flames roared across the top of the monitor. Electronics popped and crackled.
“Damn it!” shouted Hammer. He hadn’t intended to set Keys on fire, just discourage him. "We need to get the data off those systems!"
Caprice nodded, no longer the swaggering Snow Dog persona. He slipped into the chair furthers from the flames. He tried to plug in his cistron to the USB port, but Keys was far too paranoid to allow any form of access. It was dummy terminals.
That meant he had to hack it manually. He started typing.
The first security level was breached as the flames roared behind him. Hammer evacuated the other programmers, in some cases throwing them bodily out of the room into the hallway.
The smoke and fire was sucking the air out of the room. Caprice coughed and wheezed, but he kept typing. He breached the second level of security.
Flames roared closer. The monitors were popping like water balloons at a carnival, one by one, each a little closer.
He got through to the heart of Fortaleza. There was no way to remove media off mainframe. Images flashed by of the name and location of Machete’s dealers. Caprice's eyes were watering so badly that he couldn't make it out. He held up his cistron and took pictures of everything.
Hammer threw two computer tables down, one to either side of the doorway, which provided a temporary firebreak and a path out. Caprice crawled his way out of the doorway...
Hammer helped him to his feet. Jim-Bean skidded to a halt in front of the door, blood staining his shirt where the bullet had entered and exited his shoulder.
"There's cops the other way. Go back up to the roof!"
Caprice wiped soot from his face as the flames roared behind him. “I hacked it,” he said, gasping for air. “I hacked it in time.”
Jim-Bean gave him a lopsided smile. "Huh," he said as he resumed jogging towards the stairwell. "Now that’s a serious firewall."
The Fortress: Part 6 – How Much Do You Weigh Again?
Machete and Sluggy were already at the top of the roof, all other routes of escape having been cut off. From their vantage point, one alleyway was still a viable option.
"Climb down that pipe!" shouted Machete, pointing at a long drainage pipe.
"I dunno dog," rumbled Sluggy. "It looks pretty flimsy--"
"Dammit Sluggy!" Machete shouted. "Will you stop bitching and start moving yo fat ass!"
He hopped onto the pipe and started clambering down it with ease.
With another doubtful glance down at the four stories below them, Sluggy started making his way down the pipe.
Machete hopped lightly to the ground and dusted himself off. "I can't believe I gotta deal with this sh--"
Metal shrieked over him as the huge shadow of Sluggy blocked out the moonlight. Machete let out a squeak as Sluggy landed on him.
"Told you I was too heavy," said Sluggy. He rolled off Machete and then flopped the unconscious man over his shoulder.
Hammer landed next. "You got a car?"
Sluggy pointed at a vehicle under a tarp. With a tug, he tore the tarp off to reveal a black sedan.
"Throw him in, I'll drive," said Hammer. Sluggy opened the door to the back seat.
Hammer pulled his concealed Glock from his waistband and fired a silenced shot into the front tire. With all the gunfire echoing around them, Sluggy didn't notice.
Sluggy had barely gotten into the car when Hammer slammed on the gas. The car lurched forward.
Two cop cars shrieked in their path at the end of the alley. Hammer slammed on the brakes.
"What are you doin'?" shouted Sluggy. "Hit them!"
Hammer was about to say something when a black SUV smashed its way through the two blocking cop cars. There was a spray of gunfire from an automatic weapon.
"Get in!" shouted Janky, one arm hefting an AK-47 out the driver's side window.
Sluggy tossed Machete into the back seat. Before he could clamber in, the SUV peeled out in reverse, leaving them both behind.
"Son of a bitch!" shouted Sluggy. "She left us!"
Hammer was already running past him. Janky was driving a large vehicle down an alley that was only wide enough to just barely fit the vehicle. Garbage bags exploded as the SUV careened through the alley.
Hammer pounded after her. He unscrewed the silencer and tossed it over his shoulder. He wasn't going to need it.
The SUV screeched as it suddenly entered busy traffic, spinning on its rear wheels sideways. Hammer came out of the alley a second later and fired off several shots into the driver's side.
The SUV lurched forward, smashing into an oncoming minivan. The SUV's horn went off and kept shrieking; a bleeding Janky slumped over the wheel.
Police cruisers arrived a second later and cops shouted for Hammer to surrender. He couldn't help but smile as he put his hands up.
Caprice took the oxygen mask off and pointed the paramedic to Jim-Bean. "You should check him out. He got shot in the shoulder."
The medic shrugged. "Not a scratch on him."
"What?" Caprice rubbed his forehead. "I saw him get hit by a sniper's bullet!"
"Maybe he got lucky," said the paramedic, hustling off to deal with other cops who were in worse condition.
Hammer ambled over. "Got the analysis back from SINNER. There's a lot of smoke but we were able to get a name, William Davis Ko, and a location, somewhere in the Chinatown district of Chicago."
"Not much," said Caprice with a frown. "How's Sarah?"
"She'll live," said Hammer. "She climbed down the drainpipe before we did, then dismantled it just in case anybody followed."
Caprice allowed himself a smile. "So Sluggy wasn't so fat after all."
"Oh he was fat enough. She was in such a rush that she didn't do a good job of it. Sluggy did the rest." Hammer started to walk away. "That reminds me..." He handed Caprice a business card.
"What's this?"
"An agent was snooping around. Said he heard some up and coming rapper was new in town and he wanted to hear your album."
"What did you tell him?"
Hammer nodded at the card. "See for yourself."
Caprice flipped over the card. It read in hasty scrawl:
"Snow Dog, Can't wait to hear about your new album, The Blizzard. Call me."
This scenario, “An Outbreak of Alchemy,” is a Mystic China adventure by the late Erick Wujcik. You can read more about Delta Green at Delta Green. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!
Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz
Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia
Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
When I needed an Asian mad scientist who was refining Blink into something more dangerous, I had to look no further than Mystic China. The scenario is a little incoherent (much of the description of the Equitech building is in William Davis Ko’s stat block), but the ingredients were all there: ghosts, mutated dead bodies, and a doddering old scientist who just happens to know the secrets of life and death.
Because this scenario is light on details, Critical Locations was very useful for filling in the blanks. I used the Black Lotus Trading Company from the Cold War scenario (which is also the bulk of the next chapter) to provide a starting point for the agents, but I needn’t have bothered as they didn’t stick around for long.
By far the biggest surprise was Ko’s pet. I used a monster from Oriental Adventures which is suitably bizarre, and true to form, it caught the agents by surprise. They were so confused as to what it was (and what it was capable of) that they alternated between trying to kill it and trying to run from it.
At heart, this is an assassination attempt and the agents did an excellent job of getting past security. They just weren't entirely sure what to do once they got to the target.
Defining Moment: Archive wakes up from his drug-induced stupor just in time to give Ko a parting shot…and discover he’s missing something very important.
Relevant Media
Mystic China: Eric Wujcik's imagination was amazing, and I count Mystic China among some of my favorite RPG books.
Critical Locations: Possibly the most valuable book I own; whenever there isn't a map (and many older RPG scenarios don't have one), Critical Locations makes up the difference.
Die Hard: The real action was in the Equitech building, and as my players were fond of telling me, it was just like the Nakatomi building in Die Hard. Comparing the scenario to Die Hard made the agents bolder. There are only so many ways off a 40-storey building…
She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink.
She said I’m gonna make it up right here in the sink.
It smelled like turpentine, and looked like Indian ink.
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink!
--Love Potion Number Nine by The Beatles
CHICAGO, IL—Chicago’s New Chinatown was on Argyle St. in Uptown between Lake Michigan and Clark Street. New Chinatown was mostly Thai, Khmer, Vietnamese, and Laotian, with a minority of Chinese. Old Chinatown, on the southwest side beyond Kaminski Park, was mostly Chinese.
"So this is Tcho-Tcho territory?" asked Hammer.
Archive nodded, an expert on these sorts of things. "The Tcho-tchos are universally despised and feared."
"Because?" asked Jim-Bean.
"Stories about the Tcho-tchos range from suspicions of “special ingredients” in their cooking to drug dealing, witchcraft, and sorcery," said Archive.
"That could describe us," said Hammer with a smirk.
The center of Tcho-Tcho activity in New Chinatown was the Dragon of the Black Pool market that specialized in imported foods from Southeast Asia, particularly spices and seasonings for Tcho-tcho cuisine. The market filled most of the block.
Hammer stopped the car and got out near the harbor. They flashed their badges at the police who let them through.
"I don't know why we're investigating this," said Jim-Bean. "We should be looking for Ko—"
"Do you know how many 'Ko's there are in New Chinatown?" asked Hammer. Before Jim-Bean could answer, he replied, "a lot. Any unusual activity is worth checking out."
They approached two corpses. "Construction workmen discovered a very strange pair of bodies…" began Archive. He trailed off when he saw the bodies.
The bodies were dressed in waterlogged clothing, one in a business suit, the other in jeans and casual clothing. A pair of handcuffs connected the right wrist of one to the left wrist of the other. Another handcuff was attached to the chain between the two men, but its other end was missing where there was a broken link in the chain. Someone had placed towels over the heads of each of the bodies.
Hammer bent down and started taking pictures with his cistron. "Look at this. The hands of the one on the left seem to be covered with tiny scales, and there is something like webbing between his fingers."
Jim-Bean bent down to take a closer look. Covering the skin of the man were hundreds of tiny scales. He tugged the towel off the man's face and immediately regretted it.
The man's scalp looked like a patchwork with a few clumps of short black hair remaining, but with most of it covered in scales. Even more grotesque, the man’s mouth was open, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. There were two flaps, or gill slits, one on each side of the neck, each about four inches long.
Jim-Bean gagged. "Jesus…what the hell is going on here?"
"Mutations," said Hammer. "Maybe…I'm not sure."
Staring up at them, the dead man’s eyes were not in the least bit human. He had a pair of fish-like eyes, flat and silvery, each about three inches in diameter.
Hammer resumed taking pictures. "The bodies died a few hours before being placed in the water. Looks like they both died of a massive breakdown in their internal organs. I'll send tissue samples back to the Blacknet lab."
"I've got a feeling that wherever these bodies were dropped, we'll find Ko," said Archive.
Jim-Bean covered his nose. "Then let's go find Ko. This place stinks like fish."
Hammer followed the trail a few blocks, looking around alleyways. They were about to pass an alleyway behind an Asian import shop when Jim-Bean stopped short.
"Do you see that?"
Hammer looked sideways at him. "No," he followed Jim-Bean's gaze. He was staring at the fire escape door to the import shop. "What do you see?"
"Nothing," said Jim-Bean, "what’s up on that fire escape."
What Hammer didn't see was a translucent man staggering down a set of stairs, starting from the third floor and stumbling down, almost to the street. Although the fire escape was currently pulled up, the ghost image staggered down as if it were extended down to the street.
"Looks like a symbol," said Hammer. "Of a dragon."
"I think I saw that shop on the way over here," said Archive matter-of-factly. "Black Lotus Something…"
Jim-Bean's gaze went from the street back up to the fire escape. The scene was repeating itself. It looked like the ghost is being helped by two people down the stairs.
It was a phantasm, caused when a traumatic event was imprinted on the environment for future playback. The environment stored the energy created by the traumatic event and played them back at a later time.
“And why, exactly, should we be looking into this shop?” asked Hammer.
“Just a hunch,” said Jim-Bean.
Archive peered at him. “Just a hunch, huh?”
“Yep,” said Jim-Bean, his gaze still tracking the scene that played over and over.
“I know how these hunches work.” Hammer loaded both of his Glocks. "Let's go knock."
An Outbreak of Alchemy: Part 2 – The Black Lotus Trading Company
The front of the large Asian import shop was decorated with a gaudy black and green Chinese motif. On one wall was an unusual mural depicting an Oriental dragon striding through a star field.
"Interesting," said Archive. "The dragon’s hindquarters turn into a mass of tentacles."
They entered the dusty shop to the tinkle of a bell over the door.
Shelves lined with Asian spices, dried and canned foods, statuettes, dishes, tea sets, and fans crowded the store. Piles of dried ginseng root were kept in the glass-front counter. Behind the counter was a doorway draped with a curtain of Oriental design.
Several of the customers shot them curious glances as they entered. They were distinguished not only by their ethnicity but their height; all the customers were five-feet in height at most.
"I don't suppose anybody speaks Vietnamese?" asked Jim-Bean.
Hammer shook his head. "I speak a lot of languages, but Vietnamese isn't one of them."
Hammer hit the bell for service at the counter.
Archive looked around the shop. After a moment, he clipped a leaf from one plant, rubbed the wax off the stem of another, and combined it with dirt from a third. Then he popped it in his mouth.
"What the hell are you doing?" asked Hammer.
Archive spat out the contents into one palm. "Learning Vietnamese." He separated the paste into two separate balls and then plugged them into his ears.
Jim-Bean just shook his head in disbelief.
A wrinkled older Asian man with a limp made his way through the curtains. "Yes? Can I help you?"
"We are looking for a William Davis Ko."
The air left the room. All the customers turned to look at them. The old man didn't react.
"I'm sorry, but I know of no William Davis Ko. And you are?"
"Concerned for his safety," said Hammer. "If you see him, please call this number." He handed the man a card.
The man nodded, nonplussed. "Is there anything you would like to buy?"
Hammer shook his head.
As they walked out of the store, the shop owner shouted something to a delivery boy. The delivery boy shouted something back.
Without looking over his shoulder, Archive said, "Dr. Fung Dou Nan just told Tony Wong, his delivery boy, to warn William Davis Ko."
"How do you figure that?" asked Jim-Bean.
"I heard him," said Archive with a shrug.
Jim-Bean was about to crack wise when a boy darted out of the store and down the street.
"We'd better get to him before Wong does," said Hammer.
An Outbreak of Alchemy: Part 3 – Jumping at Shadows
Jim-Bean caught up with Tony easily.
"Tony," he said slowly, tapping the boy on the shoulder. "I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment."
The boy whirled around, a confused expression on his face. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, we're friends," he nodded. "My name's Jim-Bean. And you're Tony Wong."
"That's me," said the boy.
"You were on your way to see someone. Are you going to see William Ko?"
Tony nodded mechanically.
"Can you take us to him?"
Tony nodded again.
"Great." Jim-Bean kept his hand on the delivery boy's shoulder. "I'll follow you so I don't get lost. I'm new in town."
As they strolled through New Chinatown, Jim-Bean kept up the distracting chatter. Hammer and Archive stayed a few paces back to avoid spooking the boy.
They turned down an alleyway. "This is a shortcut," said Tony.
They stopped short, facing four short men dressed in white ninja-like outfits. They held haedong jingeom, traditional Vietnamese blades, in one hand and hand crossbows in the other.
"The White Shadows," said Archive. "Tong Shugoran's enforcers."
Tony fled.
"So much for your new friend," muttered Hammer.
The White Shadows all wore white, featureless blank masks that only had eye slits. They crouched forward as a group, blades out.
Jim-Bean dropped his bag and pulled out his HK G36C. "F*&k this," he said, spraying the White Shadows with gunfire.
They scattered, diving behind dumpsters and garbage cans. One of the Shadows was hit full in the chest and went down hard.
Then the White Shadow hopped to its feet, despite the numerous bloody wounds staining the white uniform. He tore off his mask, to reveal the wreckage of a face: lips removed and a mouth widened to expose filed molars. With a shaved head and no ears or nose he looked like a living skull. Red drool dripped from the White Shadows' lips.
Jim-Bean switched to his SIG Sauer as Hammer and Archive fired on the other Shadows. Another of the Shadows went down, but only temporarily. They bounded like monkeys, clearing the debris and springing off the walls of the alley to close the gap between them.
A bolt thudded into Archive’s thigh, but he had no time to react to the pain. He knocked an advancing White Shadow’s blade out of the man’s hand with the butt his pistol. The White Shadow turned and clamped down on Archive's forearm.
Archive screamed as filed teeth tore into the muscle. It was like being bitten by a shark.
Hammer fired both Glocks at point-blank range into another of the White Shadows, and this time he stayed down.
Archive was pulled off balance. He fell to the ground in the grapple of the White Shadow, whose hands and feet seemed to be everywhere at once. He got one foot under Archive's armpit and another on his neck, preparing to tear the arm from the socket. The legs tensed…
And then spasmed as Jim-Bean fired his entire clip into the Tcho-tcho.
Archive shoved the surprisingly light body of the White Shadow off of him. Hammer helped him up.
"You okay?"
Something wasn't right. The world swam in front of Archive.
"Bhzang…" he said in a slurred voice. "…it's a poison…"
Hammer checked Archive's pulse. He was alive but delirious. "Great. One man down and no leads."
Jim-Bean was staring up at the sky past him. "I wouldn't say that."
The alley opened up onto a main street that was in front of the Equitech Building. Hammer tapped a few keys.
"Interesting. Dawn Biozyme leases five floors of the Equitech Building, but Blacknet's missing the plans for the top three floors. Somebody's hiding something important up there."
"Ko?" asked Jim-Bean.
"Must be."
They dragged Archive back into the vehicle. Hammer gave him a shot of anti-venom while Jim-Bean brought the car around to the front of the building.
"Is that going to work?" asked Jim-Bean.
Hammer shrugged. "If Bhzang is one of the major poisons it'll keep him from asphyxiating. But we're running out of time. Ko's going to be warned in a few minutes…"
"Wait," gasped Archive. "Give me your hands." Archive reached into his pocket with his good arm with considerably effort.
"Uh, now is really not the time—" began Jim-Bean.
Archive grabbed Jim-Bean's hand and pressed something cold against it. He lifted the back of his hand to look at it.
It was an ink stamp of a tiny scarab.
"We're not going into a club," said Hammer. "I don't see how…"
Jim-Bean shushed him. "If he wants to stamp your hand, let 'im."
Hammer dutifully offered his hand and Archived stamped it as well.
Jim-Bean took Archive's pistol out of his shoulder holster and placed it in Archive's good hand. "If anyone besides us tries to get in the car, shoot them."
Archive looked past him and muttered something. Hoping for the best, Jim-Bean closed the door to the car.
Jim-Bean turned to Hammer. "Hand me your pistols."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Hammer reluctantly gave them up. Jim-bean tucked them into his duffel bag. Then he straightened up and strode purposefully into the Equitech Building's lobby with duffel bag in tow.
A bored security guard was screening guests. Hammer spoke to the administrator at the front desk to get visitor badges.
Jim-Bean approached the security guard. "Hello chum, how are ya? Pardon me a bit, this bag's awfully heavy." He tossed the bag to the guard. "You don't mind me holding it while I pass through, do ya?"
The guard took the bag-full of weapons without comment as Jim-Bean bustled through the screening.
"Thanks mate." He grabbed the bag back from the befuddled security guard.
Before the guard could register what had just happened, Hammer came through next. The guard turned back to him.
Of course, nothing happened. Hammer walked through the security checkpoint.
Jim-Bean eyed the elevator. "Only one of those goes to the top floor. And it uses a key card."
A balding Asian man carrying a briefcase stepped out of the elevator.
Hammer bumped into him. "Sorry," he muttered.
"Excuse me," said the man, eyes on the door.
A second later Hammer slipped the man's security card into the elevator door. "A one-way ticket to the top, courtesy of," he checked the badge, which had the Asian man's face on it over the letters DAWN BIOZYME, "Mung I Peng."
In the elevator, Jim-Bean slipped Hammer his pistols back to the tune of "The Girl from Ipanema." He was careful to turn his back to the security camera.
"So how does that work?" Hammer surreptitiously tucked the pistols into his belt.
"How does what work?"
"The whole mind control thing." They passed the tenth floor.
"What?" asked Jim-Bean innocently. "I’m just very convincing."
"Yeah, right,” said Hammer, unconvinced.
Jim-bean shrugged. "Believe what you want." They passed the twentieth floor. "I hope Archive's okay," said Jim-Bean. "He's pretty messed up."
"We're not going to have a lot of time when we get to the top," said Hammer. "My guess is there's another elevator to reach the top floors. So we're going to need to hustle. I figure we have a couple of minutes tops before security gets here."
They passed the thirtieth floor.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out. This is wetwork," said Jim-Bean. "Your specialty, right?"
"Not quite," said Hammer. "I deal with captured targets. I thought it was YOUR specialty."
Jim-Bean inspected his nails. "Whatever. Depending on what's the other side of the door, if it's a talking head you deal with him. If it's a piece of tail, she's--"
The elevator dinged and the door opened.
A large sign welcomed them to Dawn Biozyme. Over a dozen technicians scurried to and fro. Weird robotic voices echoed throughout the large chamber, reverberating off of the huge metal machines and bubbling containers. It looked like a mad scientists.
A pretty young Asian woman in a lab coat approached them. "Can I help you?"
"Tails," Jim-Bean whispered to Hammer with a wink. He stepped forward. "Hello Miss…"
"Xian. Doctor Xian. And you are?"
"Security," said Jim-Bean. "We need to meet with Dr. Ko regarding a security breach."
Xian frowned. "Mihn didn't tell me about any security breach—"
Jim-Bean lowered his voice. "That's because we're trying to not cause an incident. In a few seconds there WILL be an alarm. Now if you'll just show us to Dr. Ko…"
"Dr. Ko doesn't see visitors," Xian said suspiciously. "But if you want to wait here I can check with security and give you clearance."
"Sure," said Jim-Bean. Xian walked off to a side office, out of view.
Jim-Bean turned to Hammer. "Did you get it?"
Hammer nodded and flipped the card he had snatched from Xian's lab coat. Like so many women in corporate offices, she wasn't comfortable having her security badge dangling at her chest. It made badges very easy to palm.
"We're now…" he read the card, "Amy Xian."
The elevator behind them dinged as it progressed through the floors.
"We'd better go. That's probably the Mihn guy she talked about."
The Dawn Biozyme techs ignored them, engrossed in their work. Hammer led the way down a hall to a large part of the building that opened up to the top floor by way of a stairwell. Reinforced glass doors and a keycard swipe blocked access.
"Here's hoping Amy gets to visit Ko," said Hammer as he swiped the card.
The red light over the card reader turned green. Jim-Bean pushed on the door.
It opened. They quickly climbed the steps.
A doddering old man in a white lab coat met them at the top of the stairs. He was holding a small black and white cat in his arms.
"Oh hello. I didn't realize it was visiting hours today!"
"It's not," said Hammer seriously. "Are you William Davis Ko?"
Jim-Bean took up a flanking position to the man's left.
"I am," said Ko. "But I don't see…"
Hammer drew his Glocks.
"Oh."
An alarm went off. Then the glass doors behind them burst open.
The security officer known as Bo Nan Mihn wore a blood red military-style uniform. He was impossible to ignore. Behind him were the other members of security, dressed in white paramilitary outfits. They were all short Tcho-tchos.
Hammer didn't wait. He slipped behind Ko and put a Glock to his head. Ko dropped the cat and put his hands up. Jim-Bean dropped his duffel bag and pulled out his machinegun.
It took him a second to realize the men were pointing crossbows at him, not pistols. "Shoot and he dies."
Mihn sneered. "It's not us you have to worry about."
There was the sound of a cat hacking up a hairball, and then the room filled with choking black mist.
Linear Mode
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