Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)

[talien]

No Pain, No Gain: Part 12 – Cigars for Everybody

"Where were you?" Hammer glared at Jim-Bean, who had returned to the sleeping quarters sometime in the middle of the night.

"I…I'm not sure," Jim-Bean lied.

"You were with her for a long time," said Archive.

"Did you get anything useful out of her?" asked Hammer. They only spoke about escape plans when Armbruster was feeding. The noise drowned out their conversation.

Jim-Bean shook his head. "I need more time…"

"So much for your great escape plan," snapped Hammer. "Archive?"

"I've been experimenting with some of the chemicals," whispered Archive. "I think I could create an explosion if I needed to."

"We'll need it. She keeps the entrance blocked and none of us are strong enough to open it on our own. Only you could do it, Jimmy."

"I don't think I could do it fast enough for us all to get out in time."

"It all may be moot soon. By my count we've been here a week," said Hammer. "Majestic is going to be looking for us."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Archive. "I didn't think Sprague cared if we lived or died."

Hammer smirked. "Not us. Him." He pointed at Jim-Bean. "Jimmy's too valuable."

Jim-Bean didn't take any solace in that. "Shh, the scratching stopped."

A moment later Armbruster skidded into the room, holding a vial of what could only be urine. "Good news!"

"What?" asked Jim-Bean, bile rising in his throat.

Armbruster patted her stomach. "Guess who's eating for eight!"

 

[talien]

No Pain, No Gain: Conclusion

"What the HELL is wrong with you?" shouted Hammer.

"Be quiet," said Jim-Bean nervously, "or she might hear you." One second into Armbruster's feeding time and they were arguing. Hammer had been steamed all day.

"Hear me?" asked Hammer. "Hear me? That's pretty mild compared to what you did with her!"

"I didn't!" Jim-Bean sputtered. "I mean, I did but…I wasn't myself!"

"She drugged you," said Archive, giving Jim-Bean a way out.

"Yes! No! I don't know!" Jim-Bean rubbed his temple. "She looked different to me then. She gives off this…this vibe, it's hard to explain."

"Don't explain it," snarled Hammer. "Ever. Do you have any idea what Sprague's going to do to us? Or to her?"

Jim-Bean froze. Although the skittering noise was still audible, Armbruster was standing at the opening. They weren't sure how much she had heard.

"Jimmy," she said softly. "I'd like to take a walk with you if you don't mind."

All the saliva in Jim-Bean's throat evaporated. He rose to his feet. "Okay."

"Willie, stay," said Armbruster to the monstrous dog. "Sit. Guard."

The dog chuffed but landed on its haunches, looking back over its shoulder at the agents' sleeping quarters.

Armbruster made her way over to the huge boulder and, with some effort, lifted it out of the way. Sunlight streamed in through the opening. Jim-Bean almost cried – it felt as if it had been years since he'd seen the light of day.

After they made their way outside, Armbruster shoved the boulder back into place.

Holding his hand in a firm grip, Armbruster led Jim-Bean out into the sunlight. "It's Sunday," she said, smiling towards the sky. "No mailmen or deliverymen. Normally I let Willie pick up the mail and packages for me, but today is special."

Armbruster led him over to a ravine, and more importantly, let go of his hand. She began carefully piling up boulders in a pyramid-like formation.

Jim-Bean tried to probe her mind again. If he could get a grip on her subconscious…

But no. She seemed oddly resistant to any psychic influence. Maybe she was right, maybe they really had more in common than he realized.

The thought fled Jim-Bean's mind as the rhythmic thump of hushed helicopter blades reached his ears. It echoed throughout the ravine. In the distance, Jim-Bean could hear Willie howling.

"Jenny, look…that's them. That's the men I talked to you about."

Jenny piled another boulder the size of Jim-Bean's head. THUMP. "I know," she said quietly. "These are the men who keep you on a tight leash."

Jim-Bean bit his lip. He had told her too much. "Yes, that's true. But listen…"

Larry's voice came bellowed through a bullhorn as one of the choppers buzzed the area. He was visible next to Bill, who was manning a heavy machinegun aimed at them. There were three more choppers flying in formation around them. "Put your weapons down and come out with your hands up! This is your only warning!"

"It's too bad, you know," said Armbruster, piling another heavy boulder. THUMP. "I'll survive. And I'm pretty sure you'll survive. But your friends will die. And poor Willie…"

"But think of the babies!" said Jim-Bean, increasingly desperate. "Do you want to risk harm to them?"

Armbruster paused. "I don't know if I want our children to live in a world like this." Then she resumed building the rock pile.

Simultaneously, Jim-Bean reached a tendril of thought towards Agent Larry, Warner's top man: Larry, listen to me. When I say now, you open fire with everything you've got. Do you understand me?

If Larry was startled by the telepathic contact, Jim-Bean wasn't able to see it. The chopper whizzed by for another pass.

"It's a shame," said Armbruster. "I never got to say goodbye to Nolly."

Nolly! The name rang a bell…

"Nolly? Noelle? Noelle Rand?"

Armbruster held a boulder in each hand, hefting the weight. Jim-Bean knew they would be used as shot-puts to deadly effect. "Yes. Did you know her?"

"Yes!" said Jim-Bean. "She's with our people! She's safe!"

Armbruster dropped the boulders and, kneeling down to face him, roughly gripped him by both shoulders. "You don't have to lie to me, honey. I know you're trying to protect my feelings, but I need to know the truth."

Jim-Bean stared into her huge eyes. He noticed for the first time that they were green. The thrum of the helicopters thumped an urgent staccato beat.

"Okay. The truth: Noelle was originally a photographer for Full Wilderness' eco-magazine, The Ecotopian, right?"

Armbruster's grip softened. "Yes."

"She was lured away into the Sisterhood of New Potential, the cult that venerates you. We found…we found her body in an abandoned YMCA. The corpse was deformed…we found Mother's Milk at her apartment."

Armbruster's arms dropped. "She was injecting Mother's Milk, using it like steroids, trying to follow in my footsteps. But it doesn't work the same for everybody." Her head drooped. "Oh, Nolly. Nolly, Nolly, I told you not to get involved."

"All along I thought you were the cult leader," said Jim-Bean rapidly. "But now I realize what was happening – Cynthia Dexter was leading the cult and keeping you isolated."

Armbruster shook her head sadly. "She wanted leverage over me, her high priestess. Dexter was manipulating me all this time." She looked up at the choppers circling, tears in her eyes. "I'll make her pay for this."

"She's dead, Jenny," said Jim-Bean. "We killed her."

Armbruster rose to her feet. "Then I will take down the legacy she left behind."

The choppers were hovering, all four chain-fed machineguns pointed at them. Jim-Bean dove for cover as he psychically blasted just one word to Larry: NOW!

Nothing happened.

Jim-Bean looked up from the ground, hands over his head.

A STREETSWEEPER team in biohazard suits accompanied by heavily armed agents advanced on her. Armbruster put her hands up.

Jim-Bean stood up as Larry passed. "You're arresting her? Why didn't you shoot?"

Larry shot Jim-Bean a grin. "Are you kidding me? She's the find of a century! Warner's going to LOVE this!"

 

[talien]

Chapter 50: Unit 23 - Introduction

This story hour is a combination of the latest Delta Green Mailing List contest entry, "Unit 23," by Graham Kinniburgh, "Two Minutes On High" by Michael P. Nagel from Unspeakable Oath #11, and "Righteous Triad Fists" by Allan T. Grohe from The Triad Sourcebook. You can read more about Delta Green at Delta Green. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Game Master: Michael Tresca
• Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
• Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz (Jeremy Robert Ortiz)
• Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia
• Hank “Guppy” Gupta (Smart Hero/Field Scientist) played by Joseph Tresca (Free Video Training for Photoshop, 3ds Max, Flash, After Effects an more)
• Sebastian "Caprice" Creed (Fast/Charismatic/Smart Hero/Techie) played by Bill Countiss

The odds of someone posting a scenario that perfectly fit the window when I needed something involving tcho-tchos are incredibly small. As fate would have it, Graham posted a scenario that was just perfect. It's not that surprising, given that my tastes in Delta Green action run similar to Graham's. I ended up using his scenario as the glue between At Your Door and what I like to call "Cthulhu Must Die."

This scenario actually draws on a third scenario, Righteous Triad Fists. Instead of having the battle be over The Seventh Scroll of Hsan, we have a Portuguese translation in book form. The goal is simply this: get the book, stop the cultists. Of course, it's much more complicated than that…

I had no idea I would end up with a full host of players that day. Because d20 is level-based, Caprice and Guppy have fallen behind in levels, so I was careful to separate them from the combat initially. What I didn't want was to have a bloodbath where the low level characters get knocked flat while the high level characters pound away on the opposition.

I pretty much butchered Graham's entry – I completely tossed the items he had listed as a homage to Marc McFadden, who recently passed away, along with the allusions to "The Lizard King." I replaced the Banzai 23 with Satan's Sadists, from At Your Door. And most importantly, I wanted to role-play some bidding, which gave our two weaker characters a chance to shine. Since Caprice is involved, that means our favorite cover is back: SNOWDOG!

I've also learned that, although it's fun to place 20 ninjas and 20 thugs on a warehouse map and have them duke it out, it's really not practical to make all those rolls. I learned my lesson running a massive D&D scenario with a similar number of opponents and skipped the boring parts. Narrative combat is key, rather than what miniature is on what part of the page.

Defining Moment: Snowdog and Baz getting into a bidding war…over a stick.

Relevant Media

• Unit 23: Graham Kinniburgh's tribute to Mark McFadden.
• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0011Z0YR2?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0011Z0YR2]Rock Star[/ame]: by Nickelback.
• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000EK5844?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000EK5844]Unspeakable Oath #11[/ame]: The source of Two Minutes on High, and a more detailed account of the items on auction. It includes a great one-page prop of an auction list that I used for the scenario.
• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000LVB2ZU?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B000LVB2ZU]Triad Sourcebook[/ame]: For Hong Kong Action Theater, this little known sourcebook has an adventure that incorporates Cthulhu elements titled Righteous Triad Fists.

 

[talien]

Unit 23: Prologue

And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary of today's Who's Who
They'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial
Well, hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar​

--Rock Star by Nickelback​

CHICAGO, IL--Chicago police and SWAT swarmed the checkpoint, boxing in a perimeter around the warehouse where the White Shadows were supposedly storing rare artifacts and crates filled with Coca Loco.

"You sure it's in there?" asked Jim-Bean, peering through binoculars at their target, a warehouse.

Hammer glared at him. "You're girlfriend gave us the info—"

"She's not my girlfriend," snapped Jim-Bean. "She's…"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is "mother of your children" better?" asked Hammer sarcastically.

Jim-Bean muttered something under his breath.

"I don't like this," said Hammer. "Sprague's pushing us to come up with results too fast. This isn't how we should be running this op."

"You mean we should call in the Jericho Jets?" asked Jim-Bean hopefully.

Hammer rolled his eyes. "No. I mean satellite scans, heat signatures…we're going in blind."

Jim-Bean put the binoculars down and looked out at the mass of police. "Blind, maybe. But definitely not alone."

Hammer tapped his comm. earpiece. "Team One, confirm." He turned back to Jim-Bean. "All this for a stupid book."

"And drugs," said Jim-Bean. "A $#!+ton of drugs."

Hammer got an acknowledgment back from Team One. "Team Two, report."

"Sprague's not the type to care about a silly book," said Jim-Bean.

"Yeah, it's not his style. But then, when you have a fourteen-foot tall four-armed pregnant woman in custody, it's hard to ignore certain facts. Team Three, report."

"Such as the fact that we're chasing after a Portuguese translation of some Chinese book that nobody remembers? I bet the translation isn't even accurate."

"Right," said Jim-Bean. "I think that's why he's in such a rush. He just wants to get this over with and go back to busting Commies or whatever it is he does to justify his job."

"Our jobs," corrected Hammer. "Okay people, we are go." He addressed all three teams of police connected to his comm. "On my mark: Three, two, one. Now!"

SWAT teams stormed the warehouse, pulling up in armored vehicles. All the entrances were covered with automatic weapons and snipers. Tear gas blasted through windows and from skylights.

Hammer and Jim-Bean advanced, pistols at the ready. "Blow it!" shouted Hammer.

SWAT team members affixed plastique to the warehouse door and gave the all clear signal. They ducked down behind impromptu barriers and vehicles.

The door exploded with a thundering crash, groaning outward as it clattered to the ground.

"Go, go, go!" shouted Hammer.

The SWAT teams filtered through, gas masks on, weapons at the ready.

They reported back. "Zone One, clear."

Jim-Bean looked around. "Where is everybody?" The warehouse had been ransacked. "Shouldn't there be lots of screaming and Tcho-Tchos running everywhere?"

"Zone Two, clear!"

Hammer swore as he bent down to inspect a crate that had been hastily pried open. "I knew it. I knew we should have scoped this place out first."

"Zone Three, clear!"

"Son of a BITCH!" Hammer kicked one of the empty crates, hard enough to cause the lid skittering across the floor. It smeared a trail of blood behind it.

Jim-Bean hunched down to peer inside. "Looks like they ambushed them, took the goods, then stuffed them in the crates."

Hammer paced, trying to control his temper. "So someone got to them before we did." He swabbed the bloodstain with one finger. "This is recent. We must have just missed them. Jimmy? Find out where they went."

Jim-Bean put one palm in the smear of blood and closed his eyes. After concentrating for a moment, he stood up. "The Satan's Sadists gang hit the warehouse. They were looking for drugs but ended up with a bunch of artifacts instead. They're planning to sell it at an auction."

"When? Where?" demanded Hammer.

Jim-Bean shook his head. His psychic images were only snapshots of what took place at the scene, like a hidden video camera. If they didn't say something out loud, he didn't experience it in his vision.

"I'm calling in Archive, I don't care what Sprague thinks." Sprague had intentionally shut Archive out of the op because he was a "civilian." Hammer selected Archive's cistron from his own and rang him up.

Archive clicked onto the comm. "Don't tell me," he said, "the place is cleaned out."

"Yes, we think there's an—"

"Auction. I know."

Hammer arched an eyebrow. "How did you know that?"

There was the sound of typing on the other end of the line. "Because I know where it's taking place."

"When did you find this out?" snarled Hammer.

"Just a few minutes ago. I tried to get through to you but I wasn't authorized. Get this: Sprague has another team embedded there already. Looks like he was covering all his bases."

"Who?"

 

[talien]

Unit 23: Part 1 – Twenty Three

Snowdog and his Indian accountant stepped out of the limo in front of a warehouse.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Guppy asked nervously. It'd been awhile since he'd been out in the field. He had been running tech support from behind a desk, recognition from Majestic that he wasn't really up to the kind of stress demanded by a field op.

Located in Chicago's 23rd District, they stood before a disused warehouse amongst an entire wasteland of abandoned and run down industrial units. It was exactly what it is intended to be – a quiet makeshift spot away from traffic where illegitimate business could be conducted.

"Unit 23, 2323 E. Schiller Street," said Snowdog, actually Caprice in his street rapper persona. "Dis is it, yo."

Guppy nodded and, taking a deep breath, they sauntered their way into the warehouse.

White plastic chairs and a few tables were what constituted an "auction space." They all faced an empty table, which had nothing on it. Beyond a generator humming in the background, and some lighting and sound equipment, there wasn't much.

The other participants filtered in. Most were dodgy art dealers, collectors or agents thereof and all of them were a little nervous in the circumstances

"What the hell is this?" snarled a scruffy-looking young man, dressed in torn jeans and t-shirt, a black leather jacket adorned with studs, and heavy boots. His bleached blond hair was spiked, echoing the studded leather dog-collar padlocked around his neck. He stood accusingly in the aisle between the two separate columns of plastic white chairs. "Some kind of tag sale? 'Cause it sure as f*&k doesn't look like an auction to me."

He was flanked by a Jamaican man with long dreadlocks. He wore steel-capped Doc Marten's boots, multi-strapped and zippered bondage trousers, a torn red T-shirt, and a ragged pair of formal coat tails adorned with badges, chains, and hand-painted slogans.

"Baz?" Guppy panicked.

"Somebody we should know?" asked Caprice out of the corner of his mouth.

"Elliot and Johnson!" Guppy repeated for emphasis, his whispered conversation thankfully masked by the hum of the generator. "Baz Elliott! He's the lead guitarist for The Rising!"

"So?"

"Spider Holloway is their band leader. He was friends with Agent Blade. If he recognizes us, our cover's blown!"

"Relax," said Caprice as Snowdog. "I got this." He stood up to face Baz and his companion, staring straight at him.

Baz blinked. "Snowdog? Is that Snowdog?" He elbowed Dave in the ribs. "Check this out, we've got a celebrity in the house!" They snickered.

Caprice snorted. " $#!+, sit down fool. Only adults allowed."

Baz looked like he was going to say something else but he was interrupted by the roar of motorcycle engines. Caprice didn't give him the chance and just sat down, his back to Baz, in an act of disdain. Guppy slowly joined him.

"See?" said Caprice, stretching out his arms behind his head, "they got no clue."

Guppy shook his head. "I hope you're right. Don't forget why we're here -- the Portuguese book."

The bay door was thrown open at the rear of the unit. Several choppers thrummed in, flanking a white panel van. The van pulled slowly up to the table and out of the passenger's seat popped a man in an ill-fitting white suit.

"Satan's Sadists?" shouted Baz. "I thought this was legit!"

Some of the other clientele took up Baz's complaint.

"My name is Victor Milliard and I'll be your auctioneer for this evening and I can assure you this auction is legit," said the greasy man in the white suit. He nodded at the other bikers. Weapons were cocked. "Trust me."

The crowd stopped complaining.

"We've got a couple items for your bidding pleasure. First up is…" he nodded to a big burly biker with a length of chain around his fat gut. The biker turned the page on a big flipchart. It was a photo taken of an item, blown up several times so that everyone could see it even from a distance. "A Haitian Voodoo Doll!"

"Kinkos," muttered Guppy.

"From circa 1800! Constructed of straw and cloth, this voodoo doll is rumored to have caused the death of an unscrupulous French plantation owner! Starting bid, nine thousand five hundred dollars!"

"Ten thousand!" shouted some guy with his hair slicked to one side.

"Ten thousand!" Milliard's squeaky voice became a high-pitched whine as his speech accelerated. "Do I hear more! Do I hear more? Eleven thousand? Done! Twelve thousand, do I hear more? Twelve thousand? Twelve thousand!"

Bidding had spiraled up to over one hundred thousand dollars. Guppy shifted in his seat.

"One hundred and fifty thousand to the Indian fellow! Do I hear more?"

"What?" gasped Guppy. "Wait! I didn’t…"

"Going once…going twice…One hundred sixty thousand to the gentleman with the nose ring. Going once, going twice…Sold for one hundred and sixty thousand dollars!"

Guppy wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Caprice nodded at him. "Yo. Try not to fidget too much."

"Next up is a Celtic walking stick, also known as a shillelagh. Carved with runic symbols. Starting bid, two thousand dollars."

Baz lifted his hand, topping the bidding at two hundred thousand. Caprice scratched his nose.

"Snowdog! And Snowdog jumps into the fray with a bid of two hundred and fifty thousand! Do I hear two seventy five? Is the Rising done for?" Milliard knew how to bait his audience.

Baz swore. After a brief argument with Dave, he glared at Caprice and raised his hand.

"Two seventy five to The Rising! Do I hear three? Do I hear three? Two seventy five going once…going twice."

Caprice coughed.

"Three hundred thousand to Snowdog! Going once…"

Baz swore again, louder this time. Milliard was smart enough to not take the swear as a bid.

"Going twice…sold to Snowdog!"

Guppy looked at Caprice in horror. "You just bought…do you realize how much you just promised to pay?"

"Sure did," said Caprice.

"But…" Guppy leaned close. "We don't have that kind of money! In fact, we don't have any money!"

"S'all good, dog," said Caprice casually. "It'll all work out, you'll see."

"Next up, the Focloro Verdadeiro, a Portuguese book written by Armando Vasco de Moraes in 1875. Fine quality leather binding, limited run – it's the only copy. Rumored to be a translation of an ancient Chinese ritual. Bidding starts at two hundred thousand."

"That's our book!" said Guppy.

Baz raised his hand. "Two ten."

"Two ten! I have two ten! Do I hear two twenty?"

Caprice scratched the back of his head.

"Two twenty! Do I hear two thirty? Two thirty?"

"Two thirty five," snarled Baz.

"Two thirty five? The Rising vs. Snowdog, battle of the bands! Will The Rising get revenge? Let's find out folks…two thirty five going once…going twice…"

Guppy nearly jumped out of his seat. "But…"

"Be cool," hissed Caprice.

"Sold, to Baz Elliot of The Rising!"

"That's the whole reason we're here!" whispered Guppy frantically.

"Naw, the reason we're here is to find the book. We know they got it. This ain't the way to get it from them."

"How will we know when's the right time?" asked Guppy.

Smoke bombs exploded around them as shadowy figures dressed in black darted out of the far reaches of the warehouse.

Caprice stood up, dusting some lint off his shoulder. "Now's the right time."

 

[talien]

Unit 23: Part 2 – Those Darn Ninjas

Caprice, pistol out, made his way through the smoke and the screaming towards the van. All around them, Satan's Sadist bikers engaged with White Shadows.

A throwing star whistled past Guppy's ear, skewering the big biker near the flipchart in the forehead. He foamed at the mouth and fell over.

"We've got to get out of here!" wailed Guppy.

"Chill." Caprice threw open the door. Milliard was slumped over the wheel.

Caprice unceremoniously dumped Milliard. There weren't any keys on the body.

Caprice shoved Guppy in ahead of him and jumped into the cab of the panel van.

"Can you hotwire it?" asked Caprice.

"S-sure!" said Guppy. He wiggled under the steering column.

There was a thump on the hood of the car, thin blade drawn for a strike. Caprice fired his pistol three times, instantly cracking the glass. The safety glass was a spider web of cracks, making it difficult to see anything.

"Almost there…" said Guppy.

A blade shrieked through the top of the cab, just missing Caprice's head. He pointed his pistol upwards and fired the remaining bullets in his Beretta.

Another thump and a body bounced off the hood.

"Got it!" The van hummed to life.

Caprice threw the van into reverse and slammed the gas pedal. It lurched backwards towards the open exit.

Something thumped on the other side of the partition between the cab and the cargo area. "I think someone's back there…" said Guppy.

Then the tires blew out and they were tumbling over and over.

 

[talien]

Unit 23: Part 3 – The Thing in the Van

Archive, Hammer, and Jim-Bean stood uncertainly at the entryway to Unit 23, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Amidst the swirling smoke and occasional spurts of blood, black figures darted in and out. Hammer kept his pistols trained on the entrance, waiting to see what came coughing out of it. Archive stood beside him, muttering an incantation.

Jim-Bean wandered into the melee, firing grenades at random.

FOONT! The explosion caused more screams.

The explosion masked the roar of a vehicle's engine as it made a crazy dash for the wide open exit.

Archive suddenly froze up. Eyes fluttering, he staggered.

Hammer took careful aim and squeezed off a single shot, puncturing the rear wheel. The van, previously barreling past them, suddenly took a sharp turn…right at Hammer and Archive.

"Move!" shouted Hammer. Catching a glimpse of Archive's slumping form, he slammed into him, knocking them both flat.

The van flipped over them, completing a full revolution before landing on its bent wheels. It teetered once, twice, and then was still.

A pitch-black winged figure flopped out of the van. It had webbed feet and hands, with a long snorkel like tentacle dangling from its face. Its skin was rough and catfish-like.

Jim-Bean got a good look at it as its black, pupiless eyes focused on him. He could feel the psychic pressure of a thing not meant for this world.

"Huh," said Jim-Bean calmly. Unphased, he reloaded the grenade launcher and took aim.

Before he could pull the trigger, it was gone. Guppy and Caprice ran around to the back of the van.

"Oh, hi guys," said Jim-Bean. "You just missed the Insane Horror from Beyond Time and Space."

Caprice dove into the van, rifling through the artifacts.

"Did you find it?" asked Guppy.

"Yes!" Caprice crawled back out of the van with the shillelagh he won in the bid.

"Not that, the book!"

"Oh. Nope. There's a book on torturing people and a book about physics, but nothing in Portuguese."

"Great," said Hammer, joining them with a rattled Archive in tow. "Whatever was in the van escaped with it."

"Well I guess we can go home then," said Jim-Bean.

Hammer cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the continuing fracas in the warehouse.

"Oh, right." Jim-Bean fired his machinegun in the air. "May I have your attention please, gentlemen! The police will be here any minute. I recommend you leave before they arrive."

The smoke had cleared. White Shadows and bikers previously engaged in a death struggle stared blankly at Jim-Bean.

He cocked his grenade launcher for emphasis.

The White Shadows scattered, leaving dead bikers in their wake.

Hammer shook his head. "I hate tcho-tchos."

 

[talien]

Unit 23: Conclusion

Archive ticked off the items they had discovered: "…an African juju bag, a Hindu incense burner, a South American feather cloak, an ancient reading glass, a book on physics and sorcery by Sir Isaac Newton, a crystal ball, and a book on torture by Count Ferencz Nadasdy."

"Sounds like nighttime reading to me," said Jim-Bean.

"Were you firing…grenades into that warehouse?" Guppy asked.

Jim-Bean smiled. "Why should the ninjas and bikers have all the fun?"

Hammer, standing a bit apart from the other agents, was getting reamed out by Sprague over his cistron. After a few more grunts and nods, he hung up and marched back to his companions.

"Sprague's pissed, isn't he," said Caprice.

"You could say that. We lost all our police backup. No cops, no SWAT, and…" he looked specifically at Jim-Bean, "no Jericho Jets."

Jim-Bean snapped his fingers.

Hammer took a deep breath. "So it's up to us."

"Us?" asked Guppy. "Just us?"

"Just us," said Hammer. "Sprague and Warner were forced to work together on our warehouse raid, and Warner has control of the manpower. He refuses to give us any other agents. So now Sprague has to prove he was right about this damn book."

"What's so important about this book anyway?" asked Guppy.

"It's a Portuguese translation from the original Chinese, the last of the seven scrolls of Hsan. Written during the Tang or Song Dynasties, these scrolls contained much wisdom handed down in an oral tradition dating from the Hsia Dynasty. The knowledge in the scrolls took the form of riddles, prophecies, parables, and rituals passed down from the Heavens, through the Emperor, to his scribes and the learned men of China. The original scrolls have been lost for centuries. Confucius was the last man said to have read all seven scrolls."

"And the scrolls matter because…" asked Caprice.

"Together, the Seven Scrolls detail the key to the cycles of reincarnation and to the Heavens. Each scroll imparts certain levels of knowledge and they built upon one another, so that one cannot master the secrets of the seventh scroll without having read the first six. According to shipping records, Tiger Transit's already collected the other six scrolls. The seventh has been lost to history…until now."

"Let me guess," said Jim-Bean. "They get all seven scrolls and then bad stuff happens."

"Right," said Archive. "No one's sure what the last scroll was, but it's supposed to trigger a cycle of rebirth amongst the gods…"

"Probably a bad translation," muttered Hammer darkly. "One syllable off from the original Chinese and the whole world goes poof."

Guppy rubbed the back of his aching neck. "This is going to be a very dangerous mission, isn't it?"

"Oh come on, it's not so bad!" Jim-Bean threw one arm around Guppy's neck. "We can take on a couple of ninjas, right big guy?"

"That's not the problem," said Hammer. "Their headquarters, the Jade Temple, has a massive storage of Fumo Loco underneath it. And Fumo Loco is extremely combustible so…"

"No guns," said Caprice.

Before Jim-Bean could say anything else, Hammer barked at him, "and NO grenades!"

 

[talien]

Chapter 51: The Jaded Temple - Introduction

This story hour is from the "Chinatown: The Jaded Temple," in Dragon Magazine #62 by Jerry Epperson for Top Secret. You can read more about Delta Green at Delta Green. Please note: This story hour contains spoilers!

Our cast of characters includes:

• Game Master: Michael Tresca
• Kurtis "Hammer" Grange (Fast Hero/Gunslinger) played by George Webster
• Jim “Jim-Bean” Baxter (Charismatic Hero/Telepath) played by Jeremy Ortiz (Jeremy Robert Ortiz)
• Joseph “Archive” Fontaine (Dedicated Hero/Acolyte) played by Joe Lalumia
• Hank “Guppy” Gupta (Smart Hero/Field Scientist) played by Joseph Tresca (Free Video Training for Photoshop, 3ds Max, Flash, After Effects an more)
• Sebastian "Caprice" Creed (Fast/Charismatic/Smart Hero/Techie) played by Bill Countiss

There are a lot of gems hidden in archives of Dragon, back when a magazine was willing to fill its pages with a multi-page layout of an area that might – MIGHT – have something interesting in it. These were the days when vast pages would be taken up with scenarios that read more like blueprints, with no clear narrative path for the agents to follow. In this case, it's a temple that just happens to be hiding radioactive isotopes.

I knew that I wanted the agents to take on Tiger Transit's headquarters in full force, and that I would eventually need a layout for them to infiltrate. With the Portuguese translation of the Seventh Scroll of Hsan, the Focloro Verdadeiro, slipping through their fingers, the agents are rushed. There's no time for preparation – I threw them right into the next scenario. The twist is that the Tcho-Tchos are trafficking in Fumo Loco, which is highly flammable. That provided a fun twist: Sprague specifically prohibited firearms lest the whole place go up in flames.

This really perturbed Hammer, as I knew it would. But it also provided for some interesting twists. In the end, it comes down to Mok Bin Tau, leader of the White Shadows, and Jim-Bean, the increasingly erratic psychic abductee. We know this will end badly.


Defining Moment: Hammer gets fed up with not using his pistols.

Relevant Media

• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001MI14U4?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B001MI14U4]Dragon Magazine #62[/ame]: Source of the scenario.
• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1887797122?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1887797122]Delta Green: Countdown[/ame]: Source of the Tcho-Tchos, the White Shadows, and Mok Bin Tau.
• [ame=http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0019NZ2FU?ie=UTF8&tag=michaeltresca&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0019NZ2FU]Kung-Fu Fighting[/ame]: by Cee-Lo

 

[talien]

The Jaded Temple: Prologue

Everybody was kung-fu fighting
Those cats were fast as lightning
In fact it was a little bit frightening
But they did it with expert timing​

--Kung-Fu Fighting by Carl Douglas​

CHICAGO, IL-- The temple looked harmless enough. It was located at the edge of the area of the city known as Chicago’s “New Chinatown.” The building was constructed of wood and stone; most of the structure was obscured from view by a ten-foot-high stone wall encircling the grounds. A clump of small, leafy trees blocked the temple from casually prying eyes that looked through the single wrought-iron gate in the wall.

At night, the area just inside the perimeter wall was illuminated in spots, and human shadows could be seen moving inside the temple itself when a body passed before a lighted window. A lone guard patrolled the perimeter wall, his outline clearly discernible in the dim light. There were no other signs of movement outside the temple building.

Hammer lowered the nightvision binoculars he requisitioned in a hurry from the Chicago SWAT team. Sprague had ordered the raid so quickly on the supposed Tiger Transit headquarters that the agents weren't given much time to prepare.

"One guard, from the looks of it. Caprice, you still know your way around a rifle?"

Caprice leaned next to him on the roof of the building across the street from the temple. He grinned and patted the sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. "Sure, but won't that blow the place up?"

Hammer shook his head. "It shouldn't, not out here. We fired several rounds in a Fumo Loco greenhouse – blew out the glass first. So long as there's air circulating we were okay."

Guppy chimed in over the comm. "It's inside that you have to worry about."

"Uh…" Archive interrupted. "Where's Jim-Bean?"

Hammer looked through the binoculars again. "Son of a…"

A shadow that was undeniably Jim-Bean sauntered up to the gate. The soft glow of his lit cigarette marked his path.

"Looks like we are go," said Hammer. "Everybody move!"

The other agents joined Jim-Bean on the other side of the now open gate. He was smiling, with one arm thrown around the guard's shoulders.

"Jimmy, what the hell is going on?" demanded Hammer.

The tcho-tcho smiled at Hammer with a mouth full of filed teeth.

"Hammer, meet my new friend Morris. Morris, meet Agent Hammer."

Morris extended his hand. Hammer didn't take it. The tcho-tcho slowly withdrew his hand.

"Oh don't feel bad, Morris. Agent Hammer isn't the trusting sort like you and I are."

"What is going on?" asked Guppy nervously, out of earshot. "Did he hypnotize him?"

"Mind control," whispered Archive. "I had no idea he was this powerful."

"Did you even consider for one minute that you should have consulted with me first?" snapped Hammer. "There could be another guard. He could be faking it. There could—"

"He's not faking it," said Jim-Bean coolly, removing his arm from the tcho-tcho. "There are no other guards. And no, there aren't any alarms, not alarms that Morris knows of, anyway."

Hammer's eyes narrowed. "Did you just read my mind?"

"Guys, guys," said Caprice. "We've got a mission, remember?"

Hammer was very still. The other agents knew from experience that Hammer was only still when he was about to draw a weapon. "What are we going to do with this idiot now?"

"Oh that's easy," said Jim-Bean. "Morris, take out your knife."

The tcho-tcho hesitated for only a second. Then he drew a wicked-looking knife from its sheath at his belt.

"Jim-Bean…" began Archive.

"Hold it up," commanded Jim-Bean.

Morris held the knife up as if he were about to plunge it into someone. Or himself.

"Jimmy…" snarled Hammer. "You're pushing it with me. Tell him to put the knife down."

"What?" Jim-Bean snorted. "I was just going to ask him to give it to you. Give Agent Hammer the knife, would you Morris?"

Morris flipped the knife around and extended it handle first to Hammer. Hammer slapped it out of his hand and dragged the tcho-tcho into the darkness near one of the trees.

Inside was an open-air courtyard, with trees lining a stone pathway and obscuring the view of most of the yard. The pathway branched into two paths, each ending in a set of stone steps leading up five feet to a loggia.

Hammer cuffed Morris' wrist to it with a tie.

"Tell him to not move or make a sound," said Hammer.

Jim-Bean chuckled. "Man you're no fun at all."

"Maybe not," said Hammer. "But I'm still a human being."

"What's that like?" Jim-Bean continued his meandering journey into the courtyard.