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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4994898" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Landscrapes: Prologue</strong></p><p></p><p>It was a hundred and thirty miles to the hamlet of Delilah, a devolutionary journey from freeway to highway to road, from city to suburb to crossroad. The town was small and ugly, in a plain and boring way. </p><p></p><p>When they arrived, a convenience store, a service station, a post office and a tavern were open. An assortment of pickups and old autos were parked in front of the drinking establishment, where locals came to down a few at the end of the day. </p><p></p><p>Hammer and Jim-Bean opened the door to the tavern. </p><p></p><p>Inside, older men and women sipped their drinks and listened to Elvis croon in crackling tones from the dusty jukebox: the dead man's songs brought back memories of when they were younger and the world was bigger.</p><p></p><p>"We're looking for a room," said Hammer.</p><p></p><p>The bartender/hosteller looked them up and down.</p><p></p><p>"Two rooms," said Jim-Bean forcefully.</p><p></p><p>With a nod and a smile, the bartender rang them up. A credit card was exchanged for a key.</p><p></p><p>"Been a bad year all round really," muttered one of the locals, sipping his beer at the bar. "There's the sudden drought, and there was that bad frost in the Spring; some farmers might be seeing their last summer. There's no predicting the weather these days. And then there's the whole thing with Tagget."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean pivoted on his heel. "What about Tagget?"</p><p></p><p>The man peered quizzically at Jim-Bean. "Pardon?"</p><p></p><p>"Sorry," Jim-Bean flashed him a smile, then addressed the bartender. "His next drink's on me."</p><p></p><p>The older, weathered man returned the smile. "Frank Tagget's boy, Steven, still isn't back after running away. That makes seven times he's pulled the stunt now."</p><p></p><p>"So he disappears a lot?" asked Hammer, his curiosity piqued. </p><p></p><p>"Frank isn't too worried, even though it's been a few months: he reckons Steve'll be back when he’s broke and hungry. You'd think a lad of sixteen would know better. He took Greg Yardleigh's dog with him. Greg reckons Frank owes him a dog."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean and Hammer exchanged glances. "That's one dog and a kid missing." Hammer frowned. </p><p></p><p>"All the more reason not to visit the creepy farm at night," muttered Jim-Bean. </p><p></p><p>"You mean the Finley farm?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, that one."</p><p></p><p>"The best for miles around. Man knew his soils."</p><p></p><p>"I bet," said Jim-Bean.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4994898, member: 3285"] [b]Landscrapes: Prologue[/b] It was a hundred and thirty miles to the hamlet of Delilah, a devolutionary journey from freeway to highway to road, from city to suburb to crossroad. The town was small and ugly, in a plain and boring way. When they arrived, a convenience store, a service station, a post office and a tavern were open. An assortment of pickups and old autos were parked in front of the drinking establishment, where locals came to down a few at the end of the day. Hammer and Jim-Bean opened the door to the tavern. Inside, older men and women sipped their drinks and listened to Elvis croon in crackling tones from the dusty jukebox: the dead man's songs brought back memories of when they were younger and the world was bigger. "We're looking for a room," said Hammer. The bartender/hosteller looked them up and down. "Two rooms," said Jim-Bean forcefully. With a nod and a smile, the bartender rang them up. A credit card was exchanged for a key. "Been a bad year all round really," muttered one of the locals, sipping his beer at the bar. "There's the sudden drought, and there was that bad frost in the Spring; some farmers might be seeing their last summer. There's no predicting the weather these days. And then there's the whole thing with Tagget." Jim-Bean pivoted on his heel. "What about Tagget?" The man peered quizzically at Jim-Bean. "Pardon?" "Sorry," Jim-Bean flashed him a smile, then addressed the bartender. "His next drink's on me." The older, weathered man returned the smile. "Frank Tagget's boy, Steven, still isn't back after running away. That makes seven times he's pulled the stunt now." "So he disappears a lot?" asked Hammer, his curiosity piqued. "Frank isn't too worried, even though it's been a few months: he reckons Steve'll be back when he’s broke and hungry. You'd think a lad of sixteen would know better. He took Greg Yardleigh's dog with him. Greg reckons Frank owes him a dog." Jim-Bean and Hammer exchanged glances. "That's one dog and a kid missing." Hammer frowned. "All the more reason not to visit the creepy farm at night," muttered Jim-Bean. "You mean the Finley farm?" "Yes, that one." "The best for miles around. Man knew his soils." "I bet," said Jim-Bean. [/QUOTE]
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