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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4616356" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Convergence: Part 7 – Copperfield Arrives</strong></p><p></p><p>The agents had boarded up every opening and slept in shifts. But Groversville's horrors had not coming calling since Oakley's death. Morning finally broke. </p><p></p><p>Guppy perked up. "I think I hear vehicles!"</p><p></p><p>They moved one of the desks out of the way of the office window. Sunlight streamed through.</p><p></p><p>At the bottom of Skyline Road, a large vehicle drove into view, and the sound of its laboring engine grew louder.</p><p></p><p>There were three large vehicles. They crawl slowly up the long, sloped street towards Merle's Shut Eye Motel.</p><p></p><p>Leading the procession was a gleaming, white motor home, a lumbering thirty-six foot behemoth that was somewhat modified. It had no doors or windows along its flank. The only entrance was at the back. The curved, wraparound windshield of the cab was tinted very dark and was made of much thicker glass than that used in ordinary motor homes. There was no identification on the vehicle, no project name, no indication that it Majestic property. </p><p></p><p>Behind the first motor home came a second. Bringing up the rear was an unmarked truck pulling a thirty-foot, plain gray trailer. Even the truck's windows were tinted, armor-thick glass.</p><p></p><p>The payload in the motor homes and in the truck was obviously quite heavy. Their engines strained hard, and they ground their way up the street, moving slower than ten miles an hour, then slower than five, inching, groaning, grinding.</p><p></p><p>When at last they reach Merle’s, they kept on going, made a right-hand turn at the corner, and swung into the cross street that flanked the motel.</p><p></p><p>The agents ran out to greet them. </p><p></p><p>The motorcade pulled up to the curb and parked. The three overheated engines were switched off, one after the other, and silence fell in with a weight of its own.</p><p></p><p>The back door of the truck opened first, and men jumped down. They were dressed for operations in a biologically contaminated atmosphere. They wore the white, airtight vinyl suits of the type developed for NASA, with large helmets that had oversized Plexiglas faceplates. Each man carried his own air supply tank on his back, as well as a briefcase-sized waste purification and reclamation system.</p><p></p><p>Half a dozen agile men scrambled out of the truck. More were still coming, all heavily armed. They spread out around both sides of their caravan and took up positions between their transport and the agents, facing away from the vehicles. </p><p></p><p>"These men aren’t scientists," said Guppy. "They're support troops."</p><p></p><p>Their names were stenciled on their helmets, just above their faceplates: Sgt. Harker, Pvt. Podor, Pvt. Pascam, and Lt. Undli. They brought up their guns and aimed outward, securing a perimeter in a determined fashion that brooked no interference.</p><p></p><p>Hammer found himself staring into the muzzle of a submachine gun.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stepped forward. "You must be Sprague's—"</p><p></p><p>Sergeant Harker, nearest to them, swung his gun toward the sky and fired a short burst of warning shots.</p><p></p><p>One of the soldiers spoke. Lieutenant Underhill. His voice issued tinnily from a small radio amplifier in a six-inch-square box on his chest. </p><p></p><p>"Please stay back from the vehicles. Our first duty is to guard the integrity of the labs, and we will do so at all costs."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stepped back. </p><p></p><p>The rear door of the first motor home finally opened. The five individuals who came out were also dressed in airtight suits, but they were not soldiers. They move unhurriedly.</p><p></p><p>They were unarmed. One of them was a woman. The names on their helmets weren't preceded by designation of rank: Bettenby, Valdez, Niven, Yamaguchi, Adams. They were the Majestic-friendlies, physicians and scientists who, in an extreme chemical biological warfare emergency, walked away from their private lives, putting themselves at Majestic's disposal. </p><p></p><p>"Adams," said Guppy softly, recognizing the name. </p><p></p><p>Six men came out of the second motor home. Goldstein, Roberts, Copperfield, and Houk. The last two were in unmarked suits, no names above their faceplates. They moved up the line, staying behind the armed soldiers, and joined up with Bettenby, Valdez, Niven, Yamaguchi, and Adams.</p><p></p><p>The ten of them conducted a brief conversation amongst themselves, by way of inter-suit radio. Their lips moved behind their Plexiglas visors, but the squawk boxes on their chests did not transmit a word, which meant they had the capability to conduct both public and strictly private discussions. For the time being, they were opting for privacy.</p><p></p><p>General Galen Copperfield, the tallest of the twenty, turned away from the group at the rear of the first motor home, stepped onto the sidewalk, and approached Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"Sorry about the guns," Copperfield said. He turned to the stone-faced troopers and said, "Okay, men. It's a no-sweat situation. Parade rest."</p><p></p><p>Because of the air tanks they were carrying, the soldiers couldn't comfortably assume a classic parade rest position. But, moving with the fluid harmony of a precision drill team, they immediately slung their submachine guns from their shoulders, spread their feet precisely twelve inches apart, put their arms straight down at their sides, and stood motionless, facing forward.</p><p></p><p>"Just SOP," Copperfield said. "You Agent Jim-Bean?"</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stepped forward again. "Err, yes?"</p><p></p><p>"Major Sprague sent word. We're the cavalry."</p><p></p><p>Guppy started to speak but Copperfield cut him off. </p><p></p><p>"I don't mean to be rude, but we don't have time for introductions. Later. Right now, I want to move. The first thing we need to know what we’re dealing with here. What kind of threat is it: biological, chemical, or other?”</p><p></p><p>"We think it's a combination of biological and chemical," said Hammer. "We found four dead bodies and witnessed the murder of two more. Whatever it is, it’s quiet enough to move undetected amongst three trained agents, strong enough to tear the engine out of a vehicle without making a sound, fast enough to move between rooms over one-hundred feet apart in a matter of seconds, and smart enough to turn stereos on and off."</p><p></p><p>"Damn," said Copperfield. </p><p></p><p>"We've got pictures," said Guppy. "Of an airborne assailant." He transmitted the pictures to Copperfield's heads up display in his suit. Although they were still having interference with their cistrons, the convoy carried its own remote hub. </p><p></p><p>The pictures were blurry, out of focus, as if the thing wasn't entirely in their dimension.</p><p></p><p>"And you think this is the same thing that killed everyone here?"</p><p></p><p>Hammer frowned. "Possibly, sir. It's also possible there are two different entities, or that it can change forms as needed."</p><p></p><p>“In the forty-eight hours prior to these events, was there any evidence of power failures, telephone interruptions, or strange lights in the sky?”</p><p></p><p>"Yes," said Jim-Bean. "The phone lines went out. You may want to check the cables."</p><p></p><p>“We recorded this over the phones,” said Guppy. He tapped a key and uploaded the odd message they heard over the phone. It played in all of the helmets of the men around them, eerily echoing from everywhere at once.</p><p></p><p>Copperfield considered for a moment. "I want you boys tested and decontaminated. We have chemical showers on the bus."</p><p></p><p>Houk led them over to the largest bus. "After Agent Tucker's explosion, we were able to quantify the existence of an unknown compound in his skin. His muscles were entirely replaced with tissue that, while mimicking human muscle tissue, also possesses a number of non-human characteristics. We call it protomatter."</p><p></p><p>They were stripped naked and marched into the showers.</p><p></p><p>"Like in the mirror," said Guppy. He looked at himself in the large mirror on the opposite side, which concealed technicians monitoring and recording.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean swallowed hard. "What kind of characteristics?"</p><p></p><p>"Resistance to temperature extremes. The ability to regenerate at rapid speeds. The good news is Doctor Emerson has found a way to help identify who has been infected with protomatter. Leucopararosaniline is a compound that turns purple under blacklight. If you've come into contact with any biological agents, we'll know." Houk flipped a switch and a blast of sanitizing powder struck them all. Then the spray of liquid came down. </p><p></p><p>He flipped another switch. The lab went dark and blacklights turned on.</p><p></p><p>Guppy and Hammer looked at themselves. They were flecked with the stuff, in bits and pieces. It wasn't a total infestation, but they were definitely exposed to protomatter.</p><p></p><p>"It must be in the food and water of this place," said Hammer. "We were very careful…"</p><p></p><p>But the scientists ignored them. They were all staring at Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"What…?" asked Jim-Bean. He looked down at himself. His arm was glowing purple.</p><p></p><p>Then he looked up in the mirror. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean’s entire body pulsed with a purple glow.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4616356, member: 3285"] [b]Convergence: Part 7 – Copperfield Arrives[/b] The agents had boarded up every opening and slept in shifts. But Groversville's horrors had not coming calling since Oakley's death. Morning finally broke. Guppy perked up. "I think I hear vehicles!" They moved one of the desks out of the way of the office window. Sunlight streamed through. At the bottom of Skyline Road, a large vehicle drove into view, and the sound of its laboring engine grew louder. There were three large vehicles. They crawl slowly up the long, sloped street towards Merle's Shut Eye Motel. Leading the procession was a gleaming, white motor home, a lumbering thirty-six foot behemoth that was somewhat modified. It had no doors or windows along its flank. The only entrance was at the back. The curved, wraparound windshield of the cab was tinted very dark and was made of much thicker glass than that used in ordinary motor homes. There was no identification on the vehicle, no project name, no indication that it Majestic property. Behind the first motor home came a second. Bringing up the rear was an unmarked truck pulling a thirty-foot, plain gray trailer. Even the truck's windows were tinted, armor-thick glass. The payload in the motor homes and in the truck was obviously quite heavy. Their engines strained hard, and they ground their way up the street, moving slower than ten miles an hour, then slower than five, inching, groaning, grinding. When at last they reach Merle’s, they kept on going, made a right-hand turn at the corner, and swung into the cross street that flanked the motel. The agents ran out to greet them. The motorcade pulled up to the curb and parked. The three overheated engines were switched off, one after the other, and silence fell in with a weight of its own. The back door of the truck opened first, and men jumped down. They were dressed for operations in a biologically contaminated atmosphere. They wore the white, airtight vinyl suits of the type developed for NASA, with large helmets that had oversized Plexiglas faceplates. Each man carried his own air supply tank on his back, as well as a briefcase-sized waste purification and reclamation system. Half a dozen agile men scrambled out of the truck. More were still coming, all heavily armed. They spread out around both sides of their caravan and took up positions between their transport and the agents, facing away from the vehicles. "These men aren’t scientists," said Guppy. "They're support troops." Their names were stenciled on their helmets, just above their faceplates: Sgt. Harker, Pvt. Podor, Pvt. Pascam, and Lt. Undli. They brought up their guns and aimed outward, securing a perimeter in a determined fashion that brooked no interference. Hammer found himself staring into the muzzle of a submachine gun. Jim-Bean stepped forward. "You must be Sprague's—" Sergeant Harker, nearest to them, swung his gun toward the sky and fired a short burst of warning shots. One of the soldiers spoke. Lieutenant Underhill. His voice issued tinnily from a small radio amplifier in a six-inch-square box on his chest. "Please stay back from the vehicles. Our first duty is to guard the integrity of the labs, and we will do so at all costs." Jim-Bean stepped back. The rear door of the first motor home finally opened. The five individuals who came out were also dressed in airtight suits, but they were not soldiers. They move unhurriedly. They were unarmed. One of them was a woman. The names on their helmets weren't preceded by designation of rank: Bettenby, Valdez, Niven, Yamaguchi, Adams. They were the Majestic-friendlies, physicians and scientists who, in an extreme chemical biological warfare emergency, walked away from their private lives, putting themselves at Majestic's disposal. "Adams," said Guppy softly, recognizing the name. Six men came out of the second motor home. Goldstein, Roberts, Copperfield, and Houk. The last two were in unmarked suits, no names above their faceplates. They moved up the line, staying behind the armed soldiers, and joined up with Bettenby, Valdez, Niven, Yamaguchi, and Adams. The ten of them conducted a brief conversation amongst themselves, by way of inter-suit radio. Their lips moved behind their Plexiglas visors, but the squawk boxes on their chests did not transmit a word, which meant they had the capability to conduct both public and strictly private discussions. For the time being, they were opting for privacy. General Galen Copperfield, the tallest of the twenty, turned away from the group at the rear of the first motor home, stepped onto the sidewalk, and approached Jim-Bean. "Sorry about the guns," Copperfield said. He turned to the stone-faced troopers and said, "Okay, men. It's a no-sweat situation. Parade rest." Because of the air tanks they were carrying, the soldiers couldn't comfortably assume a classic parade rest position. But, moving with the fluid harmony of a precision drill team, they immediately slung their submachine guns from their shoulders, spread their feet precisely twelve inches apart, put their arms straight down at their sides, and stood motionless, facing forward. "Just SOP," Copperfield said. "You Agent Jim-Bean?" Jim-Bean stepped forward again. "Err, yes?" "Major Sprague sent word. We're the cavalry." Guppy started to speak but Copperfield cut him off. "I don't mean to be rude, but we don't have time for introductions. Later. Right now, I want to move. The first thing we need to know what we’re dealing with here. What kind of threat is it: biological, chemical, or other?” "We think it's a combination of biological and chemical," said Hammer. "We found four dead bodies and witnessed the murder of two more. Whatever it is, it’s quiet enough to move undetected amongst three trained agents, strong enough to tear the engine out of a vehicle without making a sound, fast enough to move between rooms over one-hundred feet apart in a matter of seconds, and smart enough to turn stereos on and off." "Damn," said Copperfield. "We've got pictures," said Guppy. "Of an airborne assailant." He transmitted the pictures to Copperfield's heads up display in his suit. Although they were still having interference with their cistrons, the convoy carried its own remote hub. The pictures were blurry, out of focus, as if the thing wasn't entirely in their dimension. "And you think this is the same thing that killed everyone here?" Hammer frowned. "Possibly, sir. It's also possible there are two different entities, or that it can change forms as needed." “In the forty-eight hours prior to these events, was there any evidence of power failures, telephone interruptions, or strange lights in the sky?” "Yes," said Jim-Bean. "The phone lines went out. You may want to check the cables." “We recorded this over the phones,” said Guppy. He tapped a key and uploaded the odd message they heard over the phone. It played in all of the helmets of the men around them, eerily echoing from everywhere at once. Copperfield considered for a moment. "I want you boys tested and decontaminated. We have chemical showers on the bus." Houk led them over to the largest bus. "After Agent Tucker's explosion, we were able to quantify the existence of an unknown compound in his skin. His muscles were entirely replaced with tissue that, while mimicking human muscle tissue, also possesses a number of non-human characteristics. We call it protomatter." They were stripped naked and marched into the showers. "Like in the mirror," said Guppy. He looked at himself in the large mirror on the opposite side, which concealed technicians monitoring and recording. Jim-Bean swallowed hard. "What kind of characteristics?" "Resistance to temperature extremes. The ability to regenerate at rapid speeds. The good news is Doctor Emerson has found a way to help identify who has been infected with protomatter. Leucopararosaniline is a compound that turns purple under blacklight. If you've come into contact with any biological agents, we'll know." Houk flipped a switch and a blast of sanitizing powder struck them all. Then the spray of liquid came down. He flipped another switch. The lab went dark and blacklights turned on. Guppy and Hammer looked at themselves. They were flecked with the stuff, in bits and pieces. It wasn't a total infestation, but they were definitely exposed to protomatter. "It must be in the food and water of this place," said Hammer. "We were very careful…" But the scientists ignored them. They were all staring at Jim-Bean. "What…?" asked Jim-Bean. He looked down at himself. His arm was glowing purple. Then he looked up in the mirror. Jim-Bean’s entire body pulsed with a purple glow. [/QUOTE]
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