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Modern/Delta Green - The Beginning of the End (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 5470106" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Gothic: Part 2 – Darklands</strong></p><p></p><p>Darklands was located at 1805 E. 54th Street near Sage. The neighborhoods around Darklands were composed of dark store fronts with broken windows, burned out buildings, vacant lots overgrown with weeds and overcome by trash, and graffiti-encrusted tenements. A few cold eyes stared out from behind the cracked and boarded up windows. The pungent bodies of drunks lay sprawled across the filthy pavement. Rats darted in and out of piles of rubble. </p><p></p><p>The club was a warehouse about half of a city block that was painted a dull black. The front door of the club had a black velvet rope and a lighted sign that read, “Darklands”. Two bouncers guarded the door. One had a clipboard and the other checked IDs. There was a black velvet rope to keep the line to get inside organized. </p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean approached with a case.</p><p></p><p>"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" asked the first bouncer.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean nodded at the other bouncer. "I'm friends with him."</p><p></p><p>"It's cool," said the bouncer mechanically. "I know him."</p><p></p><p>The first bouncer looked surprised. "Well you can't go in there without your kit being searched."</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean shrugged and flipped open the lid. A variety of vicious looking sex toys glistened in the neon lights.</p><p></p><p>"Wow," said the first bouncer.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, we're performers," said Jim-Bean with a grin. </p><p></p><p>Guppy chimed in. "Yes. Performers!" He hadn't understood Jim-Bean's plan to get in until that moment. When he looked down at the toys, Guppy was a little less enthusiastic. "Oh…" he whispered.</p><p></p><p>The bouncer rolled his eyes. "Okay, go on in."</p><p></p><p>Beyond the front door and the diligent bouncers was a pair of heavy, iron-bound doors in a small, dark, black velvet-curtained foyer. Behind the heavy oak doors was Darklands.</p><p></p><p>The theater boxes had long ago been bricked over, and had recently been painted black, as had the floor and ceiling. The black walls were broken only occasionally by mirrors and remnants of dusty red velvet drapes. The yellowed, towering movie screen had been returned to its place over the stage at the back of the building, and flickered noiselessly with ancient black and white horror movies. A heavy hook and a length of dusty chain in the ceiling above was all that remained of the once glorious chandelier; a few rows of antique theater seats faced the dance floor, their once-rich upholstery faded and tom. Harsh, flickering white lights illuminated the club in grainy monochrome, gave the place the look of an old silent movie. Dry ice and smoke mingled to form thick, pungent clouds that rolled and curled in the cloying atmosphere, rising to the far-off ceiling and hanging like a shroud above the patrons. Haunting music wailed and screamed above the constant susurration of the crowd; ghostly figures weaved a slow and macabre pattern across the crowded dance floor. </p><p></p><p>"See them?" asked Hammer.</p><p></p><p>"They're going to blend in a place like this," said Guppy.</p><p></p><p>Darklands was a sea of pale flesh and black clothes: women in black wedding dresses, lace and gauze artfully ripped to reveal skin like alabaster; young men with pouting lips of charcoal, swathed in silk and velvet, their hair crow’s-nests of spikes and cobwebs. Youths in long black coats, black fingernails and wildly-teased hair moved zombie-like to the haunting sounds of the music, and androgynous patrons in mesh and lace posed against stark walls, malevolently majestic in their ebon finery, crosses and other religious symbols dangling from ears, wrists, necks, and clothes.</p><p></p><p>"Man I hate this Gothic $#!+," muttered Jim-Bean. They wended their way towards a booth.</p><p></p><p>Lights flashed and the music blared. The disc jockey was located on an elevated platform on the left side of the room. There was one set of stairs leading to his booth and a bouncer hovered in that area. There was also a second door that led to another part of the club. The door said, “Employees Only”. Up ahead and to the right was a small tattoo and body modification center run by two employees. The crowded bar was at one end of the room, lit with the deathly ultra-violet glow of black light. </p><p></p><p>They slipped into the open booth. Jim-Bean drew the scrying ball from the case with a flourish. Archive's peculiar mumbo-jumbo was right at home here; there were two others just like it on tables. </p><p></p><p>"Well?" asked Hammer impatiently. </p><p></p><p>"I think…" Jim-Bean put his fingertips on the ball. "It's hard to concentrate with all the noise."</p><p></p><p>"Wait," said Guppy. "I think I see them." He pointed at the shiny surface of the sphere.</p><p></p><p>Jim-Bean opened his eyes. "You can see them too?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes," said Guppy, pointing at the dance floor reflected in the sphere. He looked back at two men in the center, then back at the sphere. "They're not casting a reflection."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 5470106, member: 3285"] [b]Gothic: Part 2 – Darklands[/b] Darklands was located at 1805 E. 54th Street near Sage. The neighborhoods around Darklands were composed of dark store fronts with broken windows, burned out buildings, vacant lots overgrown with weeds and overcome by trash, and graffiti-encrusted tenements. A few cold eyes stared out from behind the cracked and boarded up windows. The pungent bodies of drunks lay sprawled across the filthy pavement. Rats darted in and out of piles of rubble. The club was a warehouse about half of a city block that was painted a dull black. The front door of the club had a black velvet rope and a lighted sign that read, “Darklands”. Two bouncers guarded the door. One had a clipboard and the other checked IDs. There was a black velvet rope to keep the line to get inside organized. Jim-Bean approached with a case. "Uh, what do you think you're doing?" asked the first bouncer. Jim-Bean nodded at the other bouncer. "I'm friends with him." "It's cool," said the bouncer mechanically. "I know him." The first bouncer looked surprised. "Well you can't go in there without your kit being searched." Jim-Bean shrugged and flipped open the lid. A variety of vicious looking sex toys glistened in the neon lights. "Wow," said the first bouncer. "Yeah, we're performers," said Jim-Bean with a grin. Guppy chimed in. "Yes. Performers!" He hadn't understood Jim-Bean's plan to get in until that moment. When he looked down at the toys, Guppy was a little less enthusiastic. "Oh…" he whispered. The bouncer rolled his eyes. "Okay, go on in." Beyond the front door and the diligent bouncers was a pair of heavy, iron-bound doors in a small, dark, black velvet-curtained foyer. Behind the heavy oak doors was Darklands. The theater boxes had long ago been bricked over, and had recently been painted black, as had the floor and ceiling. The black walls were broken only occasionally by mirrors and remnants of dusty red velvet drapes. The yellowed, towering movie screen had been returned to its place over the stage at the back of the building, and flickered noiselessly with ancient black and white horror movies. A heavy hook and a length of dusty chain in the ceiling above was all that remained of the once glorious chandelier; a few rows of antique theater seats faced the dance floor, their once-rich upholstery faded and tom. Harsh, flickering white lights illuminated the club in grainy monochrome, gave the place the look of an old silent movie. Dry ice and smoke mingled to form thick, pungent clouds that rolled and curled in the cloying atmosphere, rising to the far-off ceiling and hanging like a shroud above the patrons. Haunting music wailed and screamed above the constant susurration of the crowd; ghostly figures weaved a slow and macabre pattern across the crowded dance floor. "See them?" asked Hammer. "They're going to blend in a place like this," said Guppy. Darklands was a sea of pale flesh and black clothes: women in black wedding dresses, lace and gauze artfully ripped to reveal skin like alabaster; young men with pouting lips of charcoal, swathed in silk and velvet, their hair crow’s-nests of spikes and cobwebs. Youths in long black coats, black fingernails and wildly-teased hair moved zombie-like to the haunting sounds of the music, and androgynous patrons in mesh and lace posed against stark walls, malevolently majestic in their ebon finery, crosses and other religious symbols dangling from ears, wrists, necks, and clothes. "Man I hate this Gothic $#!+," muttered Jim-Bean. They wended their way towards a booth. Lights flashed and the music blared. The disc jockey was located on an elevated platform on the left side of the room. There was one set of stairs leading to his booth and a bouncer hovered in that area. There was also a second door that led to another part of the club. The door said, “Employees Only”. Up ahead and to the right was a small tattoo and body modification center run by two employees. The crowded bar was at one end of the room, lit with the deathly ultra-violet glow of black light. They slipped into the open booth. Jim-Bean drew the scrying ball from the case with a flourish. Archive's peculiar mumbo-jumbo was right at home here; there were two others just like it on tables. "Well?" asked Hammer impatiently. "I think…" Jim-Bean put his fingertips on the ball. "It's hard to concentrate with all the noise." "Wait," said Guppy. "I think I see them." He pointed at the shiny surface of the sphere. Jim-Bean opened his eyes. "You can see them too?" "Yes," said Guppy, pointing at the dance floor reflected in the sphere. He looked back at two men in the center, then back at the sphere. "They're not casting a reflection." [/QUOTE]
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