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: 4934789" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>God Shall Tread: Part 4 – Through the Wire</strong></p><p></p><p>The Duxbury plant was a nearly three-acre section of land located outside of the town proper. Two deep twenty-foot security fences topped with razor wire surrounded it. Every fifth fence-pole was topped by a swiveling security camera monitored twenty-four-hours a day by Hunt Electronics guards, known as Brownshirts. </p><p></p><p>There was one main gate that was “air locked” — separated into its own section by a series of fences — overlooked by two cement buildings with bulletproof glass that looked surprisingly like bunkers. Only delivery trucks entered the gate. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean, dressed as one of the drivers, drove through the gate. They had intercepted a service truck in record time while he was at a red light; so quickly, in fact, that the whole thing had taken just under two minutes. Although the plant's security was amazing, its reach was only as effective as its perimeter. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean was guided by several of the Brownshirts into a docking bay. He backed the truck in with some trepidation, stopping frequently – he wasn't accustomed to driving big rigs. As Weeks had indicated, the place was buzzing and there was an air of urgency. His hesitation just made him seem like a nervous and overworked employee under the gun. The Brownshirts seemed to take it all in stride. </p><p></p><p>He just hoped they wouldn't look inside the Box.</p><p></p><p>The Box was a hastily constructed chamber, large enough to fit a human being, but not large enough to be comfortable. Hammer was crunched up in a hunched position, along with their weapons and an oxygen tank. Most importantly, it was designed to foil any scanners. There was actually a false exterior around the box that provided a faux scan. So long as nobody opened the box, it would pass muster. That was a big "if."</p><p></p><p>There was also the fact that, eventually, Hammer had to get out of the box before he ran out of air. And it was practically impossible for him to do it on his own. </p><p></p><p>Once he backed the truck in, Jim-Bean was escorted by a Brownshirt out of his vehicle and into the security building. He swore inwardly as he saw several workers pick up the pallet that had Hammer on it. He hadn't expected the box would be out of his sight so quickly, but everyone was moving fast.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean joined a line of employees entering the plant, one-by-one, who were subjected to a flash of extreme ultraviolet light. They were all lined up against a bright white wall. A security camera was oddly focused not on the entrants but slightly above and behind them. Jim-Bean looked over his shoulder as the bulb flashed.</p><p></p><p>Sure enough, their shadows were cast in sharp relief on the wall. Weeks' information was sound – HE was literally jumping at shadows. Jim-Bean relaxed a little bit knowing he hadn't yet been led into a trap.</p><p></p><p>A Brownshirt handed Jim-Bean a badge. He walked out the other side. Signs everywhere read “ONE BEEP, ONE PERSON” indicating that when passing through doors, each person must wait their turn and swipe their security card individually. </p><p></p><p>Past the main gate, the interior area of the compound was all carefully maintained. It looked like any other corporate site in the world, except perhaps a bit cleaner than usual. Smooth, asphalt roads meandered all over, connecting all buildings to one another. Signage clearly pointed the way to each building at each intersection. </p><p></p><p>The two main central buildings in the compound were identical: large industrial buildings built of corrugated steel, concrete, frosted gray windows, steel scaffolding and piping. The building Jim-Bean was specifically interested had a large industrial incinerator jutting from the west side. The chimney from the incinerator spewed spewing a thick, black smoke.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean had Weeks' card secreted on his person, a disguise kit divided across his shirt and pants, and nothing else. No weapons, no comm., nothing. He was going in cold. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean walked quickly over to the warehouse elevator where he last saw Hammer's crate. "What happened to my shipment?" he asked.</p><p></p><p>The floor manager, sweat on his brow, shook his head. "The usual crap. They're really hustling. I've been pulling double shifts trying to get this all done."</p><p></p><p>"I really need to pee," said Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, I know. We all need to go—"</p><p></p><p>"No seriously, I'm going to make a mess on the floor." Jim-Bean hopped back and forth from one leg to another. "I've been holding it because I was working all these shifts and I wanted to bring the shipment in on time before…" he trailed off. Jim-Bean found it prudent to let other people fill in the blanks.</p><p></p><p>"Before they shut Offsite down, I know. All right, go, but don't tell anybody I let you. They're cracking down hard on us."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean jogged to the men's room. By unfolding and turning the overalls he wore inside out, he was suddenly wearing a reasonable facsimile of a lab coat. It wasn't perfect – there were zippers on the inside if anyone inspected it closely – but it would do until he could steal another one. Fortunately for Jim-Bean, they had found a driver with similar hair color to Weeks'. Jim-Bean had already dyed his hair brown to match. Their eye color, also brown, made that part easy – he was already wearing contact lenses.</p><p></p><p>He donned Week's glasses. They were the real thing. A prosthetic nose provided a slight hook that was similar to Weeks. He looked just enough like his picture that he could get by. But he was sure it would fail if anyone who knew Weeks personally looked him squarely in the eye.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean took a deep breath and strode out of the men's room. Dressed as he was, he looked like any one of the scientists inspecting the cargo. He made his way over to the main building and couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. HE was so worried about identifying alien shadows that they had underestimated basic social engineering…</p><p></p><p>"Hey Weeks!" shouted a passing scientist in a similar lab coat. "You get it finished yet?"</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean kept walking, but he tilted his head in the same way he'd seen Weeks' do in his interview when he was puzzled by a question. "The 57 Chevy? Just about, still trying to find bulbs for the tailfins."</p><p></p><p>The other man laughed and nodded. "That's one expensive hobby man, you owe me a drive when you're done!"</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean waved him off. Weeks didn't let anybody touch his cars. "Very funny. If this goes well you'll never see it again."</p><p></p><p>And with that, one agent walked through the front door of Hunt Electronics' fortress while a second agent counted the minutes of his oxygen tank.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4934789, member: 3285"] [b]God Shall Tread: Part 4 – Through the Wire[/b] The Duxbury plant was a nearly three-acre section of land located outside of the town proper. Two deep twenty-foot security fences topped with razor wire surrounded it. Every fifth fence-pole was topped by a swiveling security camera monitored twenty-four-hours a day by Hunt Electronics guards, known as Brownshirts. There was one main gate that was “air locked” — separated into its own section by a series of fences — overlooked by two cement buildings with bulletproof glass that looked surprisingly like bunkers. Only delivery trucks entered the gate. Jim-Bean, dressed as one of the drivers, drove through the gate. They had intercepted a service truck in record time while he was at a red light; so quickly, in fact, that the whole thing had taken just under two minutes. Although the plant's security was amazing, its reach was only as effective as its perimeter. Jim-Bean was guided by several of the Brownshirts into a docking bay. He backed the truck in with some trepidation, stopping frequently – he wasn't accustomed to driving big rigs. As Weeks had indicated, the place was buzzing and there was an air of urgency. His hesitation just made him seem like a nervous and overworked employee under the gun. The Brownshirts seemed to take it all in stride. He just hoped they wouldn't look inside the Box. The Box was a hastily constructed chamber, large enough to fit a human being, but not large enough to be comfortable. Hammer was crunched up in a hunched position, along with their weapons and an oxygen tank. Most importantly, it was designed to foil any scanners. There was actually a false exterior around the box that provided a faux scan. So long as nobody opened the box, it would pass muster. That was a big "if." There was also the fact that, eventually, Hammer had to get out of the box before he ran out of air. And it was practically impossible for him to do it on his own. Once he backed the truck in, Jim-Bean was escorted by a Brownshirt out of his vehicle and into the security building. He swore inwardly as he saw several workers pick up the pallet that had Hammer on it. He hadn't expected the box would be out of his sight so quickly, but everyone was moving fast. Jim-Bean joined a line of employees entering the plant, one-by-one, who were subjected to a flash of extreme ultraviolet light. They were all lined up against a bright white wall. A security camera was oddly focused not on the entrants but slightly above and behind them. Jim-Bean looked over his shoulder as the bulb flashed. Sure enough, their shadows were cast in sharp relief on the wall. Weeks' information was sound – HE was literally jumping at shadows. Jim-Bean relaxed a little bit knowing he hadn't yet been led into a trap. A Brownshirt handed Jim-Bean a badge. He walked out the other side. Signs everywhere read “ONE BEEP, ONE PERSON” indicating that when passing through doors, each person must wait their turn and swipe their security card individually. Past the main gate, the interior area of the compound was all carefully maintained. It looked like any other corporate site in the world, except perhaps a bit cleaner than usual. Smooth, asphalt roads meandered all over, connecting all buildings to one another. Signage clearly pointed the way to each building at each intersection. The two main central buildings in the compound were identical: large industrial buildings built of corrugated steel, concrete, frosted gray windows, steel scaffolding and piping. The building Jim-Bean was specifically interested had a large industrial incinerator jutting from the west side. The chimney from the incinerator spewed spewing a thick, black smoke. Jim-Bean had Weeks' card secreted on his person, a disguise kit divided across his shirt and pants, and nothing else. No weapons, no comm., nothing. He was going in cold. Jim-Bean walked quickly over to the warehouse elevator where he last saw Hammer's crate. "What happened to my shipment?" he asked. The floor manager, sweat on his brow, shook his head. "The usual crap. They're really hustling. I've been pulling double shifts trying to get this all done." "I really need to pee," said Jim-Bean. "Yeah, I know. We all need to go—" "No seriously, I'm going to make a mess on the floor." Jim-Bean hopped back and forth from one leg to another. "I've been holding it because I was working all these shifts and I wanted to bring the shipment in on time before…" he trailed off. Jim-Bean found it prudent to let other people fill in the blanks. "Before they shut Offsite down, I know. All right, go, but don't tell anybody I let you. They're cracking down hard on us." Jim-Bean jogged to the men's room. By unfolding and turning the overalls he wore inside out, he was suddenly wearing a reasonable facsimile of a lab coat. It wasn't perfect – there were zippers on the inside if anyone inspected it closely – but it would do until he could steal another one. Fortunately for Jim-Bean, they had found a driver with similar hair color to Weeks'. Jim-Bean had already dyed his hair brown to match. Their eye color, also brown, made that part easy – he was already wearing contact lenses. He donned Week's glasses. They were the real thing. A prosthetic nose provided a slight hook that was similar to Weeks. He looked just enough like his picture that he could get by. But he was sure it would fail if anyone who knew Weeks personally looked him squarely in the eye. Jim-Bean took a deep breath and strode out of the men's room. Dressed as he was, he looked like any one of the scientists inspecting the cargo. He made his way over to the main building and couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. HE was so worried about identifying alien shadows that they had underestimated basic social engineering… "Hey Weeks!" shouted a passing scientist in a similar lab coat. "You get it finished yet?" Jim-Bean kept walking, but he tilted his head in the same way he'd seen Weeks' do in his interview when he was puzzled by a question. "The 57 Chevy? Just about, still trying to find bulbs for the tailfins." The other man laughed and nodded. "That's one expensive hobby man, you owe me a drive when you're done!" Jim-Bean waved him off. Weeks didn't let anybody touch his cars. "Very funny. If this goes well you'll never see it again." And with that, one agent walked through the front door of Hunt Electronics' fortress while a second agent counted the minutes of his oxygen tank. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
Top