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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4320280" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Grey Matter: Part 2b – The Axelrod Building</strong></p><p></p><p>They entered the spacious lobby. In addition to the comfortable couches and chairs that filled the lobby, numerous flat screen televisions played GNN newscasts from around the world. Two bored security guards sat at the front desk.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean identified the guards immediately. Wackenhut. </p><p></p><p>“Cheers,” he said smiling at one of the guards. “My associate and I are here to see the…” he made air quotes, “alien corpse.”</p><p></p><p>“One of the experts huh?” </p><p></p><p>“Yes, that’s me. I’m a plastic surgeon, one of the best. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.” Jim-Bean nodded to Hammer, who silently procured a flyer they printed up just for the occasion. It had a picture of Jim-Bean smiling at the camera and a long list of the clients he performed plastic surgery on – all celebrities who wouldn’t be pleased to see their name on the flyer.</p><p></p><p>The guard didn’t bother to look at the flyer. “Your name, sir?”</p><p></p><p>“Chan.”</p><p></p><p>“First name please?”</p><p></p><p>“Jack.”</p><p></p><p>The guard froze in the middle of typing his name in. “Jackie Chan?” He suppressed a smile. “You probably get that all the time.”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean chuckled. “Oh, of course.” He carried a lunch bag in one hand and a heavy medical bag in the other. </p><p></p><p>“You don’t look Chinese,” said the guard.</p><p></p><p>“Right.” He winked at the guard. When the guard just stared at him, he added. “I’m a plastic SURGEON.”</p><p></p><p>“Ohhhh, right.” The guard looked back at his screen. “We don’t have you on the list.”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean rolled his eyes heavenward. “I knew this would happen. I knew it!” He turned back to the guard. “Look, this is all hush-hush. If my clients knew I was inspecting an alien corpse, which I’m SURE is some movie prop, it would be terrible for everyone involved. That’s why I brought my own security. All kinds of kooks, you know.”</p><p></p><p>“Uh, well…” the guard’s brow furrowed. “I’m going to have to defer this to Mr. Goodrich.” He caught Jim-Bean’s gaze. “Standard security procedure, we have to vet everyone who comes in. Please, have a seat.” </p><p></p><p>“Now what?” asked Hammer, sitting on the plush couch in the lobby. </p><p></p><p>“Relax. Rock solid, remember?” said Jim-Bean. He sat next to him.</p><p></p><p>The Axelrod building was furnished in late twentieth century lab-rat: dark gray carpeting, light gray walls and partitions, and fluorescent lighting. </p><p></p><p>Goodrich arrived a few minutes later. He was a tall blonde-haired man with a pale, almost pinkish complexion. His features were raw-boned and his hands noticeably large. His were a light green, with a slight droop over both. Goodrich was dressed in a gray suit. </p><p></p><p>He extended one hand as he approached. “Gentlemen. My name’s Goodrich, Ian Goodrich. I’m handling the alien autopsy production.”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stood up and pumped Goodrich’s hand. “Good to meet you. Look, if we could move this along…I’m a bit famished,” he lifted his lunch bag to reinforce the point.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, of course. Your name again?”</p><p></p><p>“Jackie Chan,” said Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>The security guard guffawed. Goodrich didn’t laugh. He simply smiled a shark’s smile. “Do you have the—“</p><p></p><p>“Appropriate forms? NDA and all that?” He nodded to Hammer. “My man has it all.”</p><p></p><p>Without saying a word, Hammer drew the papers from inside his overcoat and handed them to Goodrich.</p><p></p><p>Goodrich scanned the contents, eyebrows raised. Without looking up, he walked over to the security guard and spoke to him in hushed tones.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean whistled to himself.</p><p></p><p>After a few upward glances from Goodrich and more terse whispers, the blond man strode over to them. “Everything seems to be in order. If you’ll follow me please…” </p><p></p><p>He handed Jim-Bean and Hammer two visitor passes. </p><p></p><p>Goodrich swiped his badge and the red light over the door turned green. “Please swipe your badges.”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean and Hammer followed him. Another security guard joined them as they walked through winding corridors.</p><p></p><p>The offices and studios at the GNN headquarters were very clean and smelled of disinfectant. Most of the offices were at best cubicles, and TV and video equipment was piled in every direction. They passed a water cooler and a small kitchenette. It was very cold, due to the air conditioning, and there was a continual background hum of electronics faxes and printers.</p><p></p><p>Goodrich led them through a green room, passed a television set, and to what looked like a large vault. They stood in front of a wide security door. A sign above read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.</p><p></p><p>Goodrich nodded to the accompanying security guard. They both fished out keys from around their necks and inserted them in holes on either side of the door. “One, two, three,” counted Goodrich.</p><p></p><p>On “three,” they turned the keys and the door whisked open.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4320280, member: 3285"] [b]Grey Matter: Part 2b – The Axelrod Building[/b] They entered the spacious lobby. In addition to the comfortable couches and chairs that filled the lobby, numerous flat screen televisions played GNN newscasts from around the world. Two bored security guards sat at the front desk. Jim-Bean identified the guards immediately. Wackenhut. “Cheers,” he said smiling at one of the guards. “My associate and I are here to see the…” he made air quotes, “alien corpse.” “One of the experts huh?” “Yes, that’s me. I’m a plastic surgeon, one of the best. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.” Jim-Bean nodded to Hammer, who silently procured a flyer they printed up just for the occasion. It had a picture of Jim-Bean smiling at the camera and a long list of the clients he performed plastic surgery on – all celebrities who wouldn’t be pleased to see their name on the flyer. The guard didn’t bother to look at the flyer. “Your name, sir?” “Chan.” “First name please?” “Jack.” The guard froze in the middle of typing his name in. “Jackie Chan?” He suppressed a smile. “You probably get that all the time.” Jim-Bean chuckled. “Oh, of course.” He carried a lunch bag in one hand and a heavy medical bag in the other. “You don’t look Chinese,” said the guard. “Right.” He winked at the guard. When the guard just stared at him, he added. “I’m a plastic SURGEON.” “Ohhhh, right.” The guard looked back at his screen. “We don’t have you on the list.” Jim-Bean rolled his eyes heavenward. “I knew this would happen. I knew it!” He turned back to the guard. “Look, this is all hush-hush. If my clients knew I was inspecting an alien corpse, which I’m SURE is some movie prop, it would be terrible for everyone involved. That’s why I brought my own security. All kinds of kooks, you know.” “Uh, well…” the guard’s brow furrowed. “I’m going to have to defer this to Mr. Goodrich.” He caught Jim-Bean’s gaze. “Standard security procedure, we have to vet everyone who comes in. Please, have a seat.” “Now what?” asked Hammer, sitting on the plush couch in the lobby. “Relax. Rock solid, remember?” said Jim-Bean. He sat next to him. The Axelrod building was furnished in late twentieth century lab-rat: dark gray carpeting, light gray walls and partitions, and fluorescent lighting. Goodrich arrived a few minutes later. He was a tall blonde-haired man with a pale, almost pinkish complexion. His features were raw-boned and his hands noticeably large. His were a light green, with a slight droop over both. Goodrich was dressed in a gray suit. He extended one hand as he approached. “Gentlemen. My name’s Goodrich, Ian Goodrich. I’m handling the alien autopsy production.” Jim-Bean stood up and pumped Goodrich’s hand. “Good to meet you. Look, if we could move this along…I’m a bit famished,” he lifted his lunch bag to reinforce the point. “Yes, of course. Your name again?” “Jackie Chan,” said Jim-Bean. The security guard guffawed. Goodrich didn’t laugh. He simply smiled a shark’s smile. “Do you have the—“ “Appropriate forms? NDA and all that?” He nodded to Hammer. “My man has it all.” Without saying a word, Hammer drew the papers from inside his overcoat and handed them to Goodrich. Goodrich scanned the contents, eyebrows raised. Without looking up, he walked over to the security guard and spoke to him in hushed tones. Jim-Bean whistled to himself. After a few upward glances from Goodrich and more terse whispers, the blond man strode over to them. “Everything seems to be in order. If you’ll follow me please…” He handed Jim-Bean and Hammer two visitor passes. Goodrich swiped his badge and the red light over the door turned green. “Please swipe your badges.” Jim-Bean and Hammer followed him. Another security guard joined them as they walked through winding corridors. The offices and studios at the GNN headquarters were very clean and smelled of disinfectant. Most of the offices were at best cubicles, and TV and video equipment was piled in every direction. They passed a water cooler and a small kitchenette. It was very cold, due to the air conditioning, and there was a continual background hum of electronics faxes and printers. Goodrich led them through a green room, passed a television set, and to what looked like a large vault. They stood in front of a wide security door. A sign above read: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Goodrich nodded to the accompanying security guard. They both fished out keys from around their necks and inserted them in holes on either side of the door. “One, two, three,” counted Goodrich. On “three,” they turned the keys and the door whisked open. [/QUOTE]
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