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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4108904" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays: Part 4a – Santana’s Run</strong></p><p></p><p>The next day, Archive sent a series of documents with a timeline to all of their Cistrons. “I think I found a pattern.”</p><p></p><p>They were standing in the waiting room of the Arizona Hospital, waiting for Guppy to be released. His wound was bad but not life threatening. Guppy insisted on being released early so he could tag along.</p><p></p><p>Blade, distraught over the death of his family friend, asked what Archive had found.</p><p></p><p>“Check this out: First, there’s a meteor shower in West Virginia. Then, there’s a rash of unexplained disappearances and cattle mutilations in the area. Nine people disappeared. Suspicion fell on Mack Tooley, who promptly shot himself in the head.”</p><p></p><p>“So that should be the end of that,” said Caprice.</p><p></p><p>“But the trail doesn’t end there,” continued Archive. “A medical examiner in the Lowery County area, Dr. Brenton Clark, was found with throat contusions in his Nashville apartment.”</p><p></p><p>“So?” asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>“The last job Clark did was an autopsy on Tooley.” </p><p></p><p>“So you’re saying this is an alien?” asked Jim-Bean. “That’s what you’re saying, right?”</p><p></p><p>“I originally thought it was a demon who could hop from body to body,” said Archive. “Back when I was hunting the Cannibal Killer. I picked up on the trail in Nashville, Tennessee, when twenty-one homeless people disappeared in three weeks. The suspect, Willard Franklin of the St. Bartholomew’s Shelter for the Homeless, committed suicide by strangling himself to death. I tracked the last person to be seen with Franklin, an Elijah Jackson, to New Orleans. Jackson was shot by David Charles. But I lost track of Charles.”</p><p></p><p>“You X-Investigations guys are busy,” said Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>Archive nodded. “Charles left for Houston a week later. Two days after that…”</p><p></p><p>“Don’t tell me,” said Hammer, scanning the newspaper reports that flashed across his Cistron, fed by Archive. “He died of strangulation.”</p><p></p><p>“Right,” said Archive. “Two months ago there were a number of prostitute murders in Houston.” A map flickered on their screens, indicating the path the murderer had taken. “Police eventually suspected Kenneth Braverman. When they closed in on him, he murdered his children, kidnapped his wife, and fled Houston.”</p><p></p><p>“How does that bring him to Arizona?” asked Blade.</p><p></p><p>Archive shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure, but there’s got to be a connection. The path leads in this direction from the southeast.”</p><p></p><p>Blade’s Cistron rang. He picked it up. “Yes?”</p><p></p><p>It was Garrett. “We found a car, about fifteen miles southeast of the Begay ranch. Body’s identified as Kenneth Braverman.”</p><p></p><p>“Was there any sign of a woman in the car?” asked Blade.</p><p></p><p>“Nope,” said Garrett. “Why do you ask?”</p><p></p><p>“We think the murderer might be a woman.”</p><p></p><p>“Hell, you city slickers don’t know nothin’, do ya?” Garrett shouted into the phone. “My boys got a bloody print off the bones in the cave. And it ain’t no chick.”</p><p></p><p>“Who is it?” asked Blade. He was losing patience with the man’s ego.</p><p></p><p>“Master Sergeant Emanuel Santana. He’s a real bad ass too. Deserted the U.S. Army Special Forces in 1972 while on leave to attend his mother’s funeral. He was on detached duty to the CIA’s operation PHOENIX in South Vietnam. This job’s got the U.S. Army CIC, the U.S. Marshal’s Service, and the CIA all over it.” </p><p></p><p>“Great,” said Blade. </p><p></p><p>“You wanted night vision goggles? You got it. This case is now an oh-fish-SHAL federal investigation. You boys can keep it.” He hung up.</p><p></p><p>Blade sighed. “This investigation just got a lot more complicated.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4108904, member: 3285"] [b]Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays: Part 4a – Santana’s Run[/b] The next day, Archive sent a series of documents with a timeline to all of their Cistrons. “I think I found a pattern.” They were standing in the waiting room of the Arizona Hospital, waiting for Guppy to be released. His wound was bad but not life threatening. Guppy insisted on being released early so he could tag along. Blade, distraught over the death of his family friend, asked what Archive had found. “Check this out: First, there’s a meteor shower in West Virginia. Then, there’s a rash of unexplained disappearances and cattle mutilations in the area. Nine people disappeared. Suspicion fell on Mack Tooley, who promptly shot himself in the head.” “So that should be the end of that,” said Caprice. “But the trail doesn’t end there,” continued Archive. “A medical examiner in the Lowery County area, Dr. Brenton Clark, was found with throat contusions in his Nashville apartment.” “So?” asked Hammer. “The last job Clark did was an autopsy on Tooley.” “So you’re saying this is an alien?” asked Jim-Bean. “That’s what you’re saying, right?” “I originally thought it was a demon who could hop from body to body,” said Archive. “Back when I was hunting the Cannibal Killer. I picked up on the trail in Nashville, Tennessee, when twenty-one homeless people disappeared in three weeks. The suspect, Willard Franklin of the St. Bartholomew’s Shelter for the Homeless, committed suicide by strangling himself to death. I tracked the last person to be seen with Franklin, an Elijah Jackson, to New Orleans. Jackson was shot by David Charles. But I lost track of Charles.” “You X-Investigations guys are busy,” said Jim-Bean. Archive nodded. “Charles left for Houston a week later. Two days after that…” “Don’t tell me,” said Hammer, scanning the newspaper reports that flashed across his Cistron, fed by Archive. “He died of strangulation.” “Right,” said Archive. “Two months ago there were a number of prostitute murders in Houston.” A map flickered on their screens, indicating the path the murderer had taken. “Police eventually suspected Kenneth Braverman. When they closed in on him, he murdered his children, kidnapped his wife, and fled Houston.” “How does that bring him to Arizona?” asked Blade. Archive shrugged helplessly. “I’m not sure, but there’s got to be a connection. The path leads in this direction from the southeast.” Blade’s Cistron rang. He picked it up. “Yes?” It was Garrett. “We found a car, about fifteen miles southeast of the Begay ranch. Body’s identified as Kenneth Braverman.” “Was there any sign of a woman in the car?” asked Blade. “Nope,” said Garrett. “Why do you ask?” “We think the murderer might be a woman.” “Hell, you city slickers don’t know nothin’, do ya?” Garrett shouted into the phone. “My boys got a bloody print off the bones in the cave. And it ain’t no chick.” “Who is it?” asked Blade. He was losing patience with the man’s ego. “Master Sergeant Emanuel Santana. He’s a real bad ass too. Deserted the U.S. Army Special Forces in 1972 while on leave to attend his mother’s funeral. He was on detached duty to the CIA’s operation PHOENIX in South Vietnam. This job’s got the U.S. Army CIC, the U.S. Marshal’s Service, and the CIA all over it.” “Great,” said Blade. “You wanted night vision goggles? You got it. This case is now an oh-fish-SHAL federal investigation. You boys can keep it.” He hung up. Blade sighed. “This investigation just got a lot more complicated.” [/QUOTE]
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