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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: 4797194" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Wild Hunt: Part 15 – Welcome to Partridgeville</strong></p><p></p><p>The drive to Partridgeville took a few hours. The sleepy old colonial town was small and decaying, and had a New England air about it. There was a village green, narrow winding streets, clapboard cottages, and a white-steeple Congregational church. Out from the center of town, the streets broadened and straightened, and the yards were deep and shady. Out even further were housing developments and a shabby industrial area. Downed tree limbs and toppled telephone poles signified recent storms. </p><p></p><p>“What do we have on Morton?” Jim-Bean asked Archive.</p><p></p><p>“We’ve got a short set of notes from the director of the lab,” said Archive. “One Llewellyn Crabwell. It discusses the director's difficulty in working with Morton. He described Morton as a top man in his field, but Morton's fascination with the occult worried Crabwell enough to keep an eye on him.” </p><p></p><p>“Not very useful,” said Hammer. “Where’s Melissa Morrow?”</p><p></p><p>“In Partridgeville, just like Alzis said,” said Archive.</p><p></p><p>“That dude freaks me out,” said Jim-Bean. “Seriously, he knew way too much.”</p><p></p><p>“Speaking of which,” said Hammer, eyes still on the road, addressed Archive, “the next time you mention Majestic-12 I will shoot you.”</p><p></p><p>Archive swallowed hard and ignored the threat. “Melissa’s not listed in the telephone directory. Assuming she kept her ex-husband’s last name, there’s one candidate: M. Morrow, on 33 Sussex Drive, on the edge of town.”</p><p></p><p>A few minutes later Hammer pulled up to a small white bungalow. The lawn was perfectly cut. A strange looking weather vane, shaped like a crescent-moon with a lens in its middle, waggled on the roof. </p><p></p><p>Hammer led the other agents to the door. </p><p></p><p>An older woman answered his knock. </p><p></p><p>“Miss Morrow?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes?”</p><p></p><p>Hammer shoved open the door. “I’m Agent Hammer, with the Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. We’re here to talk to you about your ex-husband.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, my!” She looked flustered as they filed into her small home. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”</p><p></p><p>“When did you finalize your divorce?”</p><p></p><p>Melissa frowned. “We never did. We separated, but he never would sign the papers.” She sat down on her sofa. “Can I offer you a spot of tea?”</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean flashed a dazzling white smile. “That’d be wonderful.”</p><p></p><p>They all sat down as Melissa puttered in the kitchen. </p><p></p><p>“Before he became CEO of Centurion Computer Systems, Walter was a contributor to Weird Tales and other classic pulp magazines.” She brought out some yellowing original issues for all to read, along with tea and cookies. “All of his tales were stories about things called ‘The Dark Beasts,’ strange creatures of darkness that hide in forests. These creatures can only be driven off by bright light, or by not letting their image take form in the viewer's mind; they are creatures of the imagination, and by shutting one's eyes tightly and not believing in their existence, one can make them vanish.” </p><p></p><p>She sighed and sat down. </p><p></p><p>“Did he ever speak about his work?”</p><p></p><p>Melissa shook her head. “No. That’s why I asked for a divorce. He valued his work more than me.” </p><p></p><p>“Can you remember anything, Ms. Morrow?” asked Jim-Bean, sipping his tea. “Anything at all?”</p><p></p><p>Melissa thought hard. “One time, in a fit of drunken depression, William mentioned he had ‘looked too far back,’ and that something came back with him. He then said, ‘Beware gazing into the abyss, for if you gaze too long, it shall gaze into you.’ That’s what killed him in the end, I suppose." </p><p></p><p>“In a manner of speaking,” said Archive.</p><p></p><p>“I do remember an old chest in the basement that is filled with his belongings. Do you think that might be helpful?”</p><p></p><p>Hammer tried to remain calm. “Yes, that’d be very helpful.”</p><p></p><p>After nearly an hour of shifting broken furniture and wooden packing cases, the agents uncovered the chest. Inside were odds and ends-silver candlesticks, good china plates, a gold watch, and so on. Two interesting items turned up—a leather-bound book, filled with odd scribbling, and a small Chinese puzzle box. </p><p></p><p>Hammer handed both items to Archive. </p><p></p><p>Scrawled in almost unreadable English, the leather binding of the book was burned and discolored. </p><p></p><p>Archive flipped through the pages. . It was filled with strange geometric diagrams, mathematical equations, and chemical formulas.</p><p></p><p>“This is Morrow’s diary,” said Archive. “It describes in detail his research in transcendental time travel.” He paged through it. “The stuff we already know: his addiction to Coca Loco, the Hounds passing through angular space and…wait a minute.”</p><p></p><p>“What?” asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>“The journal ends with Morrow working on a complex equation he dubbed the ‘Einstein Formula’,” said Archive,” but he never had a chance to perform it. One of the freelancers he hired to repel the hounds gave it to him.”</p><p></p><p>“A spell, like the one that took out that animated statue,” said Hammer.</p><p></p><p>“What statue?” asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>“Different mission,” said Hammer. He turned back to Archive. “Can you learn it?”</p><p></p><p>Archive’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I think so. It involves hyperdimensional physics, which is extremely dangerous.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer checked his watch and then started climbing the steps. “Study up,” he said over his shoulder. “The Rave starts in a few hours. You’ll need to learn it before then.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4797194, member: 3285"] [b]Wild Hunt: Part 15 – Welcome to Partridgeville[/b] The drive to Partridgeville took a few hours. The sleepy old colonial town was small and decaying, and had a New England air about it. There was a village green, narrow winding streets, clapboard cottages, and a white-steeple Congregational church. Out from the center of town, the streets broadened and straightened, and the yards were deep and shady. Out even further were housing developments and a shabby industrial area. Downed tree limbs and toppled telephone poles signified recent storms. “What do we have on Morton?” Jim-Bean asked Archive. “We’ve got a short set of notes from the director of the lab,” said Archive. “One Llewellyn Crabwell. It discusses the director's difficulty in working with Morton. He described Morton as a top man in his field, but Morton's fascination with the occult worried Crabwell enough to keep an eye on him.” “Not very useful,” said Hammer. “Where’s Melissa Morrow?” “In Partridgeville, just like Alzis said,” said Archive. “That dude freaks me out,” said Jim-Bean. “Seriously, he knew way too much.” “Speaking of which,” said Hammer, eyes still on the road, addressed Archive, “the next time you mention Majestic-12 I will shoot you.” Archive swallowed hard and ignored the threat. “Melissa’s not listed in the telephone directory. Assuming she kept her ex-husband’s last name, there’s one candidate: M. Morrow, on 33 Sussex Drive, on the edge of town.” A few minutes later Hammer pulled up to a small white bungalow. The lawn was perfectly cut. A strange looking weather vane, shaped like a crescent-moon with a lens in its middle, waggled on the roof. Hammer led the other agents to the door. An older woman answered his knock. “Miss Morrow?” “Yes?” Hammer shoved open the door. “I’m Agent Hammer, with the Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. We’re here to talk to you about your ex-husband.” “Oh, my!” She looked flustered as they filed into her small home. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” “When did you finalize your divorce?” Melissa frowned. “We never did. We separated, but he never would sign the papers.” She sat down on her sofa. “Can I offer you a spot of tea?” Jim-Bean flashed a dazzling white smile. “That’d be wonderful.” They all sat down as Melissa puttered in the kitchen. “Before he became CEO of Centurion Computer Systems, Walter was a contributor to Weird Tales and other classic pulp magazines.” She brought out some yellowing original issues for all to read, along with tea and cookies. “All of his tales were stories about things called ‘The Dark Beasts,’ strange creatures of darkness that hide in forests. These creatures can only be driven off by bright light, or by not letting their image take form in the viewer's mind; they are creatures of the imagination, and by shutting one's eyes tightly and not believing in their existence, one can make them vanish.” She sighed and sat down. “Did he ever speak about his work?” Melissa shook her head. “No. That’s why I asked for a divorce. He valued his work more than me.” “Can you remember anything, Ms. Morrow?” asked Jim-Bean, sipping his tea. “Anything at all?” Melissa thought hard. “One time, in a fit of drunken depression, William mentioned he had ‘looked too far back,’ and that something came back with him. He then said, ‘Beware gazing into the abyss, for if you gaze too long, it shall gaze into you.’ That’s what killed him in the end, I suppose." “In a manner of speaking,” said Archive. “I do remember an old chest in the basement that is filled with his belongings. Do you think that might be helpful?” Hammer tried to remain calm. “Yes, that’d be very helpful.” After nearly an hour of shifting broken furniture and wooden packing cases, the agents uncovered the chest. Inside were odds and ends-silver candlesticks, good china plates, a gold watch, and so on. Two interesting items turned up—a leather-bound book, filled with odd scribbling, and a small Chinese puzzle box. Hammer handed both items to Archive. Scrawled in almost unreadable English, the leather binding of the book was burned and discolored. Archive flipped through the pages. . It was filled with strange geometric diagrams, mathematical equations, and chemical formulas. “This is Morrow’s diary,” said Archive. “It describes in detail his research in transcendental time travel.” He paged through it. “The stuff we already know: his addiction to Coca Loco, the Hounds passing through angular space and…wait a minute.” “What?” asked Jim-Bean. “The journal ends with Morrow working on a complex equation he dubbed the ‘Einstein Formula’,” said Archive,” but he never had a chance to perform it. One of the freelancers he hired to repel the hounds gave it to him.” “A spell, like the one that took out that animated statue,” said Hammer. “What statue?” asked Jim-Bean. “Different mission,” said Hammer. He turned back to Archive. “Can you learn it?” Archive’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I think so. It involves hyperdimensional physics, which is extremely dangerous.” Hammer checked his watch and then started climbing the steps. “Study up,” he said over his shoulder. “The Rave starts in a few hours. You’ll need to learn it before then.” [/QUOTE]
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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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