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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4966704" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Owlshead Mountain: Part 4 – The Anterior Sample</strong></p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean caught up with the other two agents as they left Kline's office.</p><p></p><p>"So?"</p><p></p><p>"A mysterious Mr. Smithy paid Kline to get rid of Gall's body and delete all forensic records of it," said Hammer, making his way purposefully down the hallway where Williams had fired at them.</p><p></p><p>"Only he didn't," added Archive. "He kept it, looking to sell it on the black market. Something about the body transforming into a jellyfish-like substance through TPA."</p><p></p><p>"What's TPA?" asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"We don't know," said Hammer. "But Locker 23 should explain a lot. It's Gall's locker."</p><p></p><p>They made their way upstairs to the second floor. </p><p></p><p>Steel metal lockers lined the walls of the chamber and a double row of lockers formed an island in the room’s center. The lockers were numbered.</p><p></p><p>Hammer jimmied the lock on Locker 23 and fished out its contents. </p><p></p><p>Locker 23 contained a glossy flier, a filthy lab coat, a muddy and torn composition book, and a handkerchief with the initials “H.G.” on it.</p><p></p><p>Archive took a look at the composition book. "There's a few words here: 'this record is the truth' and 'Thomas Waban confirms Cornstalk connection. The talisman is my only hope' on the inside leaf. The first page of the composition book is torn out."</p><p></p><p>"So we need to find Waban," said Hammer. "That just leaves one thing."</p><p></p><p>"There's another thing?" asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"The body," said Hammer. "Kline was holding onto it. We need to clean up his mess."</p><p></p><p>"Can't we just call in a STREETSWEEPER team?" asked Jim-Bean.</p><p></p><p>"We could," said Hammer, checking the bullets in his Glock. "But if Gall's body is anything like what we found in his car, it could easily escape."</p><p></p><p>"I was afraid you were going to say that," muttered Jim-Beam as he followed Hammer and Archive down the steps to the basement. </p><p></p><p>The basement was a wide, damp space enclosed by unfinished cement. A few bare bulbs provided inadequate light. Besides fuse boxes, wiring, plumbing, and the bare ductwork associated with most basements, several dozen empty metallic drums cluttered the side walls. A very large incinerator/heater squatted against the center of the east wall, vintage early 1900s. </p><p></p><p>"Archive, see if you can't get that incinerator fired up," said Hammer. "Jim-Bean, you're with me. Let's search the barrels."</p><p></p><p>They spread out. Archive fired up the incinerator. It made a horrendous noise, crackling with all the fury of hell itself. The flames created a decidedly infernal cast to the room. </p><p></p><p>"Hey," Jim-Bean pointed at lightly chalked initials on one of the barrels. "There's letters written on this one. H.G."</p><p></p><p>"That's got to be it," said Hammer. He turned from the barrel he was inspecting. </p><p></p><p>"There's a padlock here." Jim-Bean lifted it with the barrel of his pistol. "But it looks like the lid's been bent open from the insAAAAH!"</p><p></p><p>Hammer was treated to the horrific sight of Harold Gall's head clinging to the back of Jim-Bean's neck. </p><p></p><p>The disembodied head was completely transparent and hairless, though “head” was too generous a term. Six slender, translucent tentacles sprouted from the head in a radially symmetrical pattern, though the vacant expression on the original translucent shape remained horribly distinct.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean spun, clawing at the thing on his neck. </p><p></p><p>"I can't get a clear shot!" shouted Hammer.</p><p></p><p>The thing launched itself off of Jim-Bean and landed on the stairwell. It skittered up the steps. Archive ran after it.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean and Hammer joined him a few seconds later. </p><p></p><p>"Did you see where it went?" asked Jim-Bean, panting.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah," said Archive. He pointed at the slimy trail that led down the hallway and slipped under a door. "There."</p><p></p><p>The sign read: BODY BANK.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4966704, member: 3285"] [b]Owlshead Mountain: Part 4 – The Anterior Sample[/b] Jim-Bean caught up with the other two agents as they left Kline's office. "So?" "A mysterious Mr. Smithy paid Kline to get rid of Gall's body and delete all forensic records of it," said Hammer, making his way purposefully down the hallway where Williams had fired at them. "Only he didn't," added Archive. "He kept it, looking to sell it on the black market. Something about the body transforming into a jellyfish-like substance through TPA." "What's TPA?" asked Jim-Bean. "We don't know," said Hammer. "But Locker 23 should explain a lot. It's Gall's locker." They made their way upstairs to the second floor. Steel metal lockers lined the walls of the chamber and a double row of lockers formed an island in the room’s center. The lockers were numbered. Hammer jimmied the lock on Locker 23 and fished out its contents. Locker 23 contained a glossy flier, a filthy lab coat, a muddy and torn composition book, and a handkerchief with the initials “H.G.” on it. Archive took a look at the composition book. "There's a few words here: 'this record is the truth' and 'Thomas Waban confirms Cornstalk connection. The talisman is my only hope' on the inside leaf. The first page of the composition book is torn out." "So we need to find Waban," said Hammer. "That just leaves one thing." "There's another thing?" asked Jim-Bean. "The body," said Hammer. "Kline was holding onto it. We need to clean up his mess." "Can't we just call in a STREETSWEEPER team?" asked Jim-Bean. "We could," said Hammer, checking the bullets in his Glock. "But if Gall's body is anything like what we found in his car, it could easily escape." "I was afraid you were going to say that," muttered Jim-Beam as he followed Hammer and Archive down the steps to the basement. The basement was a wide, damp space enclosed by unfinished cement. A few bare bulbs provided inadequate light. Besides fuse boxes, wiring, plumbing, and the bare ductwork associated with most basements, several dozen empty metallic drums cluttered the side walls. A very large incinerator/heater squatted against the center of the east wall, vintage early 1900s. "Archive, see if you can't get that incinerator fired up," said Hammer. "Jim-Bean, you're with me. Let's search the barrels." They spread out. Archive fired up the incinerator. It made a horrendous noise, crackling with all the fury of hell itself. The flames created a decidedly infernal cast to the room. "Hey," Jim-Bean pointed at lightly chalked initials on one of the barrels. "There's letters written on this one. H.G." "That's got to be it," said Hammer. He turned from the barrel he was inspecting. "There's a padlock here." Jim-Bean lifted it with the barrel of his pistol. "But it looks like the lid's been bent open from the insAAAAH!" Hammer was treated to the horrific sight of Harold Gall's head clinging to the back of Jim-Bean's neck. The disembodied head was completely transparent and hairless, though “head” was too generous a term. Six slender, translucent tentacles sprouted from the head in a radially symmetrical pattern, though the vacant expression on the original translucent shape remained horribly distinct. Jim-Bean spun, clawing at the thing on his neck. "I can't get a clear shot!" shouted Hammer. The thing launched itself off of Jim-Bean and landed on the stairwell. It skittered up the steps. Archive ran after it. Jim-Bean and Hammer joined him a few seconds later. "Did you see where it went?" asked Jim-Bean, panting. "Yeah," said Archive. He pointed at the slimy trail that led down the hallway and slipped under a door. "There." The sign read: BODY BANK. [/QUOTE]
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