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Delta Green - All Part of the Job
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<blockquote data-quote="Audrik" data-source="post: 6725469" data-attributes="member: 73653"><p><strong>Night Floors - Session 1a</strong></p><p></p><p>It had taken Agent REDOX all of about ten minutes to book his flight home, and in that time Agent ALPHONSE had replied to his emailed report. That wasn’t something the scientist had been expecting; ADAM, maybe, but ALPHONSE tended to take his time. It probably had something to do with age. Delta Green’s leader always sounded old and weary over the phone, but REDOX had never met the man. Not that he was likely to know it if he had.</p><p></p><p>The response from A-cell only briefly acknowledged receipt of the report. It seemed there was another matter that needed R-cell’s attention. The email gave a phone number and the name of Agent MARCUS of M-cell. The instruction was short: <em>Before dismissing R-cell, meet with Agent MARCUS. He has an urgent matter which needs attention. He will give the briefing.</em> It also advised REDOX to be prepared to welcome a new agent to his cell; one with abilities which should be particularly suited to the task at hand.</p><p></p><p>Well, damn. No rest for the cell yet. At least the area code indicated a New York City number. As it was already after midnight, Agent REDOX cancelled his flight and alerted his cell before getting some sleep.</p><p></p><p>Agent ROMEO was in the process of painstakingly photographing each page of the Italian’s book when he got the call. His response was hardly more than an assenting grunt. He had more important things to do than talk to his cell leader. A few hours later, ROMEO had a complete copy of the book in the form of digital images, and so he handed it off to REINHARD. The IRS agent took the book outside to an alley and set it on fire. He was relieved to see that it burned easily. Burning a Nazi book – the irony wasn’t lost on him.</p><p></p><p>On his way out in the morning, Agent REDOX stopped by the front desk to make sure the rooms were booked for another three days just in case. Then it was breakfast time. He hadn’t been to a Denny’s in a while, so he hailed a cab. After ordering his food, REDOX gave Agent MARCUS a call to set up a meeting for 10:00 AM, and then he relayed to information to his cell. The meeting was at the FBI office. Did that mean MARCUS was actually FBI, or was he FBI followed by a ‘wink, wink’? Not that it mattered, really. For REDOX, the bigger question was this: “If Delta Green already had a cell in New York, why the hell did his get sent in?”</p><p></p><p>Most of R-cell arrived at the FBI office on time. Agent RIVER hadn’t responded since fleeing the chaos of the previous night, but REDOX wasn’t worried. She’d turn up. Hell, maybe she was the smart one. All he really wanted to do was go to ground.</p><p></p><p>Agent MARCUS directed the agents to a secure briefing room and asked them to make themselves comfortable. MARCUS was probably in his early 30s, but his face seemed to have a sort of permanent scowl of suspicion which somehow made him seem older. His first order of business after the door was closed and the blinds were shut was to ask if the agents were followed. When they indicated they weren’t, he asked if they could account for all their waking hours. Yes. Yes, they could. Agent MARCUS accepted their answers, but he didn’t seem to believe them.</p><p></p><p>“Okay. This should be a milk run; a simple in and out. It’s going to take weeks, and if you’re lucky, it’ll be the most mind-numbingly boring job you’ve ever had.”</p><p></p><p>“And if we’re not lucky?”</p><p></p><p>Agent ROMEO likely just wanted to cover all possibilities.</p><p></p><p>“If you’re not lucky, Agent, your mind will still be numb.”</p><p></p><p>Agent ROMEO conceded that everything seemed to sound fair enough. MARCUS nodded, and then he wasted no more time.</p><p></p><p>“Abigail Laura Wright is missing. She is a successful commercial illustrator and artist, and she was last seen four days before she was reported missing by her father, Thomas Wright. Thomas Wright is a Nassau County police officer and he pulled some strings to get the NYPD more involved than is usually the case.</p><p></p><p>“Abigail has been living in Manhattan for more than seven years and has only been to the police once, to report a mugging in 2007. Besides this, she has a distinguished academic record and an impressive list of credentials and former clients. Late last year, her first show was held on Franklin Street downtown at The Mercury, a small but trendy art gallery.</p><p></p><p>“Six months later she disappeared. Her father says he tried reaching her for four days before calling a friend at the NYPD on May 13th. When the police opened her apartment, they were baffled. It was an obsessive-compulsive’s dream. Every available surface was covered in junk, glued or taped to the walls. Only the floor was clear. The carpet had been yanked up to reveal battered linoleum. Prior to this, by all accounts, Abigail had been a fastidious young woman not given to accumulating odds and ends. There were no signs of a struggle or any other sort of violence, and the neighbors could offer no useful testimony.</p><p></p><p>“On July 13th, Abigail’s credit card was used in Patience, Maryland to purchase a pack of Old Gold cigarettes, and the case was given to the New York FBI as a possible interstate kidnapping. We re-examined the tenants of the building and Abigail’s associates and friends, and soon come to the same dead end which stopped the NYPD. The employees at the gas station where Abigail’s credit card was used had no particular recollection of the transaction and did not recognize her from photographs. The signature on the receipt was her name, but not her handwriting. The gas station had no surveillance cameras.</p><p></p><p>“Among the debris found in Abigail’s apartment was a piece of paper with a Yellow Sign hastily scrawled on it in blue ballpoint pen. The occult symbol caught the attention of a Friendly here who reported it to me.</p><p></p><p>Agent REDOX had to stop MARCUS for a question.</p><p></p><p>“A Yellow Sign?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>“In blue ink?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>“Was the paper yellow?”</p><p></p><p>“White.”</p><p></p><p>“Then why is it called a Yellow Sign?”</p><p></p><p>“Pray you never find out, Agent REDOX. I need your cell to examine Abigail’s disappearance, with an eye towards any possible occult connections. I understand two of you have badges already. Give me a couple days, and I’ll get some for the others. Welcome to the Bureau, boys.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Audrik, post: 6725469, member: 73653"] [b]Night Floors - Session 1a[/b] It had taken Agent REDOX all of about ten minutes to book his flight home, and in that time Agent ALPHONSE had replied to his emailed report. That wasn’t something the scientist had been expecting; ADAM, maybe, but ALPHONSE tended to take his time. It probably had something to do with age. Delta Green’s leader always sounded old and weary over the phone, but REDOX had never met the man. Not that he was likely to know it if he had. The response from A-cell only briefly acknowledged receipt of the report. It seemed there was another matter that needed R-cell’s attention. The email gave a phone number and the name of Agent MARCUS of M-cell. The instruction was short: [I]Before dismissing R-cell, meet with Agent MARCUS. He has an urgent matter which needs attention. He will give the briefing.[/I] It also advised REDOX to be prepared to welcome a new agent to his cell; one with abilities which should be particularly suited to the task at hand. Well, damn. No rest for the cell yet. At least the area code indicated a New York City number. As it was already after midnight, Agent REDOX cancelled his flight and alerted his cell before getting some sleep. Agent ROMEO was in the process of painstakingly photographing each page of the Italian’s book when he got the call. His response was hardly more than an assenting grunt. He had more important things to do than talk to his cell leader. A few hours later, ROMEO had a complete copy of the book in the form of digital images, and so he handed it off to REINHARD. The IRS agent took the book outside to an alley and set it on fire. He was relieved to see that it burned easily. Burning a Nazi book – the irony wasn’t lost on him. On his way out in the morning, Agent REDOX stopped by the front desk to make sure the rooms were booked for another three days just in case. Then it was breakfast time. He hadn’t been to a Denny’s in a while, so he hailed a cab. After ordering his food, REDOX gave Agent MARCUS a call to set up a meeting for 10:00 AM, and then he relayed to information to his cell. The meeting was at the FBI office. Did that mean MARCUS was actually FBI, or was he FBI followed by a ‘wink, wink’? Not that it mattered, really. For REDOX, the bigger question was this: “If Delta Green already had a cell in New York, why the hell did his get sent in?” Most of R-cell arrived at the FBI office on time. Agent RIVER hadn’t responded since fleeing the chaos of the previous night, but REDOX wasn’t worried. She’d turn up. Hell, maybe she was the smart one. All he really wanted to do was go to ground. Agent MARCUS directed the agents to a secure briefing room and asked them to make themselves comfortable. MARCUS was probably in his early 30s, but his face seemed to have a sort of permanent scowl of suspicion which somehow made him seem older. His first order of business after the door was closed and the blinds were shut was to ask if the agents were followed. When they indicated they weren’t, he asked if they could account for all their waking hours. Yes. Yes, they could. Agent MARCUS accepted their answers, but he didn’t seem to believe them. “Okay. This should be a milk run; a simple in and out. It’s going to take weeks, and if you’re lucky, it’ll be the most mind-numbingly boring job you’ve ever had.” “And if we’re not lucky?” Agent ROMEO likely just wanted to cover all possibilities. “If you’re not lucky, Agent, your mind will still be numb.” Agent ROMEO conceded that everything seemed to sound fair enough. MARCUS nodded, and then he wasted no more time. “Abigail Laura Wright is missing. She is a successful commercial illustrator and artist, and she was last seen four days before she was reported missing by her father, Thomas Wright. Thomas Wright is a Nassau County police officer and he pulled some strings to get the NYPD more involved than is usually the case. “Abigail has been living in Manhattan for more than seven years and has only been to the police once, to report a mugging in 2007. Besides this, she has a distinguished academic record and an impressive list of credentials and former clients. Late last year, her first show was held on Franklin Street downtown at The Mercury, a small but trendy art gallery. “Six months later she disappeared. Her father says he tried reaching her for four days before calling a friend at the NYPD on May 13th. When the police opened her apartment, they were baffled. It was an obsessive-compulsive’s dream. Every available surface was covered in junk, glued or taped to the walls. Only the floor was clear. The carpet had been yanked up to reveal battered linoleum. Prior to this, by all accounts, Abigail had been a fastidious young woman not given to accumulating odds and ends. There were no signs of a struggle or any other sort of violence, and the neighbors could offer no useful testimony. “On July 13th, Abigail’s credit card was used in Patience, Maryland to purchase a pack of Old Gold cigarettes, and the case was given to the New York FBI as a possible interstate kidnapping. We re-examined the tenants of the building and Abigail’s associates and friends, and soon come to the same dead end which stopped the NYPD. The employees at the gas station where Abigail’s credit card was used had no particular recollection of the transaction and did not recognize her from photographs. The signature on the receipt was her name, but not her handwriting. The gas station had no surveillance cameras. “Among the debris found in Abigail’s apartment was a piece of paper with a Yellow Sign hastily scrawled on it in blue ballpoint pen. The occult symbol caught the attention of a Friendly here who reported it to me. Agent REDOX had to stop MARCUS for a question. “A Yellow Sign?” “Yes.” “In blue ink?” “Yes.” “Was the paper yellow?” “White.” “Then why is it called a Yellow Sign?” “Pray you never find out, Agent REDOX. I need your cell to examine Abigail’s disappearance, with an eye towards any possible occult connections. I understand two of you have badges already. Give me a couple days, and I’ll get some for the others. Welcome to the Bureau, boys.” [/QUOTE]
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