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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4592814" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Operation Tucker: Part 1a – The Ointment-Coated Fly</strong></p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean placed Tucker under long-term surveillance. It didn't take long to figure out where the team was.</p><p></p><p>The St. Louis Mills Mall had over 175 brand name stores and outlets, entertainment and great dining. Sequestered in the northern center of the Mall was the PBS Kids Backyard, a confluence of kid-centric stores that was conveniently located next to the Food Court. Foremost amongst the stores at the Backyard was Wee Bee Toys.</p><p></p><p>A national toy store chain, Wee Bee Toys was a division of Centurion Computer Systems. Each location was a small warehouse full of toys, puzzles, and games. The company used a happy, child-friendly, little bee as its icon and spokesman. Customers bought toys in public spaces that were bright, well lit, and cheerful. Little did they know that several trained killers were stalking the aisles.</p><p></p><p>It was Black Friday, the Friday after Thanksgiving in the United States and the beginning of the traditional Christmas shopping season. The lines in the mall spiraled around the entire length of the mall and throughout the parking lot. The human crush threatened to overwhelm everything: the displays in the mall, the playground for the kids in the center of the Backyard, and certainly the food courts. They had opened early to cater to the shoppers who weren't even in the mall yet. Every store in the mall was on full alert, eagerly hiring temporary staff to handle the huge demand. It provided the perfect cover for Majestic-12, for both Sprague's and Warner's teams. </p><p></p><p>Guppy was undercover as a barista at Starbucks. When Guppy proposed that he walk the line waiting outside of Wee Bee Toys, serving coffee with his cart, the manager declared him a problem solver, adding "no wonder you people handle tech calls!" and enthusiastically endorsed the idea. Guppy kept his mouth shut. He used his cistron and a facial recognition program to snap pictures of the faces of people online, checking to see if any of them were Warner's agents. </p><p></p><p>Hammer and Jim-Bean took up a position outside of the warehouse. They couldn't go inside and risk Tucker identifying them.</p><p></p><p>As the one agent Tucker hadn’t met, Caprice had a position within Wee Bee Toys itself. Dressed as a gaming geek with a Legend of Zelda t-shirt underneath his black-and-yellow Wee Bee shirt, he stood in line with his other fellow temporary employees.</p><p></p><p>"This is show time, people," said the manager, a brusque retiree in a Wee Bee Toys yellow-and-black striped shirt. It made him look like some kind of deranged prison escapee. "The animals outside that door are going to come in here and tear this place apart. You're job is to make sure they tear it up in an orderly fashion. Some of you are baggers, some run the registers, some are warehouse runners, and some of you are going to be handing those things out." He nodded in Caprice's direction. "God help you boys, because you'll be on the front line." The manager took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. The customer line outside seemed to stretch to infinity. "We went over this a dozen times, but one more time won't hurt: we've already handed customers a number for the PlayPal. One number per person. They're going to wave those tags at you. Each one of these boxes has a number. In a perfect world you patiently review the number and hand the customer over a PlayPal box. But this ain't a perfect world." </p><p></p><p>Caprice looked around. Tucker would be easy to spot: he was a strapping, handsome African-American man—distinct enough that Caprice could easily identify him in a crowd. But he didn't see any of Warner's team, Tucker included. </p><p></p><p>The manager pointed at a big red electronic ticker that hung on the wall over the entrance. "The numbers appear there. Hands will go up. Your job," he pointed at Caprice's team, "is to get those boxes out. You're going stand atop the displays, with a fence around you so customers can't just grab the PlayPal boxes. Your job is to get the box to the customer. We call you folks Throwers. You're not supposed to throw it, but you're not gonna have a choice when the savages get going. So you do what you have to. Just don't let anybody get hurt. And if they do get hurt, blow your whistle," they all had whistles around their necks. "That's a call for help. You blow that whistle, I'll call mall security. Hopefully it won't be like last year." The manager shuddered. Caprice figured it must have been a bad time.</p><p></p><p>"Oh yeah, one more thing. May as well tell you this now..." The manager hitched up his belt over his considerable gut. "We told everyone that the PlayPal was being shipped in today. That's not true. It's already here. We had a problem with UPS guys stealing these things off the rack before they even arrived, so we learned our lesson."</p><p></p><p>Caprice cursed under his breath. Jim-Bean and Hammer were planning to intercept the delivery. "Guys, it's Caprice, I—"</p><p></p><p>"Hey!" shouted the manager, pointing at Caprice. "I thought I told you no phones! Take that thing off!"</p><p></p><p>Caprice frowned and yanked the earpiece out of his ear. </p><p></p><p>"All right, everybody ready?" The manager looked around. The temps were nervous. "Good. Positions!"</p><p></p><p>They jogged off to their positions. Caprice clambered up his caged mountain of PlayPals. The fence that ringed the bottom of it wouldn’t hold off an angry customer for long. </p><p></p><p>"Everybody smile!" The manager retreated to his office, which had a glass window overlooking the floor. His voice floated over the speakers. Insanely happy music started up, cheering the wonders of Wee Bee Toys. A giant bee character started rotating at the center of the store. "And here! We! Go!"</p><p></p><p>Caprice caught a glimpse of one of the Throwers across the floor crossing himself. Then a buzzing sound signaled the opening of Wee Bee Toys as the glass doors whisked open.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4592814, member: 3285"] [b]Operation Tucker: Part 1a – The Ointment-Coated Fly[/b] Jim-Bean placed Tucker under long-term surveillance. It didn't take long to figure out where the team was. The St. Louis Mills Mall had over 175 brand name stores and outlets, entertainment and great dining. Sequestered in the northern center of the Mall was the PBS Kids Backyard, a confluence of kid-centric stores that was conveniently located next to the Food Court. Foremost amongst the stores at the Backyard was Wee Bee Toys. A national toy store chain, Wee Bee Toys was a division of Centurion Computer Systems. Each location was a small warehouse full of toys, puzzles, and games. The company used a happy, child-friendly, little bee as its icon and spokesman. Customers bought toys in public spaces that were bright, well lit, and cheerful. Little did they know that several trained killers were stalking the aisles. It was Black Friday, the Friday after Thanksgiving in the United States and the beginning of the traditional Christmas shopping season. The lines in the mall spiraled around the entire length of the mall and throughout the parking lot. The human crush threatened to overwhelm everything: the displays in the mall, the playground for the kids in the center of the Backyard, and certainly the food courts. They had opened early to cater to the shoppers who weren't even in the mall yet. Every store in the mall was on full alert, eagerly hiring temporary staff to handle the huge demand. It provided the perfect cover for Majestic-12, for both Sprague's and Warner's teams. Guppy was undercover as a barista at Starbucks. When Guppy proposed that he walk the line waiting outside of Wee Bee Toys, serving coffee with his cart, the manager declared him a problem solver, adding "no wonder you people handle tech calls!" and enthusiastically endorsed the idea. Guppy kept his mouth shut. He used his cistron and a facial recognition program to snap pictures of the faces of people online, checking to see if any of them were Warner's agents. Hammer and Jim-Bean took up a position outside of the warehouse. They couldn't go inside and risk Tucker identifying them. As the one agent Tucker hadn’t met, Caprice had a position within Wee Bee Toys itself. Dressed as a gaming geek with a Legend of Zelda t-shirt underneath his black-and-yellow Wee Bee shirt, he stood in line with his other fellow temporary employees. "This is show time, people," said the manager, a brusque retiree in a Wee Bee Toys yellow-and-black striped shirt. It made him look like some kind of deranged prison escapee. "The animals outside that door are going to come in here and tear this place apart. You're job is to make sure they tear it up in an orderly fashion. Some of you are baggers, some run the registers, some are warehouse runners, and some of you are going to be handing those things out." He nodded in Caprice's direction. "God help you boys, because you'll be on the front line." The manager took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. The customer line outside seemed to stretch to infinity. "We went over this a dozen times, but one more time won't hurt: we've already handed customers a number for the PlayPal. One number per person. They're going to wave those tags at you. Each one of these boxes has a number. In a perfect world you patiently review the number and hand the customer over a PlayPal box. But this ain't a perfect world." Caprice looked around. Tucker would be easy to spot: he was a strapping, handsome African-American man—distinct enough that Caprice could easily identify him in a crowd. But he didn't see any of Warner's team, Tucker included. The manager pointed at a big red electronic ticker that hung on the wall over the entrance. "The numbers appear there. Hands will go up. Your job," he pointed at Caprice's team, "is to get those boxes out. You're going stand atop the displays, with a fence around you so customers can't just grab the PlayPal boxes. Your job is to get the box to the customer. We call you folks Throwers. You're not supposed to throw it, but you're not gonna have a choice when the savages get going. So you do what you have to. Just don't let anybody get hurt. And if they do get hurt, blow your whistle," they all had whistles around their necks. "That's a call for help. You blow that whistle, I'll call mall security. Hopefully it won't be like last year." The manager shuddered. Caprice figured it must have been a bad time. "Oh yeah, one more thing. May as well tell you this now..." The manager hitched up his belt over his considerable gut. "We told everyone that the PlayPal was being shipped in today. That's not true. It's already here. We had a problem with UPS guys stealing these things off the rack before they even arrived, so we learned our lesson." Caprice cursed under his breath. Jim-Bean and Hammer were planning to intercept the delivery. "Guys, it's Caprice, I—" "Hey!" shouted the manager, pointing at Caprice. "I thought I told you no phones! Take that thing off!" Caprice frowned and yanked the earpiece out of his ear. "All right, everybody ready?" The manager looked around. The temps were nervous. "Good. Positions!" They jogged off to their positions. Caprice clambered up his caged mountain of PlayPals. The fence that ringed the bottom of it wouldn’t hold off an angry customer for long. "Everybody smile!" The manager retreated to his office, which had a glass window overlooking the floor. His voice floated over the speakers. Insanely happy music started up, cheering the wonders of Wee Bee Toys. A giant bee character started rotating at the center of the store. "And here! We! Go!" Caprice caught a glimpse of one of the Throwers across the floor crossing himself. Then a buzzing sound signaled the opening of Wee Bee Toys as the glass doors whisked open. [/QUOTE]
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