[Spycraft] Delta Green: Rebirth (Dead Letter)

On the morning of September 5, agents Alex Santiago, Benjamin Pike, Andrew Gordon, and Gabriel Rose are contacted through various channels and informed of a Delta Green operation in progress. They are to report to the rear loading bay docks at the University District post office in Berkeley, CA the next day at noon. They will be met by a contact there. In addition, Delta Green is dispatching a consultant from the Polish Army, Elzbieta Taszcyk, who will meet them at the rendezvous point.

The four agents arrive at the back of the building. A man stands on a small porch beside the loading bay smoking a cigarette.

Drew Gordon

[ooc - Are we cell members?]

"Hello, opera lovers."

Elzbieta has been waiting in her car for about 20 minutes, watching all the traffic near the building. Once she sees the four standing near the dock, and the man smoking the cigarette, she pulls the car into a parking area close to the dock and gets out. Walking around to the hatch, she makes sure her equipment is ready in case things get ugly, but leaves her firearms in the car. I will rely on my knives if need be, she reasons. After closing the hatch, she walks towards the others. Nodding as she approaches, she gives a quick introductory smile and says, "I am 1st Lt. Elzbieta Taszyck, but you may call me Elz."

Benjamin Pike

Pike pulled up outside the post office, got out of his car and ambled around to the loading docks, lighting up a cigarette as he went. 'Wish I knew who I was working with on this. Last I heard, Erikson was getting out while the getting was good, and Hardy...well, not much is gonna bother him now.' Pike shivered as his thoughts turned to Hardy, the memories of his death returning to the veteran agent with unpleasant clarity. 'Dammit, Ben, focus. Stop daydreaming and concentrate!'

Coming round the corner, Pike saw a few other people had already arrived. He wandered over at a leisurely pace, in time to hear one of them say

Andrew Gordon said:

"Hello, opera lovers."

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Pike barked a short laugh at that, entirely devoid of humour. "Really? I wouldn't have said you looked the type. First time? I guarantee that after you've done this a few times, you get really sick of hearing that phrase, or the many variations thereof."

''Cause eventually you realise it means something very similar to the old gladiator's salute - "We who are about to die..." But you don't need to know that yet, junior. Wouldn't want to go scaring you off. We need all the warm bodies we can get.' Pike's demeanour gave no clue to the cynical thoughts he was entertaining; he appeared to be a grey-haired man of about average height, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and his expression neutral on his clean-shaven face. There was the tell-tale bulge of a handgun in a shoulder holster on the left-hand side of his well-made dark suit, and he had the somewhat yellowed (though neatly clipped) fingernails of a long-time smoker. An aura of competance and experience hung about him, leaving a definite impression.

Elzbieta Taszyck said:

"I am 1st Lt. Elzbieta Taszyck, but you may call me Elz."

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Pike turned to regard the new arrival, his expression hard to read behind the glasses. He frowned for a second and then spoke. "You're...Russian? Or is it Czech? I used to be able to pick out the differences, but it's been a long time." He grunted at Elz's response and extended a hand. "I'm Benjamin Pike. Call me Pike. Now, it seems to me you're all new to this. If so, don't sweat it. I've been doing this since you people were in high school." Breaking off, Pike glances around, especially at the younger members of the team. "Heck, in some cases maybe even before then."

A man of slim build, and slightly under average height, strolled casually past the back of the post office, seemingly engrossed in something on his mobile phone. With a quick galnce towards the group of people around the loading bay, he abruptly changed course and headed towards them, sliding the phone into his charcoal-grey suit jacket. He approached, and slid a hand through his dark, slightly wavy hair. "I hope I'm not too late, I'm afraid I couldn't find any flowers for my hair." He smiled, and looked around, his eyes fixing on Pike. "Are you in charge of this operation?"

Benjamin Pike

Alex Santiago said:

"I hope I'm not too late, I'm afraid I couldn't find any flowers for my hair." He smiled, and looked around, his eyes fixing on Pike. "Are you in charge of this operation?"

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"If you mean, am I the one who called you all here and do I have any more idea of the situation than you, the answer is no. If you mean, am I the one who's going to try and keep you people in one piece and stop you making too many mistakes on this op, the answer is yes. If you pay attention and don't ask too many stupid questions, we'll get along just fine."

Pike checked his watch. Then, he walked over to the man smoking a cigarette and flashed his ID. "You here for the federal agents convention, or do you just have really bad timing when it comes to taking coffee breaks?"

Alex flashed a quick smile to the others as Pike went over to the smoking man. "So, have any of you done..." He paused, and gave a shrug "...this kind of thing before?"

Elz accepts Pikes handshake, and returns it firmly. "Polish, actually. My government seemed to think my experience might come in handy to this task group."

Synchronicity said:

"If you mean, am I the one who called you all here and do I have any more idea of the situation than you, the answer is no. If you mean, am I the one who's going to try and keep you people in one piece and stop you making too many mistakes on this op, the answer is yes.

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Elz nods, seemingly grateful to get the chain of command figured out. While she was accustomed to leading soldiers, they were often chosen for their ability to follow orders. She had a suspicion that the strengths of these operatives lay in other areas.

Leaning back against the wall, Elz keeps a sharp eye on the surroundings, more than willing to let Pike do the talking to the contact. She keeps one hand in the small of her back where her knives were sheathed. Sore from the long car drive from DC, she was happy to be on her feet again.

Synchronicity said:

"You here for the federal agents convention, or do you just have really bad timing when it comes to taking coffee breaks?"

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A black man with close-cropped hair, he looks up at Pike's words. "I'm here for the convention." He grins slightly as he tosses his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out. He extends his hand. "Johann Baldwin at your service. Inspector with the USPS. Yup, ladies and gents, even your friendly Post Office is in on this thing." Baldwin turns and pulls the door behind him open and ushers the agents inside.

As he leads them through the hallways, he gives you a brief run-down of what has occurred so far. "Yesterday, we received a Express Mail package for shipment. One of our postal handlers noticed a chemical smell coming from the box, and it was leaking some sort of liquid. Our Postmaster, Jim Hardwick, called the bomb squad in here. Whatever was in that box, the bomb-sniffing dogs didn't care for it too much. They didn't particularly act like it was a bomb, either, though. So we ran it through the X-ray and got the outline of a skull. A canine skull. So we did what anyone would do, we opened it up. I wish we hadn't.

"Inside was a dog's head packed in ice. The mouth was constantly working, like some sort of reflex. Rick Rafferty reached in there to pull the thing out, and I'll be damned if it didn't hop right out of there and bite him on his hand. Freakin' thing was still alive. Well, it wouldn't let go and the only way Rafferty got out was emptying the clip of his service revolver into it."

He leads them through a short hallway into a breakroom. At the table sits a thin, slight-looking man in wire-rimmed glasses, with gray-streaked black hair. As the agents enter, he sits down his coffee and the newspaper he was reading. "John Drake," he says, rising. "CIA, well, former CIA. Glad you could join us in our little production of Die Fledermaus here." He winks, and then turns and opens the refrigerator behind him. "Baldwin already told you what to expect." He reaches in and pulls out a large crate of corrugated plastic, and sits it on the table. "Let's see what's behind Door #2." Drake cuts the packing tape and tips the dog's head onto the table.

Drew Gordon

Bobitron said:

"Polish, actually. My government seemed to think my experience might come in handy to this task group."

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"Spotykać was, Elz," Gordon nods. "I've worked with the group once, although it was hardly anything worth noting. Stayed in the comfort of the office the whole time. Still, when they call you, it's probably not like there are other options."