Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)

[talien]

Love's Lonely Children: Part 5 – The Hammonds Return

Blade swung the flashlight beam over Colin’s hunched form. He was moaning, hands over his head, body heaving. Blade wasn’t sure if he was throwing up or sobbing.

Archive and Guppy had their weapons trained on Colin.

“Guys,” came Hammer’s voice. “You’d better take a look at this.”

Blade took his eyes off Colin for only a moment.

The images came through in reverse order. The thing that he saw in the Cistron didn’t make any sense. It was too blurry for him to make out details.

“What is this?” asked Archive.

“I think that’s…Colin,” said Hammer.

Another picture came through, this one of a book. “Beyond a gulf in the subterranean night a passage leads to a wall of massive bricks, and beyond the wall rises Y’golonac…”

Blade tucked the Cistron into a pocket and drew a bead on Colin with his compound bow. “Put your hands up where I can see them.”

Colin’s moaning changed from one voice to the gibbering of two, shrieking and wheezing. His headless form swung around, palms spread wide, each punctuated by a screaming, fanged mouth.

“Ahh!” shouted Guppy. He fired his laser pistol at the thing, just as Blade released his arrow and Archive fired his pistol.

The body shuddered, still quivering as rolls of fat from within it pulsed outwards, absorbing the attacks. It took a shuddering step towards them.

Archive began chanting a prayer, but the thing backhanded him. The agent went flying, unconscious in the desert sand.

“Our weapons have no effect!” shouted Guppy, taking a step back.

Blade dropped his bow and drew his two hatchets. Swinging them expertly in front of him, he parried a swipe of the fanged hand.

“Hammer!” shouted Guppy into his Cistron, running for cover behind the overturned sedan. “Hammer, we need backup!”

“What?” Hammer shouted back. “What the hell is going on?”

Guppy looked at the pictures Hammer sent over, desperate to find something that would help. The empty container flashed on the screen.

The syringes! One of the syringes was missing in the picture Hammer had taken. The Hammonds had surely used it to drug their victim. But the amount would easily kill a person, so there had to be more.

“Where is it,” panted Guppy, clawing his way into the sedan. “Where is it?!”

He popped the glove box. The heroin-filled syringe rolled out and fell to the roof of the car. Guppy reached for it…

A meaty paw snatched hold of his wrist. Edith, her grip so strong that he lost feeling in his hand, shrieked in his face.

Screaming back at her, Guppy turned his pistol on the woman’s hand. Fingers sizzled off and her angry shrieks turned to wails of pain.

Syringe in hand, Guppy stood up just in time to see the thing grab hold of Blade’s torso with its mouth-hands. Blade screamed as the fangs bit deep, blood streaming down his waist.

“Hey!” shouted Guppy. “Over here!”

The thing was massive. Had it grown in the few seconds since Guppy last looked at it? The human-like mouths hissed. It tossed Blade aside like a rag doll.

Now, overshadowed by the thing’s bulk, Guppy could see its true form. Its hands, dripping blood from two mouths that had no right to be there, reached for him. Guppy stepped into its embrace…

And plunged the remaining contents of the syringe into its blubbery fat.

The hand-mouths went from sucking and slobbering to a horrible chorus of keening. The shuddering body stumbled, taking a step back, a step forward.

The torso exploded, splattering Guppy with lumps of gelatinous, stinking flesh, black blood, and loops of glistening organs. Guppy fell back, screaming, alone with his nightmares in the lonely stretch of highway.

 

[AnonymousOne]

... Holy . Your agents need to start carrying flamethrowers or lots of C4.

 

[talien]

There's a precarious balance requesting gear for a challenging mission, and thus the agents go in packing an arsenal, and completely underestimating the opposition. In this case, the agents simply weren't prepared for what they were facing. They figured it was a cult bust -- at worst, it would involve fighting someone with spells (which they have very little defense against anyway). What they got was Y'golonac.

By the way, I've posted the latest character sheets at http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?p=4150193#post4150193

As you can see, they don't have much. Jim-Bean insists on carrying around a large duffel bag that carries a submachinegun and occasionally a grenade or two -- depending on the mission, he's allowed to bring it along.

There will be long-term consequences for meeting Y'golonac, as you shall see...

 

[talien]

Love's Lonely Children: Conclusion

Blade woke up in the middle of the night. Something did not feel right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something wrong in his place.

He heard something outside of his apartment, down below. It sounded like stone scraping on stone.

Blade got up, put on a robe, and followed the steps down. It was coming from the apartment’s cellar. He’d never been down there before.

Peering down the steps to the cellar, he caught a glimpse of furtive movement. Odd shadows moved across the wall. One of the walls of the cellar had opened up to reveal a foggy passage that glowed with a sallow light. Blade caught a glimpse of a small, tattered figure darting into the foggy passage.

Blade took a few steps into the passage and found himself in a large, dank chamber. One wall was brick, and from out of the hole wafted the fog and the sickly light. The hole was big enough for Blade to crawl through if he got on his hands and knees.

Blade kneeled down. He couldn’t see anything beyond the brick wall without crawling inside. He scuttled into the mist.

Behind the wall was a large room thick with the stench of sewage and decay. There on the brick floor lay an enormous figure, fat, naked, and glowing with a sickly light. No head was visible. Streams of thick, clotting blood poured from open mouths in the palm of each giant hand. A horde of deformed eyeless figures crawled and scampered around and over the glowing body, apparently oblivious to its presence.

The naked figured sat up, brushing away the small, tattered figures. As it lifted its enormous sallow bulk, Blade could see that the thing had no head.

The crippled little things that clung to it had faces he recognized: Colin and Edith Hammond. They surged toward him in a swarm, pulling Blade down to the ground. The fat, headless bulk pulled itself to its feet; the floor shook under its heavy footsteps. The deformed creatures scampered away as the headless thing tower over Blade, and the last thing he saw was a massive hand reaching for his face, the drooling mouth in its palm snapping open and shut…

Blade sat up, sticky in the dark. It was just a dream.

His sides throbbed. Blade made his way to his Cistron.

In the glow of the Cistron, he could see his bed. Two dark red bloodstains had soaked his sheets. His wounds were seeping.

Blade clicked on the files. Picture after picture flashed on the screen. This time, he read the entire passage:

“Beyond a gulf in the subterranean night a passage leads to a wall of massive bricks, and beyond the wall rises Y’golonac to be served by the tattered and eyeless figures of the dark. Long has he slept behind the wall, and those which crawl over the wall scuttle over his body never knowing it to be Y’golonac; but when his name is spoken or read he comes forth to be worshipped or to feed and take on the shape and soul of those he feeds upon for those who read of evil and search for its form within their minds call forth evil, and so may Y’golonac return to walk among men and await that time when the earth is cleared off and Cthulhu rises from his tomb among the weeds…”

Blade accessed the case file, complete with all the pictures. He selected them all. Then he pressed the DELETE key.

“Are you sure you want to permanently delete all pictures?” asked Blacknet.

Blade tapped YES.

 

[talien]

Chapter 7: Thin Jack

This scenario, “Thin Jack,” is a free download from http://www.yog-sothoth.com/modules.php?name=Downloads&d_op=getit&lid=63 by Dr. Michael C. LaBossiere. 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

Thin Jack is one of those scenarios that has so much potential but doesn’t really capitalize on it. Consider: we have an old Wild West myth about a creature that lurks in darkness and has a vulnerability to precious metals. A movie crew arrives but runs out of money mid-production until a middling actor digs up the legendary gold mine and the creature itself. Begging for the thing to spare his life, the actor forges an unholy deal with the creature and agrees to cover up for its feedings; in return, he keeps the gold and gets his movie made.

If you’ve ever seen Shadow of the Vampire, there’s so many more possibilities here. For one, the similarities between Thin Jack and a vampire provide plenty of confusing twists for the agents. For another, I love directors with god complexes, so wouldn’t it be more fun to have the director make the deal with the creature? Why not have the thing be PART of the story, the ultimate special effect? And finally, this is a Wild West film…surely there has to be a showdown at high err…moon?

This whole plot is of course completely outrageous, so it takes a bit of convincing to get the agents to be part of it. Since Blade already has a connection to his movie star ex-wife and he wants to stay in her good graces, this is another opportunity to prove he’s cleaned up and is worthy of seeing his son more than once a month. The team also rescued a famous Hollywood writer, Randy Kalms, who’s trying to get back into the business with this daring movie.

The “Gaunt” race is actually a psurlon from Monster Manual II. Psurlons are particularly interesting, because they have psionic powers like domination. Thin Jack is intentionally manipulating events such that he can be a star and go out in a blaze of glory, just like the song says.

I used Curse of the Undead, the first vampire western, as the movie that Vanvon is remaking. The film is suitably cheesy and intentionally keeps the villain off-screen enough that Jack has time to be horrifying when he finally does appear. There’s even a red herring thrown in. It’s a good thing I threw him in too; as I suspected, the agents didn’t wait for the entire film to play out.

Defining Moment: Caprice and Hammer, trying to keep the supposed vampire calm, all have their hands hovering over their pistols in a showdown at the mine. It was very tense.

Relevant Media

• Blaze of Glory: by Bon Jovi.
• The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly: by Hugo Montenegro.
• Curse of the Undead: Yes, it's a real film.
• Shadow of the Vampire: I followed the general plot of this storyline, but updated it for a modern film crew filming a Western.
• Monster Manual II: The source of the Psurlon. I obviously tweaked some of its attributes, likt its vulnerability to gold, to match the scenario. Still, the Psurlon's mental powers and worm-like abilities made it a great fit. Although it never evolved to its next stage, there are several kinds of Psurlons and Thin Jack could have grown into something huge...

 

[talien]

Thin Jack: Prologue

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]

Thin Jack: Part 1 – The Unknown Stuntman

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]

Thin Jack: Part 2 – Entourage

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]

Thin Jack: Part 3 – The Saloon

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]

Thin Jack: Part 4 – Sunrise at Midnight

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.