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Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4158564" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Love's Lonely Children: Part 1 – The Squat</strong></p><p></p><p>SAMSON, CA -- Like a cancer in an otherwise healthy body, the ramshackle house that was Kathy’s squat stood out clearly on an otherwise ordinary city street. Broken glass gleamed in its windows, wooden boards nailed behind the shards. Across its gray brick façade was painted the words, “Need a home? Here’s one. Anarchy.” </p><p></p><p>Instead of a front door, a rusty slab of corrugated iron was nailed over the doorframe. Blade lifted it open at one corner, providing entrance to the dark and dirty place. The rest of the team filed in behind him. </p><p></p><p>If misery had an odor, it smelled like the inside of the squat—stale, damp, and slightly rotten. </p><p></p><p>A human form was huddled on the sagging couch in the lounge-room, watching the rats play amongst the ruins of his life. </p><p></p><p>“Hi,” he said.</p><p></p><p>The man wasn’t a pretty sight: sunken eyes, bruised skin, cracked lips, and matted hair. His emaciated frame was racked with tremors.</p><p></p><p>“Who are you?” asked Blade. </p><p></p><p>“Matthew…” he said, his voiced slurred. </p><p></p><p>“Do you know a Kathy Hammond?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh yeah, I remember Kathy…” </p><p></p><p>“Where is she?” </p><p></p><p>“You got any smack?”</p><p></p><p>“What?” asked Blade. “No.”</p><p></p><p>“Front me some man, you’ve gotta front me some…and I’ll tell you where Kathy is.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer rolled his eyes. “We’re not drug dealers.”</p><p></p><p>Matthew made an animal-like noise and then began sulkily searching among the litter on the floor for a syringe, scraping powdered remains of heroin out of discarded foils. </p><p></p><p>“I think I found it,” said Archive. </p><p></p><p>The bedroom that was Kathy’s was little larger than a closet. A stained mattress covered most of the floor; the rest scattered with clothes, cosmetics, and assorted rubbish. A collage of faces cut from magazines and newspapers covered one wall. </p><p></p><p>Archive picked up a magazine. “Huh, Girltalk,” he said, reading the cover aloud. He opened it and winced. It was a pornographic publication featuring photos of naked men in various provocative poses. </p><p></p><p>Blade squinted at the cover. “Interesting. The sticker on the back cover gives the name of Hammonds Adult Books along with an address.”</p><p></p><p>Guppy picked up a photograph of three people: a weaselish man with thinning, ginger hair, and a grossly overweight woman. The shape of the third person was carefully cut out of the picture. Part of a storefront appeared in the background of the photo, on which parts of the words “Hammonds Adult Books” could be seen. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t know where the missing picture is,” said Guppy.</p><p></p><p>“I do.” Hammer pointed at one of the photos pasted among the montage of rich and famous faces glued on the wall. It was Kathy, in her schoolgirl uniform, her hair in braids. </p><p></p><p>“I guess we know where we’re going next,” said Blade.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4158564, member: 3285"] [b]Love's Lonely Children: Part 1 – The Squat[/b] SAMSON, CA -- Like a cancer in an otherwise healthy body, the ramshackle house that was Kathy’s squat stood out clearly on an otherwise ordinary city street. Broken glass gleamed in its windows, wooden boards nailed behind the shards. Across its gray brick façade was painted the words, “Need a home? Here’s one. Anarchy.” Instead of a front door, a rusty slab of corrugated iron was nailed over the doorframe. Blade lifted it open at one corner, providing entrance to the dark and dirty place. The rest of the team filed in behind him. If misery had an odor, it smelled like the inside of the squat—stale, damp, and slightly rotten. A human form was huddled on the sagging couch in the lounge-room, watching the rats play amongst the ruins of his life. “Hi,” he said. The man wasn’t a pretty sight: sunken eyes, bruised skin, cracked lips, and matted hair. His emaciated frame was racked with tremors. “Who are you?” asked Blade. “Matthew…” he said, his voiced slurred. “Do you know a Kathy Hammond?” “Oh yeah, I remember Kathy…” “Where is she?” “You got any smack?” “What?” asked Blade. “No.” “Front me some man, you’ve gotta front me some…and I’ll tell you where Kathy is.” Hammer rolled his eyes. “We’re not drug dealers.” Matthew made an animal-like noise and then began sulkily searching among the litter on the floor for a syringe, scraping powdered remains of heroin out of discarded foils. “I think I found it,” said Archive. The bedroom that was Kathy’s was little larger than a closet. A stained mattress covered most of the floor; the rest scattered with clothes, cosmetics, and assorted rubbish. A collage of faces cut from magazines and newspapers covered one wall. Archive picked up a magazine. “Huh, Girltalk,” he said, reading the cover aloud. He opened it and winced. It was a pornographic publication featuring photos of naked men in various provocative poses. Blade squinted at the cover. “Interesting. The sticker on the back cover gives the name of Hammonds Adult Books along with an address.” Guppy picked up a photograph of three people: a weaselish man with thinning, ginger hair, and a grossly overweight woman. The shape of the third person was carefully cut out of the picture. Part of a storefront appeared in the background of the photo, on which parts of the words “Hammonds Adult Books” could be seen. “I don’t know where the missing picture is,” said Guppy. “I do.” Hammer pointed at one of the photos pasted among the montage of rich and famous faces glued on the wall. It was Kathy, in her schoolgirl uniform, her hair in braids. “I guess we know where we’re going next,” said Blade. [/QUOTE]
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