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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: 4456272" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Getting Results: Part 2 – The Hideout</strong></p><p></p><p>"There's eight of them, on the fourth floor," said the landlord at the stakeout across the street from his building. "The guys in there, they don't do nothing. All they eat is pizza and watch TV."</p><p></p><p>Hammer took a look at the hideout through binoculars. Men in trench coats carefully made their way across the roof of a nearby building. One of them cleared the gap between the two buildings</p><p></p><p>Masters’ walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Tucker's men are here."</p><p></p><p>“Damn it!” muttered Jim-Bean. “Hammer, let’s go.”</p><p></p><p>They sprinted to the entrance, hoping Tucker’s men and the terrorists wouldn’t see them, and then jogged up four flights of stairs. </p><p></p><p>“Now what?” asked Hammer. “We can’t just knock on the door—“</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean knocked on the door. He took the note in Arabic and put it up to the peep hole.</p><p></p><p>With his teeth, Jim-Bean uncorked a canister of knockout gas. </p><p></p><p>The door opened slightly. Jim-Bean kicked it hard, snapping the chain, and tossed the canister in. He grabbed hold of the handle and slammed the door shut again. </p><p></p><p>Tucker and his men, all in black trench coats, arrived moments later.</p><p></p><p>“We’ll take it from here boys.”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean smirked. “We’ve got it covered. They’re all incapacitated.” To demonstrate his handiwork, he pushed open the door. Unconscious bodies lay everywhere. Some moaned. Others struggled to move.</p><p></p><p>Tucker nodded. “We’ll secure the area.” </p><p></p><p>His men filed in, pistols out. The last one in turned and closed the door as Hammer got a glimpse of one of them putting a pistol to an unconscious terrorist’s head. </p><p></p><p>“Son of a—“</p><p></p><p>The muffled crack of a silence pistol punctuated his oath. Seven more thumps followed.</p><p></p><p>“What the hell is going on?” asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>The door opened and Tucker’s men filed back out. </p><p></p><p>“Did you just murder everyone in there?” asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>“They resisted,” said Tucker grimly. “When you shoot an enemy combatant, it’s not murder.”</p><p></p><p>Tucker gave the all-clear signal to Masters’ team. SWAT warily made their way up the stairwell.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t believe they just killed everyone in cold blood,” said Hammer. But he knew there was no way to prove what had happened. They were terrorists, after all. Killing them was what they were supposed to do.</p><p></p><p>Wasn’t it?</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean bent down to pick up a card that was clutched in the hand of one of the terrorists. “We may have a leg up on that bastard yet.”</p><p></p><p>He snapped the card up to show its face to Hammer. It was a business card with an address. On the back was written “Mamoud.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4456272, member: 3285"] [b]Getting Results: Part 2 – The Hideout[/b] "There's eight of them, on the fourth floor," said the landlord at the stakeout across the street from his building. "The guys in there, they don't do nothing. All they eat is pizza and watch TV." Hammer took a look at the hideout through binoculars. Men in trench coats carefully made their way across the roof of a nearby building. One of them cleared the gap between the two buildings Masters’ walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Tucker's men are here." “Damn it!” muttered Jim-Bean. “Hammer, let’s go.” They sprinted to the entrance, hoping Tucker’s men and the terrorists wouldn’t see them, and then jogged up four flights of stairs. “Now what?” asked Hammer. “We can’t just knock on the door—“ Jim-Bean knocked on the door. He took the note in Arabic and put it up to the peep hole. With his teeth, Jim-Bean uncorked a canister of knockout gas. The door opened slightly. Jim-Bean kicked it hard, snapping the chain, and tossed the canister in. He grabbed hold of the handle and slammed the door shut again. Tucker and his men, all in black trench coats, arrived moments later. “We’ll take it from here boys.” Jim-Bean smirked. “We’ve got it covered. They’re all incapacitated.” To demonstrate his handiwork, he pushed open the door. Unconscious bodies lay everywhere. Some moaned. Others struggled to move. Tucker nodded. “We’ll secure the area.” His men filed in, pistols out. The last one in turned and closed the door as Hammer got a glimpse of one of them putting a pistol to an unconscious terrorist’s head. “Son of a—“ The muffled crack of a silence pistol punctuated his oath. Seven more thumps followed. “What the hell is going on?” asked Jim-Bean. The door opened and Tucker’s men filed back out. “Did you just murder everyone in there?” asked Hammer. “They resisted,” said Tucker grimly. “When you shoot an enemy combatant, it’s not murder.” Tucker gave the all-clear signal to Masters’ team. SWAT warily made their way up the stairwell. “I don’t believe they just killed everyone in cold blood,” said Hammer. But he knew there was no way to prove what had happened. They were terrorists, after all. Killing them was what they were supposed to do. Wasn’t it? Jim-Bean bent down to pick up a card that was clutched in the hand of one of the terrorists. “We may have a leg up on that bastard yet.” He snapped the card up to show its face to Hammer. It was a business card with an address. On the back was written “Mamoud.” [/QUOTE]
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