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Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4764653" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Angular Gods: Prologue</strong></p><p></p><p>It was night. A storm was beginning outside, but the agents were fortunately in a warm place. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean handed Guppy his cistron and Beretta. "Welcome back."</p><p></p><p>Guppy squinted at Jim-Bean. "Thanks, I think." He was still getting accustomed to life as an agent. They were at the apartment rented in New York City as their temporary base of operations. Guppy scanned his thumbprint. It read: ON PROBATION. </p><p></p><p>“I’m sure it’s temporary,” said Jim-Bean. </p><p></p><p>Archive smirked. “Just like my ‘Friendly’ status that Hammer applied for, right?”</p><p></p><p>There was an awkward silence when Hammer walked into the kitchen. Hammer was somewhat responsible for putting Guppy on mental health leave. </p><p></p><p>"How you feeling, Guppy?" asked Archive warily. </p><p></p><p>"You mean the visions?" Guppy said with a slight smile. " I feel much better actually. Better than I have in years. The migraines and the nightmares stopped."</p><p></p><p>"Maybe the Dreamweb really did help," said Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>More uncomfortable silence. </p><p></p><p>Hammer's cistron rang. He jumped at it. </p><p></p><p>“Hello? This is Walter Morrow! I was told to contact you if I saw anything suspicious and I think something really strange is going on."</p><p></p><p>"Morrow?" asked Hammer. "From Centurion Computing Systems?"</p><p></p><p>"Yeah."</p><p></p><p>Morrow had been released through use of the COCKTAIL, a chemical concoction that caused memory loss. As a Grey plant, Majestic-12 was using Morrow as a sort of catch-and-release program. To do anything more drastic might jeopardize the Accord and let the Greys know that Majestic was on to their meddling in the private sector.</p><p></p><p>“There’s a project I was working on before the--the incident with the PlayPal: PROJECT RELISH. It was taking place in one of the basement labs of our military hardware development center, but I’ve been denied access for security reasons. James Morton and Lisa Patterson, my colleagues, have become increasingly hostile and almost threatening. Several employees were electrocuted in what they’re calling an industrial accident. Yet,” Morrow sounded very tense, “the bodies were savaged, not burned, and the room it happened in contained nothing more than a few computers. You’ve got to help me!”</p><p></p><p>"Calm down," said Hammer. "Tell me where you—"</p><p></p><p>“I overheard Lisa saying it was, 'Mh’ithrha’s will,' in reference to the accident. What the—“ The phone went dead.</p><p></p><p>The storm grew worse. The lights flickered and the echoes of thunder grew louder. </p><p></p><p>"Since when does Morrow call us?" asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>Before Hammer could answer, his cistron rang again. He picked it up.</p><p></p><p>There was a long pause followed by a series of fast beeps and clicks, like an incoming fax only faster. When it stopped, all the lights went out. The apartment fell silent and dark, save for the glow of their cistrons.</p><p></p><p>"I don't like this," said Hammer.</p><p></p><p>His cistron displayed a series of jagged fractal-like images in a hypnotizing, nauseating, series of purple and blood-colored tints. Jim-Bean stumbled around in the dark.</p><p></p><p>"You okay?" asked Guppy.</p><p></p><p>"Just feeling a little…" gasped Jim-Bean. "Weak."</p><p></p><p>"It's draining his psychic energy," said Archive urgently. "Shut it off."</p><p></p><p>The fractals on the cistron suddenly changed, taking on a more tortured, angular look. The spiral effect became less and less distinct until it appeared to be a long, writhing tunnel. Odd text, possibly Arabic or Greek, sped across the screen, appearing and vanishing far too quickly to be read. </p><p></p><p>"Shut WHAT off?" asked Hammer. "I'm not even sure what's going on!"</p><p></p><p>"It's casting a spell!" shouted Archive. "Shut it off!"</p><p></p><p>Hammer placed the cistron on the kitchen counter and backed away from it, drawing his Glocks.</p><p></p><p>Something shot from the back of the screen to the front where it crouched, staring outwards, lashing at the glass, distorting the screen as it howls through the speaker. It had a lean, painfully thin canine form, its skin a coruscating sea of cyan and violet, reflecting the room on its shifting eyes and flanks, all sealed and coated with a dripping blue ichor.</p><p></p><p>Archive picked up the cistron to smash it, but a bolt of light shot from the screen into the corner of the room. In a flash, a dog-like thing was in the apartment. </p><p></p><p>Bluish pus coated the long, lean hound. The flowing, dripping integument gives the hound a half-formed appearance. Before Archive could complete the throw, it lunged at him.</p><p></p><p>Archive was knocked over as the blue, dripping hound pinned him. His companions all fired at it.</p><p></p><p>The guns sparked in the darkness. The bullets fired into the thing and through it, moving in slow-motion like a bullet-time effect out of the Matrix, punching out the other side without inflicting any damage.</p><p></p><p>A spiral, fang-tipped tongue punched a perfect hole in Archive's arm. He managed to shove the thing off of him.</p><p></p><p>The hound turned to face Jim-Bean, who backed out of the room, still firing.</p><p></p><p>Then Hammer was in its path. Trained in dealing with attack dogs, Hammer let it bite the back of his forearm and took a careful shot aimed between its eyes with his free hand. But the hound's tongue tore a seeping blue hole through his forearm and nearly reached his face.</p><p></p><p>Hammer fell back, helpless to do anything but keep the thing's tongue from punching a hole through his head.</p><p></p><p>Another pistol sparked, and this time it shivered and disappeared in a blue haze. It was Archive's pistol that did the trick.</p><p></p><p>The lights flickered back on.</p><p></p><p>"What WAS that?" asked Hammer, rubbing the blue hole in his forearm. It was painless. He could see right through to the other side.</p><p></p><p>"A Hound of Tindalos," said Archive. "They're predators. They generally only notice humans if they cross the boundaries of time and space."</p><p></p><p>The other agents looked at Hammer. He had already sent a message to himself from the future. </p><p></p><p>"Guppy, can you—"</p><p></p><p>"Already on it," said Guppy with a smile. "I triangulated the call. He's in Partridgeville, Massachusetts."</p><p></p><p>Hammer patted Guppy on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back. Let's go."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4764653, member: 3285"] [b]Angular Gods: Prologue[/b] It was night. A storm was beginning outside, but the agents were fortunately in a warm place. Jim-Bean handed Guppy his cistron and Beretta. "Welcome back." Guppy squinted at Jim-Bean. "Thanks, I think." He was still getting accustomed to life as an agent. They were at the apartment rented in New York City as their temporary base of operations. Guppy scanned his thumbprint. It read: ON PROBATION. “I’m sure it’s temporary,” said Jim-Bean. Archive smirked. “Just like my ‘Friendly’ status that Hammer applied for, right?” There was an awkward silence when Hammer walked into the kitchen. Hammer was somewhat responsible for putting Guppy on mental health leave. "How you feeling, Guppy?" asked Archive warily. "You mean the visions?" Guppy said with a slight smile. " I feel much better actually. Better than I have in years. The migraines and the nightmares stopped." "Maybe the Dreamweb really did help," said Jim-Bean. More uncomfortable silence. Hammer's cistron rang. He jumped at it. “Hello? This is Walter Morrow! I was told to contact you if I saw anything suspicious and I think something really strange is going on." "Morrow?" asked Hammer. "From Centurion Computing Systems?" "Yeah." Morrow had been released through use of the COCKTAIL, a chemical concoction that caused memory loss. As a Grey plant, Majestic-12 was using Morrow as a sort of catch-and-release program. To do anything more drastic might jeopardize the Accord and let the Greys know that Majestic was on to their meddling in the private sector. “There’s a project I was working on before the--the incident with the PlayPal: PROJECT RELISH. It was taking place in one of the basement labs of our military hardware development center, but I’ve been denied access for security reasons. James Morton and Lisa Patterson, my colleagues, have become increasingly hostile and almost threatening. Several employees were electrocuted in what they’re calling an industrial accident. Yet,” Morrow sounded very tense, “the bodies were savaged, not burned, and the room it happened in contained nothing more than a few computers. You’ve got to help me!” "Calm down," said Hammer. "Tell me where you—" “I overheard Lisa saying it was, 'Mh’ithrha’s will,' in reference to the accident. What the—“ The phone went dead. The storm grew worse. The lights flickered and the echoes of thunder grew louder. "Since when does Morrow call us?" asked Jim-Bean. Before Hammer could answer, his cistron rang again. He picked it up. There was a long pause followed by a series of fast beeps and clicks, like an incoming fax only faster. When it stopped, all the lights went out. The apartment fell silent and dark, save for the glow of their cistrons. "I don't like this," said Hammer. His cistron displayed a series of jagged fractal-like images in a hypnotizing, nauseating, series of purple and blood-colored tints. Jim-Bean stumbled around in the dark. "You okay?" asked Guppy. "Just feeling a little…" gasped Jim-Bean. "Weak." "It's draining his psychic energy," said Archive urgently. "Shut it off." The fractals on the cistron suddenly changed, taking on a more tortured, angular look. The spiral effect became less and less distinct until it appeared to be a long, writhing tunnel. Odd text, possibly Arabic or Greek, sped across the screen, appearing and vanishing far too quickly to be read. "Shut WHAT off?" asked Hammer. "I'm not even sure what's going on!" "It's casting a spell!" shouted Archive. "Shut it off!" Hammer placed the cistron on the kitchen counter and backed away from it, drawing his Glocks. Something shot from the back of the screen to the front where it crouched, staring outwards, lashing at the glass, distorting the screen as it howls through the speaker. It had a lean, painfully thin canine form, its skin a coruscating sea of cyan and violet, reflecting the room on its shifting eyes and flanks, all sealed and coated with a dripping blue ichor. Archive picked up the cistron to smash it, but a bolt of light shot from the screen into the corner of the room. In a flash, a dog-like thing was in the apartment. Bluish pus coated the long, lean hound. The flowing, dripping integument gives the hound a half-formed appearance. Before Archive could complete the throw, it lunged at him. Archive was knocked over as the blue, dripping hound pinned him. His companions all fired at it. The guns sparked in the darkness. The bullets fired into the thing and through it, moving in slow-motion like a bullet-time effect out of the Matrix, punching out the other side without inflicting any damage. A spiral, fang-tipped tongue punched a perfect hole in Archive's arm. He managed to shove the thing off of him. The hound turned to face Jim-Bean, who backed out of the room, still firing. Then Hammer was in its path. Trained in dealing with attack dogs, Hammer let it bite the back of his forearm and took a careful shot aimed between its eyes with his free hand. But the hound's tongue tore a seeping blue hole through his forearm and nearly reached his face. Hammer fell back, helpless to do anything but keep the thing's tongue from punching a hole through his head. Another pistol sparked, and this time it shivered and disappeared in a blue haze. It was Archive's pistol that did the trick. The lights flickered back on. "What WAS that?" asked Hammer, rubbing the blue hole in his forearm. It was painless. He could see right through to the other side. "A Hound of Tindalos," said Archive. "They're predators. They generally only notice humans if they cross the boundaries of time and space." The other agents looked at Hammer. He had already sent a message to himself from the future. "Guppy, can you—" "Already on it," said Guppy with a smile. "I triangulated the call. He's in Partridgeville, Massachusetts." Hammer patted Guppy on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back. Let's go." [/QUOTE]
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