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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 3965376" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Welcome to the Show: Part 2d – Sebastian’s Story</strong></p><p></p><p>They came upon a small convoy of four large army trucks and a jeep. The soldiers worked on, argued about, and gestured toward the lead truck, which appeared to have broken down. As the boksi came closer, one of the soldiers got a good look at Sebastian.</p><p></p><p>"Yel'la...Agnebbie!" they shouted, grabbing for weapons, shirts, and hats.</p><p></p><p>The driver pulled to a stop.</p><p></p><p>"Out of the car!" shouted one of the men in Arabic, presumably the leader. "Out!”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian and the driver stepped out of the car. Weapons were pointed at them. "Papers?" snarled the leader.</p><p></p><p>Sebastian nodded. "I have a travel permit..." He reached for his pocket. The truth was that his permit was for the South Sudan Relief and Rehabilitation Commission. Sebastian had to pull some strings with the defense contractor he worked for, Severn Aerospace, to even get into the country. He handed the permit to the leader.</p><p></p><p>The leader looked it over, then threw it back at Sebastian. "Why are you here?”</p><p></p><p>"I am looking for this man." He pulled out a picture. "Have you seen him?”</p><p></p><p>"You're a journalist? Where are your papers?”</p><p></p><p>"I'm not a reporter," said Sebastian. It was difficult to remain calm with weapons pointed him. "Please, if you look at the picture.”</p><p></p><p>The leader snatched it out of his hand. His brow furrowed as he scanned Michael's picture.</p><p></p><p>"Creed was traveling with us. He was taken by the group that ambushed us.”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian's heart leapt. "He's alive, then?”</p><p></p><p>The leader laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. I saw him shot and killed. I think the Christians only took his body in order to get international news coverage.”</p><p></p><p>"He was killed?" Sebastian almost broke down in tears, but he knew that would be fatal. "Are you sure?”</p><p></p><p>"Quite sure. They shot him five times through the chest.”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian nearly lost his footing. He looked around, desperately clinging to some hope. The other men looked away and shuffled their feet.</p><p></p><p>His gaze landed on a bag in the back of one of the trucks. It had the initials MJC. Michael Jonathan Creed. Sebastian had given it to his brother for Christmas.</p><p></p><p>"That bag. That's my brother's bag. I will pay you for it.”</p><p></p><p>The leader sneered. "What do you have that I can not take from you?”</p><p></p><p>"I have money. I will pay." Sebastian started speaking quickly and his Arabic broke down. He switched to English. "I am an American. My death would bring unwanted attention...”</p><p></p><p>The leader cuffed him across the face. When Sebastian went down, he could feel the man's spit in his hair. "You're right. We will not kill you." </p><p></p><p>He ordered one of his men over and they rifled through his pockets, found his wallet, and took it. Sebastian was on his knees. He couldn't see anything but sand. A moment later Michael's bag landed next to him.</p><p></p><p>"Tell your journalist friends that the Wafik Khalifa and his men single-handedly fought off one hundred SLM rebels and won. Now go back to the place you came, coward, or I will shoot you in the head.”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian crawled back into the truck and the driver did the same. He turned the vehicle around as the men pointed and laughed, waving their weapons.</p><p></p><p>"That was very unwise," said the driver in Arabic. Sebastian ignored him as he rummaged through his brother's satchel. It contained Michael's passport, clothes, a medicine kit, a bathroom kit, papers, notes and recorded interviews, an English-Arabic dictionary, a lighter...</p><p></p><p>"You are very lucky. They could have killed both of us.”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian found what he was looking for. He took off his watch and dangled it before the driver. "This is an expensive watch. You can sell it for good money. I will give it to you if you turn around.”</p><p></p><p>"Turn around? Are you insane? If Wafik finds us...”</p><p></p><p>"Take another road. But I'm going to find my brother." He paused. "Or at least his body.”</p><p></p><p>"What hope do you have of finding him?" asked the driver.</p><p></p><p>Sebastian held up a pocket recorder, rewound it, and then clicked play with his thumb.</p><p></p><p>"I believe a great ritual will be performed on Jebel Barkal," came Michael's whispered voice in English, English the soldiers did not understand. "It is said that there are things that move beneath the dunes and walk with the blowing sand, things that lead animals astray and murder souls. Wafik's men are nervous; they think they saw the Twar-edge or Tuareg, who live in Jebel Tezma, a mystic evil mountain of power. They keep threatening to abandon me to the Tuareg, who will take me as a sacrifice to their mountain. I’m not sure what to believe, but…”</p><p></p><p>There was a strange, hissing laughter and the tape cut off.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 3965376, member: 3285"] [b]Welcome to the Show: Part 2d – Sebastian’s Story[/b] They came upon a small convoy of four large army trucks and a jeep. The soldiers worked on, argued about, and gestured toward the lead truck, which appeared to have broken down. As the boksi came closer, one of the soldiers got a good look at Sebastian. "Yel'la...Agnebbie!" they shouted, grabbing for weapons, shirts, and hats. The driver pulled to a stop. "Out of the car!" shouted one of the men in Arabic, presumably the leader. "Out!” Sebastian and the driver stepped out of the car. Weapons were pointed at them. "Papers?" snarled the leader. Sebastian nodded. "I have a travel permit..." He reached for his pocket. The truth was that his permit was for the South Sudan Relief and Rehabilitation Commission. Sebastian had to pull some strings with the defense contractor he worked for, Severn Aerospace, to even get into the country. He handed the permit to the leader. The leader looked it over, then threw it back at Sebastian. "Why are you here?” "I am looking for this man." He pulled out a picture. "Have you seen him?” "You're a journalist? Where are your papers?” "I'm not a reporter," said Sebastian. It was difficult to remain calm with weapons pointed him. "Please, if you look at the picture.” The leader snatched it out of his hand. His brow furrowed as he scanned Michael's picture. "Creed was traveling with us. He was taken by the group that ambushed us.” Sebastian's heart leapt. "He's alive, then?” The leader laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. I saw him shot and killed. I think the Christians only took his body in order to get international news coverage.” "He was killed?" Sebastian almost broke down in tears, but he knew that would be fatal. "Are you sure?” "Quite sure. They shot him five times through the chest.” Sebastian nearly lost his footing. He looked around, desperately clinging to some hope. The other men looked away and shuffled their feet. His gaze landed on a bag in the back of one of the trucks. It had the initials MJC. Michael Jonathan Creed. Sebastian had given it to his brother for Christmas. "That bag. That's my brother's bag. I will pay you for it.” The leader sneered. "What do you have that I can not take from you?” "I have money. I will pay." Sebastian started speaking quickly and his Arabic broke down. He switched to English. "I am an American. My death would bring unwanted attention...” The leader cuffed him across the face. When Sebastian went down, he could feel the man's spit in his hair. "You're right. We will not kill you." He ordered one of his men over and they rifled through his pockets, found his wallet, and took it. Sebastian was on his knees. He couldn't see anything but sand. A moment later Michael's bag landed next to him. "Tell your journalist friends that the Wafik Khalifa and his men single-handedly fought off one hundred SLM rebels and won. Now go back to the place you came, coward, or I will shoot you in the head.” Sebastian crawled back into the truck and the driver did the same. He turned the vehicle around as the men pointed and laughed, waving their weapons. "That was very unwise," said the driver in Arabic. Sebastian ignored him as he rummaged through his brother's satchel. It contained Michael's passport, clothes, a medicine kit, a bathroom kit, papers, notes and recorded interviews, an English-Arabic dictionary, a lighter... "You are very lucky. They could have killed both of us.” Sebastian found what he was looking for. He took off his watch and dangled it before the driver. "This is an expensive watch. You can sell it for good money. I will give it to you if you turn around.” "Turn around? Are you insane? If Wafik finds us...” "Take another road. But I'm going to find my brother." He paused. "Or at least his body.” "What hope do you have of finding him?" asked the driver. Sebastian held up a pocket recorder, rewound it, and then clicked play with his thumb. "I believe a great ritual will be performed on Jebel Barkal," came Michael's whispered voice in English, English the soldiers did not understand. "It is said that there are things that move beneath the dunes and walk with the blowing sand, things that lead animals astray and murder souls. Wafik's men are nervous; they think they saw the Twar-edge or Tuareg, who live in Jebel Tezma, a mystic evil mountain of power. They keep threatening to abandon me to the Tuareg, who will take me as a sacrifice to their mountain. I’m not sure what to believe, but…” There was a strange, hissing laughter and the tape cut off. [/QUOTE]
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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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