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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4623267" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Convergence: Part 11a – The Flaming Cross Church</strong></p><p></p><p>In the Flaming Cross Baptist Church, sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, which were composed predominantly of blues and greens. Hundreds of irregularly shaped patches of royal blue, sky blue, turquoise, aquamarine, emerald green, and many other shades dripped across the polished wooden pews, puddled in the aisles, and shimmered on the walls.</p><p></p><p>Just beyond the narthex, a stream of crimson light splashed across the white marble font that contained the holy water. It was the crimson of Christ's blood. The sun pierced a stained glass image of Christ's bleeding heart and sprayed sanguine rays upon the water that glistened in the pale marble bowl.</p><p></p><p>The church was solemn, silent, still. The air was softened by a pleasant trace of incense. In the pews, there were no worshipers. At first it appeared as if the church was deserted.</p><p></p><p>Then Hammer saw it. “Oh man.”</p><p></p><p>The chancel was cloaked in more shadows than the rest of the church, which is why he didn’t immediately notice the hideous—and sacrilegious—thing above the altar.</p><p></p><p>The altar candles had burned down all the way and had gone out. However, as the agents and their three-soldier escort progressed down the center aisle, they got a clearer and clearer view of the life-size crucifix that rose up from the center of the altar, along the rear wall of the chancel. </p><p></p><p>It was a wooden cross, with an exquisitely detailed, hand-painted, glazed plaster figure of Christ fixed to it. At the moment, much of the godly image was obscured by another body that hung in front of it. A real body, not another plaster corpus. It was the priest in his robes; he was nailed to the cross.</p><p></p><p>Two altar boys kneeled on the floor in front of the altar. They were dead, bruised, bloated.</p><p></p><p>Hammer walked over to inspect the corpse. </p><p></p><p>The flesh of the priest had begun to darken and to show other signs of imminent decomposition. </p><p></p><p>“Hmm, this one actually has signs of decomposition. It’s a day-old corpse.” </p><p></p><p>“There’s another pile of metal over here,” said Jim-Bean, pointing at the statue of Mary. </p><p></p><p>At the base of the statue of Mary, there was a large accumulation of metal buttons, wrist watches, and jewelry. Everything metal.</p><p></p><p>“It’s almost like an offering,” said Guppy.</p><p></p><p>“Not an offering,” said Adams. “Undigested remains. And a little something preserved and put aside for later, like a spider might do.”</p><p></p><p>“We’ve got something,” Underhill reported over the comm. “Looks like damage to the lines down in the sewers. That explains the phone and power outages.”</p><p></p><p>“What the …” Guppy was looking at the entryway to the church. </p><p></p><p>A wet golden retriever stood at the doorway. Whining, it padded towards them.</p><p></p><p>“Whatever you do, don’t touch it,” said Jim-Bean. </p><p></p><p>The soldiers trained their weapons on it. The dog whined and lay its head down …</p><p></p><p>And spiked tendrils, stiff as tree trunks, shot out of its back, piercing pews. One perforated Brogan’s helmet. His body twitched but stood upright, speared through the skull.</p><p></p><p>The other tendrils smashed through the pews. Wong and Dunbar dove to one side, Guppy, Jim-Bean, Hammer, and Adams to the other. </p><p></p><p>“Fire!” shouted Hammer. “Fire!”</p><p></p><p>They unleashed a hellish wrath of hot metal at the flailing tentacles. Bullets tore through flesh and the thing squealed. The automatic fire of machine guns tore it to pieces.</p><p></p><p>Brogan, finally released from the thing’s grip, collapsed to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Dunbar moved closer to the dogs smoking corpse. “Is it dead?”</p><p></p><p>“Stay away from it…” said Hammer.</p><p></p><p>That’s when they noticed that Brogan was standing up.</p><p></p><p>Brogan, who seconds before was writhing as a tentacle penetrated his suit, stood whole before them. The only evidence that anything was wrong was the hole in the faceplate of his suit.</p><p></p><p>Brogan opened his mouth and a strange voice issued from it. “<span style="font-family: 'Impact'">You were brought here, Scott Adams. Do your research. Write the gospel. Spread the word of my glory.</span>”</p><p></p><p>Then Brogan collapsed. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean, his pistol trained on Brogan, kicked the suit. “He…deflated. There’s no body inside the suit.”</p><p></p><p>He kicked it over. There was a crack in the floor. </p><p></p><p>“I was right,” said Adams. “It thinks of itself as a god. That’s why my name was on the mirror. It wanted you to bring me here. This thing, whatever it is, wants me to spread the word about its gospel. And it’s not going to stop until—“</p><p></p><p>The crack of a pistol rang out. Adams slumped to the ground, a bullet hole in the back of his helmet. </p><p></p><p>Hammer lowered his Glock. “You’re right. It’s not going to stop.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4623267, member: 3285"] [b]Convergence: Part 11a – The Flaming Cross Church[/b] In the Flaming Cross Baptist Church, sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, which were composed predominantly of blues and greens. Hundreds of irregularly shaped patches of royal blue, sky blue, turquoise, aquamarine, emerald green, and many other shades dripped across the polished wooden pews, puddled in the aisles, and shimmered on the walls. Just beyond the narthex, a stream of crimson light splashed across the white marble font that contained the holy water. It was the crimson of Christ's blood. The sun pierced a stained glass image of Christ's bleeding heart and sprayed sanguine rays upon the water that glistened in the pale marble bowl. The church was solemn, silent, still. The air was softened by a pleasant trace of incense. In the pews, there were no worshipers. At first it appeared as if the church was deserted. Then Hammer saw it. “Oh man.” The chancel was cloaked in more shadows than the rest of the church, which is why he didn’t immediately notice the hideous—and sacrilegious—thing above the altar. The altar candles had burned down all the way and had gone out. However, as the agents and their three-soldier escort progressed down the center aisle, they got a clearer and clearer view of the life-size crucifix that rose up from the center of the altar, along the rear wall of the chancel. It was a wooden cross, with an exquisitely detailed, hand-painted, glazed plaster figure of Christ fixed to it. At the moment, much of the godly image was obscured by another body that hung in front of it. A real body, not another plaster corpus. It was the priest in his robes; he was nailed to the cross. Two altar boys kneeled on the floor in front of the altar. They were dead, bruised, bloated. Hammer walked over to inspect the corpse. The flesh of the priest had begun to darken and to show other signs of imminent decomposition. “Hmm, this one actually has signs of decomposition. It’s a day-old corpse.” “There’s another pile of metal over here,” said Jim-Bean, pointing at the statue of Mary. At the base of the statue of Mary, there was a large accumulation of metal buttons, wrist watches, and jewelry. Everything metal. “It’s almost like an offering,” said Guppy. “Not an offering,” said Adams. “Undigested remains. And a little something preserved and put aside for later, like a spider might do.” “We’ve got something,” Underhill reported over the comm. “Looks like damage to the lines down in the sewers. That explains the phone and power outages.” “What the …” Guppy was looking at the entryway to the church. A wet golden retriever stood at the doorway. Whining, it padded towards them. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it,” said Jim-Bean. The soldiers trained their weapons on it. The dog whined and lay its head down … And spiked tendrils, stiff as tree trunks, shot out of its back, piercing pews. One perforated Brogan’s helmet. His body twitched but stood upright, speared through the skull. The other tendrils smashed through the pews. Wong and Dunbar dove to one side, Guppy, Jim-Bean, Hammer, and Adams to the other. “Fire!” shouted Hammer. “Fire!” They unleashed a hellish wrath of hot metal at the flailing tentacles. Bullets tore through flesh and the thing squealed. The automatic fire of machine guns tore it to pieces. Brogan, finally released from the thing’s grip, collapsed to the ground. Dunbar moved closer to the dogs smoking corpse. “Is it dead?” “Stay away from it…” said Hammer. That’s when they noticed that Brogan was standing up. Brogan, who seconds before was writhing as a tentacle penetrated his suit, stood whole before them. The only evidence that anything was wrong was the hole in the faceplate of his suit. Brogan opened his mouth and a strange voice issued from it. “[FONT="Impact"]You were brought here, Scott Adams. Do your research. Write the gospel. Spread the word of my glory.[/FONT]” Then Brogan collapsed. Jim-Bean, his pistol trained on Brogan, kicked the suit. “He…deflated. There’s no body inside the suit.” He kicked it over. There was a crack in the floor. “I was right,” said Adams. “It thinks of itself as a god. That’s why my name was on the mirror. It wanted you to bring me here. This thing, whatever it is, wants me to spread the word about its gospel. And it’s not going to stop until—“ The crack of a pistol rang out. Adams slumped to the ground, a bullet hole in the back of his helmet. Hammer lowered his Glock. “You’re right. It’s not going to stop.” [/QUOTE]
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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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