Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (Updated Daily: Sep. 8)

[talien]

Well they tell me that I'm wanted
Yeah, I'm a wanted man
I'm a colt in your stable
I'm what Cain was to Abel
Mister Catch Me If You Can

--Blaze of Glory by Bon Jovi

Drake sat across from Blade, tapping a pen on the scratched wood. Drake’s desk looked as if it had been thrown out a window, dragged down the street, and then after it had broken apart, put back together in his office. Staring at him, Blade was suddenly conscious of Drake’s age. When Drake stood, he towered. But sitting, he looked like a tired, old man.

To Blade’s surprise, he didn’t immediately get a reprimand. “You look like s***t. How’s your pain?” he asked with his thick Scottish accent.

Blade swallowed. “I’m fine,” was all he said.

He wasn’t fine. Since that…THING had bitten him, the wounds never healed. They oozed all the time. He had to take anticoagulants to stop the bleeding, and that only slowed it to a trickle. He changed his dressing every night.

Drake was staring at him in an odd way. “They give you any painkillers?”

Blade shook his head. “Nope.”

The truth was that the Aquarius boys refused to give him anything strong enough to dull the pain. They claimed another agent who had suffered a similar wound from a similar “preternatural entity” had become addicted.

Drake pulled on the handle of an ill-fitting drawer. It shrieked as he yanked it open. After pawing through its contents for a moment, he tossed a green-colored bottle with a white cap in front of him. “Take those. It’ll help.”

Blade just stared at the pills. “I’m fine,” he repeated. Alcohol was his old friend and new painkiller.

“Fine, suit yourself.” Drake snatched the pills back and chucked them in the drawer. “But this behavior…this running off to handle missions because some @$$hole told you in a dream, it stops now. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you deleted files from a mission. You realize that you can be disavowed?”

Blade wasn’t sure what he meant. But he knew that being disavowed was bad. “Yeah,” he said.

“Good. You used to be rock solid, Blade. You want to tell me what happened?”

“I was protecting my team,” was all Blade was willing to say. He was afraid to share any information at all about Y’golonac.

Drake leaned back in his chair. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he replied. Blade didn’t know how it worked and didn’t need to. All he knew was that Y’golonac spread like some kind of mental contagion. With Blacknet, it could spread around the world in the seconds.

It was better this way. The less Majestic-12 knew about Y’golonac, the better.

“Fine,” said Drake. “I’m going to throw you a bone. This is your chance to get back on track and impress the Twelve. I had to go to bat for your sorry ass, so don’t screw this one up.”

Blade straightened. “Okay.”

Drake smirked. “Good.” He tapped the laptop on his desk and Blade’s cistron chirped. “I’m making you mission leader on this one. I downloaded it to your cistron. You can thank me later. Dismissed.”

Blade left. He glanced down at his cistron. It was a movie poster.

“CURSED OF THE UNDEAD,” it read. “STARRING: CHRISTINE DEE AND ALLEN ROBERTS.”

Blade sighed.

[talien]

GREEN GROVE, AZ -- Blade turned around in the passenger’s seat to address the team. Guppy was driving for once. Of them all, only Jim-Bean was missing.

Blade hesitated. “Where’s Jim-Bean?”

“Not here,” said Hammer. “I hear he got a royal dressing-down for appearing on public television.”

“But it was thanks to his idea that we were able to cover up the mission!” exclaimed Guppy.

Archive shrugged. “I don’t think Majestic-12 likes the idea of a bomb threat covered on national television.”

“They’ve got him doing paperwork, I bet,” said Caprice. “I spent two days straight at a desk filling that crap out thanks to you guys.”

“Yeah, we heard,” said Hammer with a smirk. “Drake said it was the only reason we weren’t disavowed already.”

“Okay, listen up,” said Blade. “We’re going to be visiting the film set of a remake of Curse of the Undead. Randy Kalms has switched gears from writing novels about conspiracy theories to writing scripts for movies, and he pitched this one to Derik Vanvon.”

“THE Derik Vanvon?” asked Archive. “The set we stormed last time?”

“The same,” said Blade.

“Is your ex-wife going to be there?” asked Hammer.

Blade frowned. “She’s in the film, yes.”

“She’s hot,” said Hammer. When Blade glared at him he muttered, “No offense.”

Blade kept talking. “A few people disappeared from the set about two weeks ago. There have been six reported incidents of people disappearing in the nearby town. Joe Miller, a night watchman, went insane, babbling about ‘a thin thing, a thin thing that ripped him apart.’ And two days later, the local paper reported that a wino saw something that took one of his buddies. The night after the incident with the wino, there was another reported disappearance and the locals have started calling the unknown criminal ‘Thin Jack.’ Randy thinks there’s something else responsible for their disappearance. Our job is to investigate if there’s any preternatural element at work. We’re part of a freelance crew that fills in as needed.” He tapped a key on his cistron and everyone else’s chirped. “Your roles have been uploaded to your cistrons. Guppy, you’re a cameraman.”

Guppy’s eyes were on the road. “I think I can handle that,” he said. “But I hope they use high quality digital cameras—“

“I doubt it,” said Blade curtly. “This is a low budget production.” Before Guppy could continue, he addressed the others. “Caprice, Hammer, you’re security.”

They both nodded.

“Archive, you’re the researcher. I want you to work on finding out what you can about the area they’re filming in, Green Grove.”

“What about you?” asked Caprice.

“Me?” Blade turned back around. “I’m the stunt man.”

[talien]

Randy Kalms met them at the entrance to what looked like a town right out of the Wild West. They were all plywood mockups of the real thing.

“Looks convincing, don’t it?” asked Kalms with his trademark devilish smile. He shook Blade’s hand.

“Sure does,” said Blade.

“I figured what the hell, right? I mean, I can’t publish Yuggoth Cultures, so I think to myself: Randy, how are you going to feed the family? And then I think, why not go back to what I did best? Make movies!”

“Horror movies,” said Hammer with a frown.

“Yeah. Well, beggars can’t be choosers and all that. And when guys in dark sunglasses follow you around all the time your options are limited, if you know what I mean.” He gave Hammer a meaningful look, as if he were the reason for Kalms’ problem.

“I’m leading this mission,” said Blade. “What’s going on?”

Kalms led them towards one of the film stages on the other side of the façade of a saloon. “Manuel Padre was a migrant worker who was hired to do manual labor at the site. The crew thinks he just moved on.”

“But you think otherwise?” asked Hammer.

Kalms nodded. “You saw in my report about Thin Jack. I broke into Padre’s locker. He left everything behind, including all his hard-earned money. If he was just going to split town, he would have taken off with it, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you leave the investigating to us,” said Caprice.

“Sure, sure,” said Randy. “I got word that you guys have covers. That’s good and shouldn’t be too hard to pull off. After rumors of the Thin Jack mess, people have been just dropping out of the production. At this point Vanvon’s lucky if the film gets made.” Kalms leaned in closer. “Listen, this could really boost my career, you know? So I’d appreciate it if you guys didn’t go blowing everything to hell like you did with my house…”

“We’ll keep a low profile,” said Blade, staring at someone behind Kalms.

“Good.” Randy smiled again.

“But won’t this Vanvon guy remember us?” asked Guppy, his voice rising as he focused on the rotund outline of the director approaching. “We didn’t exactly keep a low profile last time.”

“Vanvon?” Kalms smirked. “I doubt he’ll remember you. He can’t remember anyone who ain’t an actor—“

“Who are these thugs you’ve brought onto my set?” bellowed Derik Vanvon.

Kalms’ smile vanished. He spun on his heel, all business. “Freelancers. After we lost a few of the extras I thought we could use the help.”

Vanvon appraised them with a squint. “Good, we’ll need to move up our filming schedule in any case. As long as they stay out of my way!” He stalked off, zeroing in on Allen Roberts, who was caught in mid-wave at Hammer. “You! Stop waving like an idiot and get ready for our next scene!”

Kalms chuckled and shook his head. “See?”

[talien]

Vanvon ran a tight ship. Crew scurried to and fro, hauling generators, positioning cameras, and working hard in the chill of the desert night.

“You know,” said Guppy, “I’m trying to work with this camera but it’s really not very high quality. Everyone’s filming in digital these days but it seems you’re using an antiquated form of—“

“I don’t pay you for commentary!” shouted Vanvon. “Why don’t you act like Homer over here,” he gestured with a flick of his hand at a non-descript man with glasses, “and NOT SPEAK EVER AGAIN.”

Homer adjusted his glasses and smiled back at Vanvon. Guppy shut up.

Spotlights illuminated the entrance to the saloon. Unlike the other facades, it was an actual stage inside. Fog roiled at the entrance, although none of the crew had set up any special effects to produce it.

“Quickly,” said Vanvon, “don’t lose this. This sense of dread.” He put one hand around Roberts’ shoulders. “Now listen closely. It's the day after Tim’s funeral. Dolores has been hanging up posters all over town offering one hundred dollars for the Death of a Murderer. You know the posters refers to you, but you don't think anything of it until a stranger comes into the saloon carrying one of the posters.”

Wilson set up the camera, while the producer hooked up a lamp to a generator and flooded the scene with light.

“Roberts, stand over there, out of sight and don’t look until I call you,” said Vanvon. “Homer, get a second camera focused on Roberts—I want his reaction to this.”

“To what?” asks Roberts.

Infected by his enthusiasm, the crew quickly set up the equipment. Then Guppy and Kalms stepped behind the lights, Vanvon and Wilson each took a camera. There was a long moment heavy with anticipation…

“Ready?” asked Vanvon. “All right, Homer. Roll camera.” He was breathless with anticipation. “This is perfect. Roberts, look at the doorway. Something crawls out of the darkness into the saloon.”

Mist billowed into the saloon. Something emerged from the shadows. Dressed in a red leather long coat and fedora, its features were masked. The glowing ember of a cigarette dangled from wherever its lips were. It moved stiffly, as if hampered in its walking.

“Buffer!” said Vanvon, referring to the role Roberts was playing. “Meet Drake Robey!”

Roberts saw the thing and froze in horror. He reached for his pistol, filled with blanks, and fired it. Then Roberts dropped it, cursing and staring at his hand in disbelief. It was all part of the act.

Unscathed, Jack said in a voice that echoed despite their indoor surroundings, "We'll be seeing each other later.”

"I hit him dead square in the chest!' shouted Roberts. Unnerved, he looked back at the camera with an expression of genuine terror.

“And…cut!” said Vanvon.

Roberts rushed back while the thing disappeared into the mist.

“What the f**k was that?” demanded Roberts.

“That was your finest moment, Roberts,” said Vanvon.

“That wasn’t acting!” shouted Roberts. “It was a trick, a cheap trick to…to…elicit a real response from me. It was unfair, it was unethical, and it was…it was…”

“…genius,” finished Kalms. “Well done, Roberts.”

“Congratulations, Roberts,” said Wilson.

Roberts looks at them in disbelief and then, off their awed reaction. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“All right, Roberts,” said Vanvon. “If you're quite finished collecting your laurels. Let's pack up.”

Blade and the others collected the film.

"We'll leave the equipment, come back tomorrow, shoot the town and some of the scenes with Young alone," said Vanvon. "Jack Thorne will join us after dark and we'll shoot their scenes together."

Roberts glanced at the door to the saloon. "What's happened to Jack?"

"Yes, Derik, where is Thorne?" asked Kalms. He eyed Blade nervously. "And why won't he join us until night? Where does he sleep?"

"The earth in which he was interred, no doubt," said Roberts sarcastically.

"That's enough of that, Roberts," admonished Vanvon. "Now listen to me, all of you: for the remainder of the shoot, Jack WILL be Drake Robey. He will NOT break character, he will NOT answer questions as Jack Thorne."

"Will he answer questions as the vampire?" asked Kalms.

"Just leave him alone, Randy," said Vanvon. "The man will be absolutely authentic, without any phony effects. He'll be the vampire, we'll film it, and that'll be that."

Archive leaned in to whisper to Blade. “We’d better order garlic pizza for dinner tonight.”

[talien]

Hammer woke up out of a dead sleep. A loud noise had interrupted his dream.

He rose, shrugging on sweatpants. The entire team had one trailer, and they were splayed haphazardly across the trailer’s floor, couch, and other furniture.

He nudged Caprice with one foot. “Get up Hotpants,” he grunted.

Caprice was instantly awake. “Wha?”

“I heard a noise.” Hammer strapped on his dual shoulder holster. “Since you and me are security, I think we should check it out.”

Caprice blinked the sleep out of his eyes, nodded, and grabbed his pistol. “What kind of noise?”

“A door slamming shut.” He pushed open the door to the trailer and the cool night air swirled in. “Let’s go.”

They padded out into the desert night. Without the spotlights, it was colder and lonelier than ever. And yet it was much easier to see by starlight, which gave everything a hushed quality. Stars twinkled above them.

Hammer led the way to one trailer that was set up for editing. A light flickered persistently, brightening and then falling into darkness, over and over. There was the click-click-click of a film projector.

Hammer moved to one side of the door, pistol out. Caprice flanked the other side.

Hammer mouthed “on three.” He held three fingers up. Then two. Then one.

Caprice yanked on the flimsy door handle and yanked it open. The metal coil that held the door closed shrieked, that woke Hammer.

They pointed their pistols into the room. The projector was running.

On the screen was a grainy image of a rising sunset, the heat shimmering off the hills of the Arizona desert. Atypical of a low budget film like Vanvon’s, he was recycling footage from some other movie. Hammer guessed it was a documentary.

The screen flickered as the sun rose, and then it repeated. Over and over the room was illuminated by the hint of dawn, only for it to be abruptly blacked out and start again. The strobing effect made them a little dizzy.

“Just like the cowboys used to do it in the Wild West,” said Caprice. He pointed at an ashtray, where a smoke curled from where the cigarette lay within. It was a roll-your-own. “I didn’t know Vanvon smoked.”

“He doesn’t,” said Hammer.

[talien]

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, DADDY!” came Alex’s voice.

Everyone groggily got to their feet. Blade’s son Alex was hopping up and down amongst them, completely ignorant that he was stepping on peoples’ chests and heads.

Blade snatched one of the robes supplied by the production company to cover the blood-soaked bandages around his chest. “What are you doing here?” Then realizing the implications of his son’s presence, he asked, “Where’s your mother?”

“Daddy, daddy,” Alex practically tackled his father. “Thank you soooo much for the puppy!”

“What?” asked Blade.

“The puppy! I always said I wanted a puppy and mommy wouldn’t get me one and then when Zander showed up she said some bad words but now she said I can keep him!”

“Uh…you’re welcome?”

“I knew you wouldn’t forget my birthday this year!” shouted Alex, beaming. “Mommy said you would and that I shouldn’t expect anything to be different but I knew it’d be different this year and oh yeah I didn’t forget your birthday either.” He dug in his pockets for a box.

“So you named the dog Zander?”

“Yeah, and he’s really smart! Here’s your birthday gift!” He thrust the tattered gift-wrapped box into Blade’s hands.

Blade looked down at it. Guppy and Archive, in various states of wakefulness, looked on in amusement. Hammer and Caprice hadn’t yet returned from their reconnaissance mission.

“Are you gonna open it?”

“Oh, right.” Blade tore open the paper and opened the box. It was a belt buckle with several coyotes in an Indian-style pictogram howling at the sky. Bits of turquoise represented the stars.

Blade hefted it in one hand. “Is this…solid gold?”

“Sure is!”

“How did you afford this Alex?”

Alex grinned. “Mommy said I could save my allowance and I did and after you got me Zander I saved up all my allowances and then mommy said I could pick one thing and I did and here it is! Do you like it?”

Blade, who slept in his jeans, took off the plain belt buckle he was wearing and slipped it on. “I love it,” he said with a genuine smile.

“Okay, dad, I gotta go!” He gave Blade a hug around the neck. “Mom gets mad when I’m out of sight for too long. See you later!”

He bounded out of the trailer. It slammed shut with a bang.

“He bought that with his allowance?” asked Guppy in disbelief.

“Yeah, Christine does well for herself,” said Blade. “But that’s not what’s weird.”

“Oh?” asked Archive.

“I never bought him a puppy.”

[talien]

Vanvon filmed scenes throughout the day. Only Archive left the set to do research in the local library, which was miles away.

The manic director left Christine little time to catch her breath. All her scenes were crammed into the early shoot.

“Thanks for the puppy,” she snapped at Blade during one of her few breaks. “Alex would have had a meltdown if I didn’t let him keep the damn dog.”

“Welcome,” mumbled Blade.

“So what is this? Are you stalking me now? Is that how it’s going to be, you’ll be at every one of my shoots?”

Blade looked at her in disbelief. “You forget that I saved your life? Remember the lights falling? The crazy stalker?”

Christine looked sideways at him. She sighed and her defenses seemed to crumble. “Fine, right. I fired my security team after that, which is probably why Vanvon even let you on the set in the first place.” She jabbed a finger in his shoulder. “Look, don’t screw this up for me, okay? This film could be my big break. I need it. Alex and I both need it.”

Blade nodded. “I can make alimony payments again. As you pointed out, I’ve got a new job...”

Christine allowed a brief smile. “That’s not what I meant, but thanks. Just keep sending Alex gifts and I’ll consider us even. I’ve never seen him so happy.”

The boy was free to roam outside in the middle of the set with his puppy. The two of them ran around shouting and playing. To Vanvon’s credit, he refrained from bellowing at either of them. It wasn’t until Blade realized that Alex was dressed in period clothes that he figured it out; a kid and a dog running in the street would make for the perfect backdrop. Alex and Zander were just a prop to Vanvon. They were the next best thing to tumbleweeds.

“I’m glad,” said Blade.

“Listen…I was going to send Alex to camp.” Christine fixed her gaze on him. His heart skipped a beat. Christine was gorgeous, even when she was snarling at him. He forgot how startlingly blue her eyes were. “But he wants to stay with you. I told him I’d talk to you about it.”

“I think that’d be great,” said Blade. “I’d love to have him.”

Christine exhaled. She’d been holding her breath. “Good. I don’t like leaving him at camp. He needs a father figure in his life.”

The sun was setting. It was getting dark. “Alex!” shouted Christine. “Back to the trailer!”

“Okay mom,” came the faint response. The door slammed shut to her trailer.

The sunlight rapidly disappeared behind the distant mountains.

“Back to the saloon set, everyone!” shouted Vanvon. “It’s time for Jack’s scenes.”

Christine put on her game face and walked back onto the set.

"Can I have a cigarette?” she asked. “Where's my script? Derik? Derik!?"

"Yes," said VanVon. "What is it?"

"What is it?" asked Christine in disbelief. "What's the shot? What's going on here?"

Vanvon walked listlessly to her.

"All right," says Vanvon. "Christine, this is the scene from the night before, where you first have Drake for dinner. Dan has tried his damndest to convince you that hiring a hitman is not the way to deal with Buffer, but you don't believe him. Is that clear? Good, start eating. And you, Robey,” he pointed at a figure that was standing on the edge of pools of light, just outside their vision. “Ignore your guest and read the papers she brought you.”

Jack, dressed in his fedora and dark red duster, stepped into the light, but a gloom seemed to hang over him. His features were still obscured by the hat.

“Good,” said Vanvon. “Excellent. Roll camera. And--action!"

Christine ate uneasily while Jack pored over a document.

"Look at your host, Dolores," said Vanvon. "Could this have been the stranger who fought with Buffer?"

Jack, his face concealed by a heavy wrap, continued read the document.

"Are you afraid of him?" asked Vanvon. "Is he even human? How do you feel about eating near him? About spending the night with him alone?"

Christine ate distractedly.

"Now reach for the knife," said Vanvon. "Cut a slice of bread. Slice...slice...watch your finger, Christine..."

Christine, her attention fixed on Jack, cut her thumb. A little blood welled up.

"Damn!" shouted Christine.

"Look!" shouted Vanvon. "Blood, BLOOD!!"

Jack looked up, dropped the contract, and stood quickly. He began breathing very hard and tried to grab Christine’s hand. She pulled away.

"Damn it, Vanvon," said Christine. " I really cut myself!"

"Calm down, Christine!" said Vanvon..

"You did that intentionally!" shouted Christine. "That knife was sharpened like a razor!"

Jack grabbed Christine's hand again.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Christine. "Get this off of me!"

Blade took a step forward when the light and camera tipped over and the darkness in the room was total. Guppy located another light and hooked it up.

Wilson was prone on the ground.

"My God," shouted Kalms. "Homer!" He rushed to Wilson's side and kneeled down. Behind him, the upended camera spooled film onto the ground.

"Homer!" shouted Christine, standing over Wilson’s body helplessly. "Damn it, Derik, he isn't breathing!"

Vanvon hurried over to him. "Christine, get back to your trailer." No one moved.

"I said get the film, take it to the trailer!" He shoves Kalms and grabbed Christine by the arm. "Christine, move!"

But Christine just stood where she was and stared. "Leave the rest. Christine, help him with the film."

Nothing.

"Randy!" shouted Vanvon. Nothing.

Vanvon stood speechless, his worst nightmare realized: he'd lost control of his film.

The film finished rolling out of the open camera. When it stopped, Hammer stood up from examining the body. “He’s dead.”

"Help me with Homer," said Blade. He and Hammer lifted Wilson's body and started to carry it out.

"We're finished for the night," says Kalms. "Everyone to their trailers."

They all hurried out. Vanvon glared at them, standing his ground by the broken camera.

"Let's go, Derik," said Kalms. "Leave the damn camera."

Vanvon followed angrily.

When the others were gone, the agents were all that remained.

Guppy was staring at his hand, a strange device patched together with duct tape. It looked like a spotlight. “That’s so strange.”

“What?” asked Archive.

“I built this device…it’s an ultraviolet projector. I tried to aim it at Jack.” Guppy looked down at his hand again, as if it didn’t belong to him. “But I couldn’t. It was almost like…”

“Jack wouldn’t let us,” said Caprice.

[talien]

“I still think we should have put the body in a freezer,” said Caprice as he shoveled another pile of dirt out of the makeshift grave.

“You mean the drink freezer?” asked Hammer.

“We could just tell people not to get any drinks,” began Guppy when Blade shushed him.

He pointed. Off in the distance, they could see the headlights of a vehicle pulling away. In total darkness, the driver couldn’t see what they were up to. Which was the point.

“That’s a Hummer,” said Caprice.

“Vanvon.” He nodded towards Guppy and Caprice. “Let’s go.” Hammer was still digging. “I’ll call you if we find anything.”

They took off in the direction of the hill where Vanvon’s Hummer was. It turned out to be the opening to a mineshaft.

The mine sloped downward into the earth. The mouth of the shaft was still clogged with hunks of stone and wooden timbers. There was a pile of rubble near the edge of the shaft and the timbers and stones showed recent marks.

Caprice wrinkled his nose. “You smell that?”

There was a hint of a vile odor wafting from the mine. The headlights from the Hummer pointed into the shaft, illuminating the interior.

Caprice, Guppy, and Blade crouched on either side of the Hummer, weapons out. “Archive, Hammer -- you guys better get up here,” said Blade over the cistron. “Vanvon’s in a mine talking to…the thing.”

"How could you be so stupid?" came Vanvon’s voice. "You KILLED my photographer, you fool!"

If the thing was speaking to Vanvon, they couldn’t hear it.

"We had an arrangement!" shouted Vanvon.

Vanvon shuffled in the mine. "You monster, why him?" he asked. "Don't you understand the film can't go on without him? There are others less indispensable. You agreed not to hurt my people."

There was a pause.

"Of course he's necessary," retorted Vanvon. "They're all necessary, do you understand? Don't hurt my people. Or…”

Vanvon’s tone turned threatening. "Don't think I can't harm you," he said. "I can harm you by not giving you what you want! Yes, forget again who's in charge here at your own risk. Now abide by our contract--and I will, too.”

The director stomped out of the cave towards his vehicle. Before Vanvon could reach it, Blade clasped one hand over his mouth and yanked him away from the opening.

[talien]

Vanvon let out a yelp. Blade dragged him out of earshot from the mine, where Archive and Hammer were waiting.

Blade shoved Vanvon to his knees. Archive trained a handheld spotlight on Vanvon’s sweaty face. Hammer snapped on a pair of black leather gloves. He slowly screwed on the silencer to his Glock.

“What are you doing?” asked Vanvon.

“What I do best,” said Hammer. He crouched down. “Tell me what you were doing in there.”

“I wasn’t doing anything. What are you doing out here late at night anyway? It’s none of your damn business—“

Without looking, Hammer pointed the Glock at one of the tires of the Hummer and squeezed the trigger. There was a quiet thump and the squeal of air hissing from it.

“I’m going to ask you again: What were you doing in there?”

“You…” Vanvon swallowed hard. “I remember you. You attacked my set in Hollywood!” He blinked up towards the spotlight. “Who are you people?”

Vanvon’s head bobbed as Hammer struck him across the face. His nose started to bleed.

“You son of a bitch!” yelped Vanvon. “I think you broke my nose!”

“Stop lying to me and answer my questions,” said Hammer. “What were you doing in there?”

“I don’t know what you’re…” he flinched as Hammer raised a fist. “All right, all right! Fine! Just stop hitting me!”

“Tell us what we need to know,” said Blade, arms crossed. The interrogation was making him uncomfortable.

Vanvon’s flabby features sagged. “After the incident at my studio, the Organized Productions started suffering financial difficulties. We were running out of money, and I needed special effects shots for the creature. I was out here scouting for a location when I came across this mineshaft and started digging.”

“And that’s when you dug up Jack?” asked Caprice.

Vanvon shook his head. “Not at first. There was gold in there. Piled up. I took some out, hired a crew with it, went back and dug the rest out. Then I sold it and we were back in business.”

“How much?”

“About one million dollars worth,” said Vanvon. He seemed proud.

“When did you meet Jack?” asked Blade.

“Three days later. It dug its way to the surface, I guess. It took that immigrant worker. Then it came for me.”

Hammer forcefully turned Vanvon’s head to take a look at his neck. “No bite marks.”

“I offered to…” Vanvon swallowed. The admission was hard for the egotistical director to admit. “I made a deal with it. I’d put it in my film…at the end of the filming I was going to give it the lead actress…”

Hammer clicked off the record button on his cistron. “Thanks. That should be enough to indict you.”

Blade’s fist shot out, faster than the eyes could track. His clenched fist struck from the darkness into the spotlight on Vanvon’s face and then recoiled back. “That’s for Christine,” he snarled.

Vanvon’s head lolled, unconscious.

“Now what?” asked Hammer.

“Now we go stake us a vampire,” said Blade.

[talien]

“Everybody ready?” asked Blade.

Guppy swallowed hard. “Well, I had my ultraviolet projector but…”

“But what?”

“It requires a lot of power,” said Guppy. “And there’s only enough power for it at the generator back on set…”

“And you didn’t have a long enough power cord to bring it here,” said Caprice with a sigh. “Great.”

“Well I do have shotgun shells.” Guppy loosened the carrying strap of the shotgun across his back. “I filled it with garlic powder.”

“Hope it’s really a vampire.” Blade nodded at Hammer. “Let’s flush him out.”

“We know you’re in there, Jack,” shouted Hammer.

The Hummer’s engine plaid a staccato beat while they waited in the desert night for the thing to crawl out of its lair.

A figure wearing a fedora and black overcoat slowly shuffled into the headlights of the Hummer. Its hands were at its sides. It kept its head down, so the shadow of the hat’s brim concealed its features.

“Come out,” said Hammer. “We just want to talk to you.”

The thing slowly slid back the edge of its duster. Its revolver, a huge monster of a pistol, hung loosely at its hip.

“Now we don’t want to have to hurt you,” began Hammer. Everyone was on edge, hands near their pistols.

The long, claw-like fingers flexed beneath the leather gloves, twitching over the revolver’s handle.

“Nobody needs to shoot—“

As if the word “shoot” was a command, the thing drew the pistol in a flash and, before anyone else could draw their own guns, fired. With a yelp, Caprice spun from the impact of the shot and collapsed face-first into the dirt.

Both of Hammer’s Glocks were out. He returned a hail of fire. The bullets ricocheted off the thing’s body as if he were made of stone.

“What the hell?” was all Hammer got out before a crack shot pounded the stone near his face.

Blade rushed forward with a roar, hatchets in hand. The thing calmly waited for him as he closed.

Blade brought both hatchets together on the thing’s neck in a scissoring motion. The blows were so forceful that the attack should have beheaded it.

But his hatchets bounced off of the thing’s throat with a metallic clang. Its free hand shot out, grabbing Blade by the throat. He gurgled.

Its arm outstretched, holding Blade up against the mine wall, the thing’s features were finally visible. It looked almost rat-like, with grayish-white pupils and fangs that jutted out at odd angles from its mouth. Its bald, deformed features were twisted with malice.

Hammer took advantage of the moment to fire both Glocks at it again. Bullets sunk through its coat, but the ones that didn’t disappear into its body bounced off.

“Guppy!” shouted Hammer. “DO SOMETHING!”

Guppy broke out of his shock and aimed the shotgun. Then he ducked just as Blade’s unconscious body hurdled toward him.

Hammer stood in front of the mine entrance, still emptying his Glocks. “Shoot it,” said Hammer calmly. “NOW.”

Guppy screwed up his courage and took aim again. The thing had stopped firing its pistol. It stalked towards them, removing its gloves one at a time with malign precision. It was done playing games.

Guppy squeezed the trigger and the shotgun shell blasted into the thing’s chest. It staggered and fell down.

“I got it!” shouted Guppy with glee.

Hammer shook his head as the thing rose up. He dropped the empty clips from his Glocks and reloaded them.

Guppy reloaded and fired again. This time the thing didn’t stop coming.

“I don’t think it’s working,” said Guppy in a panic.

“Then try SOMETHING ELSE!” shouted Hammer. The thing had closed to within yards of him. Hammer unleashed both clips into it at point blank range.

It laughed. Then, grabbing Hammer by the throat, it hurled him into the darkness beyond the Hummer.

The Hummer! Guppy tore the door open and dove into the driver’s seat. The thing was standing in front of him.

He shifted the Hummer out of park and slammed on the gas pedal. The Hummer lurched forward, screeching its wheels as it thudded against the thing. There was a shriek as it was pinned against the entrance to the mine.

The Hummer protested, revving louder. He couldn’t push it any further because the mine entrance was too narrow.

Guppy threw it in reverse. The Hummer lurched backwards. Guppy peered over the edge of the Hummer. The thing was gone.

He kicked it into drive, but the Hummer didn’t get any traction. That’s when he felt it lift up.

“Mother trucker,” hissed Guppy. The Hummer winched up higher and higher with a shriek.

Guppy threw himself out of the driver’s side door as the thing, arms straining beneath the chassis, twisted the Hummer over on its side.

He landed near Vanvon, who was tied up and watching the whole thing in awe. “Magnificent,” he breathed. “Fantastic! The drama, the special effects, I couldn’t choreograph this better…”

The thing stalked towards him. Guppy scrabbled backwards on all fours. Blade and Hammer were unconscious. Caprice was down in a pool of blood.

It loomed over him, drawing its pistol with exaggerated care. It occurred to Guppy that the thing was savoring the moment.

It pointed the barrel of the six-shooter in Guppy’s face. Only the glint of moonlight on the tip gave any indication how close it was.

There was a crack of gunfire and the thing’s head bobbed back. It sank to its knees and fell to the ground, dead.

“How did you do that?” asked Guppy in awe.

Archive blew on the smoking barrel of his pistol. “Magic,” he said.

[talien]

Archive helped patch up the others with his medical kit. And yet it seemed they recovered better than they should have without a trip to the hospital. If they suspected other forces at work, none of them mentioned it.

“I’ve been reading up on this place,” said Archive. “Members of the Apache tribe were said to have a very rich gold mine located in the Superstition Mountains. A man called Miguel Peralta discovered the mine and began mining the gold there, only to be attacked or massacred by something in about 1850. Years later, a man named Jack Thorne treated an ailing Apache chieftain and was rewarded with information about the cursed goldmine. But when he found it, he encountered a thing known as ‘The Thin One’ or ‘The Skinny One’. Jack sacrificed himself to kill the Thin One, collapsing the gold mine on them both with dynamite. The Thin One is supposedly vulnerable to daylight and gold, of all things.”

“When Vanvon dug up the gold, he released the ward,” said Guppy.

“More than that,” said Archive. “I think that thing WAS Jack Thorne. They implant eggs in humanoids and use it to gestate…”

“Poor bastard,” said Blade, scratching his ribs.

“Doesn’t matter now anyway,” said Hammer. “He’s dead.”

The body was more than dead, it was dismembered. They had blown the thing’s head off and shoved a stake of wood, taken from an old mining cart, into its heart. It was wrapped up in a bag that Blade and Hammer dragged through the desert back to the set.

When they arrived, they found the crew setting up at the saloon. Kalms was putting the finishing touches on the set. Christine was in a wig and make-up. She was wearing a plain nightgown as well as a pair of stylishly anachronistic high heels.

“What the hell?” asked Blade. “Why is everyone up so late? What is going on?”

“Listen, Blade. This is the big finale,” muttered Christine. “Now stay out of the way, we’re cramming to fill the final scene.” She caught sight of Vanvon. “What the hell happened to you?”

Vanvon looked ignored her. “They’re filming His movie.” He looked around wide-eyed. “Whether they want to or not.”

“Whose movie?” asked Blade.

“Jack’s,” said Vanvon. “This thing…it has control over everyone. Can’t you see? We’re powerless to stop it!”

Nobody looked up from their duties. The sight of a dismembered body in a bloody plastic bag, or their beaten up director, failed to give them pause.

"All right, Christine," said Kalms. "In this scene, Drake, whom Dolores has put up in a spare room at the ranch house, sneaks into your bedroom after you've gone to sleep, and bites you on the neck. Really all you have to do is lie there in fear and Jack will do the rest."

Christine got into bed. Out of the shadows materialized Jack wearing a red duster.

“Son of a bitch! What the hell did we just kill?” asked Blade. He looked back at Hammer to confirm.

Hammer nodded back – the headless corpse was still dead.

They struggled to move, but it was like swimming up a waterfall. Harming Jack seemed impossible; their will was sapped with the very notion of the effort. Only when they diverted their minds to other things did the feeling disappear.

Jack took position between the bed and the mirror mounted on the wall behind him. He looked down at her, gently brushing her breast with his long nails.

Christine pushed his hand away. "Watch it, @$$hole."

Kalms exchanged an indecipherable glance with Hammer. Then he walked over to one of the cameras and nudged it over. It shattered in an explosion of glass and uncoiling film.

"Damn!" shouted Kalms. "Hold it! Set up the other camera. Bill, there's another reel up in the gallery. Sorry, actors. It'll just be a moment."

Jack, irritated, marched off the set.

“They’re stalling,” whispered Archive. “We may not be able to interfere with the film, but they’re rebelling in their own little ways.”

The crew finished setting a new camera on the tripod. Jack, climbing the walls, stormed over to them.

"I'm tired of waiting," says Jack.

"All right, places," says Kalms. "Let's have lights..."

Jack walked over to the set and resumed his position. Kalms adjusted the lights.

"Camera..." said Kalms.

Christine lay, acting fearful, in bed. Jack, between her and the wall, kneeled and was preparing to bite her when she stared him full in the face. Before Kalms could say "action," she started screaming.

"…end!" shouted Kalms.

Blade rushed to her side.

"What is it?"

"His face..." said Christine. "He doesn't...

Jack glared at Kalms.

"Let me have her," demanded Jack. "NOW."

"She's hysterical." Kalms walks over to Christine. "Let her calm down first…"

Jack pointed at Christine. She relaxed, fallen into a stupor. “Now she’s calm.”

“Give her a moment, for God’s sake!”

Jack once again stood beside Christine, whose eyes fluttered in a daze. Jack kneeled down beside her, ran his fingernails slowly along her legs and arms. She barely noticed.

"I'll take her now."

"Control yourself for a moment, Jack. Let’s do the final scene." There was another set already prepared outside in the street. "Okay, this is the scene," said Kalms. "Dolores, weakened by the nocturnal visits from Robey that she has already endured, begins wasting away; we know she’s headed downhill fast when she acquiesces meekly to Dan’s renewed efforts to make her rescind Robey’s contract with her on Buffer’s life. There's no help for it; the only way to settle this is an old fashion duel between men. A gunfight."

Kalms looked around. “We need a stuntman for this scene.”

Hammer stepped forward. “I’m the best shot…”

Kalms shook his head. “Sorry, but our lead hero isn’t a black man.”

Caprice took a deep breath. Beneath his clothes, his shoulder was bandaged. “That’d leave me then.”

Kalms nodded. “Fine. Costume? Makeup! Get him ready.”

The crew scurried, prepared for this eventuality.

“I need a hat,” said Caprice. “A big ten gallon hat.”

Jack stormed at the edge of the set. Although they couldn’t see his face, he was visibly frustrated.

“And boots,” said Caprice as the hat was screwed onto his head. “Big alligator skin boots.”

Archive slipped his pistol into Caprice’s holster. “Use this gun. It will penetrate his defenses, I hope.”

“Oops,” said Hammer, spilling a glass of water down Caprice’s shirt.

“Did you have to make it so obvious?” muttered Caprice.

“Sorry, Hotpants,” smiled Hammer.

“I need a new shirt here!” shouted Caprice.

“ENOUGH!” roared Jack. “We will finish this now!”

“Places everyone!” shouted Kalms. Jack’s back was to the east, where the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was coming soon.

The two combatants faced each other across the dusty road.

“And…action!”

Caprice drew his pistol, but Jack was too fast. The pistol was shot out of his hand.

“Pathetic,” came Jack’s voice in their heads. “This is the best you can do?”

Jack fired again, and Caprice fell to one knee, clutching his bleeding leg.

The spotlights flickered.

Suddenly Jack howled, clutching his face. Guppy stood, arms outstretched, holding a flashlight-type device connected to the generator. He had mustered every ounce of his will to resist Jack’s mental domination and fire the beam in the thing’s direction.

Its hat fell away. Tentacles writhed where its face would normally be. Its whole body was a latticework of pink tentacles stretched over a skeletal frame. It was if a human body had been stripped of its skin and the muscles rebelled, all struggling to tear off their moorings.

“If you’re going to do something,” shouted Hammer, “do it now!”

Blade surged forward, whipping his belt off. He wrapped the leather around his knuckles with the gold belt buckle facing outward.

Jack looked up from its convulsions in time to see Blade’s fist. He punched it in the pulpy mass where its head should have been.

It hissed and clawed his left arm. Blade retaliated with an uppercut.

“This is not how it’s supposed to be!” shouted Jack, its telepathic roar echoing in everyone’s minds. “My final stand…”

Blade grabbed both of its outstretched claws by the wrists. Straining, he forced them behind Jack’s back, wrestling it so the thing faced east. And the rising sun.

Blade held it as the first rays of the sun came over the mountaintops. They sliced through Jack’s flesh like laser beams, sizzling and popping the muscle.

Jack’s shrieks reached a crescendo, and then it abruptly burst, sizzling and popping into nothing but a puddle of goo.

“And cut!” said Kalms with a smile, even though the cameras had long since stopped working.

[talien]

The arrival of the police to arrest Vanvon interrupted their argument only for a few minutes.

Standing in front of the team’s trailer, Christine shook her head at Blade. “You did it again. You had to go and screw everything up for me, didn’t you?”

Blade laughed. “Me? That thing was trying to kill you—WOULD have killed you, if it hadn’t been for me! You were so focused on the movie and your big break that you couldn’t see it was going to eat you!”

“You know, there is the possibility that it was mentally controlling everyone on the set…” began Guppy.

“Shut up,” they both snapped at him.

Guppy cleared his throat and went back into the trailer.

Alex walked out of Christine’s trailer, rubbing his eyes. “Mom? Dad? You fighting again?”

Christine bit her lip. “No, honey,” she kneeled down to his level. “We’re just having…a disagreement.”

“Does this mean I can’t visit daddy for the summer?” Tears welled up in his eyes.

Christine sighed. “Of course you still can.” She glared at Blade over his shoulder. “But daddy will be sending us alimony payments from now on.”

Blade crossed his arms but nodded.

Zander barked and Alex perked up, distracted. He ran off. “Zander! Zander, we have to get ready to goooo!”

“So…” said Blade. “Are we all right?”

Christine stood up. “No,” she said after a moment. “But we will be.” She stalked off towards her trailer.

Hammer stepped out of the trailer. “You know Archive’s pretty good with that medical kit of his. I think you should let him take a look at you.”

Blade frowned. “No, that’s okay…” But Archive was right behind Hammer, walking up to him.

“Let me see your ribs, come on.”

“No, guys, seriously,” he tired to shove them off, but Archive was already yanking up his shirt. Blood stained both sides of it. Fortunately, he wore a black shirt. “You don’t need to…”

Archive blinked. He peeled off one of the bandages. “Well I’ll be. After all that bleeding it looks like wounds finally healed up.”

Blade looked down in disbelief.

Hammer patted him on the back. “Told you Archive was good. Let’s get out of this hell hole and go home before Drake asks us what we were doing out in the desert blowing the heads off of illegal immigrants and staking them in the heart.”

“With a little makeup they can make anyone look like a vampire,” said Caprice, exiting the trailer. “That still doesn’t explain how he flipped a Hummer or dodged bullets.”

”He didn’t doge them,” said Hammer. “But whatever. He tried to kill us. End of story.”

“I told you Jack was mind controlling people,” Guppy shouted from the entrance to their trailer, supposedly out of earshot.

His teammates laughed. They made their way back to the team van. All except Blade.

His ribs were fine. No bite marks. Nothing.

“They’re totally healed over,” he whispered to himself with rising horror.

Then his palms began to itch.

[talien]

This scenario, “Skinwalker,” is from the Call of Cthulhu supplement “Dwellers in Shadow” by Michael Szymanski from Triad Entertainments. You can read more about Delta Green at http://www.delta-green.com. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Game Master: Michael Tresca
• Hank “Guppy” Gupta (Smart Hero) played by Joseph Tresca
• Jake “Blade” Iron Shirt (Strong Hero) played by Matt Hammer
• Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero) played by Joe Lalumia
• Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero) played by George Webster
• Sebastian "Caprice" Creed (Fast/Smart Hero) played by Bill Countiss

Skinwalker is a scenario that’s big on ideas and poor on execution. The presentation is a big jumble, which makes it difficult as a GM to follow. There are actually two protagonists here, a Navajo “witch” and the thing he has unleashed. Both have similar abilities that involve taking people over by wearing their skin. Which is pretty creepy…

This is another scenario where the main antagonist has a shapeshifting power that it never uses to its advantage. For example, the Skinwalker possesses a woman’s skin, but since he can’t imitate voices, this immediately takes on a comedic Bugs Bunny image of a mousy secretary speaking in a deep baritone and smoking a stogie. The human villain doesn’t seem to have much in the way of goals either, besides being evil. The excuse for why he does so many ridiculous things (like undressing and dressing his victims) is that he’s insane. But he’s apparently insanely dumb; the first thing the witch does is appear as a wolf and warn the agents off.

Really? Seriously? He’s insane, he kills people, but he’s going to WARN the heroes off before they even suspect him, like a cartoon villain? Screw that!

There’s also a suspect whom the PCs are supposed to investigate because, well, because the town folk think he’s a little weird. The shape-shifting villain doesn’t capitalize on this means of diverting the investigation; in fact, he doesn’t even seem to be aware of the association.

Then there’s the Skinwalker itself, which doesn’t seem to have a plan other than to reproduce. In fact, the scenario is a little too fixated on the birthing that will take days to happen, without providing a narrative climax for when it should. So of course, I decided the PCs are going to find it right when it’s about to give birth.

To make this scenario more interesting, I cribbed from a popular horror movie and had the witch and the Skinwalker go on the offensive. Once the witch is spotted dumping skinless bodies, he pulls out all the stops and tracks the investigators, trying to figure out which one has the skin that fits him best. He walks around town in a form suspiciously like the person he wants to frame for his crimes, intentionally throwing the agents off his trail. And things spiral from there.

Defining Moment: When the PCs discover that the fingerprints on their van matches the dead body in the caves.

Relevant Media

• Dwellers in Shadow: A collection of scenarios for Call of Cthulhu from Triad Entertainments.
• I’ve Got You Under My Skin: I decided in this episode whenever the shape-shifting critter was on their trail, Blade would hear a song on a nearby radio. This was thanks to Coyote's influence...or was it? And in this case, it’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra. Because Sinatra’s creepy.
• Critical Locations: I used this map of the police station. Again.

[talien]

Don’t you know you fool, you never can win
Use your mentality, wake up to reality
But each time I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
cause I’ve got you under my skin

--I’ve Got You Under My Skin by Frank Sinatra

PHOENIZ, AZ--Guppy was driving. They were on their way back from the latest mission in Arizona. Blade sat in the front, staring off into the space, deep in the thought. Archive tapped on his keyboard. Hammer and Caprice were debating on whether or not the man they killed in the mine was really a vampire.

He tried to keep his eyes on the road as they passed by an odd ruin atop a wide ledge. Black crows blanket the trees. An ugly, rusted van was parked nearby.

As they passed, Guppy caught sight of a tall man in a dark overcoat and hat dropping something—something wrapped in what looked like a bloodstained sheet—down a sinkhole.

“Do you see that?” asked Guppy.

Blade was staring at the man too.

As Guppy watched, the figure turned and seemed to peer right at him as they passed by.

A police siren shrieked right in front of him. Guppy yanked the wheel hard; a cop was tearing down the road on the wrong side of the street, ducking around an eighteen-wheeler. The van shrieked and then tilted. For a second gravity hung in the balance as the vehicle teetered. Then it rolled over, tumbling off the side of the road into a ditch.

To Guppy’s surprise, they had landed wheels down.

“Maybe we should let Blade drive again,” said Hammer, extricating himself from the pile of other agents.

“I saw a man dumping bodies!” shouted Guppy. They all got out of the van.

The cop was heading due east towards Culver’s Pass. The team’s van was pulled over a bit further down the road, close enough that they could jog there.

It was clear that the cops hadn’t stopped where the body dumping had occurred, but a ways before it. The area was obscured from their field of vision by a rising hill.

It was sheriff Colorados. His patrol car was pulled over to the side of the road near a battled old pickup truck. IT was half-hidden in the gully that ran parallel to it, the same gully that had caught the team’s van.

“Colorados,” said Blade in greeting. Colorados nodded back. “We almost crashed into you back there. Everything all right?”

Colorados shook his head. “We think this was Virgil Nist,” he said, pointing at a pool of blood in the passenger seat of the car. “But there’s no body. Just a lot of blood.”

“We saw something a little further back,” said Blade. “Looked like it was a man dumping bodies a little further east from here.”

Colorados sucked on his lower lip. “I’ll call for backup.”

They nodded. “We’ll check it out,” said Blade.

Guppy swallowed. “We will?”

[talien]

There was a small ruin on a wide ledge a hundred feet up the face of the cliff. Guppy, Blade, and Caprice made it up top. Archive and Hammer stayed below with Colorados.

The ledge that housed the ruin was littered with rubble and patches of mesquite, which made moving around an awkward affair. Dozens of ravens sat around the ruins, squawking. A great deal of brush has grown over the structure.

Caprice brushed away some foliage. “I think I found the entrance.”

The kiva was relatively intact, and much of the roof still remained, framing the opening through which its original inhabitants entered. The main feature of the chamber was a central pit, its smooth, curved lines contrasting with the jagged opening ripped into the floor. This was an entrance to a cave system.

They looked around at each other. “Guppy, you’re the lightest, so we’ll lower you down.”

“What?” Guppy peered down into the hole. “No way Jose.”

“Come on Guppy, he’s right, you’re the lightest,” said Blade. “We’ll pull you back up whenever you say so.”

Guppy looked down into the hole again, shining his flashlight here and there. It didn’t penetrate the gloom. “I don’t like this at all.”

But Caprice was already tying rope to his waist. “You can do this.”

“You know, my specialty isn’t spelunking,” complained Guppy as he was lowered into the cave. “I’m actually more of a science guy myself.”

He suddenly got quiet. The only sound was the creaking of the taut rope that Blade and Caprice held.

“Guppy?” asked Caprice.

“I’m…oof…trying…oof…” The rope was swinging to and fro. “To swing…got it!”

“What is it?” asked Blade.

”A cell phone.” Guppy clicked it on. “It was recording video.” He pressed another button and it began to play.

“The cave-in appears quite recent, within the last month or so, and by the looks of things here, I’m not the first one to find it,” said a redheaded, bookish-looking woman with glasses. “I shined my light down into the chamber below, and there was something large and smooth down there.” Behind her, a humanoid figure loomed, raising a shovel in two hands. “I’m going down for a look after…” There was a grunt and then the camera spun crazily, filming the opening of the pit as it fell from its owner’s hands.

“Oh that’s not good,” said Guppy.

“What?”

Guppy looked around. They were lowering him down more. It was easier to use his cistron than to yell up.

“Guys, I think there is some blood down here.” There were several spots of dark red against the rusty sandstone.

“And what’s on the cell phone?”

“A video of a woman. Someone killed her with a shovel, I think.”

He was lowered into a large ceremonial chamber of ancient origins. At the bottom of the chamber was a disturbing sand painting of two snakes arching over strange, dancing figures.

Guppy took a picture. “Blade, have you ever seen something like this?”

“It’s not Apache or Navajo, that’s for sure,” came his reply.

“Wait…I see something…”

Guppy could make out the body of someone wrapped in a sheet with red stains on it, just out of sight of the hole above. Guppy gently touched down on the ground. He took a slow, hesitant step towards the body.

It twitched. Guppy nearly screamed.

Guppy took another step. “Are you…” he swallowed, trying to find saliva. “Are you okay?”

The body in the sheet began to convulse, struggling to escape and breathe. Finally, a bloody face worked its way out. It gurgled.

“What? Are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” chirped Caprice’s voice over the cistron.

Guppy ignored it. The man was pointing at his chest through the covers, digging around at the sheet.

Guppy tore it open and fell backward, gasping. Although the man was wearing clothes, he had been completely skinned. He struggled to say something.

Guppy got back on his feet.

“Hiiiiideeee” he wheezed.

Guppy shouted into the cistron. “I need backup! There’s a man down here…he has no skin!”

“Put him on the rope,” said Blade.

“What?!”

“If he’s skinned he needs medical attention Guppy,” shouted Caprice. “Tie him to the rope!”

“But that means I won’t have a rope!”

“Do you want to let the man die?” asked Blade.

“Oh, MOTHER TRUCKER,” grumbled Guppy. He unlatched the rope and, after a few minutes of trying to figure out how to wrap it around a skinless man, latched it around his waist. The man screamed every time he touched him.

“Jesus, are you killing him down there?” asked Caprice.

“He’s ready to go. Lift him up,” said Guppy. “I am staying RIGHT here, I just want you to know that. Because this place is totally freaking me out and it’s dark and it’s…” he slowly turned. “What is that smell?”

There was a horrible stench deeper in the tunnels, accompanied by a tremendous buzzing.

“Heeeeeellllp mmeeeeee,” came a whisper from the direction of the tunnel.

“I think someone needs help,” said Guppy. “I’m going to go in deeper…”

He crept further into the dank tunnels branching off the main chamber. A near solid wave of noxious, putrescent miasma boiled out of the cavern amidst a roiling cloud of flies. There was a huge cocoon, a sagging, half-rotted husk of undefineable material. It was approximately six feet long and two feet wide.

A drop of body fluid splatters on Guppy’s shoe. Then another.

Guppy looked up.

The light from his flashlight revealed many skinless bodies stuck to the ceiling of the cavern. The whole place was filled with them.

One of the bodies, a woman from the looks of her matted hair, pleaded with skinless features, “Heeeeelp mmmeeeeeee!”

Guppy turned and ran screaming from the chamber.