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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: 4964772" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Owlshead Mountain: Part 2 – The Dastardly Dr. Kline</strong></p><p></p><p>"What was that thing?" asked Jim-Bean. Hammer had bruises around his ears, nose and mouth from the jellyfish-like beast's attack. Jim-Bean, his protoplasm body's healing factor working overtime, showed no signs of violence. </p><p></p><p>Archive shrugged. "Not sure. Some kind of parasite, is my guess. Definitely an immature form."</p><p></p><p>"A baby, you mean," said Hammer.</p><p></p><p>"Something like that. More like a tadpole. My guess is it started out very small indeed, which is why the forensics team missed it."</p><p></p><p>"But it had a few weeks to grow bigger," said Jim-Bean. "Feeding on rats…"</p><p></p><p>"And dogs," added Hammer. </p><p></p><p>"It's possible that thing was related to the package you dropped off at Zymvotek," said Archive.</p><p></p><p>"If that's true, then it will keep growing. We need a lead on Harold Gall. Divers haven't found anything," said Hammer. "Sprague's had an APB out for awhile with the Samson cops…"</p><p></p><p>Hammer's cistron chirped. He answered it. "Hello?"</p><p></p><p>“Hello? Yeah, this is Deputy Fitzgerald. Listen, I saw your bulletin and I just wanted to contact you. I thought the body was taken care of, but after I saw the APB I'm not so sure."</p><p></p><p>"Slow down Fitzgerald," said Hammer. "What are you talking about?"</p><p></p><p>"Harold Gall's body. I was on the scene when the body was retrieved by ambulance. I was too late to stop a police report from being filed. They even called in the CDC because of the questionable condition of the body. The CDC agent identified it as pneumonia, but I’m not so sure.”</p><p></p><p>"CDC agent, huh? Did he identify himself?"</p><p></p><p>"He didn't give a name, now that I think about it."</p><p></p><p>"Can you remember anything else?"</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, the body was strangely bloated, discolored, and leaking a smelly, jelly-like fluid—easily the oddest corpse I’ve ever seen. It was transferred to the Samson Forensics Lab into the care of a Dr. Kline. The reason I'm calling you is because Kline asked me to set up a meeting between CIFA and him at 9:30 p.m. tonight at the rear door next to the loading dock. “</p><p></p><p>Hammer checked his watch. "That's not long from now. We'll be there." He hung up and threw the truck into gear.</p><p></p><p>"So?" asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"One of our friendlies stepped forward. They think they have Harold Gall's corpse."</p><p></p><p>A half hour later, Hammer pulled up to the Samson Forensics Lab. </p><p></p><p>The two-story building presents an average-looking exterior, although the first floor had only a single window. Only a single row of fluorescent lights illuminated the main entrance. </p><p></p><p>The door was unlocked and there was no guard at the entrance.</p><p></p><p>The agents made their way around the side of the building to the loading dock. The light to Kline's office was on.</p><p></p><p>Hammer pushed open the door. </p><p></p><p>Boxes of all sizes were neatly stacked along the south wall and large metal cabinets lined the shorter north wall. The west wall held metal shelving upon which two-liter camber jugs were stacked in neat lines. Large metal drums stood upright in the room’s center, two deep in a row running east-west. The smell of organic solvents was thick in spite of the constant thrum of heavy-duty ventilation fans mounted in ceiling ducts.</p><p></p><p>Dr. Kline was in his late fifties with handsome, well-groomed silvery hair and beard. He wore a lab coat over a shirt and slacks. </p><p></p><p>"Doctor Kline?" asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>"Yes. You're Sprague's CIFA agents?" </p><p></p><p>"Yes," said Hammer. </p><p></p><p>Kline nodded. "We’ll talk after I show you something, something incredible. This way.” Kline motioned for the agents to follow him.</p><p></p><p>When Kline was halfway down the hallway, a door into the hallway opened and a large man in a blue janitor’s uniform emerged, pushing a garbage cart. He called out in a vaguely grotesque mumble, “Dr. Kline, hold the elevator please.”</p><p></p><p>Hammer spun. "Who's that?"</p><p></p><p>"Oh that's just Melvin, the janitor," said Kline, voice rising.</p><p></p><p>As they reached an intersection in the hallway, Melvin grabbed up rusty gardening shears secreted in his cart and viciously attacked Hammer. Simultaneously, Kline pulled out a syringe filled with anesthetic and plunged it into Jim-Bean's neck. A sniper down the other hallway fired at them from a doorway.</p><p></p><p>Hammer danced back, Glock at the ready. He winged Melvin with a shot, spinning the janitor to the ground in an arc of blood. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean, the syringe still sticking out of his throat, turned and fired his own Glock into Kline's forehead, spattering his brains against the wall. </p><p></p><p>Archive returned fire at the sniper. A few gunshots later and the hallway fell silent.</p><p></p><p>"Amateurs," sneered Hammer. "Are any of them still alive?"</p><p></p><p>Archive tested Melvin's pulse. "Barely."</p><p></p><p>"Got another guy down here," called Jim-Bean from the hallway. </p><p></p><p>"Good, patch them up." Hammer snapped on a pair of plastic gloves. "It's time we had a chat."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4964772, member: 3285"] [b]Owlshead Mountain: Part 2 – The Dastardly Dr. Kline[/b] "What was that thing?" asked Jim-Bean. Hammer had bruises around his ears, nose and mouth from the jellyfish-like beast's attack. Jim-Bean, his protoplasm body's healing factor working overtime, showed no signs of violence. Archive shrugged. "Not sure. Some kind of parasite, is my guess. Definitely an immature form." "A baby, you mean," said Hammer. "Something like that. More like a tadpole. My guess is it started out very small indeed, which is why the forensics team missed it." "But it had a few weeks to grow bigger," said Jim-Bean. "Feeding on rats…" "And dogs," added Hammer. "It's possible that thing was related to the package you dropped off at Zymvotek," said Archive. "If that's true, then it will keep growing. We need a lead on Harold Gall. Divers haven't found anything," said Hammer. "Sprague's had an APB out for awhile with the Samson cops…" Hammer's cistron chirped. He answered it. "Hello?" “Hello? Yeah, this is Deputy Fitzgerald. Listen, I saw your bulletin and I just wanted to contact you. I thought the body was taken care of, but after I saw the APB I'm not so sure." "Slow down Fitzgerald," said Hammer. "What are you talking about?" "Harold Gall's body. I was on the scene when the body was retrieved by ambulance. I was too late to stop a police report from being filed. They even called in the CDC because of the questionable condition of the body. The CDC agent identified it as pneumonia, but I’m not so sure.” "CDC agent, huh? Did he identify himself?" "He didn't give a name, now that I think about it." "Can you remember anything else?" "Yeah, the body was strangely bloated, discolored, and leaking a smelly, jelly-like fluid—easily the oddest corpse I’ve ever seen. It was transferred to the Samson Forensics Lab into the care of a Dr. Kline. The reason I'm calling you is because Kline asked me to set up a meeting between CIFA and him at 9:30 p.m. tonight at the rear door next to the loading dock. “ Hammer checked his watch. "That's not long from now. We'll be there." He hung up and threw the truck into gear. "So?" asked Jim-Bean. "One of our friendlies stepped forward. They think they have Harold Gall's corpse." A half hour later, Hammer pulled up to the Samson Forensics Lab. The two-story building presents an average-looking exterior, although the first floor had only a single window. Only a single row of fluorescent lights illuminated the main entrance. The door was unlocked and there was no guard at the entrance. The agents made their way around the side of the building to the loading dock. The light to Kline's office was on. Hammer pushed open the door. Boxes of all sizes were neatly stacked along the south wall and large metal cabinets lined the shorter north wall. The west wall held metal shelving upon which two-liter camber jugs were stacked in neat lines. Large metal drums stood upright in the room’s center, two deep in a row running east-west. The smell of organic solvents was thick in spite of the constant thrum of heavy-duty ventilation fans mounted in ceiling ducts. Dr. Kline was in his late fifties with handsome, well-groomed silvery hair and beard. He wore a lab coat over a shirt and slacks. "Doctor Kline?" asked Hammer. "Yes. You're Sprague's CIFA agents?" "Yes," said Hammer. Kline nodded. "We’ll talk after I show you something, something incredible. This way.” Kline motioned for the agents to follow him. When Kline was halfway down the hallway, a door into the hallway opened and a large man in a blue janitor’s uniform emerged, pushing a garbage cart. He called out in a vaguely grotesque mumble, “Dr. Kline, hold the elevator please.” Hammer spun. "Who's that?" "Oh that's just Melvin, the janitor," said Kline, voice rising. As they reached an intersection in the hallway, Melvin grabbed up rusty gardening shears secreted in his cart and viciously attacked Hammer. Simultaneously, Kline pulled out a syringe filled with anesthetic and plunged it into Jim-Bean's neck. A sniper down the other hallway fired at them from a doorway. Hammer danced back, Glock at the ready. He winged Melvin with a shot, spinning the janitor to the ground in an arc of blood. Jim-Bean, the syringe still sticking out of his throat, turned and fired his own Glock into Kline's forehead, spattering his brains against the wall. Archive returned fire at the sniper. A few gunshots later and the hallway fell silent. "Amateurs," sneered Hammer. "Are any of them still alive?" Archive tested Melvin's pulse. "Barely." "Got another guy down here," called Jim-Bean from the hallway. "Good, patch them up." Hammer snapped on a pair of plastic gloves. "It's time we had a chat." [/QUOTE]
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