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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4612133" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Convergence: Part 4 – Ameley Goods</strong></p><p></p><p>They proceeded along Skyline Road, moving alternately through shadows, yellowish sodium-glow from the streetlamps, darkness, and phosphoric moonlight. Regularly spaced trees grew from curbside planters on the left. On the right, they passed a Stuffer Shack and Merle’s Auto Body. At each establishment, the agents paused to peer through the windows, searching for signs of life, finding none. Ahead, there was a pool of light from Ameley Goods.</p><p></p><p>Ameley Goods was a clean, white building with a blue-and-white-striped awning. In the rear of the budding, back in the part where the ovens were, light poured through an open door, splashing one end of the sales room and indirectly illuminating the rest of the place. Small cafe tables stood to the left, each with a pair of chairs. White enamel display cases with glass fronts were empty.</p><p></p><p>Hammer tried the door. It was locked. He gestured to Guppy, who stepped up with his lock picking tool. </p><p></p><p>A few spins later and the door opened. They made their way towards the lit room in the back. </p><p></p><p>They entered a huge kitchen, which smelled pleasantly of cinnamon, flour, black walnuts, and orange extract. The bakery was well equipped with double sinks, a walk-in refrigerator, several ovens, several immense white enamel storage cabinets, a dough-kneading machine, and a large array of other appliances. The middle of the room was occupied by a long, wide counter, the primary work area; one end of it had a shiny stainless-steel top, and the other end had a butcher's block surface. The stainless-steel portion was stacked high with pots, cupcake and cookie trays, baking racks, Bundt pans, regular cake pans, and pie tins, all clean and bright. The entire kitchen gleamed.</p><p></p><p>On the other side of the piled cookware, in the middle of the butcher's-block counter, lay a large disk of pie dough. A wooden rolling pin rested on the dough. </p><p></p><p>"AAH!" shouted Guppy, pointing. </p><p></p><p>Two hands gripped the ends of the rolling pin. Two severed, human hands.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean sighed. "Anyone want to bet what's in the ovens?"</p><p></p><p>"I don't want to look!" said Guppy, and it was clear he meant it.</p><p></p><p>Beyond the butcher's-block counter, set in the long wall on the far side of the room, were three ovens. One of them was huge, with a pair of solid, over-and-under, stainless-steel doors. The other two ovens were smaller than the first, though still larger than the conventional models used in most homes; there was one door in each, and each door had a glass portal in the center of it. None of the ovens were turned on.</p><p></p><p>Each contained a severed head.</p><p></p><p>Ghastly, dead faces gazed out into the room, noses pressed to the inside of the oven glass. One was a male. White hair spattered with blood. One eye half shut, the other glaring. Lips pressed together in a grimace of pain. The other was s a female. Both eyes open. Mouth gaping as if her jaws had come unhinged.</p><p></p><p>A flashlight beamed in Hammer's face. He spun, Glocks up.</p><p></p><p>"Freeze! Weapons down!" shouted a voice with a Tennessee drawl.</p><p></p><p>Two men, silhouetted in the darkness, had their revolvers out.</p><p></p><p>"We're CIFA," said Hammer. He had both hands on Glocks, so he couldn't pull out his badge. "Guppy, show them."</p><p></p><p>Guppy took his own badge out and held it up in the flashlight beam.</p><p></p><p>"CIFA, huh?" The flashlight beam angled downward as the sheriff inspected the badge. "Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. This must be some serious $#!t our little town got itself into if the Feds are here."</p><p></p><p>"You have no idea," said Jim-Bean. "And who are you?"</p><p></p><p>"I'm Dan Oakley, Groversville's sheriff. My compatriot here is Deputy Stu Wargle."</p><p></p><p>Stu gave a cursory look around, clearly freaked out by the decapitated heads but unsure what to do about it. </p><p></p><p>"You were in town when the attack happened?" asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>Oakley shook his head. "No sir. We were out on another call. Was on the phone with Henderson. Line went dead in the middle of conversation. By the time we got back, the entire town was empty. If you boys are here, I'm guessing this is a terrorist attack, huh?"</p><p></p><p>Hammer slowly nodded. "Definitely an attack of some sort."</p><p></p><p>"Gas maybe?" Oakley looked around. </p><p></p><p>"I don't know no gas that does this," said Stu, pointing at the heads. "If these are terrorists, they are some seriously sick #^(&ers."</p><p></p><p>The power flickered. </p><p></p><p>Oakley looked around. “I’m gonna go outside, and I’m going to get on the radio, and I’m going to figure this thing out." Oakley handed Guppy's badge back to him. “I recommend we stick together for now.”</p><p></p><p>They walked out into the street.</p><p></p><p>"You should have asked me first," Guppy to Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"Not this again." Jim-Bean rolled his eyes. "Asked you first about what? We're not dating!"</p><p></p><p>"That's not what she said…"</p><p></p><p>"Well whatever she said, it's not true. She saved Hammer's life, I saved hers. Hell, she's gave the note to Hammer, not me."</p><p></p><p>"A note?" asked Guppy, his voice rising. "She didn't mention anything about a note!" He looked accusingly at Hammer.</p><p></p><p>"Oh no, don't get me involved in this," said Hammer, hands up in defense. "Besides, the note was for Jim-Bean, not me."</p><p></p><p>"She didn't mention a note," grumbled Guppy. "Let me ask you something, sheriff. Would you be okay with your deputy dating your ex-girlfriend?"</p><p></p><p>Oakley looked at Guppy in disbelief. "Well," he took off his hat and scratched his head as they walked. "I don't—"</p><p></p><p>Three piercing screams tore through the conversation. Lights flickered on and off, the firehouse siren roared, a church bell rang. The siren wailed, and the bell rang, and the lights began to flash again; shop lights, streetlights on and off, on and off so rapidly that they created a strobe-like effect. Skyline Road flickered; the buildings seemed to jump toward the street, then fall back, then jump forward; the shadows danced jerkily.</p><p></p><p>"Mother trucker!" shouted Guppy, covering his ears.</p><p></p><p>Oakley and Stu drew their revolvers, trying to point everywhere. They stood back to back with the agents as all of Groversville went berserk, shrieking and flickering, for nearly a minute. </p><p></p><p>Then the lights went out and all was silent. Only one light was on in the town. </p><p></p><p>“That’s the Merle’s Shut Eye Motel,” says Oakley.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4612133, member: 3285"] [b]Convergence: Part 4 – Ameley Goods[/b] They proceeded along Skyline Road, moving alternately through shadows, yellowish sodium-glow from the streetlamps, darkness, and phosphoric moonlight. Regularly spaced trees grew from curbside planters on the left. On the right, they passed a Stuffer Shack and Merle’s Auto Body. At each establishment, the agents paused to peer through the windows, searching for signs of life, finding none. Ahead, there was a pool of light from Ameley Goods. Ameley Goods was a clean, white building with a blue-and-white-striped awning. In the rear of the budding, back in the part where the ovens were, light poured through an open door, splashing one end of the sales room and indirectly illuminating the rest of the place. Small cafe tables stood to the left, each with a pair of chairs. White enamel display cases with glass fronts were empty. Hammer tried the door. It was locked. He gestured to Guppy, who stepped up with his lock picking tool. A few spins later and the door opened. They made their way towards the lit room in the back. They entered a huge kitchen, which smelled pleasantly of cinnamon, flour, black walnuts, and orange extract. The bakery was well equipped with double sinks, a walk-in refrigerator, several ovens, several immense white enamel storage cabinets, a dough-kneading machine, and a large array of other appliances. The middle of the room was occupied by a long, wide counter, the primary work area; one end of it had a shiny stainless-steel top, and the other end had a butcher's block surface. The stainless-steel portion was stacked high with pots, cupcake and cookie trays, baking racks, Bundt pans, regular cake pans, and pie tins, all clean and bright. The entire kitchen gleamed. On the other side of the piled cookware, in the middle of the butcher's-block counter, lay a large disk of pie dough. A wooden rolling pin rested on the dough. "AAH!" shouted Guppy, pointing. Two hands gripped the ends of the rolling pin. Two severed, human hands. Jim-Bean sighed. "Anyone want to bet what's in the ovens?" "I don't want to look!" said Guppy, and it was clear he meant it. Beyond the butcher's-block counter, set in the long wall on the far side of the room, were three ovens. One of them was huge, with a pair of solid, over-and-under, stainless-steel doors. The other two ovens were smaller than the first, though still larger than the conventional models used in most homes; there was one door in each, and each door had a glass portal in the center of it. None of the ovens were turned on. Each contained a severed head. Ghastly, dead faces gazed out into the room, noses pressed to the inside of the oven glass. One was a male. White hair spattered with blood. One eye half shut, the other glaring. Lips pressed together in a grimace of pain. The other was s a female. Both eyes open. Mouth gaping as if her jaws had come unhinged. A flashlight beamed in Hammer's face. He spun, Glocks up. "Freeze! Weapons down!" shouted a voice with a Tennessee drawl. Two men, silhouetted in the darkness, had their revolvers out. "We're CIFA," said Hammer. He had both hands on Glocks, so he couldn't pull out his badge. "Guppy, show them." Guppy took his own badge out and held it up in the flashlight beam. "CIFA, huh?" The flashlight beam angled downward as the sheriff inspected the badge. "Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. This must be some serious $#!t our little town got itself into if the Feds are here." "You have no idea," said Jim-Bean. "And who are you?" "I'm Dan Oakley, Groversville's sheriff. My compatriot here is Deputy Stu Wargle." Stu gave a cursory look around, clearly freaked out by the decapitated heads but unsure what to do about it. "You were in town when the attack happened?" asked Hammer. Oakley shook his head. "No sir. We were out on another call. Was on the phone with Henderson. Line went dead in the middle of conversation. By the time we got back, the entire town was empty. If you boys are here, I'm guessing this is a terrorist attack, huh?" Hammer slowly nodded. "Definitely an attack of some sort." "Gas maybe?" Oakley looked around. "I don't know no gas that does this," said Stu, pointing at the heads. "If these are terrorists, they are some seriously sick #^(&ers." The power flickered. Oakley looked around. “I’m gonna go outside, and I’m going to get on the radio, and I’m going to figure this thing out." Oakley handed Guppy's badge back to him. “I recommend we stick together for now.” They walked out into the street. "You should have asked me first," Guppy to Jim-Bean. "Not this again." Jim-Bean rolled his eyes. "Asked you first about what? We're not dating!" "That's not what she said…" "Well whatever she said, it's not true. She saved Hammer's life, I saved hers. Hell, she's gave the note to Hammer, not me." "A note?" asked Guppy, his voice rising. "She didn't mention anything about a note!" He looked accusingly at Hammer. "Oh no, don't get me involved in this," said Hammer, hands up in defense. "Besides, the note was for Jim-Bean, not me." "She didn't mention a note," grumbled Guppy. "Let me ask you something, sheriff. Would you be okay with your deputy dating your ex-girlfriend?" Oakley looked at Guppy in disbelief. "Well," he took off his hat and scratched his head as they walked. "I don't—" Three piercing screams tore through the conversation. Lights flickered on and off, the firehouse siren roared, a church bell rang. The siren wailed, and the bell rang, and the lights began to flash again; shop lights, streetlights on and off, on and off so rapidly that they created a strobe-like effect. Skyline Road flickered; the buildings seemed to jump toward the street, then fall back, then jump forward; the shadows danced jerkily. "Mother trucker!" shouted Guppy, covering his ears. Oakley and Stu drew their revolvers, trying to point everywhere. They stood back to back with the agents as all of Groversville went berserk, shrieking and flickering, for nearly a minute. Then the lights went out and all was silent. Only one light was on in the town. “That’s the Merle’s Shut Eye Motel,” says Oakley. [/QUOTE]
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