Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4635434" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Birdcage: Prologue</strong></p><p></p><p>POUND, VA—While most prisoners were evacuated through more traditional forms of transportation, the possibility of a supersarin attack against Red Onion super maximum-security prison required special attention. The criminals were collectively more dangerous than the threat itself. The worst murderers and serial killers were collected onto a Justice Prisoner Transportation System (JPTS) and sent to another super maximum-security prison.</p><p></p><p>Agent Hammer, bristling at his new reassignment, stood guard on the 727 known as FPTS 50. It was probably just as well. After the falling out between Hammer and Guppy, he had been reassigned. Guppy claimed Hammer had turned against him, even drew a weapon against a fellow agent; all true of course. But in turn, Hammer claimed Guppy was mentally unstable, endangering the Conspiracy, and sharing secrets with people who couldn’t be trusted. </p><p></p><p>In the end, Majestic-12 judged them both guilty. So Hammer was put on a guard duty aboard a prison plane, and Guppy was released on his own recognizance for some R&R while under the care of a mental health professional. Nobody had walked away from the experience clean, not even Jim-Bean. He didn’t talk about it; Hammer only knew that Jim-Bean had to be paired with another agent at all times for any given mission, almost like a chaperon. Sprague never explained why.</p><p></p><p>Inside, the 727 was rearranged from its previous commercial seating to allow guards a better view of the entire plane. The criminals trudge past him in single file onto the plane. All of the prisoners wore handcuffs, leg irons and a belly chain secured with a padlock. </p><p></p><p>Some of the prisoners had handcuffs reinforced with a black box that covered the keyhole. </p><p></p><p>“You’re the new guy, rights?” One of the guards smiled at Hammer. “You look familiar.” His badge read BISHOP.</p><p></p><p>“I look like a lot of people,” muttered Hammer. </p><p></p><p>Bishop, a clean-shaven younger man, nodded towards the prisoners in line with the black boxes holding their manacles together. “Black-box prisoners always get window seats,” he said. “They're seated in the back, as far from the pilots as possible.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. The passenger manifest was a veritable rogue’s gallery of the worst the penal system had to offer. </p><p></p><p>Like a talk show host introducing his guests, Bishop gleefully explained the four worst “black boxed” men who climbed into the plane.</p><p></p><p>“This here’s Crazy Freddy.” Crazy Freddy’s wild eyes and hair were unmistakable, the anarchy symbol on his forehead defying anyone who looked at him. “Crazy Freddy convinced his follows to kill a sleeping family.” Freddy stuck his pierced tongue out at Hammer as he passed.</p><p></p><p>“Next is George Jones, AKA the Incinerator.” Bishop smirked at Jones. “Tell ‘em why they call you incinerator, Jonesy.”</p><p></p><p>“Burned down a building fill with senior citizens,” said Jones, wiggled his red eyebrows. </p><p></p><p>The next man to enter stood nearly seven feet tall and the guards had force his head down and push him sideways through the door. He needed no introduction.</p><p></p><p>“Smasher,” said Hammer. “I remember you.”</p><p></p><p>Johnny “Smasher” Morowitz didn’t make eye contract. A former Football star, weight lifter, and professional wrestler, Johnny had murdered several men with his bare hands for the Mafia. It was all in the news.</p><p></p><p>The last man to enter was shuffled in with pantyhose over his head. The guard patted the top of the prisoner’s head. </p><p></p><p>“This sterling piece of human filth is none other than Billy ‘Taste-Test’ Bean, a bona fide serial killer!” The other guards bound Billy into his seat with a cargo strap before they removed the pantyhose. “Billy’s a spitter,” said Bishop, to explain the pantyhose. </p><p></p><p>“How many people you eat, Billy?” asked Falzon, another one of the guards.</p><p></p><p>“Twenty six,” he said, staring with startling blue eyes at the guard.</p><p></p><p>“Keeps going up,” said Falzon. “It was twenty five.”</p><p></p><p>Billy stared at Falzon. “I’m planning ahead.”</p><p></p><p>They each took their posts, at the rear, center, and front of the cabin. </p><p></p><p>"Make sure your seat belt is fastened and keep it fastened,” said the pilot over the intercom. “Do not stand up for any reason unless instructed to do so. If you're seated in an aisle, keep your arms, legs and other body parts out of the aisle. In the unlikely event of an emergency, follow all directions of the flight crew."</p><p></p><p>The flight was fairly uneventful despite the tension on the plane. By now the prisoners knew that disobedience was not tolerated in such cramped quarters. It looked like it was going to be a routine flight.</p><p></p><p>Bishop returned to staring at Hammer. “Man, you really look familiar.”</p><p></p><p>“He was on that terrorist web site,” said Falzon. “The guy who has a fatwa of death on him by Al-Hazzan.”</p><p></p><p>“Fat what?” asked the third guard in the back, Billings.</p><p></p><p>“Fatwa,” said Falzon. “You know, a religious decree by Muslims. In this case, Al-Hazzan ordered a fatwa to take … Grange, is it?” He peered at Hammer’s badge. “To take Grange out.”</p><p></p><p>“Take him out?” asked Billings. "What did you do to them?"</p><p></p><p>Hammer didn't answer.</p><p></p><p>“He captured Saladin," said Bishop for him.</p><p></p><p>That caused everyone to go silent.</p><p></p><p>“That means …” began Billings, but then he looked around. “Saladin's not on the plane, is he?”</p><p></p><p>“We would know,” said Bishop, checking a clipboard. "He's not on the list."</p><p></p><p>“He's not on the plane,” said Hammer curtly. "He's dead."</p><p></p><p>“Then why does Al-Hazzan keep asking for him to be released?” asked Falzon.</p><p></p><p>“I guess they don’t believe me,” replied Hammer.</p><p></p><p>“You think they’d put him on here and not tell us?” asked Falzon.</p><p></p><p>The guards all craned their necks, inspecting any prisoner who looked like he was of Middle Eastern descent.</p><p></p><p>“Why would they do that?” asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>“I dunno, man,” said Bishop, irritated. “Why ARE you here then?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m Saladin!” shouted a white prisoner. </p><p></p><p>“No, I’m Saladin!” responded a black prisoner next to him.</p><p></p><p>This started a litany of cries either claiming to be Saladin or patriotic condemnations. </p><p></p><p>The guards got nervous. This kind of ruckus wasn't usual for them, but they didn't want to delay the flight either.</p><p></p><p>“Shut up!” shouted Crazy Freddy. "I know for a fact Saladin's not on board."</p><p></p><p>That calmed the others down. "How do you know that?" asked Jones.</p><p></p><p>"Because," Freddy looked him up and down, "those anti-American bastards want this homie dead. Putting him in the same plane would be like lighting a big neon sign over our heads."</p><p></p><p>Hammer stared straight at Freddy. Freddy unflinchingly returned his gaze. </p><p></p><p>"You think Saladin's alive, don't ya Freddy," asked Bishop, who had clearly worked with Freddy for a while.</p><p></p><p>Freddy nodded. "Has to be. They wouldn't put this guy on a prison transport otherwise. Saladin's just not here with him."</p><p></p><p>"That makes us sitting ducks …" began Falzon.</p><p></p><p>“Uh, hey,” interrupted the prisoner who had first claimed to be Saladin. “I think there’s a problem with my box here.”</p><p></p><p>The prisoner next to him leaned over and placed his ear to the box. </p><p></p><p>“Uh…guys? Guys, this box is beeping.” He smiled nervously, a maw full of dirty yellow teeth. “I know this crap is high-tech and stuff but are these things supposed to beep?”</p><p></p><p>Someone shouted from the back, “Oh man, I got gypped! Mine ain’t beeping!”</p><p></p><p>This elicited snickers from the other prisoners, but just then the beeping got loud enough that it could be heard over the engines of the plane. It began to beep faster and more urgently.</p><p></p><p>Hammer calmly took hold of the rigging near him and braced himself. </p><p></p><p>“Son of a BITCH,” snarled Crazy Freddy. He glared at Hammer. "You're bad luck—" </p><p></p><p>A loud explosion cut off his sentence as the beeping prisoner's entire seat was engulfed in a fireball. The wall ripped open, exposing the inside of the plane to the tearing winds.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4635434, member: 3285"] [b]Birdcage: Prologue[/b] POUND, VA—While most prisoners were evacuated through more traditional forms of transportation, the possibility of a supersarin attack against Red Onion super maximum-security prison required special attention. The criminals were collectively more dangerous than the threat itself. The worst murderers and serial killers were collected onto a Justice Prisoner Transportation System (JPTS) and sent to another super maximum-security prison. Agent Hammer, bristling at his new reassignment, stood guard on the 727 known as FPTS 50. It was probably just as well. After the falling out between Hammer and Guppy, he had been reassigned. Guppy claimed Hammer had turned against him, even drew a weapon against a fellow agent; all true of course. But in turn, Hammer claimed Guppy was mentally unstable, endangering the Conspiracy, and sharing secrets with people who couldn’t be trusted. In the end, Majestic-12 judged them both guilty. So Hammer was put on a guard duty aboard a prison plane, and Guppy was released on his own recognizance for some R&R while under the care of a mental health professional. Nobody had walked away from the experience clean, not even Jim-Bean. He didn’t talk about it; Hammer only knew that Jim-Bean had to be paired with another agent at all times for any given mission, almost like a chaperon. Sprague never explained why. Inside, the 727 was rearranged from its previous commercial seating to allow guards a better view of the entire plane. The criminals trudge past him in single file onto the plane. All of the prisoners wore handcuffs, leg irons and a belly chain secured with a padlock. Some of the prisoners had handcuffs reinforced with a black box that covered the keyhole. “You’re the new guy, rights?” One of the guards smiled at Hammer. “You look familiar.” His badge read BISHOP. “I look like a lot of people,” muttered Hammer. Bishop, a clean-shaven younger man, nodded towards the prisoners in line with the black boxes holding their manacles together. “Black-box prisoners always get window seats,” he said. “They're seated in the back, as far from the pilots as possible.” Hammer didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. The passenger manifest was a veritable rogue’s gallery of the worst the penal system had to offer. Like a talk show host introducing his guests, Bishop gleefully explained the four worst “black boxed” men who climbed into the plane. “This here’s Crazy Freddy.” Crazy Freddy’s wild eyes and hair were unmistakable, the anarchy symbol on his forehead defying anyone who looked at him. “Crazy Freddy convinced his follows to kill a sleeping family.” Freddy stuck his pierced tongue out at Hammer as he passed. “Next is George Jones, AKA the Incinerator.” Bishop smirked at Jones. “Tell ‘em why they call you incinerator, Jonesy.” “Burned down a building fill with senior citizens,” said Jones, wiggled his red eyebrows. The next man to enter stood nearly seven feet tall and the guards had force his head down and push him sideways through the door. He needed no introduction. “Smasher,” said Hammer. “I remember you.” Johnny “Smasher” Morowitz didn’t make eye contract. A former Football star, weight lifter, and professional wrestler, Johnny had murdered several men with his bare hands for the Mafia. It was all in the news. The last man to enter was shuffled in with pantyhose over his head. The guard patted the top of the prisoner’s head. “This sterling piece of human filth is none other than Billy ‘Taste-Test’ Bean, a bona fide serial killer!” The other guards bound Billy into his seat with a cargo strap before they removed the pantyhose. “Billy’s a spitter,” said Bishop, to explain the pantyhose. “How many people you eat, Billy?” asked Falzon, another one of the guards. “Twenty six,” he said, staring with startling blue eyes at the guard. “Keeps going up,” said Falzon. “It was twenty five.” Billy stared at Falzon. “I’m planning ahead.” They each took their posts, at the rear, center, and front of the cabin. "Make sure your seat belt is fastened and keep it fastened,” said the pilot over the intercom. “Do not stand up for any reason unless instructed to do so. If you're seated in an aisle, keep your arms, legs and other body parts out of the aisle. In the unlikely event of an emergency, follow all directions of the flight crew." The flight was fairly uneventful despite the tension on the plane. By now the prisoners knew that disobedience was not tolerated in such cramped quarters. It looked like it was going to be a routine flight. Bishop returned to staring at Hammer. “Man, you really look familiar.” “He was on that terrorist web site,” said Falzon. “The guy who has a fatwa of death on him by Al-Hazzan.” “Fat what?” asked the third guard in the back, Billings. “Fatwa,” said Falzon. “You know, a religious decree by Muslims. In this case, Al-Hazzan ordered a fatwa to take … Grange, is it?” He peered at Hammer’s badge. “To take Grange out.” “Take him out?” asked Billings. "What did you do to them?" Hammer didn't answer. “He captured Saladin," said Bishop for him. That caused everyone to go silent. “That means …” began Billings, but then he looked around. “Saladin's not on the plane, is he?” “We would know,” said Bishop, checking a clipboard. "He's not on the list." “He's not on the plane,” said Hammer curtly. "He's dead." “Then why does Al-Hazzan keep asking for him to be released?” asked Falzon. “I guess they don’t believe me,” replied Hammer. “You think they’d put him on here and not tell us?” asked Falzon. The guards all craned their necks, inspecting any prisoner who looked like he was of Middle Eastern descent. “Why would they do that?” asked Hammer. “I dunno, man,” said Bishop, irritated. “Why ARE you here then?” “I’m Saladin!” shouted a white prisoner. “No, I’m Saladin!” responded a black prisoner next to him. This started a litany of cries either claiming to be Saladin or patriotic condemnations. The guards got nervous. This kind of ruckus wasn't usual for them, but they didn't want to delay the flight either. “Shut up!” shouted Crazy Freddy. "I know for a fact Saladin's not on board." That calmed the others down. "How do you know that?" asked Jones. "Because," Freddy looked him up and down, "those anti-American bastards want this homie dead. Putting him in the same plane would be like lighting a big neon sign over our heads." Hammer stared straight at Freddy. Freddy unflinchingly returned his gaze. "You think Saladin's alive, don't ya Freddy," asked Bishop, who had clearly worked with Freddy for a while. Freddy nodded. "Has to be. They wouldn't put this guy on a prison transport otherwise. Saladin's just not here with him." "That makes us sitting ducks …" began Falzon. “Uh, hey,” interrupted the prisoner who had first claimed to be Saladin. “I think there’s a problem with my box here.” The prisoner next to him leaned over and placed his ear to the box. “Uh…guys? Guys, this box is beeping.” He smiled nervously, a maw full of dirty yellow teeth. “I know this crap is high-tech and stuff but are these things supposed to beep?” Someone shouted from the back, “Oh man, I got gypped! Mine ain’t beeping!” This elicited snickers from the other prisoners, but just then the beeping got loud enough that it could be heard over the engines of the plane. It began to beep faster and more urgently. Hammer calmly took hold of the rigging near him and braced himself. “Son of a BITCH,” snarled Crazy Freddy. He glared at Hammer. "You're bad luck—" A loud explosion cut off his sentence as the beeping prisoner's entire seat was engulfed in a fireball. The wall ripped open, exposing the inside of the plane to the tearing winds. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
Top