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Operation Bravo: Prologue
Hammer shrugged. "Something about a medical check-up. Majestic's still cagey about him being in the field after the incident in Central Park."
"Yeah," Jim-Bean shook his head. "The incident. I haven't been to a check-up recently, wonder why they're not worried about me."
Hammer smirked. "That's because you're under my supervision."
Jim-Bean rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, right. So we're in this buttcrack of a town because…"
"This is the place where Arthur Hunt's experiment blew up. If there's a legacy of the snake people we discovered in Elberton, it starts here, with the Hunt Electronics plant in Hellbend," said Hammer. "And two people were recently murdered here."
"In Hellbend? Doesn't that reduce the population by ten percent?"
Hammer nodded. "Nearly. It's all on your cistron: The first murder occurred on March 5, on the outskirts of the town. Clifford Potter, a 53 year-old white male, was found mutilated less than four hundred yards from the remains of the ruins of the old Hunt Electrodynamics plant. The county coroner from Independence, Abner White could not readily identify just how exactly he had died."
"Aliens," muttered Jim-Bean.
"You see aliens behind everything."
"It's hard not to when I'm part…something."
"No one doubts foul play of some sort — Potter's body was torn to pieces — but the sheriff's office couldn't come up with a motive. A nearby Bobcat light construction vehicle was tentatively identified as the murder weapon, but few can understand how such an event occurred. Potter had rented it at his own expense and was digging around on the abandoned lot at the ruins of the Hunt plant for some unknown reason. He was known as a local treasure-hunter and was considered just a little bit crazy. Local investigation petered out after just a week."
"Great. Hick cops."
"The second victim, Lucille Mayer, a 36 year-old white female, was reported missing in Hellbend on the night of April 24, and was discovered by State Police over the border in Nevada fourteen days later. The case was officially placed under Federal jurisdiction with the Mayer murder and reassigned to CIFA. We're going to see the sheriff's office right now." Hammer pulled the car over.
The small “Death Valley Office" of the Inyo County Sheriff was located at Hwy 190, Death Valley, California 9232. It was maintained by a two-man on-and-off crew.
"Looks like a glorified shack to me," said Jim-Bean.
They got out of the car and knocked on the shack door.
A tall, middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes answered the door. Hammer flashed his badge. "I'm Agent Grange, this is Agent Baxter, we're with the Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. We've been assigned to the Mayer investigation."
"The Feds, right. Come on in."
The two men worked out of a tiny office perched on the side of Highway 190 with little more than a two-line phone, a ham radio set and a sloth-like internet connection. They sat down at a cramped table.
"I'm Alfred Mann, Sheriff in these parts." He nodded towards a younger man, who leaned against a wall on the far corner of the room. There was only enough room at the table for three chairs so it was just as well. "That's Lucas Androzy, my deputy. Can I offer you boys a coke?" Mann jabbed a finger at the dusty Coke machine jammed next to the desk.
"I'm good, thanks," said Hammer. He didn't even bother to ask Jim-Bean, who had changed his dietary habits to a carefully mixed shake to keep his weight down. He still wasn't excreting normally due to his particularly unique metabolism.
Mann had some files on the table. "Lucas saw a gathering of buzzards, that's how he found the body in the first place. Tell 'em, Lucas."
Androzy frowned and stepped out of the shadows a bit so his features were illuminated by the shafts of sunlight spearing through the partially drawn shades. "There wasn't much left by the time I got there. Had to identify her by her teeth."
Mann nodded, flipping open a folder to a coroner's report. "There was serious blunt trauma and portions of her skeleton were gone."
"Gone?" asked Jim-Bean.
Mann nodded. "Missing. Nevada FBI was called in, and the Las Vegas coroner placed cause of death as violent blunt and cutting trauma—"
"In other words," interjected Hammer. "Murder."
Mann flipped open another folder. "The physical evidence — what of there, there is — matches the marks found on Potter’s body."
"So we've got one killer who tears people up and carts off the pieces?" asked Hammer. "You sure this isn't some kind of animal?"
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't," said Mann. "I don't know." He wiped his forehead in the heat. "To be honest, Agent uh…Grange, we're a bit of our depth here. We could use your help."
Hammer nodded. "That's why we're here. We'd like to investigate the supposed murder weapon."
Androzy leaned forward. "Supposed? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Relax," said Jim-Bean. "We're just saying that we want to build on your team's forensics work." Jim-Bean managed to say "team" without laughing, but just barely.
That seemed to mollify Androzy somewhat.
"Lucas, why don't you take these boys on over to the Gas 'n Sip? The Bobcat's still there, right?"
"Yeah, sure," said Androzy slowly. "Sure, I can do that. I can drive you…"
"We'll take our own vehicle, thanks," said Hammer, rising.
Androzy was about to say more when Jim-Bean interjected. "We've got special forensics equipment in there. I can show you when we get to the crime scene."
Androzy nodded, taken aback by the offer but clearly excited about it.
"Give me a call if you need anything," Mann said to their backs. "We're here to help."
"What happened to Archive?" asked Jim-Bean.I recall the time they found those fossilized mosquitoes
And before long, they were cloning DNA
Now I'm being chased by some irate velociraptors
Well, believe me... this has been one lousy day
--Jurassic Park by Weird Al
Hammer shrugged. "Something about a medical check-up. Majestic's still cagey about him being in the field after the incident in Central Park."
"Yeah," Jim-Bean shook his head. "The incident. I haven't been to a check-up recently, wonder why they're not worried about me."
Hammer smirked. "That's because you're under my supervision."
Jim-Bean rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, right. So we're in this buttcrack of a town because…"
"This is the place where Arthur Hunt's experiment blew up. If there's a legacy of the snake people we discovered in Elberton, it starts here, with the Hunt Electronics plant in Hellbend," said Hammer. "And two people were recently murdered here."
"In Hellbend? Doesn't that reduce the population by ten percent?"
Hammer nodded. "Nearly. It's all on your cistron: The first murder occurred on March 5, on the outskirts of the town. Clifford Potter, a 53 year-old white male, was found mutilated less than four hundred yards from the remains of the ruins of the old Hunt Electrodynamics plant. The county coroner from Independence, Abner White could not readily identify just how exactly he had died."
"Aliens," muttered Jim-Bean.
"You see aliens behind everything."
"It's hard not to when I'm part…something."
"No one doubts foul play of some sort — Potter's body was torn to pieces — but the sheriff's office couldn't come up with a motive. A nearby Bobcat light construction vehicle was tentatively identified as the murder weapon, but few can understand how such an event occurred. Potter had rented it at his own expense and was digging around on the abandoned lot at the ruins of the Hunt plant for some unknown reason. He was known as a local treasure-hunter and was considered just a little bit crazy. Local investigation petered out after just a week."
"Great. Hick cops."
"The second victim, Lucille Mayer, a 36 year-old white female, was reported missing in Hellbend on the night of April 24, and was discovered by State Police over the border in Nevada fourteen days later. The case was officially placed under Federal jurisdiction with the Mayer murder and reassigned to CIFA. We're going to see the sheriff's office right now." Hammer pulled the car over.
The small “Death Valley Office" of the Inyo County Sheriff was located at Hwy 190, Death Valley, California 9232. It was maintained by a two-man on-and-off crew.
"Looks like a glorified shack to me," said Jim-Bean.
They got out of the car and knocked on the shack door.
A tall, middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes answered the door. Hammer flashed his badge. "I'm Agent Grange, this is Agent Baxter, we're with the Counter-Intelligence Field Agency. We've been assigned to the Mayer investigation."
"The Feds, right. Come on in."
The two men worked out of a tiny office perched on the side of Highway 190 with little more than a two-line phone, a ham radio set and a sloth-like internet connection. They sat down at a cramped table.
"I'm Alfred Mann, Sheriff in these parts." He nodded towards a younger man, who leaned against a wall on the far corner of the room. There was only enough room at the table for three chairs so it was just as well. "That's Lucas Androzy, my deputy. Can I offer you boys a coke?" Mann jabbed a finger at the dusty Coke machine jammed next to the desk.
"I'm good, thanks," said Hammer. He didn't even bother to ask Jim-Bean, who had changed his dietary habits to a carefully mixed shake to keep his weight down. He still wasn't excreting normally due to his particularly unique metabolism.
Mann had some files on the table. "Lucas saw a gathering of buzzards, that's how he found the body in the first place. Tell 'em, Lucas."
Androzy frowned and stepped out of the shadows a bit so his features were illuminated by the shafts of sunlight spearing through the partially drawn shades. "There wasn't much left by the time I got there. Had to identify her by her teeth."
Mann nodded, flipping open a folder to a coroner's report. "There was serious blunt trauma and portions of her skeleton were gone."
"Gone?" asked Jim-Bean.
Mann nodded. "Missing. Nevada FBI was called in, and the Las Vegas coroner placed cause of death as violent blunt and cutting trauma—"
"In other words," interjected Hammer. "Murder."
Mann flipped open another folder. "The physical evidence — what of there, there is — matches the marks found on Potter’s body."
"So we've got one killer who tears people up and carts off the pieces?" asked Hammer. "You sure this isn't some kind of animal?"
"Maybe it is, maybe it ain't," said Mann. "I don't know." He wiped his forehead in the heat. "To be honest, Agent uh…Grange, we're a bit of our depth here. We could use your help."
Hammer nodded. "That's why we're here. We'd like to investigate the supposed murder weapon."
Androzy leaned forward. "Supposed? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Relax," said Jim-Bean. "We're just saying that we want to build on your team's forensics work." Jim-Bean managed to say "team" without laughing, but just barely.
That seemed to mollify Androzy somewhat.
"Lucas, why don't you take these boys on over to the Gas 'n Sip? The Bobcat's still there, right?"
"Yeah, sure," said Androzy slowly. "Sure, I can do that. I can drive you…"
"We'll take our own vehicle, thanks," said Hammer, rising.
Androzy was about to say more when Jim-Bean interjected. "We've got special forensics equipment in there. I can show you when we get to the crime scene."
Androzy nodded, taken aback by the offer but clearly excited about it.
"Give me a call if you need anything," Mann said to their backs. "We're here to help."