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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: 4963483" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Owlshead Mountain: Part 1 – The Thing in the Car</strong></p><p></p><p>Gall's empty car was first noticed by a Herb Hike of 6060 Fulton Avenue, Samson, who happened to observe Gall's wallet lying open on the front seat. Hike, a visiting researcher at UC-Samson, called police because he feared the locked vehicle would be broken into and the wallet stolen. The responding officers took more than casual notice of the vehicle because the viewpoint where it was discovered was little more than fifty yards from a high sea cliff. Several suicides each year took place there, and the officers knew that people driven to suicide frequently left behind wallet or purse as a memorial or marker.</p><p></p><p>The vehicle, a late-model BMW, was newly scraped and battered in amazing fashion. Because of the extensive body damage, the reporting officer suggested that the driver may have been drunkenly despondent when he reached the sea, and there climbed over the rail and fell to his death among the rocks and pounding surf a hundred feet below.</p><p></p><p>Hammer flashed his badge at Lester, the owner of Hurricane Towing. </p><p></p><p>Lester squinted at it. "Feds huh? Well, come on through." He pressed a button and the gate buzzed open. "Don't know why you boys want to look at it again though."</p><p></p><p>"We may have missed something," Hammer said nonchalantly.</p><p></p><p>In the background, a Rottweiler barked incessantly. "Cujo! Cujo, cut out that racket!" He turned back, apologetic, to address the agents. "He ain't normally like that."</p><p></p><p>Cujo paced. Lester hooked his chain up before the dog could come closer.</p><p></p><p>As Jim-Bean passed, the dog made a running leap at him, only to be snapped backwards by the chain. Coughing and gagging, the Rottweiler retreated. </p><p></p><p>"It's okay," said Jim-Bean. "Happens all the time."</p><p></p><p>"Good guard dogs are hard to find. Cujo's my third dog in a few months. They keep runnin' off." said Lester. "The car's over here. Still drivable. The steering column is broken. Has about a quarter tank of gas."</p><p></p><p>"Great, thanks," said Hammer. "We'll take it from here."</p><p></p><p>"Sure thing," said Lester, relieved that he wouldn't have to stand around while the agents investigated Gall's car. "Cujo!" Cujo had begun barking again. "Cujo, calm down! Dumb dog's gonna choke himself to death…"</p><p></p><p>Archive peered at the vehicle. "You think you're really going to find something?"</p><p></p><p>"I'd like you two to take a look at it," said Hammer while he wormed his way into the back seat with a flashlight.</p><p></p><p>Archive whispered some arcane phrases. "Nothing magical about it."</p><p></p><p>"And before you ask, no auras either," said Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>Hammer reached under the seat and tugged. After a moment he was rewarded with a small plastic container.</p><p></p><p>"Figures. Warner's boys are sloppy."</p><p></p><p>Hammer held it up in the fading sunlight. There were patches of a strange residue, perhaps dried mucus or gel, staining the plastic container. </p><p></p><p>"Whatever was in this, it's long gone—" was all Hammer got out before the thing that was in the container burst out from the back seat.</p><p></p><p>It was shaped something like a sea-urchin, with soft, flexible tendrils. Its color was a translucent white tinged with blue, much like skimmed milk. Hammer didn't make out any other details because it leaped onto his face.</p><p></p><p>The tentacles lacerated his face, probing, shoving, violating his ears and nose and throat. It wanted in.</p><p></p><p>Hammer let out a grunt and managed to shove one hand between the jelly-like thing and his face. He tore it off, flinging it away.</p><p></p><p>The thing bounded off the trunk of the car and launched itself as Jim-Bean. Jim-Bean got one hand up just in time. The thing wrapped its tentacles around his face.</p><p></p><p>"I'll try…" he gasped "…to put it…in my baghhkh!" the last was drowned out as the thing started prying his mouth open.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stumbled over to his satchel and shoved his head in it, both hands now busy keeping the thing from sliding down his throat. Concealed from view, Archive and Hammer couldn't see if Jim-Bean was losing the fight.</p><p></p><p>His movements took on an unnatural, herky-jerky quality. </p><p></p><p>"That's it," said Hammer. He took his best guess and fired into the satchel.</p><p></p><p>There was another moan and this time Jim-Bean's body bucked violently. The thing was making its way inside him.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean stopped moving, his head still concealed by the bag like some torture victim. Archive rolled him over and tore open his shirt.</p><p></p><p>His mouth was a bloody, bruised mess, but there was no sign of the creature. Blood oozed from a bullet wound through Jim-Beam's cheek. </p><p></p><p>"It's inside him!" shouted Archive.</p><p></p><p>He took out a piece of chalk and began drawing on Jim-Bean's chest.</p><p></p><p>"What are you doing?" asked Hammer, feeling helpless. He kept his pistols at the ready.</p><p></p><p>"Exorcising it. Get ready on my count."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean's neck pulsed with an unnatural bulge. </p><p></p><p>"One…"</p><p></p><p>Archive finished drawing the pentagram on his chest.</p><p></p><p>The bulge was making its way down to Jim-Bean's ribcage.</p><p></p><p>"Two…" </p><p></p><p>Archive drew a burning eye in the center of the pentagram.</p><p></p><p>"If it gets into his guts…" said Hammer. </p><p></p><p>Archive shook his head, but whether it was in disagreement with Hammer's assessment or an attempt to maintain his concentration was unclear. </p><p></p><p>"THREE!"</p><p></p><p>Archive pressed the Elder Sign amulet he wore around his neck into the circular eye he drew on Jim-Bean's chest. Jim-Bean's body bucked as he heaved a gasp. With another convulsion, he vomited the thing upwards.</p><p></p><p>Tracking it through the air, Hammer unleashed both of his silenced Glocks. It exploded in a spray of white ichor.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean sat up, blinking. A moment later he threw up what was left in his stomach.</p><p></p><p>"I am never…eating seafood…again…" he gasped.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4963483, member: 3285"] [b]Owlshead Mountain: Part 1 – The Thing in the Car[/b] Gall's empty car was first noticed by a Herb Hike of 6060 Fulton Avenue, Samson, who happened to observe Gall's wallet lying open on the front seat. Hike, a visiting researcher at UC-Samson, called police because he feared the locked vehicle would be broken into and the wallet stolen. The responding officers took more than casual notice of the vehicle because the viewpoint where it was discovered was little more than fifty yards from a high sea cliff. Several suicides each year took place there, and the officers knew that people driven to suicide frequently left behind wallet or purse as a memorial or marker. The vehicle, a late-model BMW, was newly scraped and battered in amazing fashion. Because of the extensive body damage, the reporting officer suggested that the driver may have been drunkenly despondent when he reached the sea, and there climbed over the rail and fell to his death among the rocks and pounding surf a hundred feet below. Hammer flashed his badge at Lester, the owner of Hurricane Towing. Lester squinted at it. "Feds huh? Well, come on through." He pressed a button and the gate buzzed open. "Don't know why you boys want to look at it again though." "We may have missed something," Hammer said nonchalantly. In the background, a Rottweiler barked incessantly. "Cujo! Cujo, cut out that racket!" He turned back, apologetic, to address the agents. "He ain't normally like that." Cujo paced. Lester hooked his chain up before the dog could come closer. As Jim-Bean passed, the dog made a running leap at him, only to be snapped backwards by the chain. Coughing and gagging, the Rottweiler retreated. "It's okay," said Jim-Bean. "Happens all the time." "Good guard dogs are hard to find. Cujo's my third dog in a few months. They keep runnin' off." said Lester. "The car's over here. Still drivable. The steering column is broken. Has about a quarter tank of gas." "Great, thanks," said Hammer. "We'll take it from here." "Sure thing," said Lester, relieved that he wouldn't have to stand around while the agents investigated Gall's car. "Cujo!" Cujo had begun barking again. "Cujo, calm down! Dumb dog's gonna choke himself to death…" Archive peered at the vehicle. "You think you're really going to find something?" "I'd like you two to take a look at it," said Hammer while he wormed his way into the back seat with a flashlight. Archive whispered some arcane phrases. "Nothing magical about it." "And before you ask, no auras either," said Jim-Bean. Hammer reached under the seat and tugged. After a moment he was rewarded with a small plastic container. "Figures. Warner's boys are sloppy." Hammer held it up in the fading sunlight. There were patches of a strange residue, perhaps dried mucus or gel, staining the plastic container. "Whatever was in this, it's long gone—" was all Hammer got out before the thing that was in the container burst out from the back seat. It was shaped something like a sea-urchin, with soft, flexible tendrils. Its color was a translucent white tinged with blue, much like skimmed milk. Hammer didn't make out any other details because it leaped onto his face. The tentacles lacerated his face, probing, shoving, violating his ears and nose and throat. It wanted in. Hammer let out a grunt and managed to shove one hand between the jelly-like thing and his face. He tore it off, flinging it away. The thing bounded off the trunk of the car and launched itself as Jim-Bean. Jim-Bean got one hand up just in time. The thing wrapped its tentacles around his face. "I'll try…" he gasped "…to put it…in my baghhkh!" the last was drowned out as the thing started prying his mouth open. Jim-Bean stumbled over to his satchel and shoved his head in it, both hands now busy keeping the thing from sliding down his throat. Concealed from view, Archive and Hammer couldn't see if Jim-Bean was losing the fight. His movements took on an unnatural, herky-jerky quality. "That's it," said Hammer. He took his best guess and fired into the satchel. There was another moan and this time Jim-Bean's body bucked violently. The thing was making its way inside him. Jim-Bean stopped moving, his head still concealed by the bag like some torture victim. Archive rolled him over and tore open his shirt. His mouth was a bloody, bruised mess, but there was no sign of the creature. Blood oozed from a bullet wound through Jim-Beam's cheek. "It's inside him!" shouted Archive. He took out a piece of chalk and began drawing on Jim-Bean's chest. "What are you doing?" asked Hammer, feeling helpless. He kept his pistols at the ready. "Exorcising it. Get ready on my count." Jim-Bean's neck pulsed with an unnatural bulge. "One…" Archive finished drawing the pentagram on his chest. The bulge was making its way down to Jim-Bean's ribcage. "Two…" Archive drew a burning eye in the center of the pentagram. "If it gets into his guts…" said Hammer. Archive shook his head, but whether it was in disagreement with Hammer's assessment or an attempt to maintain his concentration was unclear. "THREE!" Archive pressed the Elder Sign amulet he wore around his neck into the circular eye he drew on Jim-Bean's chest. Jim-Bean's body bucked as he heaved a gasp. With another convulsion, he vomited the thing upwards. Tracking it through the air, Hammer unleashed both of his silenced Glocks. It exploded in a spray of white ichor. Jim-Bean sat up, blinking. A moment later he threw up what was left in his stomach. "I am never…eating seafood…again…" he gasped. [/QUOTE]
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