Delta Green - Actual Play (CONTAINS SPOILERS)

[kinnygraham]

I haven't been on here a while due to limited PC acess - but I finally got to kick off my Delta Green game on Monday of this week ( 6th September 2004 ) and things went well - so I thought I would share the experience. I've also shared this with the community over on Yog-sothoth.com and I hope it's of interest to people here.

I've started off with two players (my thanks to Martin Tulloch and Steve Emmott from the Leeds role-playing group ...Some of you on here may know Steve as he is a manager in the Travelling Man chain of games shops here in the UK). I hope to introduce one or more additional players as things develop.

I kicked the campaign off with 'Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays- - the suggested 'introductory' scenario from the original Delta Green sourcebook.

For those of you who think you might end up as a player in that scenario - please stop reading now. What follows are some notes on what I did to prepare the scenario and how the first session went. Most of the handouts I refer to I have saved on to a folder on the Delta Green Yahoo Group so that other Keepers can use.




Steve played agent 'Scott Hackett' a somewhat grizzled veteran who was formerly on regular duty with the FBI Hostage Rescue Team. Hackett was present at the Siege of the Branch Davidian Compound in Waco - the mental scars of which he bears to this day.

Martin played agent 'Peter de Vere'. Peter comes from old East Coast money but is currently estranged from his blue blood relatives and lives very modestly having been 'cut off' . He is also something of a maths whizz kid. He took advantage of an FBI scholarship programme and his immediate future is committed to the Bureau as a result.

I kicked off the game explaining that it was set in August of 1997, and that the players were based in the Phoenix Field Office in Arizona. [I was able to show them handouts depicting the FBI building in Phoenix and an FBI Arizona office patch - images obtainable from the FBI website ]

Atmosphere wise - the scene was set with the use of the 'Silence of the Lambs' soundtrack throughout....

The characters had been summoned to see the SAC for Phoenix who was assigning them to a new case. I gave them a handout depicting the front page of the 'National Tattler' which contained a story about mysterious disappearances occurring on or near Highway 70 passing through the San Carlos Indian reservation. They were told to make their way to San Carlos the next morning to meet up with the Arizona State Police Major investigating the disappearances. They were instructed to play it carefully with the local law enforcement - the reservation is a separate legal jurisdiction with it's own police force in addition to the state troopers - and relationships between Native-Americans and federal agencies have been strained in the past [another handout was provided describing the case of Leonard Peltier - an Indian activist convicted of killing two agents]. The PCs were being assigned on an 'advisory' capacity only.

The characters obtained a detailed map of the area [ I had purchased a good atlas of Arizona so was happily able to oblige ] and after signing for a 4 wheel drive vehicle from the car pool and gathering some equipment together they set off for the San Carlos area - just over 2 hours drive away. They checked themselves in to the Apache Gold Casino Hotel [which can be viewed online at it's own website ] and set off on recce of the area. First impressions were that Highway 70 was a lonely, quiet stretch of road.

Returning to the hotel there was some nice role playing between the players as their characters got to know each other a little better over a drink - Hackett expressing mild cynicism about the role of mathematics and statistics in modern investigative work and then clamming up, changing the subject and ordering more drinks when the subject of Waco was raised by de Vere.

The next morning they made their way to San Carlos and after encountering a Tribal Police Officer engaged in some public relations with some tourists [giving me a chance to use a picture of a San Carlos Tribal Police officer doing just exactly that which I'd found on the 'net') they met up with Major Frank Garrett of the ASP and Sheriff Colorados of the SC Reservation Tribal police. After making it plain that this was their 'turf', further details about the disappearances were provided and the last known whereabouts of the individuals concerned were plotted on the map. Hackett made a point of trying to put Colorados at ease - emphasising that they were here to assist and not to hinder.

The two agents decided to visit the scene of the last disappearance - that of an Indian rancher and his family who had vanished from their home. With Colorados accompanying them they arrived at the property - de Vere setting off to examine the buildings and Hackett exploring the surrounding area to look for vantage points from which the house may have been monitored. Reaching a nearby hillock, the keen-eyed Hackett spotted vultures circling about a mile away further into the hills surrounding the property. They all set off to investigate - joined at this point by John Crow, a taciturn old Apache and neighbouring farmer.

Presently they came upon an a flat, barren area surrounded by dunes. Vultures had alighted upon what looked like a large number of small mounds of disturbed earth and were greedily feasting on gobbets of flesh they were tearing from them. The stench of death hung heavy in the hot, oppressive air... Examining the nearest one, the players discerned that the mounds seemed to contain sheep carcasses. Furthermore, they were covered in prints and it looked as if a coyote had uncovered the sheep - although there were no signs that the coyote had done anything to the carcasses after exposing them. John Crow explored further (ignoring the agents concerns about contaminating the scene) and silently pointed out a larger mound to them. The squeamish de Vere stayed put, but Hackett moved closer and soon saw that there was a human hand protruding from the larger mound - as well as signs of exposed clothing. It looked big enough to contain several persons. Colorados went off to his cruiser to summon backup. Crow completed his examination of the area, looking even further perplexed by something - but not divulging anything to the white men and only conversing in Apache with Colorados on his return. Colorados informed the investigators that Crow had noticed that the coyote tracks could not be found entering or leaving the area. John Crow apparently thought that this was the work of 'spirit animals' . Colorados had further news; his men were on their way to secure the scene, but the two agents were wanted elsewhere. The Arizona State Troopers had spotted the roof of a buried car from the air about 12 miles further down State 70 from their present location.

Arriving at the scene, they found Garrett and his State Troopers busily excavating the car. De Vere spotted the fact that the troopers were standing all over some further prints: coyote prints again. From marks on the roof, it looked as if a coyote had exposed the roof of the car. Photographs were taken, somewhat to the chagrin of Major Garrett - who was in a hurry to establish whether the vehicle was an important development or not and who was not really interested in 'wildlife'. The car was then exposed enough for the driver's door to be opened and Garrett and the State Troopers turned expectantly towards the agents. Hackett bravely stepped forward and took the plunge. Opening the door, he was confronted first by the sickening stench of decay and immediately thereafter by the sight of a rotting, disfigured corpse. The body was that of a man. His bottom jaw hung impossibly open - obviously dislocated by a substantial degree of force, and his intestines were spilled out on his lap. Hackett successfully fought back the natural urge to vomit - barely. Two of the State Troopers didn't. De Vere, squeamish again, kept his distance. The Medical Examiner and a ASP forensic team were summoned. In the meantime however, the Texas plates of the car were exposed and identified - providing a further twist to the day's events. The two agents were aware of the car owner's name from an FBI bulletin which had been circulated some weeks earlier [I had a handout prepared summarising the following facts] The car belonged to a Kenneth Braverman, a Houston cop wanted in connection with a series of gruesome prostitute murders - and also for the murder of his two children and suspected kidnapping of his wife. It now appeared he was dead, with no sign of his missing wife......

And that was where we left the first session....

Hope this was of interest, and I'll provide a further update as the game progresses.

[kinnygraham]

OK - played the second session of my Delta Green game last night (13th September 2004). As before, this contains SPOILERS for a published Delta Green scenario - so potential players - STOP READING NOW ! If your Keeper has been talking about how much he's really looking forward to buying the Delta Green D20 statted re-print (or has just bought the original for a small fortune off of E-Bay)......THAT MEANS YOU !



We picked up where the action left off last time (see my last journal entry), with the player characters investigating some mysterious disappearances in the San Carlos Indian Reservation in Arizona. After potentially having found the remains of one of the missing families, they were summoned to another site where they uncovered the body of a policeman turned wanted mass murderer - not something they were quite expecting.

Re-examining the corpse before the forensics team arrived, agent Hackett could see that most of it's front teeth were missing (in addition to the dislocated jaw and severe abdomen trauma). They then decided to let the forensics experts do their jobs. They headed off to the first site where another forensics team from the Arizona State Police were now engaged in documenting the scene. They were also introduced to Dr Guiturez, the Medical Examiner from neighbouring Graham County whose jurisdiction encompassed the reservation. The large shallow grave found earlier now disclosed the four corpses of the missing Begay family and they were not a pretty sight. Twenty sheep were also buried nearby. The two agents decided to call it quits for the evening - the forensic technicians faced a long night ahead of them and expected to be able to deliver a preliminary report in the morning. They headed back to their hotel to discuss the case over a bourbon or two but they were still trying to come to grips with events. Agent De Vere, before retiring, decided to do a bit of internet research on coyotes (both burial sites seem to have been exposed by the action of coyotes) and he found that that the Coyote Spirit was an important figure in Native American myth - a trickster / joker culture hero who can be either deceiver or deceived.

Awaking the next morning, De Vere was also puzzled to find a plain brown envelope pushed under his door. Opening it, he found it contained a County map of West Virginia with the neighbouring counties of Tucumseh and Lowery circled in red. Accompanying it was a clipping from the Scientific American describing how West Virginia had been treated to a spectacular meteor shower back in January (it was now August). In fact Tucumseh County had been the recipient of some meteor fragments. Puzzling over this, De Vere committed these materials to evidence bags. He shared his research of the night before, and this latest information - with Hackett on the drive over to the morning briefing in the SC Tribal Police Station. From there they dispatched the envelope and contents to the lab in Phoenix for analysis.

Here they attended a briefing given by a bleary eyed Guiturez who had toiled through the night. His results were as follows:

The Begay family had all had been subjected to a horrific attack, their bodies were drained of blood and they had been mutilated in a variety of nasty ways. It looks as if someone had hacked off various strips of flesh and muscle. Interestingly their bodies showed traces of an as yet unidentifiable paralysing agent which seems to have affected their muscles. Sheep carcasses found at the scene also showed these traces. The ME requested the assistance of the FBI labs in analysing the substance and a sample was duly dispatched.

Kenneth Braverman died of severe abdominal trauma (his stomach was slashed open). Shortly thereafter, someone (and all the evidence - flesh scrapings found on his remaining teeth, teeth found lodged in his oesophagus etc - pointed to his missing wife) shoved their arm down his throat and ripped out his lungs. Braver man's wife looks as if she spent some time in the trunk of the vehicle (where bindings were found) and her bloody fingerprints were also found in the front compartment.

Major Garrett of the ASP contacted the Houston PD on a conference call and shared their findings. The Houston PD were surprised and mystified. Their take was that Elaine Braverman had been kidnapped against her will. Surely she hadn't been in on the death of her children ? And surely she hadn't been able to kill Braverman in such a brutal fashion ?

Nevertheless - this was the only lead they had (the players had not divulged their secret about the envelope). Major Garret and Sheriff Colorados therefore tried to organise a search to see if anyone had encountered Elaine Braverman.

The two agents however, decided to spend the rest of the day and evening engaged in a search of their own. Using the West Virginia information as their starting point, they researched and uncovered an interesting and unsettling series of facts. Lowery County in West Virginia had been subject to a series of cattle mutilations and strange disappearances back in February - with all manner of kooky theories posited (e.g. UFOs, Satan Worshippers etc). They also uncovered a case of a suspected cannibal who had shot himself in Lowery County when interviewed by the police. They then discovered that the Medical Examiner who had performed his autopsy suddenly decided to quit his job and leave town. A week later he was discovered dead - gutted - in a Nashville Hotel Room. For the month subsequent to this, Nashville's homeless started to disappear with investigations eventually centring on a local priest who ran a homeless shelter. The priest disembowelled himself before he could be questioned properly.

Sensing a connection to their own case in essence if not in fact, the agents began to posit the existence of either a person or persons unknown (Hackett, still bearing the scars of his Waco experience, suggested the possibility of an apocalyptic cult) somehow connected to these individuals. Their revelry was interrupted by a late call from the Medical Examiner's Office. His assistant had done a comparison of the coyote tracks form both the sites. It looked as if the same coyote was responsible. The agents called it a night - more puzzled than ever. They made a point of looking to see if anyone was observing them at the hotel - but noticed nothing out of place.

Next morning, the agents put in a call to the Phoenix office to chase the lab on the analysis of the unknown paralysing agent. This wasn't yet ready - but analysis on the 'surprise' envelope was. With the exception of the agents' fingerprints, it was clean as a whistle. De Vere took this to mean that it had been put together by an intelligence professional, or someone versed in similar techniques.

Next up was a briefing from the State and Tribal Police which described how they had so far drawn a blank in the search for Elaine Braverman. The agents were interrupted so that they could take a call from the Special Agent in Charge of Phoenix, Patrick Hobson, who had assigned them to the case. He chewed their asses out for not having been in touch with the latest developments. The agents decided to share all of the information they had. Hobson's head told him that most of what they had uncovered was unconnected, but his veteran's instincts agreed with the agents and he agreed to assign some research resource looking for similar cases. He was also able to tell them that the Phoenix lab had drawn a blank on the paralysing agent and that it had been forwarded to Washington for further research.

Shortly thereafter a call was received. A body had been discovered near to one of the disappearance sites. Descending on the location - a gas station on Highway 70, the agents and other troopers were led to a spot nearby where the shallow grave of young man was found. He was a gas station employee who had disappeared during a night shift. The gas station owner had been led to the spot by the incessant howling of an unseen coyote. When he arrived at the spot he found that the body had been exposed by what looked like the scrabbling of a coyote. The corpse's visage bore an expression of horror which particularly unsettled De Vere when he looked at it. The decision was made there and then to re-visit the other disappearance sites on the assumption that the bodies may be buried nearby - and the agents split up to accompany State and Tribal police in their efforts. The day was a partial success - yielding two more bodies (again seemingly recently exposed by a coyote). The search continued into the evening and was called off as light failed - to be resumed again the next day. Again the agents were on guard against being perhaps under surveillance - but again noticed nothing.

The morning briefing brought the autopsy results from the days previous 'finds'. Same MO as before - blood loss, traces of the mystery substance and ghastly wounds inflicted. The day's search brought two more bodies discovered in a spot previously examined. Again, the bodies seemed to have been deliberately exposed - overnight - by a coyote. At midday they received further news from Hobson...the FBI lab in Washington, which contained some of the finest minds and resources in the world, were unable to identify the paralysing substance describing it a something 'unknown to humankind'....The other disconcerting news was that he had discovered another case of mass murder and cannibalism. This occurred in New Orleans - where a local man had seemingly ended the terror reign of a vagrant cannibal by blasting him with a shotgun. Coincidentally, the vagrant's last known address was a certain homeless shelter in Nashville......

And that is where the session ended.....

[kinnygraham]

Played the third session of my Delta Green game last night (21st September 2004). As before, this contains SPOILERS for a published Delta Green scenario - so potential players - STOP READING NOW !


The action resumed on the afternoon of Tuesday 12th August 1997 (play had commenced on Friday 8th August). As advised in my previous journal, the characters had just been informed of another interesting case of serial killing with cannibalistic overtones that had occurred in New Orleans just about two to three months ago. There, the terrifying reign of a murderer and cannibal had been brought to an abrupt end by a local man who had shot him dead. They had also been advised that a strange substance, found in all the corpses so far located, had defied laboratory analysis by some of the finest experts the FBI had to offer.

The players requested that the Phoenix field office research the whereabouts of David Charles - the New Orleans citizen who had slain the serial killer. In the meantime they decided to head off to San Carlos lake to visit another site - a campsite where two Phoenix anglers had disappeared (I was able to provide a picture of this obtained from the 'net). Once there they encountered another couple of fishermen who were camped on the lakeside seemingly oblivious to any danger (their bravado probably fuelled by the cans of beer they were steadily working through). This encounter lead to some good, light-hearted role-playing from the players; DeVere, to the veteran Hackett's amusement, speculated on whether these guys had a permit to fish on the lake. Hackett responded that while he was absolutely sure that that was a very grave and important question, it was quite unfortunate that they already had the small matter of a multiple killer to think about. DeVere ignored his sarcasm and moved off to interview the men - while Hackett followed along asking him if he thought he should draw his piece or request backup in case things turned ugly with these 'potentially dangerous criminals'.

The interview drew a blank. DeVere had been speculating on whether the anglers might have spotted anything that may have led the agents to a body in the water but nothing was discovered. The agents decided to call it quits for the evening but on the way to their cars they received a call from the Phoenix field office asking them to get to a fax. They headed back to the Tribal Police Station in San Carlos and received some more interesting intelligence. David Charles, the hero 'cannibal killer' of New Orleans had apparently turned up dead just over two months ago. He had been discovered dead from horrific stab wounds to the stomach in a Houston hotel room. DeVere made the connection instantly - Houston was where Kenneth Braverman was from (he was the cop wanted for multiple murder who had turned up dead in a buried car on the Reservation).

The characters retired to the bar in their hotel to consider the case again. They now had a lot of dead bodies all over the country, and here in Arizona, all linked by the most tenuous and circumstantial threads. They considered their third party or ‘cult’ theory anew and kicked around a few scenarios. DeVere also postulated the possibility of some kind of viral infection that induced homicidal madness; but neither was wholly satisfied with these theories.

The next morning they were awoken early by an Arizona State Trooper sent by Major Garrett. Apparently Sheriff Colorados wanted to see Garrett and the two agents. When they got to San Carlos, Colorados informed them all that he had become concerned about the whereabouts of three tribal elders who had taken off into the wilds about 3 weeks ago on some form of spiritual retreat to a sacred cave. They were now late back – and what’s more a young pupil of the holy men sent yesterday to find them had not returned either. Most of the State and Tribal police were needed for the searches planned today down at the lakeside – so after outfitting themselves in clothing more suitable to the ‘great outdoors’ the two agents set off in their Jeep Cherokee after Garrett and Colorados.

They drove higher into the Gila Mountains, eventually turning off onto a rough mountain road that wound down into a wooded valley beside a creek. Eventually this road came to a halt, and they left their vehicles behind and set off on foot (with Colorados bringing along his rifle at the suggestion of Hackett). After a trek of several miles alongside a small creek, Colorados set off on another trail which wound uphill through the woods. Rounding a bend in the trail, Colorados paused and pointed put out a cave set into the side of a small mesa just up ahead. Colorados asked the rest of them to stay put while he went ahead to check things out.

No sooner had the words left his lips when the back of Garrett’s head exploded in front of their eyes as a shot rang out from the direction of the cave ! Garrett went down like a stone on his back in front of the shocked men. The two FBI men reacted quickly – DeVere taking cover in the trees to one side of the trail and Hackett shoving a stunned Colorados into the trees on the other side.
Drawing their guns, they looked towards Garrett’s prone body. Hackett could see that a neat hole had been drilled between his eyes – whoever they were up against was a considerable marksman. This was confirmed a moment later as another shot slammed into Garrett’s body – this time hitting him squarely in the groin. Colorados was in a panic – whispering ‘shit shit shit shit’ as he crouched - rocking back and forth, clutching his gun and staring wide eyed at Garrett’s corpse.
A third shot slammed into Garrett’s groin again. Hackett shouted ‘FBI ! Drop your weapon and surrender !’ - but the only response was a further shot in his own direction which rattled through the trees. Hackett – something of a weapons expert, tentatively identified the rifle as a Lee-Enfield Mk III – an older, bolt action weapon. The two agents couldn’t see each other clearly and did not want to risk shouting. Hackett pulled out his cell phone and called DeVere’s number. The phone rang out in the quiet mountain air. This immediately drew another shot in the direction of DeVere which he heard cutting through the branches very near to his position and he scrambled backwards in the direction of the creek. They both conversed in whispered tones – Hackett could barely see the cave mouth from his position but could see no movement. Colorados had pulled himself together by this time and attempted to raise backup on his radio. DeVere suggested that they try and lure the shooter into sight. They put the plan into operation; Hackett ‘borrowing’ the sheriff’s rifle and swapping positions with DeVere (working back and across the creek so as not to expose themselves to possible fire). DeVere then placed his cell phone as near to Garrett’s body as he could risk while Hackett crawled into a good position where he could observe the cave mouth through the scope of the rifle. Ringing DeVere’s number he scanned the cave mouth - but saw nothing. Deciding to sit tight for backup the agents were informed that a team from the Special Operations Unit of the Arizona State Police Special Enforcement Bureau was en-route to their position. They could also rely on some assistance from some State Troopers who were also on their way.

These units duly arrived about an hour later. The State Troopers were shocked to hear about the death of Garrett. Hackett (an ex-member of the elite FBI Hostage Rescue Team) briefed the SWAT team on the situation. The SWAT team agreed on a strategy – covering the cave mouth with snipers and sending two five man elements up the flanks to mirror the cave mouth. Again, there was no sign of anybody so the team went in to the cave – updating their superior officer as they went. Two bodies were almost immediately spotted – along with something else which evidently freaked out one of the normally cool headed SWAT officers, who broke comms protocol with a repetitive stream of alarmed and panicked swearing. However, the site was shortly given a cautionary all clear and the two agents and Colorados headed up to investigate.

The cave was a charnel house. Two bodies sat propped against a wall. One was of an elderly Apache man, his face set in a mask of agony. His flesh was stripped to the bone from his waste down and he was matted in gore. The other corpse was that of a young Apache boy. His throat was slit open and random strips of flesh and muscle had been stripped from his body. Not far from where they lay was an even more disturbing site – a horribly suggestive pile of smashed and gore soaked skull fragments, broken rib cages, gristle, flesh and scraps of cloth. The two agents kept their cool – perhaps by now becoming accustomed to the macabre sights this case had thrown at them so far. Colorados was horrified – the old man was one of the missing elders and the boy was the pupil he had sent to look for them. He turned way retching and headed for the clean air outside.
One of the SWAT officers took the agents to the rear of the cave. Here it became apparent that there was some kind of vent through which a man could squeeze and through which their shooter may have made an escape.

As they took stock, Hackett noticed that something lay half buried and concealed by sand towards the rear of the cave near the vent. Investigating further he established that it was something like a canvass bag or holdall. Deciding not to look further he established that one of the officers present has been trained in bomb disposal techniques – this officer was tasked with investigating the item just in case any nasty items (like an Improvised Explosive Device) had been left behind.
Meanwhile DeVere had re-surveyed the cave and was drawn to the corpse of the old man. He spotted that he was wearing some kind of charm and was intrigued to see that it was carved in the image of a coyote.

Hackett quickly established that the vent was drawing air through the cave and proposed that the SWAT officers use their tear gas canisters in an attempt to ‘smoke out’ any lurker who may be waiting in ambush on the other side of the vent. This plan was put into action. Hackett led the way – supported by four SWAT officers and DeVere. They found themselves in a narrow chamber with two potential exits – tracks on the floor indicated that a large man in rugged outdoor boots had passed this way. They squeezed through a second narrow aperture – this time seeing sunlight shining into the space beyond. In this further chamber, they saw a narrow chimney like fissure open to the sky above and quickly calculated that a fit man could have climbed his way up. However, to the amusement of the SWAT team, both Hackett and DeVere were unable to do so – both sustaining skinned knees and bruising in their failed attempts. A SWAT officer was successful however – though when he reached the top he soon reported that the tracks he found soon disappeared on the rough rocky terrain.

Returning to the cave through the vent, they were amazed to see that the canvass ruck-sack (now declared ‘trap free’) had held an item quite unlike anything they had ever encountered. A strangely glowing spherical object a little larger than a basketball. It appeared to be made of metal or perhaps plastic, but it’s interior seemed to hold some dim lights which glowed at intermittent and seemingly random intervals [an image of the item was supplied at this point].

Colorados, now the senior investigating officer since Garrett’s death, had once again pulled himself together and was efficiently directing the examination of the scene. The SWAT team was stood down – though an aerial search of the area was ordered. Forensics had also arrived – as had the sorely pressed Medical Examiner Dr Guiterrez and both set about their business. The immediate good news was that there seemed to be plenty of prints on the bones that should yield a match. However, the ‘item’ which had been discovered continued to confound – attempts to dust it were impossible, as anything just seemed to glide right off its surface. The item was taken into the possession of the Tribal Police. The two agents decided to contact Hobson, their SAC in Phoenix, but were informed that he was in an extremely important meeting and could not be disturbed.

Hackett – after locating some of the rifle cartridges from a spot just at the edge of the cave, collared Colorados. It was clear to him that they were dealing with a large man, someone who knew the area – and who used a pretty distinctive rifle. Might he know of such a person? Colorados said no, but something in his eyes said different.
Colorados informed them that he was leaving the scene to go and tell some folks ‘some very bad news’. The agents were suspicious however and followed him to San Carlos, there shadowing him on foot. However, a few checks established that he did indeed seem to be visiting the relatives of the dead elders and their unfortunate pupil.

Attempting to contact Hobson again, they were tipped off that Hobson seemed to be locked up in his office having a shouting match with some ‘visitors’ from Washington.
Shortly thereafter they received a call from Assistant SAC Bellamy. Hobson was taking some leave and Bellamy was in temporary charge. Some gentlemen from Washington (their exact agency not divulged) would be down to see them in the morning and they were to give them their FULL co-operation.

More perplexed than ever, the agents decided to retire for the evening.

However, their slumbers were disturbed by calls to their rooms at about 5.30 in the morning. Someone had hit the Tribal police Station in the middle of the night. 3 officers were dead, butchered, and the mysterious ‘item’ was missing….
And, as they were absorbing this piece of news they were then called by the forensics team who had been working through the night. They had a match on the prints from the cave. The agents, it seemed, had a combination of ‘John Rambo and Geronimo’ on their hands.
The prints belonged to a Master Sergeant Emanuel Santana, a soldier with extensive Army Special Forces training and three tours in Vietnam (latterly, seconded to Project Phoenix – a CIA sponsored counter-intelligence and ‘wetwork’ programme). Santana had deserted back in 1971 while on leave and consequently was a federal fugitive.

The case now belonged to Hackett and DeVere.

And that’s where the session ended.....

[Turin Turambar]

Great story! i see a good GM'ing there...


Keep us informed!

[Joshua Dyal]

Great stuff! Thanks for posting!

[committed hero]

Yeah - had to go dig out my copy and see what could happen next.

[kinnygraham]

Thanks for the kind comments guys - I'll try and get an account of the next one posted as soon as it is played...

[kinnygraham]

OK folks, we were able to play another session of my Delta Green game last night (4th October 2004) . As per the previous entries in my journal, this account contains SPOILERS for a published Delta Green scenario. Potential players should stop reading now.


We picked up the action where we left off last time. The two agents had just found out that the main suspect in their baffling case was an ex-special forces Apache man named Emanuel Santana who had deserted from the Army back in the early '70s while home on leave from the Vietnam War. Worse, someone had attacked and killed 3 San Carlos Tribal Police Officers in the early hours of the morning. The agents were initially under the impression that this had happened in San Carlos, but en-route this was quickly clarified and they learned that it was a sub station in Geronimo where the incident had occurred. Arriving there, they found two State police cruisers already at the scene parked up alongside two Tribal Police cruisers. Two of the Troopers appeared to be comforting two of the tribal police. Sheriff Colorados sat alone on the edge of his patrol-car seat with his head in his hands - clearly shaken.

Hackett approached Colorados while De Vere moved off to enter the police station, which was little more than a glorified porta-cabin set in a small lot surrounded by a barbed wire topped fence. Stepping past the trooper guarding the entrance, De Vere was immediately confronted with the grisly sight of an officer slumped back over his chair at his desk. His throat was slashed wide open and congealing blood covered everything. Careful not to disturb anything, he stepped past. Now in a small corridor he could see a room to his right containing unlocked equipment lockers. To his left there was another room - obviously a rest area with soft seats, coffee machine and a small TV. Two other officers lay sprawled here face down - the stench of blood filled the air and it was apparent they had suffered the same fate as their colleague. An area to the rear held two empty cells and access to the rear of the building. De Vere decided to leave - not wishing to contaminate the scene any further. Outside, a dismayed Colorados eyed Hackett, who informed him about their lead on Santana. Colorados did not appear to be surprised when his name was mentioned (he clearly had been thinking about him when Hackett had supplied a brief profile the day before) - but he nevertheless insisted that Santana could not have been responsible; he was a peaceful hermit who had turned his back on violence a long time ago. The implication of this was clearly that the local community had been sheltering Santana since his desertion Hackett tactfully pointed out that people have been known to snap under stress and that they couldn't ignore the physical evidence.

Hackett was then called by SAC Hobson - whom they had learned had recently been temporarily suspended. He gave them a quick 'heads up'. The 'gentlemen from Washington' had apparently become aware of the strange samples that were currently baffling the FBI labs and were extremely interested in where they had come from. They had already seized the samples in Washington on the grounds of 'national security' and had turned up in Phoenix throwing their weight around and generally pissing Hobson off. Rubbed up the wrong way and unconvinced by the line they were taking - he had done his level best to stall them but had eventually been advised by a superior in the Justice Department that he was to consider himself on 'indefinite leave'. Hobson was aware of the lead on Santana - though not aware of the most recent slayings. He advised that since Santana was a federal fugitive that the agents could and should take over the case. He told them not to let the 'assholes from Washington' push them around and wished them luck.

The two agents began to direct the crime scene, during which they learned something strange from a civilian living nearby. Apparently she had been awoken by the sound of a coyote howling at about 5.30 or so in the morning - it had continued for about 15 minutes or so, but then broke off with a long, mournful cry.... A two man TV crew turned up and Hackett deflected questions, promising a full statement later. The two agents re-examined the scene - Hackett walking the fence perimeter looking for clues whilst De Vere's attention was taken up by a car ,with New Mexico plates parked, seemingly abandoned, across the street from the station. He requested a check on the owner.

In the meantime, Assistant SAC Bellamy contacted the agents - advising them that some people from the National Security Agency were on their way. Their interest was in the unidentified substance and the agents should offer their full co-operation. However, bringing Bellamy up to speed with the recent murders he sanctioned the agents in organising a full scale manhunt. In the next half an hour or so it became apparent that the agents would soon have considerable resources at their disposal: 40 State troopers (including access to two helicopters), 10 US Marshalls, 8 FBI agents, 50 Tribal policemen and over 100 civilian volunteers (including two blood hound teams). The area soon become a hub of activity as the hunt team began to assemble.

By this time, the weary police forensics team had also arrived and completed an initial examination of the scene - they gave De Vere their take. The first officer to die had been slashed on the throat from the front. The other two looked as if they had been 'stung' with the same mysterious paralysing agent and then butchered quickly and efficiently. Prints had been obtained which the technician was willing to bet were the match of Santana's. More bad news followed - not only was the mysterious sphere missing but a shotgun and bullet-proof vest were also gone.

Acting on a hunch (based on the supposition that the killer would be covered in blood) the two agents decided to check the dumpster outside and hit paydirt - discovering blood drenched clothes. A forensic examination quickly yielded another disgusting token of how savage their prey was; a human finger stripped of flesh was discovered in the pocket of the jeans.

De Vere found out the mystery car belonged to a young woman from a small town in New Mexico. Documents found in a travel bag in the rear led to the discovery that she had recently left a hotel near the Grand Canyon. De Vere felt this could be important but couldn't yet say why.

Hackett addressed the gathering team of civilian searchers and warned them that they would be hunting a man previously thought to be a friend: Emanuel Santana. The news wasn't too well received, until Colorados intervened and revealed how guilty he felt about not acting sooner. Three of his colleagues - all Apaches of course - might still be alive if he had. This sobered the crowd and they agreed to do what they could - though they were still wary of the possibility of Santana being shot out of hand by trigger-happy policemen.

At this point the agents were greeted with the sight of a black sedan nudging it's way through the crowd. It stopped and four men in shades and black suits got out. One was immediately confronted with the reporting team who had questioned Hackett earlier on. Two of his colleagues sprang into action; one ripped the microphone from the female interviewer and pushed her away, calling her a 'pinko bitch' before tossing it away. The other delivered a swift punch to the camera man, before trashing his camera in full view of everyone present. These two took up positions in front of the station - keeping their eyes on the subdued crowd who had been surprised by this display.

The older of the two remaining men stepped forward and introduced himself as Agent Harper - snapping off an NSA ID. In an abrupt manner, he explained that he and his colleagues would require all files and samples in connection with the mysterious paralysing agent. This was a 'confidential matter of national security' but he was willing to disclose that they were on the trail of a 'sophisticated bio-terrorist' whom they had been monitoring and that they suspected the substance had been made by him However, right now they wanted an update on just what the hell was going on here. The agents filled him on on the last 24 hours - omitting nothing. News of the mysterious sphere seemed to be of particular interest and the two 'spooks' exchanged looks as it was mentioned. Leaving, they ordered the two agents to co-operate fully in all matters in relation to the mysterious substance. They would be 'around' and expected to be fully updated upon request. Hackett, finally tiring of their manner baited them by telling them that he may have 'misplaced' some files although he couldn't remember where right now. This went down like a lead balloon and Harper reminded them sternly that their full co-operation was expected, before driving off with his colleagues.

Further mystery was to follow when De Vere recieved a call on his cell-phone. A disguised, synthesised voice asked: 'Did you like the clippings I sent you ? Listen up, in case you haven't realised, those spooks are not your friends. Their focus will soon be on the sphere. You are not interested in in the sphere. You are interested in what arrived in the sphere. You are interested in what has Santana. Good luck.' This message was relayed to Hackett; both were perplexed again.

With the search already underway, the decision was made to let a bloodhound team have scent of the discovered clothing. This brought immediate results and the hounds led the agents and searchers further into the small town. After initial confusion it became apparent that their quarry had stolen a car from outside a house. An APB was immediately issued, and the missing car was discovered within half an hour, abandoned by Highway 70 about halfway between Geronimo and San Carlos.

Just prior to leaving the two agents took another call from Harper. He's been in touch with his superiors he explained, and it seemed that a 'vital component' of a an American satellite system was suspected to have come down somewhere in Arizona recently. This 'sphere' sounded very much like the component. They were ordered to report any sightings immediately.

The two agents were soon at the abandoned car along with the bloodhound team - the trail led north, back into the Gila Mountains. The agents had requested that the helicopters available to them search ahead and this request paid dividends when word came back from one that a suspicious figure had been spotted moving quickly through the terrain on the other side of the mountains. A minute later their suspicions were confirmed when the 'copter reported that it had been fired upon ! The copter shadowed their quarry at a distance and the two agents were soon airborne themselves in pursuit.

Shortly, it was reported that the fugitive had 'gone to ground' in a cabin off a rough mountain trail in the northern foothills of the mountains. Shortly after, another figure had swifly emerged - entering another small out-building before re-entering the main cabin.

Over the next two hours it became apparent that the agents faced a siege situation. The cabin was a vacation spot, recently rented by a party of five individuals from Phoenix. Their car was parked to the rear of the property. All the curtains in the property were closed so nothing could be seen inside. An outer perimiter was quickly established and The SWAT team the agents met yesterday was summoned. No contact or any sign of movement was received from within the building The SWAT team stealthily moved into position - one five man element ('Tactical 2') to the rear of the property and the other ('Tactical 1') to the front. The two FBI agents volunteered to act as 'trailers' to Tactical 1 - officers who would follow the team in to secure any hostages and make any necessary arrests. Both donned ballistiv vests. Final cover was provided by two snipers.

Tactical 2 suddenly reported that they could hear screaming from within the building. Within seconds the agents could also hear the screaming - someone was in extreme pain or distress. A smashing sound was then heard. Tactical 2 requested permission to 'go dynamic'. Hackett and De Vere both agreed instantly that it was obvious that lives were in danger and they would have to act - seconds later the go signal was given.

An officer from Tactical 1 battered open the front door with a ram and stood aside. It instantly became apparent that there was a blockage behind the door, though it opened sufficiently far back to admit the first officer. A shot rang out and he went down instantly. His colleague, fired by adrenalin and his ingrained training to clear any potentially deadly 'funnel zone' followed immediately, stepping over his body. His three colleagues immediately followed. Hackett and De Vere also decided to enter.

Inside, the SWAT officers were momentarily taken aback by what confronted them. Immediately to their front a screaming, bound hostage - a young man - lay against a hastily erected barrier of beds and other furniture. A carpet of flame enveloped the area between the door and this barrier. Somewhere above and beyond was a balcony, over which mattresses lay draped. A figure holding a rifle could be seen adjacent to the stairs leading up here, apparently taking aiming at them. The SWAT officers delayed in the immediate confusion. As Hackett and De Vere arrived through the door another of the officers was felled by a shot. Hackett and De Vere, less encumbered by headgear, instantly realised that the shot came from immediately above. Looking up, they could see that sizeable holes had been made in the ceiling. A SWAT officer reacted to the shot - letting off an SMG burst at the figure with the rifle, dropping him instantly. Hackett screamed, 'Cease fire ! The shooter is in the ceiling ! The shooter is in the ceiling !' before body charging an obstruction in order to clear the flames. Successful, he found himself at the foot of the stairs up. Meanwhile, De Vere let off two shots into the ceiling.

Hackett was now screaming for Tactical 2 and was somewhat relieved to see them emerge from a corridor to the rear - he shouted at them to locate a fire extinguisher. One of the lead officers was now on fire and was frantically trying to smother the flames in the corner. De Vere was now dragging the hostage to the corner - clear of the flames.

Hackett immediately headed up stairs, passing the downed rifleman - a young man about the same age as the first hostage - dead or dying from gunshot wounds. Moving past he saw two doors to the left and right - and a stepladder leading to the attic space above. One of the rooms was a bathroom, containing another bound hostage. This was a young female whose tendons at the back of her ankles and knees had been slashed. The other room was an empty bedroom.

De Vere was now struggling manfully to drag one of the fallen officers from the flames and out the front door - despite the fact that he was beginning to take damage from the flames. A shot rang out and a third officer went down beside him screaming 'I'm hit ! I'm hit !'.

Hackett crept up the stepladder - it was obvious that this latest shot had come from above. Edging up he could see that the attic was a large storage space criss-crossed with beams. Near the centre, another young woman lay bound and gagged. Over her, holding a rifle stood the tall muscular figure of a mature Apache man. He looked up and his eyes met Hackett's in the flickering firelight from below. He grinned - and Hackett realised that he was glimpsing insanity, damnation and death in that visage. Hackett had a clear shot, but still felt compelled to challenge him - shouting 'FBI ! Freeze !'. Santana discarded his rifle, but in a fluid motion he reached down and pulled up a shotgun. Hackett fired, missing him with his first shot but hitting him in the chest with the second, rocking him back. Hackett fired again, missing again before clipping him on the leg. Santana laughed like a lunatic - before leaping into the air off the beams and plunging through the ceiling into the chaos below !

Below De Vere was incredulous as a huge hulking figure came crashing down into the flames beside him in a shower of plaster ! There was an audible crack of bones and De Vere could see shattered bone protruding from the man's thigh. Incredibly, Santana was starting to rise - laughing (or was it screaming ?) insanely as he did so. De Vere who could see that Santana was wearing a ballistic vest, drew his piece again and shot him again - again hitting him on the leg.

Hackett was heading for the balcony at this point. A SWAT officer below fired a burst at the rising figure - tagging him on the back of his vest with two bullets before a third exploded a piece of his skull. Incredibly - he kept rising ! It was now apparent that he was doused in something flammable - he was already enveloped in flame. Hackett put a shot in his leg again, exploding his knee cap - but still he kept going ! This impossible sight deeply affected De Vere, who was crouched in the doorway where he had been attempting to drag the fallen officer - and he only narrowly dodged backwards - falling outside on to the porch, as the laughing, burning figure leapt for the door and staggered beyond and down the stairs. A sniper was instantly granted permission to shoot, and De Vere saw the top half of Santana's head explode with the power of the shot before the flaming figure fell and moved no more.

Back in the lodge, as the extinguisher smothered the flames, Hackett grimly surveyed the carnage.

And that was where the session ended.

[Fulsrush]

Wow.

That sounds like a damn fine adventure.

I ran Shadow Puppets and Power Plays a few weeks ago, as a one-shot for new society members, with six pre-genned FBI agents and consultants, making up Task Force Deliverance (hostage rescue and abduction investigation).

Running it over 3+ sessions really seems to have given you time to flesh things out a bit. I had to skip the attack on the police station, and just went straight from Santana escaping the cave and heading across the mountains.

The final showdown with Santana took place in the middle of the desert, with five of the PCs shooting it out with him.

The two special agents-in-charge of the team both failed Sanity rolls and went doo-lally when they saw Santana sitting up after they blew his brains out. A few more bullets, and Santana starts playing dead. The strategy didn't work because the tac-team leader PC unloaded two entire magazines from her Glock sidearm on full-auto, to confirm the kill. At least a dozen of the bullets hit Santana's abdomen, mincing the parasite and ending its rampage.

The forensic pathologist, usefully on-hand as the team medic, scooped up a chunk of the alien tissue into a sample jar, just before one of those NSA helicopters came into land and took the body away.

At roughly the same time, two MiBs went into the team's base at the Reservation Police Station, brutally karate-chopped the team researcher across the throat, winding her, and stole the orb from Santana's backpack.


For anyone who's interested in the Cthulhu Mythos a thousand years earlier, The Abbey of St Bartholomew (http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=153133).

[kinnygraham]

For anyone who has been following this, they may be interested to know that the handouts and other bits and pieces that I prepared for this scenario are available to download here (http://www.yog-sothoth.com/modules.php?name=Downloads&d_op=getit&lid=291 ) from yog-sothoth.com.

[kinnygraham]

This is the latest instalment of my DELTA GREEN game (played on 26th October 2004). As is the case in my previous entries, this contains SPOILERS for a published Delta Green scenario. Potential players should stop reading now.




We picked up the action immediately where we left off the last game; a hunting lodge in the Gila Mountains which had become a scene of carnage after a siege situation had gone horribly out of control.

Agents Hackett and DeVere were shaken up pretty badly - but they both realised they had jobs to do and they quickly set about securing the scene as a team of paramedics raced up the drive to the lodge, accompanied by a team of US Marshalls and other policemen. One SWAT officer was dead and another two were critically injured. A fourth had sustained some burns to his lower legs as well. One civilian was also dead, shot by one of the SWAT team as the horror of the lodge had unfolded. Two civilian females were badly injured - apparently 'hobbled' through deep cuts and slashes to the tendons in their legs and ankles. Both were deeply traumatised and in severe shock. The fourth civilian - a male - had minor burns to his legs and was also deeply shaken.

The badly burned, still smouldering body of Master Sergeant Emanuel Santana, the apparent cause of all this havoc, lay at the front of the building, with half of his head missing.

Hackett and DeVere reflected on just what had happened. Hackett remembered the look of utter insanity in Santana's face when he had confronted him in the attic space of the lodge. De Vere had narrowly dodged the Apache's flaming body as it had lunged out of the door of the lodge, and had been mere feet away when he was finally brought to a halt by a sniper's bullet. Both had saw this man sustain a sickening leg break and take multiple bullet wounds - at least one to the head prior to the sniper's final shot - and laugh it all off manically.

Hackett and DeVere could only theorise that Santana was the victim of some kind of infection or virus and was concerned that some kind of contamination could be passed from Santana's body. Dr Guiturrez, the Medical Examiner, was now on the scene and he was quickly admitted through the cordon that had been set up around the property to keep away the gathering news crews and civilian searchers who were converging on the scene. Hackett and DeVere explained in broad terms the concerns they had and the Doctor agreed that he would take some extra precautions accordingly - utilising a breathing filter or gas mask, ensuring there was no skin to skin contact and 'double bagging' the corpse. All this had to wait though until the 'crime scene' team had photographed and documented the corpse where it lay.

Leaving them to it, Hackett and DeVere ordered up the three 'copters they had at their disposal (two from the Arizona State Police and one from the US Marshall's Office) to assist in evacuating the wounded. By now, the badly shaken male civilian survivor had been able to impart a faltering account of what had happened to one of the para-medics and a Marshall. Apparently Santana had burst in armed to the teeth threatening to kill them all. He had ordered him to go to a woodshed and retrieve an axe and then directed him to the attic to knock holes in the plaster. Santana had then directed them to create makeshift barriers of furniture and mattresses in the main room and the young man had then been bound hand and foot and placed in front of one of the barriers. Santana had then doused the area in kerosene. He'd forced an unloaded rifle into the hands of the other man - and stuck them with a glue, forcing him to take up position on the banister. Finally, he had taken the females upstairs, 'hobbled' them and promised further violence before retreating into the attic space - there to start a fire below and unleash the ensuing carnage.

Hackett and DeVere decided to re-enter the building in search of the mysterious sphere which Santana had killed to recover. De Vere discovered it, nestling in a rucksack along with the other baggage of the unfortunate vacationers. Hackett was drawn outside by the sound of another helicopter arriving and he went outside to witness the arrival of their four 'friends' from the NSA in a sleek black chopper. They disembarked, immediately heading towards Hackett. Inside the building, DeVere collared one of the State Troopers and handing over all the rucksacks, gave orders for them to be kept with the injured civilians as doubtless they would like to have some of their possessions nearby.

Outside Agent Harper demanded an update from Hackett on the situation. He showed little concern for the obvious carnage, instead immediately enquiring as to whether the sphere had been located. Hackett answered in the negative. DeVere joined them at this point. Harper then said he understood that they'd killed Santana. Hackett confirmed this and Harper immediately informed them that he and his men would be taking possession of the body. Even more so than before, Hackett and DeVere knew that something just wasn't right here. To their knowledge, the NSA were primarily concerned with communications, cryptography and associated technology and security. Showing up out of the blue on the basis that they had been pursuing some kind of bio-terrorist was extremely unusual to say the least. They then seemed to have changed their focus to the sphere, allegedly part of a government satellite - and NOW they wanted to take possession of a dead body, which due legal procedure dictated was correctly the responsibility of both the FBI and the Medical Examiner. Hackett told them that this wouldn't be possible. Harper bristled, and told them that they were making a big mistake as far as their careers were concerned - ASAC Bellamy (acting SAC) would not be pleased. Hackett responded that he didn't really give 'a flying fuck'. The body was staying put until they decided otherwise. Harper warned them 'not to fuck with them'. DeVere's rage boiled over then and he pointed out that he had just been through a day from hell, had seen several people die and consequently wasn't really in the mood to deal with shit from a bunch of jumped up assholes. One of the spooks over Harper's shoulder made a show of cracking his knuckles at this. At this point DeVere glanced over to see the rucksacks being thrown safely aboard one of the ASP 'copters alongside one of the injured girls and the surviving male. De Vere then pointed at the knuckle cracker and asked Harper if this was 'his girlfriend' ? Harper was stony faced and said in a low voice 'You'll be fuckin' hearing from us' - before turning away toward their own 'copter.

DeVere broke away immediately deciding to try and hitch a ride in the ASP 'copter in order to stay with the sphere. He was too late and it lifted off from the field in front of him. He decided to hail it over the radio and it took thirty seconds or so before he got patched through. By this time the 'copter was a 150 feet or so in the air. He'd just got through to the pilot to make his request when the line was suddenly affected by a loud shock of static. A second later DeVere and Hackett were blinded by an intense ball of white light from the copter's position, and seconds later both men were rocked (DeVere was knocked to the ground) by a powerful blast which rolled over them lifting dust into the air. They tried to regain their composure ....their eyes smarted from the brief glare, but when they cleared moments later - the helicopter was completely gone ! No debris had fallen or was falling to earth. The strange explosion had removed it utterly as if it had never existed !

Both agents stood shocked - along with everyone else at the scene. Guilt rose up in DeVere - he instinctively knew this had something to do with the sphere and he had arranged for it to be on the craft. The only people on the move were the spooks - Harper tore across from his own helicopter with his men hot behind him. 'What the FUCK did you do ?!! What was on that 'copter !! What the fuck was on that 'copter ?!!' he raged at the stunned men. They had no reply - and disgusted, Harper stalked off again - appearing to be making a call into a cell phone as he departed with his men. Their black helicopter lifted off seconds later....

Hackett and DeVere recovered sufficiently and checked that everyone else was OK. There was nothing they could do - no further casualties to attend to or aid they could render and so slowly they resumed the business of directing the crime scene. DeVere confessed his part in the 'copter explosion to Hackett - who reassured him that he was not to know. When a rattled Dr Guiturrez informed them that they were ready to remove Santana's body to take it for an autopsy, the two agents decided that they should accompany him and left the cleanup operation in the care of the US Marshalls and some FBI agents who had arrived belatedly from Phoenix. DeVere chose to ride in the back of the ambulance with the body-bag, with Hackett accompanying the Doctor in his car. Hackett paused at the outer perimeter to converse with Sheriff Colorados and did his best to assure him that whatever Santana had become, he wasn't the same man who he had known - which gave the Sheriff some small crumb of comfort.

The drive to Globe took some forty minutes, during which time Hackett noted that they appeared to be getting shadowed by a familiar black 'copter. The body bag was taken to the local hospital (where Guiterrez had his lab) and taken into the hospital. Entering, the eagle-eyed DeVere spotted a suspicious black van with government style plates parked around the corner from the hospital.

The autopsy was to take place in the hospital basement. The doc explained that normally his assistant Susan would be present, but he had given her some much needed time off to rest. He should manage on his own, but he may ask the assistance of the agents in taking down some notes etc. They said that they would help in any way they could. The orderlies departed after leaving the body (now 'de-bagged') and the Doctor set about his work as the two agents looked on - now dressed in green surgical smocks.

First order of the day was to take further photographs. Santana's corpse was a fairly gruesome sight. The top half of the head was missing, most of the flesh was badly burned and there was evidence of other gunshot wounds. The smell of scorched flesh was powerful even although they had all taken the precaution of wearing filter masks. The doctor recorded his initial impressions and then detailed the clothing Santana was wearing, including the bullet-proof vest, before cutting it from the body and bagging it. Further photographs were taken and the entry points of the various bullets noted. The doctor explained that it was his intention to X Ray the body to locate the bullets and associated fragments, but first he intended to wash the corpse down first in case anything else was concealed by the congealing blood and other unpleasantness. This process revealed something unusual. It seemed that Santana had some kind of incision in his abdomen, about six or seven inches long, which had pierced right through the skin to the entrails beyond. It was highly unlikely that he had sustained this in the fire fight at the lodge.

DeVere recalled that a lot of the previous corpses had sustained strange needle like wounds (the probable means by which a paralysing agent had been introduced to the victim's systems) and bent over the corpse to have a look for anything similar. He was utterly, utterly aghast when Santana's corpse suddenly sat bolt upright and faced towards him ! A split second later it spewed a disgusting mass of congealed blood, vomit and bile all over him ! Hackett was rooted to the spot in dumbfounded surprise and something snapped in the Doctor. He started screaming his lungs out in primal terror and backed away into the corner of the lab. Both agents were further amazed to see something long red and sharp dart whip-like from Santana's mouth at DeVere, narrowly missing him with an audible snap as he dodged backwards. DeVere started backing away further, scrambling frantically to pull his smock aside to reach his gun. Hackett started acting likewise - but both were horrified to watch Santana commence to punch out the lights above the examination table - plunging the room into darkness seconds later ! The Doctor was still screaming, but somehow DeVere managed to hear the sound of bare feet hitting the floor and he realised with terror that Santana's corpse was upright and coming for him. Hackett aimed himself for the door but had forgotten about a wheeled trolley full of instruments which barred his way - he clattered into it overturning it and only narrowly managed to stay on his feet. Seconds later he was at the door which he flung open to let light in from the ante-room beyond. By this time, DeVere had cleared his gun and he presented it point blank at the advancing horror. He pulled the trigger - but nothing happened ! The gun had jammed ! Seconds later he felt a needle like sting on his shoulder as the thing from Santana's mouth struck home. An impossible numbness swept through his muscles and he collapsed to the floor. This was the signal for Hackett to start firing his gun. He put two bullets in it centre mass and it turned towards him....something was writhing and wriggling in Santana's gut as the dead man limped towards him ! Hackett fired again and again making sure his shots were directed at the belly of his adversary. The thing paused, and groped for a scalpel on the table before lunging at Hackett. However, the shattered leg could not bear the weight of this action and Santana collapsed at Hackett's feet. Hackett was screaming now - cursing over and over and he fired more shots into the lower back of the body which was floundering at his feet. Horrifically, the corpse actually began to speak ! 'Wait !' it rasped 'Wait ! I can show you so much ! So MUCH !' But Hackett continued to fire his Glock - again and again. The final horror was yet to come though - he could now see...something...oozing from underneath Santana's body which was no longer moving. A greyish jelly-like mass edged with tiny fibres. Hackett transferred his fire to this.....thing - using up the remaining bullets in his clip and smearing it into the floor. When he had finished, it was no longer moving. Cordite hung heavy in the air.

The Doctor was rocking back and forward, his hands over his head, whimpering quietly. DeVere lay still. Hackett reloaded and moved off to help his friend. He was awake - could feel and hear and see. But he could not move. Suddenly they heard a voice from outside demand that they throw out their guns...Hackett, weary, obliged. The four spooks - including Harper - entered the room cautiously. The other three had SMGs, Harper had a taser and a suitcase. The other three covered the doctor and the agents as Harper examined the corpse - kicking it over. They could see that something had crawled from the hole Santana's gut. It looked like some kind of greyish jelly vaguely lobster like in shape - with strange, short tentacle-like protrusions. The organic 'whip' which had menaced DeVere was at one end of it - the other end had been severed in two by the ferocity of Hackett's fire. 'Jeez Hackett' announced Harper with amazement ' You really screwed the pooch here'. He preceded to gather the two pieces of the thing into a plastic bag which he returned to his case. He turned to the agents and seemed to want to say something more - but appearing to hear noise from the corridor outside, the spooks beat a hasty retreat. Seconds later an orderly arrived - gawping in amazement at the scene

The next hours passed in a blur. The lab was a scene of frenzied activity as the local police descended on the scene. The Doctor was taken away and heavily sedated. DeVere was transferred to a bed upstairs and gradually the paralysis eased. The two agents were given due respect from the local cops - but it was also made clear that the strange events in the morgue had been reported up the chain of command. The two agents struggled to come to terms with what had happened. They were wise enough to remove the tape of the autopsy from the Doctor's recorder. Checking out the security tapes for the hospital they were unsurprised to learn that the cameras had suffered some kind of failure just prior to the arrival of the spooks. They started to think about piecing together a cover story - just as they were summoned to Phoenix by Bellamy to explain themselves. Chances were that they would face an investigation from the Office of Professional Responsibility - the FBI 'internal affairs' department. DeVere then received a strange call from their mystery friend - to ask if they had managed to stop 'the thing that had Santana'. On hearing that they had, the voice said 'Good. We'll be in touch' and hung up.

En-route to Phoenix they were surprised to get a further call from Bellamy. 'Senior Bureau people' he explained, had heard about the job they had done in bringing down Santana at the lodge and thus wrapping up the case. They were to take some well-earned leave and report back in 3 days where the 'other matter' of the morgue could be discussed.

The two agents headed for a bar in Phoenix - but not before DeVere's mystery caller rang again to invite the two agents to a meet at the Phoenix Hall of Flame (a fire fighting museum) the next morning. The two agents got drunk - DeVere decided to start smoking - and they reviewed the impossible events of the last few days. Something unnatural, something vile, it seemed, had arrived during a meteor shower and blazed a trail of murder and brutality half way across the US. Suddenly, the world didn't make so much sense anymore....

The next morning they were met in the Hall of Flame by a mysterious dreadlocked African-American female, dressed in shades and a sharp business suit . She claimed to represent a 'government organisation' who specialised in protecting the citizens of America from 'unnatural phenomena' such as the two agents had recently encountered. That organisation wished to recruit Hackett and DeVere. They were like fire-fighters she explained. They smelled the smoke and put out the fires. Were they interested in joining ? Naturally, they were full of questions.

Had this organisation met things like the Santana creature before ? 'No'. She had followed it's trail through the papers and made the connections. Then there were other 'things' ? 'Other threats. Yes'

Who were the spooks ? 'A rival faction - with an unhealthy interest in acquiring extra-terrestrial technology'. Yes, they seemed well resourced. Her own organisation was not without its own assets.

Would they be 're-assigned' or seconded ? No - they would operate covertly - utilising the authority they had as FBI agents.

She also hinted that Waco had been one of their ops - Hackett had served their and his curiosity was naturally aroused.

So - what was it to be ?

Both agents thought for a few seconds, discussing it briefly before announcing that they were 'in'.

'Good' she announced. 'Our clearance level is Delta Green and that's what we call ourselves. Welcome to Delta Green gentlemen'.

'We'll be in touch' she said simply, and walked away.

[kinnygraham]

In order to set up things for my next session, I've sent the following to my players in order to (mostly) wrap up 'Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays' and hopefully - quickly move on to the next scenario when we have our next session.


'One month has passed since a dead man got up off a mortuary slab and tried to kill you.

Since that time, you have been lying awake most nights trying to rationalise the stark horror of that room - the impossibility of a bullet-ridden corpse hunting you in the dark, the awful, maddening, rasping sound of a dead voice raised to offer blasphemous secrets and God only knows what else...and the knowledge of some awful thing that buried itself deep and furtive and feral in the guts of men both living and dead - and which wrought bloody havoc for half a year or more in a sickening spiral of brutality and death.

But to dwell on such things for too long is to court madness. So you try to dwell instead on the mysterious offer that you have accepted and on the contents of the intriguing package that appeared in your mail. Whoever they are, it seems that this DELTA GREEN group are serious in their intent. You have also sensed their influence over the last few weeks. The Office of Professional Responsibility, the FBI's 'internal affairs' department, quite uncharacteristically seem prepared to cut you a lot of slack in their investigations into the mortuary incident so far - balancing the 'undoubted success' of your apprehension of Santana (a media coup of some significance for the Bureau - even if the two 'stars' have been kept well out of the limelight) against the 'trivial' nature of some post-mortem injuries inflicted on Santana's corpse. Indeed, their attentions instead seem to have switched to the 'unidentified vigilantes' who sought to disturb proceedings in the mortuary and who may have been responsible for provoking any 'accidental' firearms discharges. The investigation is not yet complete - but until it is, it's business as usual and back to work for the Bureau – both for you and for Hobson who seems to have recovered his position of SAC amid talk of ‘misunderstandings’ and ‘mis-communication’.

But at night, you think. It did not feel like an 'undoubted success' to you. Not when it went down out at the hunting lodge, not when you attended the funeral of Officer Chavez of the ASP - felled when he entered the burning room, and not when you visited Keefer and Drake - his two colleagues lying broken and burned in critical condition in a Phoenix hospital. In fact 'undoubted success' seems like a sick joke when you think about all of them - about the dead kid and his maimed friends who'd survived only to die in a helicopter explosion that no-one can explain (not least because all electronic equipment, including cameras, seemed to have malfunctioned just seconds before the blast). The girl who made it will never walk again you hear. The Tribal Police Officers butchered where they stood. Major Garrett - his brains shot out on to the forest floor. The Apache shamen and their unfortunate apprentice. Kenneth Braverman, his kids and his wife (and God only knows what happened to her) - and all of the other brutalised dead leading back on a bloody trail back to West Virginia and perhaps......... beyond?

But most of all, you can't help think about Santana himself. You were a little surprised when Sheriff Colorados contacted you and invited you to his funeral rite just over a week ago. His body had been cremated with little ceremony about a week after his death, but it seemed that his own people wished to say a last farewell - despite the horror he had caused. It was with no small amount of trepidation that you took to the Gila Mountains again - but as you travelled with Colorados you began to understand his need - to know that whatever Santana had done, it wasn't the essential 'him' that had performed these fearful deeds. You'd already hinted as much to him in the wake of the carnage out at the lodge and now he seemed to be content with your re-affirmation that this was indeed so - even if your confirmation lacked the detail that others might have needed. In a ceremony at sunset, Santana's ashes were scattered in the mountains that he had loved. Somehow, you were not surprised to hear a lone coyote howl once, alone and unseen, somewhere off in the darkening gloom.

But Santana's shade knows no rest - at least not in your fevered dreams. In slow paralysing nightmares he comes to you - borne on mournful desert winds whispering in from the east. His dead eyes bore into you - and his dead, dread voice promises sweet damnation if only you will listen to him.

It's only when you awake sweating that a damnable thought comes to mind - perhaps such horror can only be erased by something new, something fresh - and perhaps more terrible still? '



And that pretty much concludes 'Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays' which I've enjoyed running immensely.

If anyone is interested, I might also get back and post some notes about some of the plot twists that happend during the scenario. Player action can always throw you - which is what makes role playing so fun - and some things happend that I wasn't expecting and other things didn't happen that I thought would !

Keepers might be interested in hearing that kind of stuff ( I love playtest notes when they are provided) - if so, let me know.

Hopefully - I'll be back with an account of a new scenario soon - cue fiendish laughter ;) .

[Fulsrush]

Ooh, nice wrap-up, presenting Santana to be as much a victim as the other dead.

(Damnit, must get back to writing up my Cthulhu Dark Ages game...)

[kinnygraham]

.....


(Damnit, must get back to writing up my Cthulhu Dark Ages game...)

Yes please - drop me a PM when you do, just to make sure I read it.

Cheers.

[Fulsrush]

Will do.

Taster: The Christ-child was born to a 'virgin' last week, bringing on a wave of post-millennial confusion, and this week was given the name Bartholomew.

Yes, the second coming of Christ is called Bart. At least I had the sense to veto Damien...

[kinnygraham]

After a few week of postponements for one reason or another, I finally got to run the next instalment of my 'Delta Green' campaign the other night (7th December 2004) .

SPOILER WARNING

This time, I chose to run the Delta Green scenario 'See No Evil' which was published in 'The Unspeakable Oath' issue # 16/17. The following is an account of what happened in the first session, and as such, contains spoilers for that scenario. Potential players should stop reading NOW.


For this session, I was able to welcome back Martin Tulloch and Steve Emmott (playing FBI Special Agents DeVere and Hackett respectively - still battered around the edges from their experiences in Arizona) and also to introduce a new player to the group. Nick Clements played Special Agent Pat O'Connor - a 'specialist' in the technical aspects of surveillance who only recently graduated from the D.E.A 's training programme in Quantico.

Moody atmosphere was provided by use of the soundtrack from the movie 'Insomnia'.


The story opened in October of 1997 (just under two months since the events in Arizona) and by this time Agents DeVere and Hackett were now inducted into the Delta Green conspiracy - having received a package containing details of how the mysterious organisation operated shortly after they agreed to join. Both men now comprised 'T' Cell in the Delta Green structure and had chosen the codenames 'Turner' and 'Thomas'.

Now the two agents found themselves in New York, having only recently been 'temporarily' re-assigned there by their superiors. This was not a complete surprise to them since they had been warned of this development by 'Cell A' - the shadowy 'directors' of the Delta Green conspiracy. Agent 'Alphonse' had e-mailed them the following briefing:



'From: ‘A’ Cell
To: Agents Turner & Thomas
Subject: Operation ‘See No Evil’

Your employers will shortly be temporarily re-assigning you to another city.

There, you will be tasked to head up a surveillance operation against an organisation that the Bureau has recently developed an interest in.

This organisation, and in particular the individuals comprising its leadership, is also of potential interest to DELTA GREEN. We require objective analysis and intelligence in this matter, and consequently we cannot share any further information on the target subjects with your Cell at this time.

Your superiors will place legal parameters upon the nature of the surveillance that you will be conducting. As DELTA GREEN agents, you will NOT be bound by such parameters. Given your recent experiences, I am sure that you will understand when I say that you are to consider yourselves answerable to a higher authority.

The fellow members of your team are NOT cleared for DELTA GREEN intelligence and will be unaware of your true purpose in this operation. Extreme caution must therefore be exercised, particularly with regards to any breach of the legal parameters discussed above.

However, a technical specialist from another Agency will be tasked to support your team. He has been instructed to follow your direction in all matters pertaining to the surveillance (including potential questions of legality) and he should be assessed for potential recruitment to your Cell at some point in the future. This individual while not DELTA GREEN ‘aware’ or ‘friendly’ has unique characteristics that make him a very suitable subject for induction.

To summarise your objectives:

1) Covertly gather intelligence on the target subject(s) while maintaining your cover. We will be particularly interested in any indications of ‘occult interest’ or of any manifestation of paranormal phenomena.
2) Report back to ‘A’ cell when the surveillance operation is complete, or at your discretion should circumstance dictate.
3) Assess the ‘technical specialist’ referred to above for potential induction to DELTA GREEN and ‘T’ Cell.


Be seeing you, Alphonse.'




And so the two agents found themselves on an early Sunday afternoon in a meeting room in the FBI New York field office in Federal Plaza in New York. Also present in the room was ASAC Michaels and SA O'Connor of the DEA. Michaels came to the point.

He wanted the two agents to head up a surveillance operation against an organisation calling itself 'The Review' - a society of right wing historians dedicated to challenging the accepted facts of the Holocaust. The Bureau suspected that the Review may have links with far-right white-supremacists, fascists, extreme militia groups and other similar organisations and were concerned that their 'work' provided such organisations with an intellectual rationale or justification for their extreme views The Review were due to have a conference in New York that week - affording the Bureau the perfect opportunity to observe their 'Big 4' in the one geographical location and to build up a better picture of them.

Michaels handed out files describing the history of the Group and the known facts about the main players in the organisation:

Michael Drinkwater. An out of work History professor and self-described expert on the concentration camps. Due to arrive in NY's JFK airport from Providence the following afternoon.
Allan Bhrunt. A publisher who edited the Review's 'Journal'. Also a one-time petty criminal with previous convictions for forgery, assault and possession of narcotics. Due to arrive by train from Florida in NY late Tuesday afternoon.
Peter Hames. A retired USAF Major and apparent 'specialist' in Nazi Party documentation. Due to arrive on Thursday - also to JFK - from Ohio
Stephen Colm. The group's Secretary/Treasurer and all round administrator. Colm was also resident in New York - unlike the other three who were booked into the Marriott in Times Square.

Agent O'Connor was on secondment from the DEA to provide technical assistance to the operation and other manpower would be provided by four rookie FBI agents whose files Hackett and DeVere were able to peruse shortly before being introduced to them.

Agent David Faulkener - a former Assistant State Attorney (white Caucasian).
Agent Samantha Lynn - a former Naval Investigative Services officer (white Caucasian).
Agent Eric Roberts - a law school graduate (African American).
Agent Steve Udagawa - a former Army Intelligence analyst (Japanese American).

Michaels reminded the agents about the legalities of such an operation. 'Non-intrusive' surveillance (photography, parabolic microphones etc ) was in. Intrusive surveillance (wiretaps, planting bugs etc) was out - unless the agents could show 'probable cause' that a crime was being planned or committed in order to obtain a warrant.

The two FBI men introduced themselves to O'Connor while Michaels went off to fetch the other rookie agents. Hackett immediately probed O'Connor about whether he would consider himself to be a stickler for procedure. To Hackett's satisfaction, O'Connor conceded that he wasn't - especially where a bunch of Nazi apologists were concerned. O'Connor had his own reasons for taking such a view. His training had been overseen from a distance by his Uncle Mike - a senior figure in the Drug Enforcement Administration. His Uncle Mike had only recently informed him that he was going on a surveillance operation for the FBI and that he was not to worry about the legalities of any tasks that he was asked to perform by the agents in charge. Such questions were for his superiors to consider. Uncle Mike was aware that this was a strange request - but had assured him that it was important.

There was some nice role-playing in the next stages of the evening as the player-characters introduced themselves to the team of rookies. Hackett and DeVere were keen to see how 'flexible' these agents would be should they overstep the mark in their surveillance of the The Review. To that end he tasked the rookies with finding a good bar while he, DeVere and O'Connor went off to requisition all manner of esoteric surveillance equipment. When they caught up with them (in a nearby bar frequented by 'federal types') they were interested to see who had bought alcohol and who hadn't. From there they took the rookies to a restaurant - discussing 'the Review' and possible strategies such as having two of the agents pose as a married couple in the Marriott or having one of them attend the conference (Roberts jokingly volunteered at this point). Lynn seemed determined to prove her worth - matching the drinkers in the group. Roberts wasn't averse either, but Faulkener and Udagawa kept to the sensible stuff for the main part - only drinking a shot when told it was a Fed 'tradition'. Eventually the senior agents sent them away and tasked them with researching further into the Review while they continued with their own preparations. They were to meet again the next morning at 8.30am back at Federal Plaza.

O'Connor headed straight uptown to check out the Merriweather Centre (the convention spot where the conference was to take place) and the Marriott that three of their subjects would be staying at. The Centre was closed though he did get a good idea of the general layout. At the Marriott he established the general layout and earmarked a building opposite as a potential monitoring spot. He telephoned this info to DeVere before heading back to his hotel. Here he established that the Merriweather Centre floorplans were not available online - so he asked the Bureau to obtain them from City Hall. Finally he retired to bed to read over the available files on 'The Review'.

DeVere put in a call to the Bureau requesting that they establish exactly what rooms their targets would be staying in. With this info established then went to interview the hotel manager (identifying himself as an agent) and explained that they wanted to conduct a surveillance op in the hotel and that they would need access to a room next door to one of the subjects (Bhrunt was chosen here as his room could not be overseen from the spot opposite that they'd picked out). Naturally the hotel manager needed written authority and DeVere assured him this would be forthcoming. DeVere then crossed the road to the opposite building and obtained the building owner's details from the security guards with a view to requesting access to set up a surveillance spot. DeVere then headed back downtown to the hotel.

Hackett stayed put - having a few more drinks in the bar of the hotel they were all staying at. He then contacted the Bureau and asked them to see if a check could be made on the movements of known white-supremacists or similar types - perhaps some of them would be attending the conference ?

The next morning, as was their custom back in Arizona during the 'Santana case', the two FBI men met over breakfast. They speculated on what Delta Green's interest might be and Hackett asked DeVere if he could perhaps search the internet to see if any of these Review types had 'occult' interests. They also speculated on O'Connor and on why (skill set aside) he might make a good recruit for Delta Green. O'Connor then joined them and they talked over the mechanics of the surveillance op before heading off to meet up with the rest of the team.

Back at the Federal building, it soon became apparent that they had overlooked Stephen Colm - who was already resident in New York. O'Connor twigged to this first, but the rookie agents weren't far behind. Lynn pointed out that the surveillance op was supposed to be in full swing from today and that all seven of them were sitting around with their 'thumbs in their asses' while Colm was presumably walking around out in the City. Hackett took this one on the chin - knowing that they deserved it. He tasked Lynn to call Colm at his workplace (an accountant's office) impersonating a telemarketing type to establish if he was at work. While she did this (Colm was indeed at work she was able to confirm) , the rest of the team discussed how they would go about covering Drinkwater's arrival at JFK today - as well as setting up the surveillance equipment. Permission had been obtained from both the hotel and the landlord of the offices opposite - but this remained a challenging logistical exercise - especially considering that the Delta Green men and their technician also wanted to take the immediate opportunity of breaking into Colm's flat that day to plant some extra 'gear' of their own.

We left the session there, with the prospect of some careful planning ahead and a little good old fashioned B&E......!

[kinnygraham]

Played the next session in the scenario 'See No Evil' the other night (15th December 2004). You can read about the last session in my previous post.

This account contains SPOILERS for the scenario and should therefore be avoided by any potential players.




We opened the game with the agents at Federal Plaza, planning to have a look at Colm's apartment - and to make the necessary arrangements to start putting the Review members under surveillance.

Rookies Faulkener and Lynn were assigned to start setting up surveillance gear (telescopic cameras, parabolic microphones, recording equipment etc) in the office room overlooking the Marriott. Taylor was despatched to the accountant's office where Colm worked to give everybody a heads up in case Colm should leave (Hackett anticipated that Colm would probably go to meet Michael Drinkwater - who was due to arrive at 4.45pm at JFK that afternoon). DeVere signed a car out of the vehicle pool and took Ugadawa with him on a trip to JFK - planning to make contact with airport security in preparation for Drinkwater's arrival - and to scope out the arrivals hall in case he made contact with anyone.

Hackett and O'Connor - now dressed as 'maintenance men' in boiler suits and hard hats, signed out a non-descript white van from the car pool and headed over to Colm's apartment, which was located in a nice brownstone building near Central Park. They immediately surmised that the building had a door entry system. Deciding not to try and bypass it, O'Connor instead headed for the rear of the building - where he located fire escape stairs which looked as if they would granted access through windows to Colm's apartment. O'Connor called Colm's apartment from his cell to double check that no-one else was in (according to his file he was a divorcee - but the agents were taking no chances). The phone was not answered - but O'Connor was slightly dismayed when he heard a barking from within the apartment, seemingly in response to his call. It sounded like Colm had a dog in there. He quickly established that the main window panel - which gave access to a bedroom - was wired to detect it being opened (a precaution to alert the building supervisor to the possibility of a fire). He de-activated this (though not as tidily as he liked, meaning that his deliberate tampering might be detectable should anyone go looking) and after co-ordinating with Hackett in a successful ruse to lure the building super to the main door of the building - managed to open the window. The dog continued to bark away - evidently just on the other side of the door from where O'Connor now stood. The bedroom itself was neat and tidy. O'Connor gave it a quick and careful search, noting nothing much unusual other Colm's collection of military figurines in a display case - and a largish box on the floor of the walk-in closet. This contained a 9mm automatic and several boxes of ammunition which the DEA man replaced carefully where he found them. He then prepared to open the bedroom door and control the dog - preparing a blanket to cover it in should the need arise. This proved to be unnecessary though; the beast - a small mongrel - was perfectly docile and friendly when confronted - quieting down immediately. O'Connor next explored the living room (large collection of political and history books - though no TV) and kitchen (tailored for a man who obviously very much enjoyed cooking). However, the front door area provided a perplexing surprise. Here, it was apparent a large amount of talcum powder had been spread - evidently in a crude attempt to detect any intruder. Due to the apartment lay out O'Connor would have to negotiate this should he wish to explore the rest of Colm's place. As a precaution, he ensured that the dog was trailed through the talc - hoping that it would be blamed for any disturbance (!) Removing his footwear he then levered himself up and around the area, dropping safely on the other side where he was able to approach the door to another room. However, here he spotted another detection 'device' - a hair fastened to the junction of door and floor with some small slivers of sell-o-tape. O'Connor would have to break this should he wish to gain access to the room. This he did - entering a study that had previously been a bedroom containing a large locked filing cabinet, telephone, PC with peripherals and a small bookcase containing a mini-library of conspiracy-theory 'literature'. Further ' hair devices' were placed at strategic points in this room. Clearly, Colm was either paranoid - or very prescient. O'Connor decided to work quickly, deciding not to tamper with the files or the PC. Instead he place a bug in the phone and then planted a miniature camera and microphone which would broadcast to recording equipment he would place nearby. He also ensured that the dog entered to room, in a hope that it would get the blame for breaking the hair. This task completed he tried to negotiate the 'talced' area again by climbing around and over it - but he was unsuccessful and he ended up on his ass in the middle of it. Cursing he grabbed the dog again and rolled the creature back and forward in the talcum powder ! Searching the bedroom he found a large quantity of the stuff and he set about trying to replace some of it on the floor again. Finally he planted another camera and bug in the living room - and a further audio bug in the master bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he exited the building the same way he came in.

Meanwhile out at the airport, DeVere contacted airport security and explained in broad terms the surveillance op that they were conducting. He requested permission to use the airport cameras to monitor and record Drinkwater's arrival. Security went a step further and offered to have Drinkwater pulled aside on a 'random' search to get a look at his belongings. A 'fishing expedition' in other words. This was just fine by DeVere. Meanwhile, Udagawa was tasked with familiarising himself with the arrivals hall just in case Drinkwater should try and make contact with anyone here. These arrangements made, they headed back into the City to rendezvous with the others at the office across from the Marriott.

Here the two DG agents met with O'Connor met up to discuss what had happened that day so far (O'Connor choosing not to divulge that he'd fallen on his ass in the apartment....). The DEA man also checked the equipment that had been set up here to make sure that it was OK. Hackett then received a call from ASAC Michaels who explained that he wanted to see him and DeVere downtown at the Federal Building later that evening, instructing them to alter their plans accordingly.

It was also at this point the agents realised that they hadn't planned as well as they might in terms of transport. They needed to put tails on both Colm and Drinkwater and they were woefully short of transport, having only two vehicles between them - one of which had government plates. The agents quickly improvised by hitting a car-rental place near the Marriott - but though the rookies didn't say anything, there were certainly a few eyebrows raised.

The next assignments were then made. Hackett and O'Connor, with Lynn (in another vehicle) went over to meet Taylor outside Colm's workplace planning to tail him if he went to meet Drinkwater. DeVere, Udagawa and Faulkener headed out to the airport (all in separate vehicles) to prepare to watch over Drinkwater.

Colm left his workplace just after three and immediately headed home, but to Hackett's surprise it became apparent that he wasn't intending to leave again in time to meet Drinkwater. The agents at Colm's decided to stay put to see what he would do. O'Connor sloped off to review his surveillance equipment. He could see that Colm was immediately suspicious when he'd entered the flat - and that he had headed straight to his office to check that his files and PC had not been tampered with. Thereafter he'd taken a stiff drink, obviously rattled by something. O'Connor suspected that Colm probably knew something was amiss.

Meanwhile out at the airport, DeVere was able to monitor Drinkwater's arrival and 'random' search. Nothing unusual was found in his baggage and he was waved through to be picked up by Faulkener and Udagawa, who tailed him to the Marriott with DeVere catching up. Once checked into his room, Drinkwater called his wife and then Colm. Hackett and O'Connor (now in the van outside the building) were able to listen in thanks to the bug that had been planted (agents Udagawa, Faulkener and DeVere could listen in to Drinkwater's side of the conversation - thanks to the sophisticated mikes that were pointing at his hotel window from the office across the road). The conversation was brief, Drinkwater merely informing Colm if his safe arrival and enquiring about the readiness of preparations for the Conference on Saturday. Drinkwater did seem to detect that something was amiss with Colm, but Colm assured him that he was OK, and the conversation ended with both parties apparently looking forward to seeing each other on the day of the meeting.

Hackett and DeVere were now shortly due downtown to see ASAC Michaels and they left O'Connor, Lynn and Taylor outside Colm's place, with Faulkener and Udagawa 'on station' across from the Marriott.

Meanwhile, O'Connor had checked and established that Colm was not licensed to own a firearm - interesting news. He also took the opportunity of secretly planting a tracking device on Colm's car (unobserved by the two rookies) - shortly before the man himself left his apartment to walk his dog in nearby Central Park. The two rookie Feds and the DEA man had to exercise caution here - Colm was clearly jumpy and jumping at shadows and they had to work hard to remain unobserved. Colm talked with no-one and returned to his apartment after half an hour.

Down town, ASAC Michaels came to the point and asked Hackett and DeVere if they felt they were up to the job of leading the surveillance op. It had been 'brought to his attention' that their organisation so far had been less than stellar. Colm had travelled to work that morning while all of the agents were downtown doing nothing. Was alcohol a factor here ? He was aware that both of them, Hackett in particular, had been drinking heavily the day before. And he'd also been informed that they hadn't planned the transport situation adequately that afternoon. Hackett - the veteran of the two, seemed to be bearing the brunt of the criticism. DeVere attempted to defend him but Michaels was having none of it. Hackett explained the drinking by saying that this was his way of bonding the group. Michaels countered that he could accept this normally - but not when it could be inferred that it was affecting his performance and that of the team. Hackett had to concede here. Michaels finished his lecture by warning the two that they were setting an example to the rookies. He appreciated their assistance in helping the New York Bureau out (their surveillance manpower was stretched by several ongoing organised crime investigations) and was aware of their solid reputation from the 'Santana case' - but he did not want that assistance to be 'counter-productive'. The two agents assured him that they were 'on the case' and left - keenly wondering which one of their rookies had been reporting on them.

They headed back to the office across from the Marriott. Drinkwater had left his room for a meal downstairs and Udagawa had crossed the road to observe him - but he had apparently made no unusual contact with anyone, and was on his way back to his room apparently when the senior agents arrived back. Here, the agents listened in he ordered up a movie (of all things, 'Schindler's List') and settled down for the evening.

O'Connor left Lynn and Taylor back at Colm's and headed back to the office to meet up with DeVere and Hackett. He described how Colm had been very concerned to check that that his files were intact and was contemplating breaking in again. It was late evening - and the agents now had to decide who would cover the targets in the wee small hours. Bhrunt was also due to arrive in NY the following day.

We left the session with the three agents slowly realising that their 'low key' surveillance op was something of a logistical challenge....and Hackett and DeVere still did not know what justified Delta Green's interest.....

[Fulsrush]

The poor dog...

[Delirium]

Superb write up.

I'll be running DG starting from Jauary so this very interesting. Keep 'em coming :)

[silburnl]

Sounds like a fun game. One question regarding the organisational screwups that led to the ASAC carpeting the two principals - was that down to IC flakiness (Hackett's drinking say) or the players not being familiar with the routines and procedures of a covert surveillance op?

Regards
Luke

PS
Very, very minor quibble/question. Colm lives in central Manhattan and has a car? Aren't eldritch monstrosities from beyond space enough ulcer-fodder for him?

[voidstate]

So, are you the person responsible for the kick ass DG recruitment poster I saw in Travelling Man at the weekend? I was really impressed with it.

voidstate

[kinnygraham]

Thanks for the kind words people - it's good to know that someone out there is enjoying these write - ups.

Silburnl - I've answered your points in a PM (slightly spoilerish - and my players happen past here sometimes...)


So, are you the person responsible for the kick ass DG recruitment poster I saw in Travelling Man at the weekend? I was really impressed with it.

voidstate

Not quite.. ...The poster is certainly about my campaign, but the kudos must go to one of my players who put it together (Martin Tulloch - aka 'Agent Turner' / Special Agent DeVere). As you can imagine, I was very pleased with it - and it served its purpose in helping us recruit 'Agent O'Connor'.

I was going to ask him to add the Delta Green 'logo' to it (which I think would enhance it even more) in case anyone else was interested in using it...

[kinnygraham]

Played the third session of 'See No Evil' on 22nd December 2004.

As always, this account contains SPOILERS for this scenario.

We opened play on the Monday - the first day of the surveillance, about 10pm in the evening, as the characters considered their next options in the operation.

Drinkwater (observable from the office opposite) seemed to be settling down for the night, and Colm had returned to his flat after walking his dog. Reviewing progress so far, the two DG men and O'Connor decided that more transport was required for the upcoming days. Hackett and DeVere headed downtown to Federal Plaza to sign out for more vehicles, but unluckily were only able to obtain one more that was suitable (the rest being used for other Bureau activities). This gave them a pool of five vehicles to work with: a van (the rear packed with monitoring gear being used illicitly by an obliging O'Connor), a government car not suitable for surveillance, two rentals - and a car they had just signed for. DeVere was also curious about Hames - the ex USAF major - and took the opportunity of putting in a request to see his military records.

Returning uptown, arrangements were soon made to cover the 'night shift'. Hackett took the shift at Colm's, rotating through the night with Lynn and Taylor (who jokingly warned Lynn not to get any funny ideas as they settled down to grab some shut-eye in the back of the car). O'Connor and DeVere settled down on bunks at the office - rotating through the night with Udagawa and Faulkener. The night passed uneventfully at both locations.

The next morning, Drinkwater arose and headed down for breakfast - where he was monitored by Udagawa. Drinkwater returned to his room briefly to brush his teeth and then headed out on foot into the thronging Manhattan streets. The team took no chances - assigning DeVere, Faulkener and Udagawa to work the surveillance on foot. Over the course of the morning it became apparent that Drinkwater was something of a bibliophile - he was visiting a number of bookstores and buying up a lot of political and historical works.

O'Connor took this opportunity to enter the Marriott and the room adjacent to the one that Bhrunt was due to book into that afternoon (access to this had been arranged by DeVere via the Bureau yesterday morning) . Here, he spent the morning carefully accessing the ceiling space to plant fibre-optic cables and audio bugs with good coverage of Bhrunt's room. In similar fashion to the equipment planted in Colm's apartment, these would transmit to recording equipment nearby (in Bhrunt's case to equipment in the adjacent room; in Colm's, to a box disguised to look like a small electrical junction box at the rear of then property) - the signals could also be monitored 'live' from the equipment in the rear of the van if it was within half a mile or so.

Meanwhile, the remaining agents followed Colm as he made his way to work in his car. It occurred to them that a sensible Manhattanite could probably make this journey on foot, or by bus. But Colm appeared to prefer the car.

After finishing at the hotel, O'Connor then headed over to Colm's apartment to review the tapes he had made. It was apparent that Colm was at least suspicious that something wasn't right - (there had been disruptions to at least one of his detection devices - though not the most important ones) and he seemed to be particularly concerned about the contents of his filing cabinet. But after checking that this was undisturbed he'd done nothing interesting other than taking the call from Drinkwater, walking the dog, cooking a meal and settling down for the night. However, he had re-set his devices the next morning, before setting off for work.

The next challenge of the day was to monitor Bhrunt's arrival at Grand Central at 5pm that evening. By now, Drinkwater had returned to the hotel to read some of his many book purchases - so the coverage required on him was minimal (Udagawa was assigned), assuming that he didn't do anything unexpected (by no means guaranteed). However, the team were alert to the possibility of Colm going to meet Bhrunt - and they planned accordingly, but unnecessarily as it turned out. Bhrunt (short and stocky) took a taxi to the Marriott, tailed by Lynn, O'Connor and Faulkener - with DeVere waiting on him outside the Marriott. The agents had been speculating on why he had opted for the train rather than flying - and now their suspicions were aroused when they noticed that in addition to a larger hold-all suitable for clothes, he also had a large black briefcase on him. He checked in - and went for his room. O'Connor excused himself and headed for his equipment - where he was able to view Bhrunt throw the briefcase under the bed. O'connor then crossed the road to meet the rest of the group at the office.

Colm had headed straight for home - again tailed by Hackett and Taylor.

Back at the office opposite the Marriott the agents were able to listen in via laser microphone as Drinkwater made arrangements to meet someone (assumed to be Bhrunt) for dinner at seven. O'Connor headed for the van to watch and see if Bhrunt left the case behind. He didn't. Disappointed, O'Connor left the surveillance here to head back over to Colm's. The two Review men did indeed meet in the hotel lobby and walked on foot to an Italian restaurant several blocks away. At this point the agents got some good zoom photos of the briefcase - they'd discussed a plan to switch it, and were keeping their options open. Despite the best efforts of the covering agents (DeVere, and Udagawa), they couldn't pick anything up on their portable parabolic mikes (the restaurant was too noisy and they didn't have anything close to a good position). They were frustrated, but didn't want to enter the restaurant without reservations as they felt it might risk their cover. After eating, the two Review men crossed the road to a bar - where Udagawa was able to partially listen in from the booth adjacent to the one their subjects settled in. Udagawa was able to report that at one point the two men were racially classifying the other patrons of the bar. Udagawa was Japanese in ancestry - and he'd even overheard them classify him as 'High Yellow' as he'd made his way to the gents to get a better look at them. Clearly they were dealing with a couple of racist pricks the team decided. As a precaution, DeVere took over in the bar - with Udagawa taking up a position outside. Their targets had several rounds of drinks over the course of the evening, before eventually walking back to the Marriott.

Over at Colm's apartment O'Connor reviewed the coverage they had on him for the evening (on the other side of the block away from Hackett and Taylor in order that the rookie didn't see how far 'over the line' they'd went in their surveillance) . Colm had been busy on the phone in the late afternoon - making arrangements with the Merriweather Centre, book vendors, caterers etc in relation to the Conference. The details were noted in case they became useful later on. They also heard that Bhrunt had phoned Colm to notify him of his arrival in NY - although it was apparent the two were not planning to meet until the Saturday of the Conference. This got the agents speculating on the relationship between The Review members - it was becoming clearer from what they had heard so far that Colm was perhaps not as close to the other two men as they were to each other. He walked the dog at 7.30pm, the same time as the previous evening, under surveillance from Hackett and Taylor who followed him to Central Park and back. They observed how he seemed to take great pains to avoid human contact, giving people a wide berth where possible - although he did exchange a few words with an old lady who emerged from his apartment building when he returned. Back at his study, he'd switched on his PC to read his e-mails (allowing O'Connor to observe his password - 'destiny') before opening up his filing cabinet (disabling a hair 'detection device' first) and retrieving some correspondence from the rearmost file in the bottom drawer). He read through this at length - seemingly rapt in what was written - before finally putting the letters away again, drinking a nightcap, and retiring for the evening.

With their targets settled - the DG men were able to cover off a few loose ends. A summary they received of Hames military records showed nothing too unusual - he'd flew bomber missions over Germany during WW2, and then had been stationed over there after the war. Hackett was still interested to see if any known white supremacists were descending on the Conference - but that information was not available. Reviewing their footage, they were able to confirm that Colm was permanently hooked up to the internet - so DeVere, normally competent in computer tech, tried to hack in to his system - but was unsuccessful.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully - and it looked like Drinkwater and Bhrunt were going to sleep late. Colm took off for work as usual (setting up his 'traps' once again before leaving) and the agents agreed that O'Connor should break in again - with DeVere hacking into his PC again at the same time. O'Connor was well prepared this time - purchasing a 'dust-buster' hand held hoover, acetate, tape and other items to help defeat Colm's rather primitive measures.

DeVere was successful in hacking into the system - obtaining access to the Review's membership files, Colm's writing projects - and interestingly, an 'encrypted' file labelled 'Sundries'. Unfortunately, he was not able to defeat the encryption - yet.

O'Connor broke into the apartment again - well prepared for the devices he encountered. The dog was as docile as he was on the visit before. He gained access to the files and saw that for the most part, they were records concerning the financial records of the Review and it's membership, book publications etc. However, the correspondence that Colm had been so interested in the night before was something different. They appeared to be a number of letters to 'Stephen' (Colm's first name) from someone identified as 'Linz'. A quick scan indicated a collection of right wing rants - but strangely, these were also interspersed with drawings of weird symbols and diagrams. O'Connor took careful photographs of these and put them back where he'd found them. He also took pictures of Colm's conspiracy book collection - before heading out the door.

O'Connor quickly developed his film, and Hackett left his surveillance post outside Colm's employer to join him in the van. Reading in detail they could see that 'Linz' was demonstrating knowledge of WW2 history and similar matters. But in addition to railing against Communists and Jews - he was also was hinting to Colm that there were 'others' who thought as he did. Furthermore, that they were in possession of secret and powerful knowledge which could help them turn the tables on their enemies. The last letter ended with a promise that Linz would contact Colm ' near the time of the Conference' and show him the power that he commanded. 'Enlightenment and Destiny' are at hand the last letter promised....

And that's where we left the session.

[kinnygraham]

Played the fourth session of 'See No Evil' on the 12th January. This account contains SPOILERS for that scenario . The previous events in this game can be found in my previous posts .

We opened the session about midday on Wednesday with Agents O'Connor and Hackett considering the strange letters photographed in Colm's apartment (which the DEA man had broke into that morning). The other two surveillance targets (Drinkwater and Bhrunt) had not left their hotel rooms yet - so Agent De Vere left Udagawa, Faulkener and Lynn at the office overlooking the Marriott and headed over to Colm's place to meet the other two and read over the intriguing correspondence.

Considered in more detail, the letters (about 18 or so in total) initially seemed more concerned with the author, identified as 'Linz', proving his in depth knowledge of German and Nazi party centered WWII history. However, the letters soon degenerated into a combination of paranoid conjecture and lectures, leavened with occultish mumbo-jumbo illustrated with strange diagrams. The key point of the letters as far as as the agents were concerned was that the author seemed to be hinting that he represented a faction in possession of some secret and powerful knowledge - and that he would be getting in touch with Colm at about the time of the Review Conference to prove the truth of this.

DeVere's first reaction was to scan a selection of these and e-mail them to Cell A with a request for analysis and further guidance. He then turned to the matter of the encrypted file from Colm's PC that he had hacked into. His strong hunch was that that the file had been prepared using an as yet unidentified text as the key - find the text, and it would be a simple matter to translate the file. O'Connor had taken the precaution of photographing the book collection in Colm's office and they now examined this in detail. This collection was a widely ranging library of conspiracy 'literature' - everything from texts about the 'true' identity of Shakespeare, the 'staged' death of Elvis, the assassination of JFK, faked moon landings and UFO cover ups. The only book that stood out as utterly different in this collection was a copy of the complete 'Jeeves and Wooster' by PG Woodhouse. DeVere left the others, heading off to the nearest bookshop to look for a copy. The agents received word that Drinkwater was now stirring, and it had to be assumed that Bhrunt might be on the move as well - so O'Connor (who was strongly of the opinion that both Colm and Linz were obviously crazy as batshit and not worth all this fuss) headed back to the Marriott to provide some backup. Hackett headed back on foot across Cental Park to assist Taylor - who was on station outside Colm's employer's.

Over the next hour it became apparent that Drinkwater, now followed by Faulkener, was apparently engaged in another book shopping expedition - this time concentrating his attentions to the crime and thriller sections. Bhrunt, still in possession of his suspicious briefcase and followed by Lynn, had headed uptown and after a few blocks had surprised the team by entering the lobby of a local radio station. Lynn could only enter as far as the foyer without a reasonable excuse to go further and became concerned that she would lose him if Bhrunt exited the building by another route - so O'Connor (driving the van containing all his hi-tech surveillance gear) quickly established that delivery bay opening on a rear access road was the only other possible way out. He took up position here as the team tuned in to the station. It became apparent that Bhrunt was due to appear at 2pm on a current and political affairs centered show - alongside a journalist / author and a local official. As the show unfolded, The Review's skill in spreading the 'gospel' of Holocaust revisionism became apparent. Bhrunt refused to rise to any bait - either from the host, guests or callers and instead simply and calmly presented himself as a simple 'seeker of truth'. He pointed out that surveys showed that most of the American people did not believe what their government had told them about the assassination of JFK - and he asked them to merely open their minds to the possibility that they had been lied to about other things as well. He referred listeners to their web-site and to the books that they had published - though interestingly he made no mention of the imminent Conference.

While this performance unfolded, DeVere - now in possession of his Jeeves and Wooster volume - set about cracking the code in Colm's encrypted file. His hunch was proved correct, and with the key provided the capable FBI agent was able to make short work of Colm's simple cipher. There was a lot to get through, but a representative sample provided a fascinating, if somewhat worrying, insight into the man's mind :

Selected Excerpts from the ‘Sundries’ file created by Stephen Colm

12th August 1996
‘Was followed again today. I’m sure of it. But what do they intend? Another assault like the last one in an attempt to silence me? To silence all of us? They are pulling all the strings and expect us to dance to their tune. But I will not. I must be doubly careful from now on.’

15th September 1996
‘Am not sure at all about that new woman in the staff canteen. There is a Semetic cast to her features and a cunning intelligence in her eyes that makes me suspicious. They would think nothing of planting someone to monitor what I’m up to. But I’m wise to their game.’

27th November 1996
‘ Saw Them parked across the street tonight, watching my building. They are very clever; they rotate the vehicles and their personnel very frequently. But I know what they are up to.’

2nd December 1996
‘Received a letter from the landlord today. Rents going up. They are trying to drive me out. I can well afford the increase, but how long before they push it further? Their influence is pervasive. Must devise a strategy to hit back.’

8th December 1996
‘Exciting news. Received a letter from a fellow free thinker. A German who knows his history - his REAL history - and who is sympathetic to our cause. His words comfort me. He hints that there are more who feel as we do. Will not share this with the others though - he has requested privacy and I must honour his wishes. Hope this is not a ruse by Them. Feel not, but will take precaution of not mentioning Them when I respond. It would be foolish to let it slip that I am onto their game.’

3rd March 1997
‘ Jostled by a ‘jogger’ this evening when walking Bernard. Came home immediately. Found nothing on clothing but took the precaution of throwing them out. God - fear I am poisoned! Scrubbed skin thoroughly and could see no marks but they have long been masters in those arts. Will I see the dawn? Must not panic.’

5th June 1997
‘Newspapers depressing. Is it only me that can see how their schemes at work in all of it?’

8th July 1997
‘Another letter from Linz today. He continues to impress me with his knowledge and insight - wish I was stronger on my occult though.. Wish he would write more frequently. Get the impression he is assessing my readiness for something. But what? Continues to drop hints about others who share our views. Perhaps all is not lost? How I long to be able to strike back at Them! Can his friends help? Hope to God that They are not reading this.’

23rd August 1997
‘I’ve been something of a fool - They are not the problem I thought they were! It’s been ridiculous of me to think otherwise. There is absolutely nothing for me to worry about. Am sure it will all work itself out!’

3rd September 1997
‘Really enjoyed work today. Autumn leaves very enjoyable to kick through with Bernard in the Park this evening. Feeling good and looking forward to the Conference.’


Something very weird was happening inside the strange world of Stephen Colm.....

Back at the radio station Lynn gave O'Connor a quick call to to report that Bhrunt was leaving the building - and was hailing a taxi. It was her impression at this point that he seemed much more alert and it took all her tradecraft to appear incongruous while keeping an eye on him. O'Connor gunned the engine in the van but was frustrated to find that his exit from the rear of the building was blocked by the traffic. Bhrunt had found a cab by now and Lynn kept her eyes fixed on it as it pulled out into the busy street. O'Connor eventually got close to her, and she jumped aboard. By now, the taxi that Bhrunt was in was practically a block away - if they didn't want to run the risk of losing it they would be forced to pull some fancy driving to catch up. O'Connor didn't relish this much - he was primarily a 'techie' and offensive driving had NOT been his strong suite back at Quantico. Nonetheless, he hit the accelerator and started weaving the van through the crowd of cabs and other cars - egged on by the eager Lynn who was desperate not to lose their quarry. Up ahead, the lights were changing at the end of the block. O'Connor gambled, hitting the accelerator even harder and racing out into the junction. He lost; the van was side-swiped and went spinning towards the curb as another cab collided into it. The two agents were shaken up by the impact, but otherwise unhurt. As they gathered their wits, they could see an extremely irate cabbie climbing from his car and advancing towards them - a torrent of colourful invective already spewing from his lips. Lynn favoured O'Connor with a look of contempt and climbed out to deal with him. All around them, the traffic was grinding to a halt and already the volume from blazing horns was rising to a crescendo. Shamefaced, O'Connor punched Hackett's number in to his cell-phone and ruefully informed him that they had lost Bhrunt.

Just around this time, DeVere was making his way over to Colm's employer's office to share the contents of the decrypted file with Hackett. As he appraoched, Colm appeared on the steps of the building and headed for his car - and set off on a new route. Now alerted to the fact that Bhrunt was 'missing', Hackett was wary of some kind of planned rendezvous. He alerted Faulkener to keep a closer watch on Drinkwater in case he tried anything unusual as well - but their fears proved to be unfounded. Drinkwater continued to browse bookshops - pausing only to eat at a coffee shop. They tailed Colm to the Merriweather Centre - where Hackett impersonated a prospective event organiser and was able to get close enough to Colm and the manager to establish that the Review man was there checking on arrangments for the Conference. Bhrunt was nowhere to be seen. O'Connor had been tied up dealing with NY's finest and the aftermath of the little fender-bender which thankfully had not rendered the van inoperable - though Lynn had extricated herself from the mess and had arrived at the Merriweather Center to support the others. DeVere was meanwhile trying to get a handle of where Bhrunt might have gone. Lynn had made the number of the cab, and a few calls established that Bhrunt had been dropped off at a subway entrance only two or three blocks from the radio station. It was not lost on the agents that this could be interpreted as classic 'hard-target' counter-surveillance behaviour.

Colm eventually left the conference centre after a couple of hours and was tailed home. Faulkener eventually reported that Drinkwater seemed to be satisfied with his haul of crime thrillers and was heading back to the Marriott, so once Colm seemed to be safely back at home and Drinkwater was back in his room, the agents arranged to rotate their coverage. As they were putting these plans into motion, Bhunt was spotted getting out of a taxi back at the Marriott. 3 hours or so had elapsed since they had lost him. O'Connor raced down to the van in order to monitor the equipment he had set up to view Bhrunt's room. This foresight payed off - he was able to watch as Bhrunt opened up his mysterious case for the first time - revealing that it was full of carefully sealed packets of some powdery substance. If the DEA agent was a betting man he would have gambled a years salary that he was looking at a hefty consignment of cocaine - which depending on purity, potentially had enough of a street value to keep someone pretty comfortably for at least a year. This revelation tied in with the file they had on Bhrunt - who had 'previous' for drugs related offences. Some calls to Florida also established that one of Bhrunt's 'known associates' from the time he had served was from NY. They didn't have definite confirmation - but looked like Bhrunt was here for a deal - or had perhaps just done one. At this point Hackett gave an edited update on the phone to ASAC Michaels - informing him of the accident of the afternoon and hinting though not confirming that Bhrunt may have been getting back into his 'old ways'. Michaels was primarily concerned with whether the Review had affiliations with militia groups etc - so advised the team to continue with the surveillance and keep him posted.

DeVere received a reply mail from Agent Alphonse from Delta Green's Cell A at this point. Work was commencing on establishing the significance of the occult symbols - but in the absence of any other developments, he suggested that Cell T concentrate on Colm and this mysterious contact of his.

The early part of the evening was uneventful for the most part. Colm kept to his routine of walking his dog at 7.30pm, again taking pains to avoid any human contact - other than an elderly female neighbour whom he stopped to converse with on his return. Drinkwater headed to an off-Broadway production of 'The Glass Menagerie' and then returned to his hotel room. The slobbish Bhrunt contented himself with a room service order of a cheeseburger, fries and several beers and then crashed out, fully clothed on his bed. Deciding that he was settled for the night, O'Connor headed over to monitor Colm - and was rewarded in overhearing a short phone call from a German-accented stranger. ' Stephen. The time is near. Friday afternoon at your office. I will call you. Be ready.' Viewed on camera, Colm stood stock still in trepidation before fixing himself a stiff drink and retiring.

This development got the attention of O'Connor and especially the two Delta Green men. They realised that their coverage on Colm's office was a potential weak spot and immediately set about rectifying this. Rather than breaking in to the office itself, O'Connor opted for the less risky, but more complex task of electonically bugging the lines into the office building. This required more sophisticated gear - but he was able to obtain this downtown at Federal Plaza and by the small hours of the morning he had a 'tap' in place.

The rest of the night was uneventful and the team were able to rotate and catch up on some much needed rest The next morning, Colm left for work as usual. Drinkwater was tailed on foot first to a coffee shop and then to Greenwich Village by Taylor and Lynn (necessitating quick thinking and a 'follow that taxi !' from the two agents). Bhrunt was tailed by Hackett to Central Park where he engaged in a game of chess - apparently with strangers though the agents were suspicious that it may have been otherwise...

Over lunchtime it became apparent that the married Drinkwater nursed a secret of his own. In Greenwich village, he met a young man in his early twenties for a few drinks - and it became apparent to the watching Taylor from their body language that they were on 'intimate' terms. From the bar they were followed a block or so to the young man's apartment building. DeVere joined the other two at this point and a carefully aimed parabolic microphone overheard snatches of conversation about university days as a meal was being prepared. The possibility of blackmail, if necessary, was now on the menu.

Meanwhile Hackett and O'Connor contemplated the arrival of Hames - their fourth target due that evening. And they looked forward to Friday afternoon - when the mysterious LInz was to contact Colm.

And that's where we left the session.

[kinnygraham]

For anyone who is interested, I've prepared some additional handouts and game aids (http://www.yog-sothoth.com/modules.php?name=Downloads&d_op=getit&lid=299) for 'See No Evil' - (hosted on yog-sothoth.com) - just click on the link.

The scenario itself can be found in 'The Unspeakable Oath' issue # 16 / 17 - some copies of which are still in circulation I believe.

[kinnygraham]

Played through a further session of 'See No Evil' on the 25th January.

Play commenced on the afternoon of Thursday 9th October, 1997. So far, the subjects had provided a logistical challenge to the small team of FBI agents and their DEA technical advisor and had led the team in quite a dance around New York.

Michael Drinkwater was engaged in what seemed very much like a homosexual liaison with a young man in an apartment in Greenwich Village. DeVere, Taylor and Lynn awaited his eventual re-emergence.
Allan Bhrunt was, for the moment, contentedly playing chess in Central Park quietly observed by Hackett and O'Connor
Sephen Colm was at work as usual - having been followed there by Udagawa and Faulkener.
Peter Hames, their fourth surveillance target, was due to arrive at JFK that evening.

The Review Conference was planned for Saturday, but the Delta Green agents (Hackett and DeVere) and their law-breaking assistant O'Connor, knew that Colm was expecting a call at work on Friday from his mysterious contact 'Linz' - a shadowy individual of extreme far right political beliefs who had promised to show the Review man evidence that he had access to influential sympathisers and powerful knowledge.

Colm left work at 3.30pm and again headed to the Merriweather Centre where DeVere, (who had decided that Drinkwater was going nowhere fast and had left him to Taylor and Lynn), was able to observe him again checking on the arrangements for the Conference. From here, he was tailed home where he paused to talk again to his elderly neighbour before entering the apartment building.
Bhrunt spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess - before returning to his hotel room. O'Connor's bugs revealed that he had ordered an 8pm alarm call before settling down for a nap, leading Hackett to conclude that he planned to go and meet Hames from his flight. The only thing of interest to happen after this point was that Colm appeared for his usual dog walk at 7.30pm. - where his 'usual' twitchy behaviour was observed by Faulkener and Udagawa.

Arrangements to tail Bhrunt had been made, and were rewarded when he emerged from the Marriott (still carrying his precious case) and jumped into a taxi. Hackett in one vehicle went on ahead, with O'Connor and Lynn in another behind (with Lynn insisting on taking the driving duties after O'Connor's clusterf**k of yesterday !). DeVere phoned ahead to the airport to his contact in security there, smoothing the way for Hackett (who had sped on ahead as soon as he knew that Bhrunt was airport bound) to access the security office and observe Hames arriving and undergoing a 'random' security search (drawing nothing unusual) on camera. Bhrunt met the sprightly ex-USAF man in the arrivals hall and the two shared a taxi back to the Marriott (now followed by DeVere to minimise the chances of detection), where they headed to the bar for a few drinks before retiring for the night.

Taylor reported that Drinkwater seemed to be staying put.

A quiet night was in prospect. Hackett was able to finally obtain some information from the FBI that he was after. Some known 'faces' were indeed converging on New York in the next day or so. These were extremists of varying groups, but if they had one thing in common it was that they all had supposedly renounced their formerly violent ways in favour of more subtle, and legal, methods of persuasion. If Hackett's hunch was correct and these guys were heading for the Conference, then clearly The Review were indeed quite a draw for the 'intellectual' wing of the far Right.

The agents rotated through the night, taking the chance to get some sleep in.

Drinkwater was the first to get moving - emerging from the Apartment and heading for a coffee shop for breakfast. Colm emerged from his place shortly after - heading for work as usual. Next up was Hames who walked uptown and into Central Park, tailed by Hackett and Lynn. Hames seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere and the agents followed closely. Just up ahead from where they were, the agents were surprised to see an elderly woman do a double take as Hames passed her and her young companion by. Showing a surprising vigour for her age, she closed on him - screaming 'Fascist !!' - just as she cracked him on the head with her walking stick ! The two agents stood back - unsure of how to react. Hames was livid, turning on the woman and calling her a 'stupid Jew bitch' as he backhanded her ! Onlookers stood in amazement at this scene. A young jogger intervened - pushing Hames away while the young female companion helped the old woman to her feet. Tears streaming from her eyes she screamed that Hames was a 'defender of murdering Nazis' - rolling up her sleeve to reveal the faded mark of concentration camp tattoo. The two agents decided to stay out of the picture as two patrolling cops became involved. Half an hour elapsed as some sort of arrangement seemed to be struck - Hames, scowling darkly headed back to his hotel while the old woman was helped away in the other direction.

Meanwhile, O'Connor (in his technology laden van) was able to report that his tap on Colm's office was working well - so far all the traffic was work related. This information was of course kept from the non DG team members since all of the taps and bugs were highly illegal. O'Connor made sure he kept out of sight from Udagawa - who had followed Colm that morning to work.

Back at the Marriott, Hames just missed Drinkwater departing - he'd headed back to freshen up after breakfast and was now on the move again - followed on foot by DeVere and Faulkener he headed for a nearby library where he settled down to do some work.

Hames locked himself in his room and overheard by Lynn with a microphone pointed at his window from the office opposite, he phoned to cancel a meeting of some sort and then started making a series of phone calls to the NYPD with the avowed intention of making a complaint to somebody 'senior'.

By now, Bhrunt was also up and about and now followed on foot by Hackett and Taylor, he embarked on a shopping expedition - apparently with the intention of buying a new printer and software.

It was now mid afternoon, and the call Hackett and DeVere were waiting for arrived from O'Connor. Linz had just phoned Colm - instructing him to meet him at 4.30pm at a shop called 'Maisie's' on a strip mall near JFK. Both Delta Green men left their targets with their more junior colleagues and started rushing back to the office in order to get to a vehicle. Udagawa reported that Colm emerged from his office as they raced through the crowds. Hackett called the rookie off, informing him that O'Connor was in the area and was going to pick him up. O'Connor was in fact instructed to go ahead of Colm and to reach the mall as soon as he could..... The two FBI men would arrive after Colm, but at least O'Connor would be able to get a feel for the location first.

Finally, it looked like they might get to find out who this Linz was....

And that's where we left the session (Unfortunately, Agent O'Connor's player - Nick Clements - had been unable to attend, so the session was cut a bit shorter than usual in the hope that he could make it for the next session - things having reached an exciting point..)

[kinnygraham]

Ok - played a further session of 'See No Evil' on the 1st Feb 2004.

We picked up the action on the afternoon of Friday 10th October 1997 - with DEA Agent O'Connor driving to a strip-mall out near JFK. Here he hoped to scout out the area prior to the arrival of Stephen Colm, whom O'Connor had overheard on an illegal wire-tap being directed to this particular rendevous by the mysterious Linz. FBI Agents Hackett and DeVere (known as Agents Thomas and Turner to members of the Delta Green conspiracy) were also en-route, at some point behind Colm.

The area O'Connor eventually found himself in was a pretty run-down area of town. Slowing down, he took in a variety of boarded up and disused shops before eventually spotting a sign for 'Maisie's' near the end of a small block of retail units. Whatever this place had been, it was plainly out of business now. It was partially boarded, and the rest of the windows were blocked out with some kind of grey paint. A couple of beat-up cars sat in the street, as well as a cab sitting idling. On one corner a group of sullen youths stood talking. O'Connor decided to drive just around the corner to the left, then turned and parked his van so he would be partially out of sight - but still able see the store front. With a parabolic microphone to hand, he settled in, waiting for Colm.

About 15 minutes later, Colm arrived - pulling up his car just outside the store front. Hackett had driven aggressively through the traffic, and he and DeVere had Colm just up ahead in sight as the Review man got out of his car, scrutinising the sign to make sure he was in the correct place. Hackett drove past, turning to the right at the end of the block. Here they could see the entrance to a narrow, rubbish choked alleyway - barely wide enough for a car - which ran the entire length of the block and in all liklihood granted access to permit deliveries to the rear of the units.

From his position, O'Connor saw Colm suddenly enter the store through the door - which closed quickly behind him. Too quickly for O'Connor to see who had opened it. However, he aimed his microphone at the shop window and was suddenly able to hear a two way conversation being conducted in German. This went on for about 30 or so seconds before he heard Colm say 'Very well. Show me' - to which the gruff other voice responded 'Bear with me now. Behold our power'. The mystery speaker then began a weird sing song chant. O'Connor, who was certainly no linguist, thought he could catch snatches of German, perhaps mixed with Latin and some other unknown gibberish. In cellphone contact with Hackett, he ran a brief commentary on what he was hearing, adding 'These guys have really flipped out'.

Hackett and DeVere were now standing at the mouth of the alley.'Something weird is going on, and I think we might have to stop it..' said Hackett. The sky seemed to darken visibly and a sudden fierce wind blew towards them - throwing carboard boxes and other litter in their direction. Exchanging a look, they drew their pistols and hurried down the alley to the rear of Maisie's...

Meanwhile O'Connor listened rapt as the strange chanting grew in volume and ferocity. Suddenly it stopped, and O'Connor heard a third voice say something - again in German. Some....element to the voice caused his gooseflesh to rise, but O'Connor pushed this sensation to one side and shouted down his phone to Hackett that they had a third player on the scene. Even as he did so, he could also hear Colm give a shrill scream. With that, O'Connor jumped out ot the van, drew his piece and advanced across the street towards the store...

At the rear of Maisie's the two Delta Green men could see that the lock had been forced. DeVere entered first, quickly followed by Hackett who'd pocketed his cell to concentrate on the job at hand. They were in a darkened storeroom, but with the faint light from outside, they could see a doorway into the shop proper just to their left. Both men were concerned to note that the temperature in here had taken a drastic plunge - the place was freezing and they could clearly see their own breath, misting in the chill air. They advanced towards the dark doorway, drawing their torches.

Halfway across the street towards the store front, O'Connor saw a pale-faced Colm throw himself through the door - with an expression of of the utmost terror on his face. He was carrying a large book in one hand - and worse, he was brandishing a pistol ! Thus distracted, O'Connor was then panicked to hear the screech of tires to his right as the yellow taxi he had spotted earlier on leapt from the kerbside and straight at him ! Desperately trying to throw himself to one side, he almost made it - but was smashed in the leg by the vehicle and battered to the ground. Waves of nausea threatened to envelop him, but he forced himself back to a world of pain and danger...

In the shop rear, DeVere was through the door first, quickly followed by Hackett, their torch beams darting this way and that. The front door to the street was slightly open. DeVere's beam caught a figure on the floor - a middle aged man, clutching at a bleeding head wound. But something wsn't right. Something else was in here - a presence. Both men could feel it. They shone their torches into the corner and saw a pale, gaunt, uniformed figure with an unshaven face staring back at them with an expression of burning hatred. Even as they took this in, both agents realised that something was very wrong here, the figure had a translucent quality about him - the light from their torches seemed to pass through him...and, put simply, he did not seem to exist at all from below the knees. Impossibly, the figure just seemed to hang in the air ! He.....it....opened it's mouth to speak and barked a question in German - something about the 'Reich'. Hackett and DeVere were taken aback by all this, but steeling themselves against their fear, they advanced on the figure slowly - which disappeared a moment later - winking out of existence as if it had never been there ! The agents paused, wondering what the hell they had just seen - but Hackett snapped back to action when he heard the sound of screeching tires from outside. He motioned to the downed man 'You take care of him' he shouted to DeVere - 'I'm going out after Colm !'.

O'Connor was on the ground, struggling to his feet. He could now see that the taxi had been slammed into a handbrake turn at the intersection. Seconds later, with the screech of burning rubber, it was heading back at him. Colm was only feet away behind him, fumbling at the driver's door of his car. For a second, he thought about having a shot at the driver - but instead he threw himself in the direction of the kerb. The taxi just missed him this time and then scraped along the side of Colm's vehicle - the Review man having climbed in with seconds to spare - and then it sped on. Hackett appeared in the shop doorway and took everything in at a glance. 'Freeze ! FBI !' he screamed at Colm - but the panicked accountant, gun in one hand - was starting the car. Hackett advanced to the kerb edge and fired a warning shot into the windscreen - but Colm seemed hardly to notice. Hackett put a second bullet in the front tire - just as Colm hit the accelerator. His car darted forward about fifteen feet but crashed into the rear of another vehicle. O'Connor was on his feet again and he noticed that the cab had now suddenly stopped further up the street. He advanced until just about level with Hackett - gun aimed, looking to see what was happening. A Caucasian male, early thirties, casually dressed in an overcoat and jeans, stepped out of the car and onto the pavement and started moving confidently towards them. Nonchalantly, he reached one hand into his coat and produced an SMG....

Meanwhile in the store, DeVere had hauled the injured man to his feet and pressed a gun to his head. 'What is this ? Who are you ?' he protested in a gruff accented voice. DeVere marched him to the rear of the store, - noticing that as he did so, the temperature was rapidly returning to normal. Seconds later he was in the alley - pushing the man on in front of him in the direction of the car

Back outside, O'Connor throught about issuing some kind of challenge to the gunman and then decided that he was actually in a very, very shitty mood. He barked a quick 'Machine gun !' in warning to Hackett, who glanced round, registering this new threat. O'Connor squeezed off a shot. It caught the gunman in the leg, dropping him onto his back instantly. Hackett turned and advanced on the stricken figure, who was clearly struggling to rise again. Hackett fired on him and struck him on the abdomen - which knocked him back down flat again. Now their assailant was fumbling in his jacket - and he began to laugh grimly. Hackett flashed back to Arizona and Santana, thinking 'It's always the crazy bastards who laugh...'.

DeVere was back at the car now where he popped the trunk and forced his mystery 'guest' inside. Jumping into the front he started the ignition - just as Colm's vehicle, with one wheel rim trailing a shower of sparks, rounded the corner ahead of him - veering wildly as it pulled away in the other direction .

O'Connor was still firing at the gunman, but the shots went wide. Seconds later, the downed man had produced a grenade and clutched it to his chest in both hands. Hackett fired at him once, striking him on his other leg, before turning and firing through the glass of the shop front beside him. O'Connor was on the same wavelength - both men were moving towards the shattered glass of the shop front when the grenade blew behind them.

DeVere heard the 'crump' of the grenade just as he hit the accelerator to pursue Colm - glancing to his left, all he could see now were the messy remains of a body on the pavement - and a shower of glass and other debris falling to the ground. He stopped the car, and sprinted up to the unidentified corpse, frantically worried about his colleagues.

Both men were lying in the shattered store front. Hackett had taken the worst of it - his back was peppered with shrapnel, glass, and other debris and blood flowed freely. O'Connor had taken similar punishment - but to a lesser degree than his FBI companion. Groggily, they both staggered to their feet just as as DeVere arrived on the scene. Hackett croaked at him and DeVere paused in puzzlement...'Colm' said Hackett. 'Get after Colm !' he shouted. 'Ive got Linz in the trunk' said DeVere - 'get it out of the way while I'm gone'...DeVere then began to sprint to O'Connor's van, as Hackett began limping back towards the other car. Both men were regarded in slack jawed amazement by the group of youths who had taken all of this in from the street corner. Sirens wailed in the distance. O'Connor regarded the bloody corpse on the pavement in front of him. The SMG was shattered. A ballistic vest was now visible on the body and it had obviously given some protection to the torso, but the hands were completely gone and the face was a bloodied pulp. O'Connor decided that in all fairness to himself, he really didn't feel that much better - and he slumped to the ground to await the arrival of New York's finest....


To be continued shortly - there was more to come in this session....!

[Fulsrush]

Wow, this is still going well. I've not read this second adventure, so it's fun trying to work out the plot.

[kinnygraham]

Wow, this is still going well. I've not read this second adventure, so it's fun trying to work out the plot.

Cheers - it's finding the time to do the write-ups thats the killer..

Hows yours coming along ?

[Fulsrush]

Well, I sat down to keep going with the <i>Cthulhu Dark Ages</i> one, but... well, I'm so far behind with it that I can't remember all the twists and turns, and when Brother Cuthred went completely batshit or when one of the other characters was abducted by aliens, or when Vanir became pregnant with the Second Coming of Christ.

Fortunately, one of the players was apparently taking incredibly extensive notes (that he could actually refer back to and state exactly what the most minor improvised NPC had said to him), so I'm going to see if he's still got them and try and borrow them off him.

I'm currently running <i>Godlike</i> at the moment though, and have just started the game report for that: Godlike - The Dying Days (http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=172180)

[kinnygraham]

Well, I sat down to keep going with the <i>Cthulhu Dark Ages</i> one, but... well, I'm so far behind with it that I can't remember all the twists and turns, and when Brother Cuthred went completely batshit or when one of the other characters was abducted by aliens, or when Vanir became pregnant with the Second Coming of Christ.

Fortunately, one of the players was apparently taking incredibly extensive notes (that he could actually refer back to and state exactly what the most minor improvised NPC had said to him), so I'm going to see if he's still got them and try and borrow them off him.

I'm currently running <i>Godlike</i> at the moment though, and have just started the game report for that: Godlike - The Dying Days (http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=172180)

The Godlike stuff is a good read - but it would also be cool to get some 'closure' on the Dark Ages scenario..

[kinnygraham]

This is the continuation of the account of session of 'See No Evil' played on 1st Feb 2004.

Hackett got to the car he and DeVere had arrived in, and ignoring the gawping youths on the corner, he climbed gingerly in. He drove off about two or three blocks until he found a quiet spot down the alley from a disused warehouse. Here he climbed out again, ignoring the muffled noise from the car trunk. Leaving the keys in the car and taking note of the address and location, he set off limping back to the strip mall.

Meanwhile, the uninjured DeVere had set off in O'Connor's van to look for Colm -who had driven off in his own damaged car. DeVere found the vehicle, abandoned two blocks away in the other direction, about a minute later. Colm had obviously been heading back to the main road to take him back away from JFK back in the direction of Manhattan - but had come to grief. The car had mounted the kerb and struck a wall, but Colm was nowhere to be seen. DeVere cursed and did a quick search of the area - but came up with nothing. Colm was gone, or in hiding, for now. A call from Hackett, who was almost back at the scene of the shooting, let him know where the car with Linz was stashed and DeVere now headed for that.

Back at Maisie's, O'Connor had awaited the arrival of the NYPD, and a team of paramedics who had also been summoned. There were a couple of cruisers on the scene as well as an ambulance. O’Connor, sitting on the pavement held out his DEA ID and explaned that the shooter was down but that his buddies were in pursuit of someone who had fled the scene. He wasn't interested in saying too much else at this stage - and given his injuries, he wasn't being asked to either. In any event, police attention was quite taken by the bloodied corpse and the tell tale signs of an obvious gunfight. The paramedics were soon working in O'Connor - doing their best to bind his swollen leg and to pick out fragments of sharpnel from his back. Hackett limped back to the scene minutes later, and thinking quickly, he gave a 'sanitised' version of events - the surveillance on the Review members, the attack by the unknown shooter/grenade exploder and the escape of Colm who was doubtless being pursued right now by DeVere. No mention was made of Linz. Hackett performed well, all the while being attended to by the paramedics who had another shrapnel picking and stitching case on their hands.

By the time he had finished, the cops were quietly impressed by their fellow 'LEOs' who had lived through such carnage. An APB was issued on Colm, and Hackett took the time to call in to the rest of the surveillance team with the news that there's been a shoot-out and that Colm was on the loose. There had been no other developments, so Udagawa (who was back in the ‘base office’) and Faulkener (who’d just followed Drinkwater back to the Marriott across the street) were told to got straight to Colm's apartment in case he showed up there.

Hackett and O’Connor gave the shooter’s taxi a quick look over and decided that it had been stolen – the license depicted a black guy and their attacker was white. O’Connor had the idea of popping the trunk – and they made the grim discovery of the taxi driver’s body. He’d been shot once at close range in the back of the head. They let the cops know they had another stiff on their hands, realising that they had just had a brush with a stone cold killer. Determined to push on , both Hackett and O'Connor made it quite clear that they had no interest in going to hospital for the further treatment that the medics were insisting they should receive, but they agreed to accompany the cops down to the local precinct to assist in writing up the 'incident'. The cops had even mentioned that they could possibly find the two federal agents a much needed change of clothing – so they set off in a squad car.

Back at their own vehicle, DeVere punched in a code on a special 'emergency' cell provided to him by Delta Green. He left a quick message explaining that he had Linz, and that he needed a safe location to take him to. Within minutes was awarded with a call from the heavily disguised/synthesised voice of Delta Green's 'Agent Alphonse' who told him to be at an address, an intersection on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, in an hours time. He was also advised that Alphonse had mailed him with respect to his earlier request for help with the mysterious occult symbols on Linz’s correspondence and that he should check it out when he go the chance . DeVere set off immediately, noting that there was no noise coming from the trunk...His new 'friend' seemed to have settled down.

Parking in a quiet spot nearby, DeVere was at the intersection with 10 minutes or so to spare. He was shortly approached by a tall, well tailored, African-American male who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He extended a hand and said 'Agent Turner ? I'm Agent Janus. I gather you need assistance with a ‘package’ ?'. DeVere/Turner studied him closely and noticed that the man's eyes seemed very tired, as if he needed some sleep badly...He confirmed that he did. Janus flourished a set of keys. 'It's close by, I can direct you if you drive' he said.

Within a few short minutes, Janus had directed Turner to a run down tenement property maybe five blocks or so away. Backing into an alley, they found a small courtyard which gave access to the rear of the building. Janus advised Turner to wait as he went off semingly to check that no-one was around. He came back moments later and they both manhandled a silent Linz from the back of the car and up the stairs. At the first floor, Janus opened a locked door and both men, and their unwilling companion, were rapidly inside. Turner quickly cuffed him to an old radiator on the wall, gagged him, and then put an old pillow case on his head for good measure. Janus gave him a quick 'tour'. The place was a moldering, flea-ridden dump - though a room at the back seemed to have a steel door in place.

Janus tossed him the keys. 'There's one there for the room at the back……… Can I ask a question ? How many Ops you been on ?'. Turner looked at him, 'This is my first' he said simply. 'No shit ? You've never heard of the Heretics ? No ? Well, a word of advice - don't look in the freezer. It's not for the squeamish'. Seconds later, he was out of the door.

Turner unlocked the steel door. The room was shelved, and seemed to hold all sorts of exotic equipment - he spotted guns of many varieties with boxes of ammo of all types. Toolkits, cable cutters, wrenches, tape, petrol cans, handcuffs, evidence bags and a whole load of other paraphenelia was stacked here. The rear of the wall was taken up by a large deep feezer - of the size you might see in a supermarket. Turner ignored it and closed and locked the door.

Back at the police station out near JFK, Hacket and O'Connor were doing their best to assist the cops and had struck up a good rapport. Their injuries were cleaned, stitched and bandaged, and with a change of clothes they were feeling slightly better - though both realised that they really needed some extended rest to properly recover. Hackett had also called into ASAC Michaels to report the shooting incident - a major development in their simple surveillance op. Michaels was very surprised - and then began to speculate on some kind of power struggle among far right groups. Tasking Hackett to keep him updated, he rang off - there was another case that he was focussing on for now, but he was intrigued by this development.

Seconds later, Hackett took a brief, hurried call from Faulkener. Colm was just this second arriving back at his apartment - and he and Udagawa were going to arrest him. O'Connor and Hackett immediately requested that the cops let them go there immediately - their case was ongoing after all and they'd done all they could to assist. The cops went one better - and organised a cruiser escort to guide them quickly through the traffic en-route back to Manhattan. They were barely into the journey when a breathless Faulkener rang back to say that Colm was down! He'd arrived in a taxi, ran straight for the door to his building and had pulled a pistol when challenged by the two rookie Feds. Udagawa had shot him, and paramedics were en-route. Faulkener gave him a fifty/fifty chance of making it.

DeVere received this update and making sure his man was securely handcuffed, he locked the apartment door behind him. All three men were soon uptown on the scene at Colm's apartment building - where they arrived just in time to see Colm himself being stretchered into an ambulance and driven away. A crowd had gathered - but a small cordon had been thrown up around the front of the apartment stairs. Udagawa and Faulkener were dealing with the local cops. Hackett made a point of getting the two rookie Feds to talk him through what had happened and he assured them that they had done well. He also spotted that a young ‘uniform’ was holding evidence bags containing Colm’s gun, and the large mysterious book that he had been holding when he fled the meet with Linz . Hackett approached him and gave him a very convincing legal / jurisdictional argument as to why these materials should be handed over to the FBI immediately – and the cop duly complied.

Leaving Faulkener and Udagawa to take care of the other formalities, the three men entered the apartment building and ordered the ‘super’ to open up Colm’s place – before making it clear that he was to get lost when it looked like he wanted to hang around.. As they did so, they met Mrs Golwyn coming up the stairs behind them – a neighbour of Colm’s who stayed opposite. This elderly lady was very concerned about ‘poor Mr Colm’ and was very shocked to hear it confirmed that he had been shot by someone from the FBI. She was also very concerned about O’Connor’s old friend – Bernard the dog - who happily seemed all too ready to be looked after by the old woman when he came padding out to the door. DeVere kept Mrs Golwyn distracted with a few questions about Colm while O’Connor set about retrieving all of his surveillance devices and the ‘Linz correspondence’ from Colm’s files. Hackett searched Colm’s bookcases with a view to getting a good match to the one he’d taken from the cop – with a view to a switch – but couldn’t find anything close enough to it for his satisfaction. He did give the volume a very quick perusal, noting that it was handwritten – in German. Satisfied that there was nothing else more to do at the apartment, they left.

At this point, the team decided to split up. DeVere took the two rookies, (still excited by the recent action), and headed off to the hospital to see what state Colm was in. Hackett and O’Connor were still interested in the other Review members and they back to the ‘base office’ across from the Marriott to re-assess the operation. Drinkwater, Hames and Bhrunt (whose printer and software shopping expedition that afternoon had been closely watched by Taylor) were all back in the hotel – so O’Connor went to his ‘spy room’ adjacent to Bhrunt’s in the hotel and reviewed his tapes. Bhrunt had returned from his trip but had been called by Hames who’d given a quick account of being assaulted in Central Park and it seemed that all three of the men should now be downstairs in the bar. Minutes later, he was able to confirm this; the three Review men were huddled over drinks in the corner talking quietly, looking worried. O’Connor got close and could overhear them complaining that they had been unable to reach Colm. Bhrunt left the table several times to use the payphone but was unsuccessful in reaching anybody. Eventually, all three retired to their rooms.

At the hospital, DeVere learned that Colm was in theatre and was considered to be on the critical list – the bullet had passed through a lung and caused some fair amount of internal bleeding. The op was due to last another couple of hours. DeVere took advantage of the time to check his mail, where he found a message from Alphonse that a Delta Green ‘friendly’ – a Dr. Wu of the American Museum of Natural History, would possibly be able to assist in identifying the symbols. He would be expecting them to call to arrange a visit. DeVere knew about Hackett’s German book, so he also informed Alphonse that the team had no appropriate language skills and requested some backup in that department. A later response informed him that there were no available/suitable assets in the immediate NY area – but that Delta Green would attempt to have somebody sent there ASAP – possibly in the next 12 hours.

With the Review members settled, Hackett and O’Connor began to think about the Conference the next day. O’Connor during his bugging had noted the name of caterer that Colm had been arranging – so some late-evening calls were made via the Field Office to arrange for Lynn to be ‘on duty’ when the Conference commenced in the morning. Hackett himself intended to pose as a potential member.

It was late now, but Hackett decided to get the keys from DeVere and head downtown to the DG ‘safehouse’ to check on Linz. He approached the location stealthily just to make sure that he wasn’t being observed – but was immediately alarmed to note that the door was slightly ajar. With gun drawn, he was straight in. Linz was gone – almost as if he had vanished. The handcuffs were still attached to the old radiator and the pillow case and tape used to bind him lay on the floor. Hackett called DeVere and told him. DeVere was both pissed and mystified – he’d done a good job on Linz and couldn’t see how he’d got away. Hackett told him he was going to do a quick inspection of the equipment ‘locker’ – and DeVere warned him against inspecting the freezer contents. Hackett, who cultivated something of a ‘rebel’ persona, was seriously tempted to look, but instead contented himself with helping himself to an SMG, auto-shotgun and associated ammo which he stuffed into a canvass hold-all. If there were any more crazy machine gun-toting sons of bitches out there, he wanted to be ready for them. His last act was to put in a call to ‘Alphonse’, leaving him a message warning him that the location was compromised. He then headed back to the office to get some much needed rest along with O’Connor and the others.

DeVere took the night shift at the hospital along with Udagawa and Faulkener. Colm’s operation had been declared a success and the doctor informed them that he was ‘optimistic’. DeVere took up station outside of Colm’s room on the third floor with the two other Feds. Colm was being checked upon every hour by the duty nurse to ensure that he was on the mend and it looked as if he would pull through.

The night passed uneventfully and DeVere began to consider plans to rotate the cover on Colm. Fuelled by caffeine and grim determination to see this thing through to the end, he wanted to be at the Conference to see what the day would bring there. At 7.30 in the morning they were relayed a message from reception downstairs – apparently a Mrs Golwyn was downstairs and was asking permission to see Colm. Seemed that she’d brought Bernard his dog along to ‘cheer him up’. Colm was still out of it so DeVere got reception to tell her it wasn’t possible and to come back later that afternoon. With the denizens of the ‘base office’ now getting up and about, Taylor was summoned and assigned the watch on the room – with a hospital security guard detailed as back-up. Faulkener and Udagawa were sent back to get some much needed rest.

Lynn was already on her way to the Merriweather Center in her guise as a catering assistant. Hackett too, went on ahead to the Conference while DeVere and O’Connor prepared to tail the Review men to the Conference – just in case they should stop off anywhere first.

Down at the Center, trouble was brewing. A large hostile crowd bearing anti-Nazi placards and pro-Jewish rights slogans had gathered outside the Center. News of the Conference had obviously got out. Security seemed to have been tightened though and the crowd, for the moment, was co-operating with the guards who had them cordoned off behind a barrier to the side of the building entrance. Already twenty to thirty people had gathered in the foyer and were perusing the ‘literature’and military memorabilia on show. Hackett ignored the sneers and chants of the crowd and headed straight in and after making eye contact with Lynn who was working at the bar serving up free coffee for everyone, went directly to the recruitment booth to sign up.

O’Connor and DeVere tailed the Review men in their taxi to the Center which had come straight from the Marriott. The three subjects were visibly put out by the presence of the hostile crowd of protesters, and their arrival prompted an upsurge in the boos, hisses and howls of derision being aimed at attendees. There was a surge as the protesters struggled to get closer to vent their spleen a the Review men and for a second, it looked as if the security guards would fail to contain them – but the cordon held. Pale faced, nervous and scowling, the men hurried into the foyer (with Bhrunt still clutching his beloved briefcase) where they immediately sought out the manager – audibly asking him if he’d heard or seen Colm. But the manager had wanted to ask them the same thing and after a quick conversation – they all headed to the manager’s office at the rear of the building.

At this point Hackett got a call from one of the cops who he had been dealing with out near JFK yesterday. ‘ Thought you’d better know. That John Doe with the grenade ysterday ? Well someone broke into the coroner’s lab early this morning and stole his corpse. I just this second heard so I don’t know the full details. I’m going over there now so I’ll get back to you when I know more.’
Hackett shared this intelligence via his cellphone with DeVere and O’Connor (who were still parked outside) and while they wondered what the hell to do, the three Review men appeared again with the manager. The manager approached the security booth where he got on to the PA system. In a brief message he explained that they had just learned that Stephen Colm had been the ‘victim of a shooting’ yesterday and was seriously ill. In light of this occurrence, and of the potentially volatile circumstances outside, a mutual decision had been taken to cancel the Conference. The news was received with bitter disappointment inside – and jubilation outside. Claiming a ‘victory over fascism’ the crowd were delighted and the mood altered visibly; the crowd began to disperse at the edges inside of fifteen minutes. The attendees of the Conference were muttering darkly to each other about ‘Zionists and communists’ but they too began to make their way out of the Centre in the other direction.

The surveillance team hung around and followed the three Review men back to their hotel. They’d hung back until the crowd outside was as small as it was going to get and then had bolted back into a taxi that had been ordered – ignoring the jubilant protesters who shouted at them mockingly. Hackett and Lynn had decided that the Conference was a wash-out and were out shortly after. Back at the Marriott the three subjects had headed straight inside.

They were just beginning to assess their options, when Hackett received a frantic call from Taylor at the hospital ‘Oh Jeez, you’d better get here – it’s Colm. He’s gone…. I mean he’s dead… I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t….You’d better get here and see for yourself !’ Hackett took him at his word, hanging up and racing to the hospital with DeVere and O’Connor.

A pale faced security guard was waiting for them outside – and saying very little, he took them up the stairs to the third floor where Colm had been sleeping. Through the door from the stairwell, they were immediately struck by the stench of cooked or burned meat. Taylor stood pale in the doorway to the room with his eyes fixed on the bed. Pushing past him, the three agents saw a male doctor in the corner of the room comforting a nurse who was sobbing in his arms.

The foul stench they’d detected – smoking or burned meat - hung heavy in the air. The air was thick with it. Colm’s body, or what was visible, was a blackened skeleton – the skull a dark red death’s head on to which the plastic of his oxygen mask had clearly melted. Bizarrely, the bedclothes seemed relatively unscathed – though there were some marks on the sheets near where his arms where it looked as if the blackened skin had sloughed off. All of them were shocked by the sight – but managed to maintain an air of professionalism. They asked Taylor what had happened. He reported that the first thing went wrong was when the nurse started screaming in Colm’s room – she’d been in checking on him and she’d flipped out. Taylor has looked in right away and Colm was burning – there was smoke pouring out of him from everywhere and the skin was blistering up. He might not have came round – but his body was squirming all the same during it. He’d shouted for help and sent the guard right away for a doctor, but there was nothing he could do when he arrived. Colm burned up right there in front of them – but the bedclothes were hardly damaged !

Hackett tried to interview the nurse, but she didn’t seem able to respond and barely acknowledged his questions as she clung to the doctor. Hackett asked Taylor to take her outside and turned to the medical man for his opinion – what did he make of it ? The doctor was at a loss – he’d never seen anything like it. He’d heard about Spontaneous Human Combustion before and there had to be similarities here – but had never given it any serious thought until now. He would have to wait and see a post-mortem he added, passing the buck for such an inexplicable event on to the poor schmuck who would have to deal with this. While this was going on, DeVere put in a discrete call to Alphonse and left a message with an update. O’Connor closely scrutinised the body – but could see nothing further that shed any light.

Taylor appeared back in the room doorway – holding a cup of coffee. ‘Where’s the nurse ?’ he asked. They stared at him, momentatrily puzzled. ‘I left her in an office down the hall to get this – she’s not there. I figured she was back here with you guys.’

The three agents spilled out of the room – ‘Find her !’ screamed Hackett. DeVere headed for the stairwell – aiming to get to reception. O’Connor headed upwards – in case she headed in that direction. Hackett got her name from the baffled doctor and arranged for a message to be sent out to hospital security – Nurse ‘Anna Kowalsky was to be located immediately and stopped from leaving the building. A search for her was soon under way when DeVere and O’Connor had to report that they couldn’t find her.

Twenty minutes later they got a call from security. Anna Kowalsky’s dead body had been located in a cleaning cupboard in the hospital basement, wearing nothing but her underwear. The strange thing was that the guy who’d found her had said she was cold, like marble, like she’d been dead for at least a couple of hours – or more.



And that's where we left the session...

[Delirium]

Cool. Exciting stuff. I'm eagerly awaiting an update.

Incidentally, Istole the idea to have the final showdon with Mstr Sgt Santana take place in a student occupied vacation home. great idea and it worked very well in my own game, so thanks :)

[kinnygraham]

Cool. Exciting stuff. I'm eagerly awaiting an update.

Incidentally, Istole the idea to have the final showdon with Mstr Sgt Santana take place in a student occupied vacation home. great idea and it worked very well in my own game, so thanks :)

Thanks - played a further session of 'See No Evil' last night which I hope to get written up at some point soon. Also preparing for the next 'op' that I'm going to run though, so time is tight.....!

Glad to hear you had a good game of 'Puppet Shows' as well. I'd be interested to hear how things went with your players. They do anything differently / have any inspired ideas that you weren't expecting ? Also were you able to use any of the extra handouts that I posted the link to ?

[Delirium]

I'd be interested to hear how things went with your players. They do anything differently / have any inspired ideas that you weren't expecting ? Also were you able to use any of the extra handouts that I posted the link to ?


From a PC perspective, things went clusterfuck-poorly. Santana was placed at the vacation home by a tribal cop, who was then ordered to back off as an Arizona State Police helicopter carrying a SWAT team and 2 PCs flew in. Our 3rd PC attempted to drive but had a double puncture (Drive roll failure while rushing).

As the SWAT helo came in to do a visual recon the in situ tribal cop reported hearing 'female screaming sounds' coming from the holiday home - Santana could hear the helicopter coming and decided to liven things up a little by setting a vacationer on fire. One of the PCs was former Hostage Rescue, and made an executive decision to go dynamic and storm the home immediately. So, the helo pilot attempts to set down 30 yards outside the home. Santana scores a critical success on his rifle roll, nails the pilot and does 14hp damage. Pilot forgot his flak jacket. Splat. Co-pilot fails several rolls to re-establish control of the helo - he was panicked. 2 PCs manage to unclip and jump out, both of them almost died on impact and were effectively hors de combat for the remainder of the scene (although perfectly placed for the clinic/autopsy scene). 3 of 7 SWAT manage to get out before the helo 'achieves ground/air interface' (i.e. crashes). Santana's expended 1 (one) round and taken down a helicopter and 6 state troopers. That Green Beret training sure churned out some tough guys ;)

As a consequence, we protagonist-shifted. The 3 remaining SWAT were hurriedly drafted in as PCs and they stormed the home with some help from our on-scene tribal cop. Then the PCs get lucky - a PC's m16 jams, causing him to appropriate the tribsal cop's shotgun.

Inside it's a horror show - I used your trick of having a silhouetted NPC holding a rifle. A PC took a shot but missed and moved on. Santana sets a female student on fire - she goes haring down the stairs at 2 of the PC. Dead students galore. 2 PCs started tearing chunks out of Santana with their pistols/M16s but the 'minimum damage for impaling weapons' clause means Santana can take plenty more. PCs begin to despair - how come this guy won't go down, despite losing half of his head and an unhealthy proportion of his torso? PCP don't explain this. PC3 arrives with shotgun and it's all over (temporarily) for Santana.

It was a fantastic scene, although at one point I thought a TPK was on the cards. Only one student survived. Massive media blitz - Waco 2, etc. Office of Professional Responsibility gets involved in a BIG way. Upside is that we were set up for a cool finale in the clinic PLUS we have 3 Arizona State police friendlies who have now been statted out as full PCs and given backstories etc.

Didn't manage to work in your handouts, but have downloaded your superb NY handouts for your next story which I will run once I've put the PCs through Groverville (the 2nd DG supplement adventure).

[kinnygraham]

Good stuff - sounds like you had a blast.

If you're about to induct your player characters into the DG setup after finishing 'Puppet Shows', then I have a document/handout that you might be interested in....You may have already seen it on the DGML - but PM me with your e-mail address if interested....

(Also got something useful for Convergence)...

Edit:

....PLUS we have 3 Arizona State police friendlies who have now been statted out as full PCs and given backstories etc.

If you haven't got it, check out 'The Stars Are Right' 2nd edition. There's a scenario in there that's almost perfect for Arizona based policemen...My review of it can be found here on rpg.net.

[Fulsrush]

As a consequence, we protagonist-shifted. The 3 remaining SWAT were hurriedly drafted in as PCs and they stormed the home with some help from our on-scene tribal cop.

Nice idea.

I've never thought of using this before (even though it is pretty obvious...). Personally, I would have narrated what the wounded PCs could see of the fight, have the final PC turn up in a commandeered car, and let him sort it out as best he could, probably having the SWAT officers all get killed bloodily along with the students.

<i>Then</i> bring in the Office of Professional Whatsits.

[Delirium]

Nice idea.

Thanks :)

It all kinda depended on the players 'taking' to the SWAT guys and going with the flow. Worked out pretty well, especially as it turned out that the SWAT survivors were placed in quarantine in the same clinic as the Santana-autopsy.

[kinnygraham]

This is an account of the session played on 15th Jan 2004.

As ever - please be aware of SPOILERS for 'See No Evil' and for Delta Green material .




We kicked off the session where we left it last time - with some very confused and confounded agents in a hospital in downtown New York.

Stephen Colm was dead - apparently the victim of Spontaneous Human Combustion. A female nurse, who had been identified as being in his room at the time of his death, had been missing for approximately 30 minutes - but now her body had been found in the basement of the hospital and according to initial reports they were getting from security seemed as if she had been dead for several hours at least. The rest of the Review members were back at the Marriott under the supervision of the remainder of the rookie surveilance team

DeVere and O'Connor decide to leave things at the hospital to Hackett and the rookie Taylor - instead heading out to a police precinct near JFK to check out the report that the body of their unknown assailant from yesterday had been stolen from the coroner's morgue.

An interesting conversation ensued [with some entertainingly good role playing from the two players. Each gap in the conversation was punctuated by the players turning down the car radio to make their point and then turning it up to let the other character digest what had been said]. DeVere had been inducted into the Delta Green conspiracy after his last case - a catalogue of murder and mayhem in the Arizona desert - so at least he knew to expect the unexpected. But O'Connor was out on a limb here. His co-operation in all the law breaking that had taken place had been at the express request of his Uncle, a senior figure in the DEA and O'Connor's career mentor. He was completely in the dark - and the mysterious events of the last 24 hours were challenging his worldview in ways that he was not expecting.

His first question was about the 'third person' who had been in the disused shop yesterday. There had been Colm. There had been Linz. And after all the 'mumbo-jumbo stuff', he'd heard a new voice. Yet Hackett and DeVere - who'd gone in straight after - had mentioned nothing about any third person. Why ? And then there was Colm going up like a firework, the dead nurse - oh and the guy who'd tried to run him down yesterday. Just what in hell was going on ?

DeVere countered with a question from left field. Did O'Connor believe in aliens ? What the hell did that have to do with anything ? DeVere responded that it was a good way of assessing whether someone had an open mind. O'Connor fumed for a minute and then allowed that he could believe in the theoretical possibility of other forms of life - but not 'little green men'. Ok, but you've accepted something very strange as a possibility. How about ghosts ? 'Because the third voice was a ghost' he said...and let it hang. 'Two months ago, a corpse tried to kill me. Yesterday, I saw a ghost. Welcome to my world. These things happend - you can either accept it, or reject it. But they happend.' The rest of the journey was made in silence.

At the police station they learned that the police captain that O'Connor had dealt with yesterday was over looking at the break in at the coroner's office. O'Connor took the time to go to the car pound and retrieve his concealed bug from Colm's car - which had ended up there after being abandoned by Colm yesterday.The stolen taxi was there as well, and O'Connor checked in with the techs and learned that they had found nothing unusual.

DeVere got a call from Hackett at this point and Hackett was able to confirm that he'd seen the dead nurse and it indeed looked as if she'd been strangled, that she'd been dead a while and that her uniform was missing leaving her just in her underwear. He'd learned that she usually drove in from New Jersey - and that her car was missing from the staff parking area. He'd arranged for an APB to be put out on it.

Right at this time however, Hackett and Taylor were on their way to Colm's apartment building. Not to look at Colm's place though - they were going to look for Mrs Golwyn, his elderly neighbour. Seemed Colm's dog, 'Bernard', had been found dead with it's neck broken - stuffed into a wastebin next to the corpse of the dead nurse. The dog's caracass was lying on top of what appeared to be female clothing - the kind of things an old woman would wear. They all recalled that Mrs Golwyn had shown up with that morning with Bernard - trying to see Colm. Hackett wasn't sure what this meant - but was sure that this didn't bode well.....He'd be back in touch.

Over at the coroner's office, they caught up with the police captain. He told them that the nightwatch man had been coshed and was out of it in hospital. Inside they were able to review some footage from the security cameras. It showed three men wearing balaclavas approaching the building and breaking in the basement door to the lab - the security guard had apparently challenged them and had been bashed about the cranium for his troubles. They'd entered the building and out of the area of camera coverage had broken into the mortuary and stolen the corpse of their John Doe. Outside footage showed them dragging the covered body bag out to the front, where they were assisted by a fourth individual who helped them sling the cadaver into the rear of a van. The license plates seemed to have been removed from this vehicle and getting a make on it was going to be very tricky given the poor quality of the images. A forensics squad were going over the area - but they weren't too optimistic of getting much in the way of hard evidence.

The police captain was curious about the whole affair, but DeVere played up the 'Hey, I'm just as surprised as you' angle and mentioned that they were kicking around a theory that these ‘far right nuts’ were offing each other in some kind of power struggle. Maybe they didn't want their boy made ?

Leaving the scene they checked in again with Hackett, whose fears had been confirmed. They'd found Mrs Golwyn dead in her apartment - along with her own mutt. Hackett was calling a forensic team in - but he was guessing she'd been dead a while. Yet someone claiming to be her had been at the hospital earlier that morning. Hackett was going to go back to the hospital and see if he could find out anything else...

DeVere and O'Connor decided that the time was now ripe to burn Bhrunt for the drugs they knew that he was carrying. The Review men were all back at the hotel, but now that the Conference was over, nobody knew how long they would stick around. They kicked around the possibility of calling in a bomb scare to the hotel and trying to make sure that Bhrunt happend by a sniffer dog, but instead settled on a plan to implicate Bhrunt in the death of Colm.

They called the hospital in their capacity as the federal agents who had been surveilling Colm and asked the administator to find out which NYPD detectives had been assigned to looking at his death. With these names and the precinct number, O'Connor made use of a hi-tech mobile that DeVere just happend to have on his person which could make a voice synthesised, anonymous call (this had actually been given to DeVere by Cell A of Delta Green, but DeVere explained that he was just a bit of a gadget freak. O'Connor was sure there was more to it than that, but let it go for now). O'Connor claimed to be a Review member who was aware that there was a dispute amongst the leadership of the Review about the use of drug money to finance their operations. He named Bhrunt and Colm as the two antagonists and hinted that Bhrunt might be in possession of some narcotics. Satisfied, O'Connor headed off to the hotel to await developments.

DeVere on the other hand, headed off to the American Museum of Natural History, phoning ahead to arrange to see a 'Dr Wu' - apparently a Delta Green friendly who Cell A advised would be able to assist with the identification of the occult symbols in the correspondence sent by Linz to Colm. At the musuem. the elderly Wu, a charming, distinguished looking little man of Chinese extraction, met DeVere in the foyer and took him through the many exhibits to a small side door leading to the basement. He led DeVere through a labyrinth of corridors crammed with packing cases and other odds and ends. Eventually they came to small cramped office, crammed with intriguing artifacts of all descriptions - where they promptly got down to business.

Dr Wu, explained that he had been delighted to look at the symbols on behalf of 'our mutual aquaintance' and that he was in the happy position of being able to assist. The symbols were similar in style to those used in a certain text written hundred of years ago by a man reputed to have been a sorceror. The man's name was Ludwig Prinn, and he had allegedly penned the text, 'De Vermis Mysteriis' in 1542 while awaiting execution for witchcraft and heresy. Copies of the text were exceedingly rare indeed and Wu was most surprised to see some of the symbols from it in the 'Linz correspondence'. Clearly the man who wrote these knew a great deal about the most 'obscure aspects of the occult'. Prinn himself was very colourful character who claimed to have served on Crusade centuries earlier and to have been tought many ancient secrets by Arab scholars and wise men. He'd fallen foul of the inquisitors of the Holy Roman Empire and after allegedly having his book smuggled out hours after its completion had died, burned at the stake, in Cologne. This Germanic connection was not lost on DeVere.

DeVere thanked Wu for this information and made ready to leave. The man warned him to be careful and wary of those who had such knowledge. But he also advised DeVere that he was available for future consultation should their 'mutual aquaintance' require it - or indeed if DeVere wished to see some of the museum's more 'fascinating' curios he should drop by.

Meanwhile, O'Connor had located the Review men having a worried looking conference in the hotel bar. He took a seat in the corner and had a grand stand view when two NYPD detectives came in to question them in connection with the death of Stephen Colm. All were shocked to hear this news, but worse was to come for Bhrunt whren the detectives informed them they had a warrant to search his person and possessions for illegal narcotics. His case was opened and an utterly deflated Bhrunt was led away - with the shouting and swearing of a furious Hames ringing in his ears. The two other men were invited down to the precinct to make a statement. With their administrator dead, and their publisher looking at a lot of jail time, this was a double blow from which the Review might never recover.

Hackett had one final piece of intelligence. He'd reviewed the hospital surveillance tapes and sure enough, Mrs Golwyn was filmed with Bernard at reception talking to one of the staff - who then made the call that DeVere had received requesting pemission for her to see Colm. The tape showed the receptionist telling her that she's not allowed to go up. Hackett had pieced together what had happend next from the footage and from some calls to the relevant staff. Mrs Golwyn had then asked to see the nurse who was dealing with 'poor Mr Colm' and had had patiently waited on her to come down to reception. This was the nurse who was later found dead. When she met up with Mrs Golwyn, the two conversed briefly and then the old lady, apparently confused, wandered off in the direction of a door leading to the basement - with the nurse behind her trying to call her back as she went through the door. The next time the nurse had been witnessed alive had been when she entered Colm’s room ...And the most baffling thing about all this was that Mrs Golwyn should have been lying dead in her apartment at the time she appeared at reception. A preliminary forensics indicated that she had been strangled about 8 - 12 hours before....

But for the Delta Green men, Operation 'See No Evil' was winding down. There were few, if any, leads to go on any more which would help them find the killer, or killers of Colm, the poor nurse and poor Mrs Golwyn (assuming Colm had been killed in some way - preliminary reports from the autopsy expressed bafflement as it looked as if he had been 'microwaved' in some mysterious manner).

The FBI operation was winding down as well - the Review would be seriously set back by these events and further surveillance seemed pointless. The two subjects left, Drinkwater an Hames, would be leaving town after talking to the NYPD and apparently distancing themselves completely from the disgraced Bhrunt. They knew nothing of any drug money - or of any power struggle among ‘the far right’ that would make Colm a target. For both the NYPD and the FBI, the exact nature of what had happend would probably be never explained - but nobody was going to shed any tears over a couple of dead Nazis –especially when they had the bonus of collaring Bhrunt . What had happend to the old lady and the nurse was harder to take - but some cases just never get solved and that was the cold truth…..

For the Fed rookies, Lynn, Faulkener, Taylor and Udagawa it had been an interesting start to their career. Word was that Udagawa's stock in the FBI had risen considerably. He'd taken a bad guy down with a justifiable shot in his first ever case and things like that don't look too bad in the record.

DeVere and Hackett contacted Cell A and made a final report. They were instructed to leave both the Linz correspondence and the German tome in a drop-box for analysis by someone with the appropriate language skills. Several weeks later, Hackett and DeVere got a de-briefing document from Cell A, which explained why they'd been assigned to this case in the first place. There was briefly summarised account of Delta Green’s experience in WWII fighting a secretive Nazi faction known as the Karotechia – a faction which had used ‘paranormal powers’ in many ways similar to those that ‘Linz’ had employed. Furthemore, a figure fitting Linz’s description had recently tried to encourage a far right militia group to purchase illegal weapons – and to read up on the works of the Review . He’d been arrested in a raid, but had somehow managed to escape confinement by possibly paranormal means.

The most interesting, if disturbing news was that an initial examination of the tome recovered had revealed that it was purportedly dictated by Adolf Hitler himself ! An Adolf Hitler who had ‘ascended’ to godhood through the sacrifice in the death camps of millions of Jews and other ‘inferior races’ and who would now return to the struggle and lead ‘true Aryans’ to the same immortality.

It was very possible that an element or descendant of the Karotechia – one of Delta Green’s most bitter enemies of decades ago – was out there somewhere, guided by a belief in a thing of utter madness. The promise of a New Reich, led by a ‘risen’ Hitler............

[clockworkjoe]

Wow. I so desperately want Delta Green now.

So, care to reveal any of the keeper's secrets or do we have to figure it out ourselves?

What is Colm's body stealing killer? What were Colm and Linz trying to do? Who was the ghost? Did the new guy join DG?

[kinnygraham]

Wow. I so desperately want Delta Green now.

Thanks - it's nice to hear that people are enjoying these...


So, care to reveal any of the keeper's secrets or do we have to figure it out ourselves?

What is Colm's body stealing killer? What were Colm and Linz trying to do? Who was the ghost? Did the new guy join DG?

I'm afraid that would be giving too much away ;) - and my players read these write-ups.

However, I'm told that you can still find copies of the Unspeakable Oath 16/17, where the scenario appears, around some game stores etc. I'd suggest you pick a copy up and all will be revealed....And if the DG reprint does appear, then I'm sure that new players will be trying to track it down - so it might be a good move to snap it up now.

[Fulsrush]

Damn. Even with the local gaming society's copy of <i>Delta Green</i> in the box room of my house (the benefits of being the librarian... :p), I can't figure out what the hell was going on with some of that weirdness.

I get the impression that the PCs may have missed several significant clues that would have made things clearer. Of course, the good thing about this is that there's always loose ends to bring back in future operations.

(EDIT: ) Speaking of future operations, are there going to be any?(/EDIT)

[kinnygraham]

Speaking of future operations, are there going to be any?

As it happens, I'll be running the next session tonight......so hopefully I'll have another write-up soon.

Going with one of the scenarios in 'The Stars Are Right' - with intro slightly adapted for my campaign and the DG setting....

[kinnygraham]

Played the latest instalment of my Delta Green campaign on 1st March '05.


After the end of the last 'case' I have decided to use the scenario 'Darkest Calling' by David Conyers, which can be found in the recently published 2nd edition of the collection 'The Stars Are Right', from Chaosium.

This account will therefore contain SPOILERS for that scenario - and for some of the material that can be found in the original Delta Green sourcebook.

'Musical mood' was achieved by use of the soundtrack from the film 'The Missing'.


We kicked the game off in June of 1998, over 7 months since the events of Operation 'See No Evil' in New York.

FBI Agent Scott Hackett has found himself based back in the Phoenix Field Office. Hackett, a grizzled veteran of the Bureau in his early fifties who saw two tours in 'Nam, was formerly attached to the Hostage Rescue Team and his work of late has been to maintain a good relationship with the HRT and local/state tactical and emergency units throughout the South West - participating in incident response planning and sharing best practice with regards to SWAT issues. Hackett likes to try and stay in shape, but is being gradually hampered in this by a fondness for alcohol - a fondness fostered by memories of a bitter divorce resulting in the fact that he never see his two kids (now in their early twenties) and by a suspicion that he's probably viewed as something of a relic by a forwardly thinking Bureau.

FBI Agent Peter DeVere has also been back in Phoenix since his temporary re-assignment in NY. DeVere, in his early thirties, is something of a maths prodigy and has been working on a new model of statistical analysis to assist in criminal profiling. He is skilled in computer technology so his time has been split between his research, which the Bureau are interested in, and in putting his knowledge of computing to use in various cases where data recovery, software piracy, hacking and malicious viruses are at issue. DeVere looks like, and acts up to the image of, the archetypal geek. He is generally ill at ease in social situations but has a good brain for police work. Surprisingly, he and Hackett seem to have generally hit it off so far - despite the fact that DeVere probably represents many aspects of the modern Bureau that Hackett resents.

Newly graduated DEA Agent Pat O'Connor was rather put out by the events in NY. He'd co-operated with the illegal surveillance activities at the behest of his uncle, a senior figure in the DEA and his mentor throughout his training. He'd been assured back then that these activities had been somehow important, but after a bewildering week in New York - where someone had made a really good attempt at killing him, he was still very much in the dark about what exactly had happened. A cryptic conversation with DeVere alluding to ghosts and murderous corpses hadn't helped at all; either he'd been working with madmen, or......well, he didn't really want to think about the alternative. Turning to his uncle, he'd been asked to curb his desire for answers for the time being and to be patient - and more, to do his best to give his co-operation again in the event that his services were called for.....That had been months ago. Since that time he'd been assigned to a DEA sub-office in Flagstaff, Arizona and had been learning the bread and butter of DEA operations as well as supplying the technical surveillance skills that he was competent in. O'Connor, in his late twenties, is a lapsed Catholic of Irish descent who likes to go mountaineering in his spare time.


Play commenced with the two Delta Green men being contacted on Tuesday evening by Cell A. The message said that something important had come up and they were to be at the domestic arrivals hall of the Phoenix Sky Harbour International Airport at 11am the following morning, where an 'Agent Judith' would meet them and instruct them further. Their assignment would probably require extra manpower and Cell A suggested that they also contact DEA Agent O'Connor and ask him to assist them. His work telephone number had been supplied. On their previous assignment they'd been asked to consider O'Connor for potential recruitment into Delta Green. They'd found him good to work with, very 'flexible' with regards to bending....ok, breaking the law, but since he hadn't actually seen any direct manifestations of the paranormal, and had been deeply sceptical about DeVere's 'explanation', he was to be classified as a 'friendly' only for the time being - and was to be given only the most limited information possible to get the job done.

Hackett had some meetings with local law enforcement scheduled for the next day - so he moved to postpone them to free time up. DeVere was supposed to be working on some computer analysis in connection with a case - so he decided he would have to call in sick.

The two Delta Green men considered how best to approach O'Connor on this one. They both agreed that they would hear what Agent Judith had to say before briefing him. After discussing who they thought had the best rapport with him, it was decided that Hackett would make the call (DeVere was convinced that his conversation with him back in NY had not gone well). The dialogue (well role-played by the two players concerned) got off to a slow start; O'Connor thought about hanging up when he heard Hackett's voice, but instead paused for a good thirty seconds before responding. O'Connor, flashing back to an SMG wielding assassin and a certain charred corpse in a hospital bed, was certain that no good was about to come of the conversation. Hackett explained that something important was in the offing, and that he and Pete could do with his assistance. Could he make it down to Phoenix by tomorrow afternoon ? O'Connor was in the middle of a surveillance - having just set up the equipment. Hackett stated again that it was important. O'Connor said that since he was being basically asked to phone in sick, he presumed that his assistance was needed in something illicit - something similar to what had happened in NY ? Hackett said yes. He said that he knew that O'Connor wasn't dumb and that he had to suspect that he and Pete were involved in 'something'. Well, he wished they could say more at this point, but they were - and they needed his help again. O'Connor grudgingly agreed to meet him at 2pm in a hotel near the airport the next day. (O'Connor had in fact already been contacted by his Uncle Mike and had been told to expect a call from his 'old friends'...)

At 11am the next morning, both Delta Green agents Turner (DeVere) and Thomas (Hackett) were in the arrivals hall as planned. They were shortly approached by a serious looking woman in her mid forties, smartly dressed in a trouser suit, who quietly identified herself as 'Agent Judith'. She asked if they could go somewhere quiet - so Hackett took them to a nearby bar that he was acquainted with. After ordering drinks (a Tab for DeVere, beer for Hackett and scotch on the rocks for Judith) they settled into a quiet booth.

'You guys have a problem' Judith stated. She went on to explain that her current assignment from Cell A was to keep an eye on the activities of an organisation calling itself SaucerWatch. This was a UFO monitoring outfit who had been around in one shape or another since the late fifties. In recent years, they had developed into a very efficient operation due to two main reasons. The first reason was that SaucerWatch was now staffed, full-time, by 'professional' people; e.g a psychologist/psychotherapist skilled in testing the veracity of witness testimony, a forensics and chemical analysis specialist, a computer support tech - and others. They second reason is that they also now had full financial backing from a wealthy patron ; Sheridan Dunwoody-Smith - a former socialite on the East Coast 'blue blood / old money' circuit who about 6 years back had (despite stern opposition from her relatives and ridicule from her peers ) 'gotten' 'UFOology' in the same way that other people sometimes got religion. (DeVere, from blue blooded East Coast money himself, knew her by her 'damaged' reputation; her new passion had been considered a bit of a minor scandal back when the gossip broke - as to an even lesser degree had his own decision to join the FBI). With Dunwoody-Smith's backing, SaucerWatch had a well equipped office in Topeka, Kansas, and several vehicles (including a well kitted out motor home complete with com-sat gear and forensic analysis capability); and thanks to another member, they even had access to a light aircraft as well. As these things go, they were a very slick outfit.

The trouble with SaucerWatch was that they had recently started to sniff around at the tail end of some recent Delta Green operations. Once was thought to be an unfortunate accident, but at the second instance, Cell A began to suspect that someone within SaucerWatch was in possession of, or was being leaked, some information about Delta Green activities. Hence Agent Judith's current assignment. Now it looked as if it was happening again. SaucerWatch had recently been using the services of a freelance Boston based journalist called Kate Draper. She'd written some very good de-bunking articles which had been published in 'Semper Vigilus' - the Saucerwatch periodical. According to Judith, she'd just learned from her 'sources' that Draper had travelled to Phoenix a week ago with the express intention of re-investigating a case in eastern Arizona that had caused a minor stir just under a year ago - the so called 'Santana murders'.

This really got Turner and Thomas's attention. The Santana case was still fresh in their minds and had caused them more than a few sleepless nights. It had also started them on their Delta Green 'careers', such as they were (they had only been on one op since). It was also here that they'd learned of a rival government 'faction', with excellent resources and an unhealthy interest in the acquisition of extra-terrestrial materials. (DeVere, familiar with some of the conspiracy literature going around, had started to refer to this group as 'Majestic'). The Santana case was officially closed; the 'madman' was dead and his killing spree ended - although an internal investigation by the FBI Office of Professional Responsibility was still technically ongoing, nothing had happened for months and it looked as if it was bogged down in red tape. News that a journalist was raking over old coals was a disturbing development. What did Judith expect them to do ? Answer: Find Draper, find out what she knows (especially with regards to any possible sources of leaked information), destroy any evidence uncovered....and 'dissuade' her from further investigation in this matter. If it could be done without her getting an idea that they were involved, then so much the better. But her investigation should not be allowed to uncover things better left alone. Hackett asked her just exactly what she meant by 'dissuade' ?.......... 'C'mon guys' said Judith, ' Use your imagination. You didn't exactly join the Boy Scouts.'

Both men exchanged looks but said nothing further as Judith produced an envelope. 'Draper's picture, her e-mail address and cell-phone number. I don't know too much about her to be honest as I haven't been able to find the time to look into her background properly. Before I came down here, I found out that she submitted expenses for a night's accommodation at the Mesa hotel - which I understand is about 10 minutes from here - for Wednesday 10th June. She also submitted a claim for the rental of a 4 x 4 here at the airport the next day, the 11th. That's all I've got for now. I intend to stay around here in Phoenix for a few days - so keep me updated. I understand you've also got sanction to bring in a 'friendly' on this. It's up to you what you tell him on this.... Depends how squeamish he is I guess.' They swapped cell-phone numbers and then she got up and left.

Hackett and DeVere kicked this new problem over. 'Never mind about O'Connor' said Hackett, 'I may be too 'squeamish' for this too'... In fact both men were extremely uncomfortable with the prospect of using strongarm tactics on a woman who was basically doing her job. At the same time, they could see the necessity for some kind of action to prevent this journalist from stumbling over something that may threaten their own position - or lead her to even more trouble at the hands of 'Majestic'. They knew that they would probably have a difficult job on their hands to persuade O'Connor to employ scare tactics on some female, and they thought long and hard about what to tell him before going to see him.

Their meeting with O'Connor was difficult as expected. Hackett started off by going over events in NY, and asking O'Connor what he thought had happend ('You tell me') before making the basic point that there were some pretty bad people out there, and that it didn't matter so much if the crazy shit they believed in was true or not - it was the fact that they believed it, and were willing to act on it, that was the important thing. Both him and DeVere couldn't say too much - but they, and they people they were involved with, wanted to stop these characters anyway they knew how. O'Connor was with them so far, in theory anyway. Hackett continued ; now they were confronted with a situation where 'a journalist' was looking into something that they had been involved with in the past, and it was really better for all concerned if she didn't uncover anything; some of the stuff she might have already in her possession could be damaging if circulated - not only to them, but to the wider 'community'. They needed to find out what she knew and take it from there - with a decision on any 'moral' issues made as and when the situation demanded. O'Connor agreed to play it a step at a time on the condition that he would be the judge of what was personally acceptable or not. That was good enough for all concerned at the minute. (Role-playing note: This conversation was a good twenty minutes of the game, and this is just a summary. The players did a great job of debating their various positions 'in character'.)

Next, they decided on what to do now. The two Feds reasoned that Draper would have headed for San Carlos. Hackett expressed surprise that she hadn't actually been in touch with them yet - a journalist should have been able to find out about their involvement (Hackett had been forced to give a hurried press conference at one point). DeVere started to mull over any possible 'loose ends' from the Sanatana case. Sherriff Colorados had been involved, although had not directly seen anything of a 'paranormal' nature - and there were some surviving members of the SWAT team who may have seen Santana taking far more damage than any normal body should have been able to withstand.. He also recalled how they hadn't heard anything about the Medical Examiner, Dr Guiturrez, since the incident in the morgue....Now that he thought about it, perhaps they had good reason to be worried.

They called the Mesa Hotel and established that Draper had checked out on the morning of Friday 12th June (today was Thursday 17th June). They agreed that they would head out to San Carlos and try and pick up her trail there - so the two Feds made a quick trip home to pick up some quick supplies (O'Connor had driven from Flagstaff in his 4 x 4 and had packed on the assumption that he would be gone for awhile; he'd also taken some bits and pieces of surveillance equipment 'just in case'). While they were gone he accessed the internet at his hotel and searched for articles by Kate Draper. The hits from SaucerWatch and related sites had him concerned immediately - more 'kooky shit'. Interestingly, it seemed as if she had been a writer of business related articles prior to the UFO stuff... After meeting up again Hackett rode in DeVere's 4 x 4. It was a 2 and a half hour drive to San Carlos from Phoenix - in the blazing heat of an Arizona summer they were glad of air conditioned vehicles.

En-route, Hackett decided to call the Apache Gold Casino Motel - the place just outside of Globe where they'd stayed last year, and the only place to stay anywhere near San Carlos. But they had no record of a Kate Draper as a guest now or recently. He also called ahead to Sherriff Colorados; who greeted him cautiously when he heard who it was (Hackett reflected ruefully on the fact that nobody seemed glad to hear from him when he phoned). He mentioned Draper and warned Colorados that she might be around, asking questions about Santana. Colorados knew something about her; she'd phoned him up last week sometime saying that she was in town and wanted to see him. He'd fobbed her off with an excuse and she hadn't been back in touch since. Hackett told him they were on their way down, and that they would phone again once they'd checked in.

When they arrived at the motel, they checked in and called Colorados again. He had news for them. Looks like they'd wasted a journey. After their call, he'd done some asking around. Draper had a distinctive Bostonian accent and quite a few people remembered her showing up on the morning of the 11th, and the fact that she was asking questions about the Santana case - in particular about the events at the Begay ranch and about the disappearances However it seemed that she'd met a couple of tourists while in the general store - and they told her they'd heard something about some animal mutilations that had just happend over in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument - a wilderness park south and west of Phoenix on the Mexican border. She'd seemed really interested about this and had been spotted leaving San Carlos soon after. This tied in with what they knew from her hotel - it looked as if she had headed back to Phoenix, spent another night and then left again.

The Delta Green men were worried by this; Hackett didn't like the sound of the two tourists and suspected that 'Majestic' may have been involved in misdirecting Draper to deflect her away from investigations here. O'Connor on the other hand pointed out that they might have been genuine. They checked up online and found that the nearest community to 'Organ Pipe' was Ajo - about an hour's drive north of the place and itself only a small place of three or four thousand souls. They couldn't find anything like a newspaper or any mention of any mutliations. They decided that since it was the only lead they had, they would have to go there and check it out. O'Connor decided to try Draper's cell-phone and not getting a response, left a message advising 'You don't know me, but I know you. I know what you are doing and I have important information for you. I will call again. Please ensure you have you cell phone switched on at all times." They decided to stay and eat, and then drove back to Phoenix, arriving back about 11pm.

Hackett offered to put O'Connor up for the evening and O'Connor was duly introduced to the delights of his abode; a bare apartment given colour only by a fair sized collection of military science books, empty beer cans and the occasional copy of 'Guns and Ammo'. There was a faded photo of Hackett's kids when they were in their teens. O'Connor asked about their mother but Hackett just said that looking at pictures of her brought on 'bad acid' in his stomach. To O'Connor's disappointment, there was no PC much less a link to the internet. DeVere meanwhile had made full use of his connection. He'd used Draper's e-mail ID to hack into her PC and had been able to access her credit card records. From the info found there he was able to establish that Draper had been in Gila Bend on Friday the 12th June; she'd bought a fair bit of camping equipment and had paid for a hotel. A gas purchase there on the morning of the 13th was the last purchase on the record. She also seemed pretty fastidious about keeping her mailbox clear - the only mail she'd had was something from a Dr.Shaeffer referring to a telephone call and requesting an update on anything interesting from San Carlos. DeVere remembered the name from the briefing on SaucerWatch.

They set off the next day in two vehicles again - heading for Gila Bend, which would take them in the direction of Ajo and from then on to Organ Pipe. Hackett called Judith to update her - she was interested in the news, but then asked him if he knew anything about whether there were any cases in the area involving grave robbing or body desecration ? Slightly confused, he said he didn't know of any....and the conversation ended. At Gila Bend, DeVere used his own accent to play up to the role of Kate Draper's 'cousin' and was able to find staff who remembered her in the camping supplies store. She'd spent a fair bit of money on equipment, and had purchased a map of the Organ Pipe Cactus Monument park. The three of them did likewise, expending a fair amount of money on equipment (including handheld radio sets) and getting a good map of the area. O'Connor tried calling Draper again and left a similar message to the last time.

About an hour and a half later, they were in Ajo, where they stopped at another store in the town's small square . DeVere picked up Draper's trail here again. She'd stopped for cold drinks on the morning of the 13th and had asked the two shop attendants ( both young American Indians who looked like brother and sister) about whether they'd heard any stories about weird things happening to animals. Both in fact had; although they they were light on details. Seemed a farmer somewhere between here and the monument had some cattle torn up by wolves. They weren't sure who it was - they'd heard it from someone who'd heard it from someone else. They'd told the same story to Kate Draper.

Pushing on, they realised that they were now in one of the most remote areas of the state. The heat was intense, and they could find no signal on their mobile phones. The road was a simple two lane black top in danger of melting in the blaze of the desert sun and the only thing to occasionally break up the wide expanse of desert was the occasional sight of imposing mountain ranges to left and right.

O'Connor was ahead now and he thought he could see something up ahead in the road. He slowed a bit and he could see that it was some kind of animal. Slowing again, he could see that it was a coyote standing in the middle of the road. He pulled up close to it and braked, and the other two stopped behind him. The beast was quivering, and seemed to be unaware of them. The two FBI men were alarmed - they'd encountered strange coyote tracks in connection with the Santana case. They got out - their guns drawn. The animal seemed to stagger - as if it was drunk, and it fell towards them - revealing the fact that it's side, the one they hadn't seen yet, seemed to have been laid wide open. Naked muscle and torn flesh were evident through crimson gore - they could clearly see the ribcage and other organs - some of which were hanging out. The beast shook again, urinated and died in front of their eyes. They were thoroughly rattled now, but could see a trail of the creature's blood leading off the road and up a rocky rise right beside the road.

O'Connor drew his gun as well, and all three climbed the rise, following the trail of blood. At the top, the ground dropped away again and they could see for maybe two miles across the desert floor. Squinting into the sun, they could see........something........ moving on the horizon. They squinted again - and recoiled in horror ! Three shapes, black and spiny, were moving out there on many, many legs with an unnatural, scuttling, insect-like gait. Their bulbous bodies seemed to boil with movement. But worse, these things were large - as big as elephants ! They were the most unnatural creatures they had ever laid eyes on. Seconds later they were gone - disappearing into a hollow or valley out on the horizon. The two FBI men were shocked by this, but O'Connor was truly shaken. The world seemed to spin, and his gun hung forgotten by his side. As he fought to control his fear, they all looked downhill again to the bottom of the rise - where the torn remains of as many as eight coyotes lay in bloody pieces...

[clockworkjoe]

Wow, as usual! Do you have any pictures of the creatures that we can see?

[kinnygraham]

Wow, as usual! Do you have any pictures of the creatures that we can see?

I'm afraid not.......

There's a picture in the scenario book though........ ;)

[Delirium]

Graham,

Great stuff. I'm particularly impressed by the degree to which the two FBI/DG characters are seeking to manage the information exposure to the DEA recruit, and also by the evident attention everyone's giving to their ic motivation.

Pleasingly ambiguous end to See No Evil, well done.

And superb work in tying saucer watch into the Stars Are Right scenario. I am certainly going to steal that idea and bring my PCs back to San Carlos in a few months.

Keep up the good work!

[kinnygraham]

Thanks again for the positive feedback Eoin. The players are doing a very good job indeed in playing their characters, and that level of commitment really helps motvate me in doing the prep to run it.

I've got a write-up to do for last week's session, but after that there will be a wee break (lucky old me is off to Rome, and then Donegal in the next 10 days or so) so there will be nothing for a small while. Hopefully I'll be re-commencing in early April.

If thinking of running this latest scenario, head over to yog-sothoth.com's 'Modern' forum. I've started a thread on 'Darkest Calling' and posted a couple of interesting links which lead to great resources (photos, maps etc) on the area (my moniker over there is AdamAstonbury, after my first ever CoC character).

Be seeing you ;)

[kinnygraham]

Played a further session of 'Darkest Calling' on Tuesday 8th March 2005.

This account contains SPOILERS for that scenario and for the Delta Green setting.



In the last session, the characters were en-route to the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument in Southern Arizona to try and track down Kate Draper, a freelance journalist who had been looking into mysterious events that two of the group had been involved in last year, and who now seemingly had been sidetracked by reports of animal mutilations in the area. The last session had ended when the characters had encountered a mortally wounded coyote on the road south - after which they had then caught a glimpse of huge insect like creatures out on the distant horizon of the desert; bizarre, disturbing beasts which were seemingly responsible for having mauled a whole pack of coyotes now lying in tattered bloody pieces just yards from their feet.

O'Connor was too shaken to react - this sight of these.......things.......had unnerved him badly and he took some time to recover. DeVere and Hackett were also rattled by what they had just witnessed, but both decided to act in an outward effort to conceal their inner unease; DeVere returned to the body of the first coyote while Hackett scrambled down the dusty, earthen bank to look at the others. If anyone thought about going off in pursuit of the strange creatures, the notion was dismissed immediately.

DeVere was surprised to realise that the abdominal area of the first beast was 'shrinking' slowly before his eyes; looking closely he could see that a thick, orange coloured gooey substance - which seemed to originate with the wound(s) the coyote had sustained, was eating away at the fur, flesh and muscle. Some of the substance had already worked it's way entirely through the body, and now lay on the tarmac of the road where it's 'corrosive' properties seem to have halted. A quick check with Hackett confirmed that the other coyote carcasses were similarly affected ; the substance was slowly eating into their remains as he looked on - halting only when it reached the sand. Hackett also had something else to report; a look at the area surrounding the dead animals revealed myriad tracks, large (estimated about 6 or 7 inches in diameter) and hoof like in appearance. A collection of these led off to the west - in the direction of the strange creatures that they had seen. Tracking them was a possibility - though success would be by no means guaranteed if the terrain was to shift from sand to stony or rocky ground.

DeVere tentatively concluded that the strange substance only affected organic matter and working carefully, managed to smear some of the substance into a plastic container for future analysis. Hackett meanwhile started covering the coyote remnants in sand while O'Connor looked on in silence, his eyes nervously flicking to the horizon from time to time. Hackett offered him his hip-flask and the DEA man took a good slug of the bourbon within. He was lost here, and looking to his friends for some direction. With his sample taken, DeVere took the opportunity of photographing the animal, the other carcasses and the strange footprints, before dragging what was left of the coyote behind some rocks and cacti at the side of the road.

The two FBI men decided that they had best turn northwards back in the direction of Ajo and inform Agent Judith of this latest development (their mobiles didn't work out here so far into the desert - so they would have to make their way north to find a signal). Hackett turned to O'Connor, 'I think we've got more talking to do, and I always find that it's easier to talk in a bar.' O'Connor had already made good in roads to the hipflask, so it was decided that Hackett would drive his vehicle. Conversation was stilted....O'Connor was doing a lot of thinking.

Heading north, they were about 5 miles from Ajo before they got a signal again on their mobile phones - so they drove on until they reached the small community and checked in to the quaintly named 'Marine Motel'. DeVere and Hackett grabbed some quick time alone and contacted Agent Judith, recounting what had happend so far and describing what they had all seen. Judith was pretty surprised and admitted to having heard nothing of the like in her Delta Green career. She advised that she would have to contact Cell A for guidance. In the meantime DeVere arranged to have his film and the substance sample couriered to her at her hotel in Phoenix for onwards transmission to Cell A. They also asked he for guidance on what to do about O'Connor. Judith explained that she herself had only been given the barest details on their 'friendly' - but she was aware that he was being considered for possible induction....It was up to them how they wanted to play it from here - but if she was in their position she'd be sure he could be absolutely relied upon to keep his mouth shut before revealing too much.... They told her that they planned on heading down to the Monument in the morning to see what else they could find, and that if necessary they would try to contact her on the land line from the visitor center there; a breach of Delta Green 'protocol' but if handled correctly, a low-risk one. She promised to be back in touch as soon as she had an update for them.

The three men sought out the nearest bar and found it pretty quickly: Ajo didn't exactly offer a lot of choice in any event, although the place they were in seemed decent enough - and served some good Mexican food as well. A round of drinks was quickly ordered and they settled down once again to talk to O'Connor. Although at DeVere's insistence the name Delta Green was never mentioned, the two FBI men did reveal to O'Connor that they were part of an 'organisation' that took it upon themselves to look into some of the more 'unusual stuff' that happend - 'stuff' that could potentially become a problem. 'Stuff' like the stuff that they had saw earlier on that afternoon....O'Connor immediately wanted to know if they'd already seen things like..those 'things' from the afternoon..? 'Not exactly' said DeVere,.... 'although last summer we did encounter a body stealing alien parasite'. This last line was delivered with a straight face and O'Connor somehow knew that these guys were deadly serious - at the very least they absolutely believed in everything that they said. They gave him a brief description of the 'Santana case' and their discovery that some kind of alien creature was responsible and that a secretive government agency of some description had been involved - though they left out some of the more bizarre occurrences - including their 'showdown' with the creature in the morgue. Even so, it made for an unsettling tale. They also confirmed that the 'business' in New York was also an 'operation' on behalf of their friends, but that they couldn't yet share everything that they knew about that. O'Connor thought back to what he had seen this afternoon, and to all of the strange events of the previous autumn...Mentally, he was not in Kansas anymore.

Hackett had some questions of his own though. He put it to O'Connor that he'd been all too ready to co-operate with them back in NY, and to 'climb aboard' the search for Kate Draper. O'Connor revealed that he had 'a mentor' who had asked him to co-operate with them. Putting two and two together he had to figure that 'their people' and 'his people' were connected. So it was very reasonable to assume that for now they should work together on this. Everyone agreed, with the FBI men also emphasising the point that it was not a good idea for Joe Public to ever get wind of any this; a little knowledge could be a dangerous thing. O'Connor reluctantly conceded that this was true - although he had to assume that that 'their friends' had the 'resources'...namely the firepower, to deal with those things before word spread ? An uncomfortable moment passed. The two FBI men had to admit that they didn't know for sure....It was quite possible that they, the three of them, were 'it' as far as 'resources' went. 'Oh great' said O'Connor, immediately calling for more drinks. The rest of the evening was spent with them discussing the case at hand. They still wanted to find Draper, but their glimpse of these creatures had got them thinking about that threat. O'Connor, his mind still trying to rationalise all this, asked if it was likely that these creatures were extra-terrestial in origin. After all, they'd mentioned an 'alien' before....Both FBI men had to concede that they didn't know, but it did get them thinking about the fact that these creatures were large, and very 'ill-disposed' towards the local wildlife. Assuming that the stories of animal mutilations that had led Draper here had the same cause, they reasoned that the creatures had only 'appeared' recently - because their assumption was that they couldn't stay a secret for long, even in the remote desert of South-Western Arizona....With these thoughts in mind, they decided to call it a night.

Despite a sore head on O'Connor's part, all three of them were up bright and early the next morning, ready for their journey back down to the Organ Pipe monument. Hackett took a call from Agent Judith. The upshot was that Cell A had no useful information at this stage - the 'creatures' that had been described were 'completely unknown' to Cell A and 'Alphonse' would require further intelligence on them, and the threat they posed to humans, before any further assets could be deployed. Analysis would be made of the photographic evidence and the substance sample, and there was a possibility that further 'backup' could be deployed if the situation altered. But until they had more information to offer, Cell T was on its own. Nothing was mentioned about O'Connor. Hackett bore the news stoically.

The drive down to the monument was the same as the one they had commenced yesterday; the heat was blistering and the desert was a vast intimidating expanse on either side of the road, broken only by the appearance of inhospitable looking mountains. There was also some occasional traffic which passed them on the road heading northwards - a mildly reassuring sign. They passed the spot they'd stopped at yesterday without incident.

Soon they were in the Monument proper, and a roadside sign advised them that park wardens reserved the right to stop campers and ask to see their permits. They also saw more and more examples of the large distinctive cacti that gave this park its name. Following the map, the road south took them directly to a visitor centre with nearby campsite, and on the way they passed signs for various 'recommended tourist routes' - although they also noticed that the park was criss-crossed with other smaller trails as well. The place seemed reasonably busy - there were perhaps twenty or so vehicles parked up at the centre and they could see quite a few tents and people in the designated area. All seemed to be normal.

With the information that Draper had rented a 4 x 4 and DeVere's hacking of her home PC and credit card records, the three of them had been able to obtain the registration of her vehicle. A search of the car park and camping area yielded nothing - so they decided to head into the visitor center. DeVere questioned the Parks officer on duty about whether his cousin, Kate Draper, had been through here. A check of his records established that she'd bought a week's camping permit last Saturday, 13th June ('today' being Friday the 19th). DeVere also mentioned that he'd heard something about animal mutilations in the area ? The park officer appeared flummoxed, and said he didn't know anything about anything like that. It was clear that he was lying. DeVere pressed him on the issue and the officer asked him to wait while he summoned his boss via walkie-talkie. The man appeared about fifteen minutes later, and asked all three to step into a quiet corner. He asked them what they'd heard and when they explained that DeVere's 'cousin' had mentioned it in her last call to them, he conceded that 'something of that nature' had happend on nearby farms, but they were keeping it very 'low profile' for fear of damaging the tourist trade and/or attracting the wrong kind of publicity. Posing as tourists, they decided not to pursue this line of questioning any more. The park official had no recollection of Draper although he did advise that many people chose to camp 'off the beaten track' - after all, this was the type of place that attracted people who were drawn to the rugged life and the 'great outdoors'. He reminded them of a need for a permit if camping in the area and the discussion was concluded.

After a quick discussion, it was decided that the only way forward was to conduct a search for Draper. DeVere went back to buy a permit and received some very interesting news. The warden advised him that they were to stick to the marked roads and obey any signs advsing of any temporary road or trail closures ; there had been a 'localised earth tremor' about 2 weeks back and it was thought likely that some areas of the park might have been rendered unsafe with the risk of landslides or damaged roads. DeVere tried to find out exactly where, but the warden just advised them that 'assessments were ongoing' and that everywhere was potentially unsafe. Obeying the signs in all cases was the best advice he could give. All three began to suspect some connection between the tremor and the recent incidence of animal mutilations and/or appearance of the bizarre creatures they'd glimpsed. DeVere noted the presence of several mines in the area and began to wonder whether they might be a refuge and/or lair for the beasts - explaining why they seemingly hadn't been witnessed as yet.

With nothing much to go on, they decided to set off on the 'Puerto Blanco Drive' - a 53 mile round trip through some of the most spectacular scenery. Such a route would take in a lot of the park, pass some of the mines, and perhaps afford them the opportunity of questioning other visitors for news on Draper.

About half an hour into their journey, they found a 'closed' trail leading north which had been sealed off by the placement of a simple wooden log barrier ; this was easily moved and they drove down the trail for sometime until they came to a damaged section where the earth seemed to have collapsed. Their vehicles could probably go further with a 'little off-roading' - but it looked as if this trail would cross back over to the main entrance road, so they turned back.

They found a similar closed road about 12 miles westwards down the Drive and decided to investigate again. This led north-west in the direction of the Bates Mountains and they followed it for some time, driving for half an hour or so. Up ahead they caught the glimpse of sun on metal and checking their binoculars, found that they had hit pay-dirt. It was Draper's Toyota Landcruiser, seemingly parked at a small vantage point in the foothills of the mountains. They approached cautiously, but it appeared that no-one was around. The vehicle was parked up at the end of the road, such as it was, though it seemed as if a foot trail led further off into the mountains. Looking in, they could see no sign of the camping equipment that they were expecting Draper to have. The car was unlocked and when opened, stifilingly hot inside. A hold-all under the front seat disclosed a 'Lonely Planet' guide to the American South-West, an Apache-English phrasebook, a map of the monument similar to the one that the investigators had - and a lap-top computer. Other than this, the car seemed empty - although it was perfectly possible that a detailed forensic examination would yield more.

DeVere checked the lap-top, which still had power, and found that it contained a file detailing expenses (yielding no more information than they had already) and a 'Notes' file:

Excerpts from Kate Draper’s LapTop

10th June - Phoenix. Hotel fine. Thank God for AC !! Read up a bit on San Carlos / Gila mountains. Seems pretty small town and country pretty wild/remote. But rate of incident death etc very small. Last August complete bolt from blue.. Source said to speak to Colorados (sheriff). Mutilations (begay ranch), disappearances and murders (multiple ! Not all accounted for in coverage - must do check up). Braverman - killer - killed by Santana (also s.killer - unlikely coincidence ). FBI cover up ?Hackett & DeVere ‘assisting’ then own case. Rumour of satellite component ?
All sound juicy - but patience dear ! SW boys/SDS will love all this if something there.

11th June - Phoenix again ! Change of plan. Fresh mutilations/animal attacks in Organ Pipe National Monument - hikers say heard it from campers talking to staff…Remains discovered on nearby farms ?Min two attacks.. Definitely worth checking out. Santana/SC stuff can wait for now (though sherriff sounded bit rattled - something up there). Will hit lib. 2morrow and see if a ‘history’ there (natural predation ?) or if something more…

12th June - Gila Bend. Spent day buying supplies - been a while since I did the Girl Scout routine ! (also think heat getting me - felt lousy so glad of rest).

Sonaran desert (hottest in USA !) gonna be unforgiving - must be careful if a stay in order….

OK - facts.

Tourst spot famous for cacti and spring flowers post rains….Should be a visitor center there.

Bordered by Papago Res. Apache tribe…(tourism)

Interesting background/opener if leads to anything (ref J Fletcher) :

Possibly (some say arch. evidence not strong enough) once home of Kokoham tribe - more or less vanished circa 1000 AD ? Papago oral trad. say they existed. Kokoham (mean: keepers of stars ?) masters of ‘ spirit’ animals. Nothing much more in museum. Suggested J Takoda if more needed ?spelling?

Wonder if SC/Gila mountain tribes had similar colour in history ?


Ajo a good bet to begin.




After puzzling over this file and drawing some tentative conclusions from it, they decided that they should investigate the trail. They could drive no further, so made ready for a fairly lengthy expedition - packing plenty of water and their camping equipment. Hackett also took a hunting rifle as a precaution. It was just after noon and they guessed looking at the terrain that the going would be extremely arduous. Thankfully, they were all fit men (despite Hackett's drinking, his HRT background meant that he was still the match of most) and they had brought appropriate footwear - and most importantly, plenty of water. This was all just as well, since they followed the montainous trail for some three hours in the oppressive heat of the desert. Wary of an encounter with the creatures, they took pains to scan ahead where possible - using their binoculars and the sight of Hackett's rifle.

It was during one of these 'forward observations' that they spotted something worrying. Rounding the shoulder of a small steep mountain, they had scanned ahead into the small valley floor below, which was apparently boxed in on three sides by steep rocky walls. There was something... pink and suggestive of the human form lying obscured by brush on the sandy floor about a quarter of a mile below. All was still.

They decided that they would leave DeVere at this vantage point as a look out while Hackett and O'Connor would go on to investigate. Their descent took about 10 minutes and using their walkie-talkies, they were guided to the spot through the cacti and weeds by their companion. Shortly, the horribly mutilated corpse of a female lay at their feet. The stench of death and putrefecation was heavy in the desert air. She lay spread eagled under the desert sun, her limbs tied to wooden stakes which had been driven into the sandy floor. With nothing visible other than bleached bone, the flesh and organs of her body were missing from her lower abdomen down to her mid thighs. The naked reddened flesh on the rest of her body appeared to be cut in many places - marked with small whorls and other marks. Her forehead had been marked with a strange rune and her face was contorted in a mask of fear and agony - her dead eyes opened wide in mortal appeal to an uncaring, azure sky. It was Kate Draper.

Both men paused, absorbing the sight. Gathering their nerve, they informed DeVere, who elected to stay put, and started taking in more detail - their trained minds picking up on the details that cops the world over might register. O'Connor made a quick sketch of the rune and pocketed it. Traces of bare footprints were present in the sand around her, and most alarmingly, so were the strange hoof-prints; both seemed to lead off in parallel through the scrub. Strangely, there was no sign of the maggots, insects and other small carrion that should be present on the corpse ; in fact, a trail of ants seemed to veer away from it. The edges of the massive trauma to her mid-section looked to have traces of the familar orange substance as well. Strangely, more recent, booted prints seem to approach the corpse from the north - and then turn back again towards the steep wall of the surrounding rocks. There were many puzzles to fathom here.

They elected to follow the hoof prints first, and within 30 feet came across another curiosity; a semi-circular depression in the sand, about 8 or 10 feet across and about 3 feet deep in the middle. The sand here in this hole seemed smooth, but otherwise unremarkable. The hoof marks ended here, and the bare feet seemed to have paused and then moved on eastwards.......

They were still trying to work out what this meant when DeVere contacted them. He could hear a helicopter coming.....

[kinnygraham]

This is the write up for the session of 'Darkest Calling' that took place on 5th April 2005. As ever, this will contain SPOILERS for that scenario.

('Metagaming' note: I mentioned before that I had been playing the movie soundtrack from the movie 'The Missing' throughout these sessions - this decision was borne out in particular during this session; while the music on the CD is sometimes more 'emotional' than suspenseful or horrific, there are many atmospheric tracks evoking a 'native American' ambience and these seemed to really complement the play as the mysteries of the scenario unfolded....)

Agents DeVere, Hackett and O'Connor had just discovered the body of journalist Kate Draper in the middle of the Sonaran Desert in the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument Park in Southern Arizona. Draper looked to have been the victim of some kind of ritual - she had been discovered staked out, with weird symbols both carved in her flesh and painted on her forehead. Worse, her body looked as if it had been partially eaten and there was an overwhelming suspicion that the horrific beasts the agents had spotted the day before were involved - the physical evidence present at her death and at the scene of the coyote attack site was very similar - strange hoof prints and traces of an extremely toxic substance - although in the case of Draper, there was also evidence that humans had been present in the area. Further mystery was provided by the presence of a strange circular depression, about 10 feet across and 3 or 4 feet deep, which lay in the desert floor nearby the body. Human footprints led to this feature - and beyond to the steep rocky walls of the valley.

DeVere, watching from a vantage point above the valley floor heard the sound of a helicopter getting nearer - and quickly let his companions know. Hackett asked O'Connor to 'hit the floor' - just in case - so the DEA man duly obliged and took cover in some of the low brush near the circular depression. Seconds later, a helicopter bearing 'Park Service' insignia rounded the low arm of the mountain against which the valley nestled. It came to a hover opposite and above DeVere, and a uniformed figure slid open the side door and motioned for him to take the path into the valley - in the direction of where Kate Draper's corpse lay. The craft seemed to pause to see that he was complying and slowly shadowed him as he walked down the trail - before going forward and slowly descending to land about 60 or 70 feet away from Hackett. It landed so it was placed to observe both men. A loudhailer commanded Hackett to place his hands above his head and to O'Connor's disappointment the voice went on 'You on the ground !' Stand slowly and put your hands in the air !'. It was obvious he'd been spotted by the 'copter crew as it landed; slowly he climbed to his feet - pissed at himself for getting caught out and pissed at Hackett for asking him to hide in the first place.

Two men in Arizona State Trooper uniforms moved towards them with guns drawn - advising them that if they made any sudden moves then they would be fired upon. Behind them a woman, mid-thirties wearing spectacles and casually dressed, also dismounted from the helicopter. One of the troopers went forward to frisk them - removing O'Connor's firearm and wallet - while the other covered them at a distance - at the same time tracking the movement of DeVere as he moved back towards them all through the scrub. Hackett quietly advised them that they were federal agents and asked permission to reach for his own badge. The trooper inspected it, and relaxing slightly, walked back towards the woman to show her. She inspected it for herself and approached them.

'I'm Detective Knightley, Phoenix PD. Can I ask you what the hell you agents are doing out here at this crime scene ?'. She was handed O'Connor's ID as well. 'The Bureau AND the DEA - what gives ?' Hackett started to tell her about a 'joint surveillance operation' they were on - aimed at the journalist Kate Draper, who was possibly in possession of some 'extremely important and sensitive information'. Knightley must have sensed the uncertainty in his voice and asked whether his superiors would be able to confirm the account he had just given ? Hackett shrugged his shoulders, appearing resigned and moved into his second cover story. Ok he was going to level - what they were doing was 'off the record and personal' ; both Hackett and DeVere had been involved in a particularly nasty case last year over in San Carlos. Draper had been looking at the story again and they didn't want her picking over old wounds and 'upsetting folks'. They just hoped to have a friendly chat - nothing sinister - to ensure that she wasn't going to aggravate people who had suffered enough already. O'Connor here was just a law enforcement colleague who was helping them out. The sight of Draper's corpse had spooked him out and he'd panicked when he heard the 'copter - hence his strange behaviour. O'Connor, less than pleased at this, tried hard not to show his displeasure. 'Tell me again what you were planning to do when you caught up with her ?' she asked. Hackett assured the detective once again that they had only intended to speak with her. Anyway - they'd followed her trail to San Carlos and then down here - and they'd only just found her body when they had shown up. She was quite a mess and they were quite surprised by this turn of events.

Knightley seemed to accept this for the moment and asked them to stay where they were while an inspection was made of the site ; she motioned towards the helicopter and waved on another man wearing a vest identifying him as a crime scene technician and another man also emerged who was clearly a park ranger. Knightley and the technician went over to inspect the body while the others stood in silence. O'Connor wondered if it was a good time to ask for his gun and badge back but decided it wasn't - he was still being eyed suspiciously by the state troopers.

Knightley and the tech talked quietly over near the body for 10 or 15 minutes and then Knightley left him to the job of carefully documenting the crime scene and tasked the troopers to assist in the search for trace evidence. Knightley interviewed the three agents further - going over their movements and what they knew of Draper's prior movements (DeVere was careful not to disclose that he had hacked into her files, instead concentrating on the interviews they had made with store staff in Ajo and Gila Bend and the fact that they had located her vehicle down the trail). Hackett wanted to know why they had turned up and he respectfully put the question to her. It seemed that some backpackers had happened across Draper's body several hours back and had doubled back on their trail and reported it. This cleared up one mystery - the agents had spotted booted footprints when they first found the corpse. DeVere mentioned the bare footprints that they had found as well - Knightley had spotted them though and she had already asked the tech to make casts of all the prints found. They apparently led off across the valley floor to the east, but disappeared at the steep stony ground that hemmed the area in.

While the interview was concluding, the park ranger had wandered off for a closer look at the corpse. He called Knightley over and the two talked quietly. Knightley then approached them again. 'Right now, I'm about 99% sure that you were not responsible for what happened here - and the reason for that is that this is not the first murder of this nature to occur. We found another body just like this a few days back. Same MO. And my ranger friend here has just told me that he's sure our victim here - Kate Draper - was escorted away from the first crime scene just after the body had been discovered and before the area had been secured properly.' Knightley watched them for a reaction - which was one of surprise. Another victim was very interesting news indeed. She went on to explain that the other 'ritual' murder had also occurred within the park - and that the administrators had asked for assistance from the Phoenix PD and the Arizona Dept of Safety - hence her presence and that of the state troopers.

Hackett mentioned that back during the Santana case that he and DeVere had been kicking a theory around that there was a 'cult' connection - there had been some disembowelling murders that were loosely connected but nothing had turned up. Maybe there was something still going on ? Knightly seemed interested in this and made the point that in any event she would have to ask them to go back to Phoenix with her. She wanted to verify everything they'd told her - but if they checked out, she was willing to hear of any contribution they had. A lot of things didn't make sense - and she could do with any help she could get. They waited in the desert heat while the tech completed his work and Draper's remains and all of the evidence gathered was finally bagged and loaded onto the helicopter. Knightley hoped to get more manpower out to the area to make a proper search, and to check out Draper's car - but for now they'd done what they could.

Before flying back to Phoenix they stopped off back at the Visitor Center where the park ranger was dropped off. Here, they also made arrangements for the car they had rented to be retrieved and driven back to the Center. They also received some worrying news; three Australian backpackers had been reported missing. Their campsite had been discovered out in the desert - but there was no sign of the men themselves anywhere. A further search was being organised. Knightley asked to be kept informed and they got under way to Phoenix - an estimated flight time of just under two hours.

En-route, the detective shared a little more information about the first murder. The victim was a Native American male named Paco Yuma, a young mailman who lived in the adjacent reservation. His body bore the same (or very, very similar) ritual markings and he had seemingly died in the same manner. His body had been found about 9 miles northwest of where Draper's had been discovered - within sight of the road into the Monument. The agents took a note of the location and plotted it on the map they had of the area.

At Phoenix they quickly transferred to a waiting vehicle while Draper's remains were taken to the coroner's office for a full post-mortem. They were soon in Knightley's office, where she handed over the file on Yuma. The pictures were as grisly as expected. DeVere noted that there was a toxicology report on the orange substance surrounding the wounds; the Phoenix PD boys were baffled as to it's origin and were considering passing it on to the FBI for assistance. DeVere remembered that a similar chain of events had seemingly resulted in 'Majestic' becoming involved in the Santana case - and offered to personally arrange the transfer of the sample to the labs at the field office. Knightley seemed grateful for the offer and agreed to the arrangement. O'Connor noticed that there was a slight difference in the markings present on the victims. Both had a strange rune painted on to their foreheads - a cross between a star or a stick figure. Yuma's had a single dot at the end of the 'left arm' of the figure; Draper's had two dots at the bottom of the left 'leg'. Another look at the Yuma photographs confirmed a large single dot painted on the palm of his left hand. A visit to the morgue was in order - to collect the sample and to look at Draper again.

Within a short time they were in the chilled atmosphere of the coroner's lab (Hackett and DeVere couldn't help thinking back to Santana's bullet ridden body springing horribly to life - and they both suppressed dark thoughts as they eyed the shroud covered cadaver). A quick look and they were able to confirm that Draper's corpse had two large dots painted on to the sole of her left foot. The doctor promised them a preliminary report within the hour and Knightley directed them to wait for her in the canteen while she tied up 'a few loose ends'.

This respite gave the agents some to think; clearly some further research was needed - following up on the leads that Draper herself had uncovered. It was now about 8pm in the evening and they had endured a strenuous and tiring day - but the ‘thrill of the chase’ kept them going - aided of course by cups of strong coffee and a donut or two from the canteen. The ‘first victim - one dot, second victim - two dots’ pattern was very suggestive so far. They were convinced that they could find out more. Hackett thought to update ‘Agent Judith’ and gave her a quick call. She was surprised to hear that they were back in Phoenix and she listened attentively to what they had to say. The death of Draper was a big surprise to her and she admitted that the ritual killing aspect worried her. She had no direct experience that she could draw on - but she’d heard enough from fellow agents on ops she'd been on to know that there was usually a direct link between ritual magic or the ‘occult’ and the presence of paranormal creatures. She promised to inform Cell A and get back with some further guidance. In the meantime they were to be very careful with regards to their dealings with Knightley.

The detective herself joined them after about half an hour. The initial report on Draper had been completed and a comparison with the report on Yuma had been made; there were some anomalies but overall they were convinced that the same person was responsible. Draper had most likely died about 3 days previously, and most likely at a period in the early morning. Yuma had died at about 3 days prior to her - and at roughly the same time. Both had endured ritualised bloodletting and/or scarring prior to their deaths and it was extremely likely that these had been inflicted by the same knife or similar object. The ‘runes’ and dots painted on the victims were made up of the same pigments - used in traditional Native-American ceremonies in the South-West. Hairs found at both crime sites matched and were typical of American-Indians, but had yielded no further identification. Interestingly, Draper had shown signs of having tried to escape her bonds, while Yuma had not; neither seemed to have any drugs or foreign chemicals in their systems. Both had died of severe abdominal trauma caused by massive bite wounds inflicted by an animal of unknown provenance. Both corpses had yielded samples of the strange noxious substance. DeVere asked about the strange hemispherical depression. Was there also one at the Yuma location? A check of the report confirmed that there was.

The agents’ next move was to re-assure Knightly that they were committed to helping her out with the investigation and that they would be perfectly happy for her and the Phoenix PD to get any credit that was due as a result of any successful investigation - a prospect that Knightley did not seem averse to. With this in mind they proposed that DeVere stay on and conduct some online research while Hackett and O’Connor went to the library to see what they could turn up. Knightley would stay on and see if any of the further forensic examinations yielded anything. They would all touch base later that evening and compare notes.

DeVere, with Knightley's help, found himself an office and PC with an internet connection and immediately set about researching the Kokoham Indians mentioned in Draper’s journal. He was able to confirm that they were a tribe whose name meant the ‘Star keepers’ and they were reputed to be 'masters of spirit animals'. They apparently disappeared from their settlements in the Sonaran desert circa 1000 AD with some speculating that they has been assimilated into other nearby tribes like the Papago. Another website maintained by the Great Plains Cruciform Array astronomical observatory in Nebraska, held an interesting section on the astronomical beliefs of ancient and primitive cultures. This confirmed that a five-pointed star symbol believed to be spiritually important to the ‘vanished Kokoham tribe’ was, remarkably, found to have an exact correlation with a constellation invisible to the naked eye and unknown until the advent of modern astronomy.

Over in the Library, Hackett and O'Connor were making discoveries of their own. The 'J. Fletcher' reference from Draper's notes unearthed an interesting volume dating back to 1949 on the legends and myths of the Sonaran desert. O'Connor immediately recognised one of the drawings in the musty book; it showed a Kokoham rendering of the 'constellation of the Elder Stars'. Five 'stars' which looked like stick men in appearance were present in the image - each with dots similar to the ones they had encountered, at the end of the 'limbs'- with the numbers of dots increasing clockwise through the pattern. The Kokoham, legend told it, had learned the secret of the stars from a 'trickster spirit' who had also taught them about the hidden secrets of the number three (important to magic in the physical world) and five (important to magic in the spirit world). The book also told recounted legend about a Kokoham shaman who had set out to battle five evil spirits unleashed by the trickster that were plaguing the land ; he had set out with five of his sons and daughters to fight them, but had agreed to give them up in sacrifice to the creatures on the agreement that they would return to the spirit world and haunt the lands of men no more. Details of a ritual to 'appease the spirits' was contained within the book. It would take many hours of detailed study to be able to learn how to do this, but one thing was clear - the ritual required the sacrifice of a human victim. Another book referenced the fact that there was apparently a small display of Kokoham artifacts on display at the Phoenix Museum of History.

The agents shared what they had found so far and agreed to rendevouz at the museum. The hour was now late (about 10.30pm), but their FBI badges secured instant co-operation from the nightwatchman - who hauled his fat ass back to the control area to switch on all the lights in the relevant section of the building. They located the section on the Native American tribes of Arizona and found themsleves before a diaroma labelled as a 'Kokoham Banishing Ritual'. Two waxworks were dressed in traditional Native American garb. One seemed to be a shaman of some kind and his outstretched hand seemed to have one of the star/stick figure symbols painted onto the palm of the hand. The other was positioned on short stilts and held two short staffs in his hand - and his clothing also seemed to have many animal teeth sewn into it in representation of many mouths. Clearly he represented one of the the 'evil spirits' of Kokoham legend. Something about this whole tableaux made them uneasy - the stilts making them think of the monstrous, many legged creatures they had spotted out in the desert and the hoof prints they had found. A small sign told them that diorama had been put together with the assistance of a 'John Takoda'.

They kicked around what they they had gathered so far, and drew the conclusion that there was surely a direct connection between the beasts and someone with knowledge of Native American ritual magic - possibly this Takoda who was mentioned both here and in Draper's notes. They had to allow for the very real possibility that the 'someone' with this knowledge was attempting to enact the banishment ritual. Perhaps even successfully. The star pattern also meant that with the help of a map, they could predict with a fair degree of certainty where the next ritual might occur. Most importantly they realised that the rituals seemed to be happening 3 days apart from one another. Given the suspected timing of Draper's death, it was likely that a further ritual was due to take place the next morning - if it hadn't happend already !

Hackett contacted Agent Judith again and laid out what they had uncovered. He proposed sharing the information with Knightley as he felt that she would soon find it for herself anyway. Judith said she would sound out Alphonse and within 15 minutes she had called again. Their instructions were clear: eliminate the paranormal threat(s) - and any persons with 'occult knowledge' or 'ritual magic expertise' in relation to the creatures. Delta Green operated a policy of 'total containment'. Furthermore, O'Connor was to be fully inducted into Delta Green; he'd seen enough and had aquitted himself well. Hackett told Judith that he suspected that O'Connor's nature would probably struggle with the idea of Delta Green now that it would be right out in the open for him - but that ultimately he would co-operate in the end. What other choice did he have ? Judith told him some info she had just heard from A Cell. If O'Connor had any difficulty with the concept he was to be told that his brother had once belonged to Delta Green. As for Knightley they would have to play it very carefully and manage information exposure with great delicacy; it was very possible that they would be required to 'run interference' on her, and anybody else around, at some point. Agent Judith wished them luck and promised to keep in touch.

Hackett laid it out for O'Connor. He was now 'in' but in reality nothing much would change in the next 24 or 48 hours. They were still the only people who could, and would, deal with their current problem. But, he told him their superiors wanted him to know that he was following in his brother's footsteps - he'd been part of their organisation once. This news silenced the many issues that O'Connor still had. His brother had also been a DEA agent; killed in the line of duty while O'Connor was still in school. He had a lot to think about and he sure as hell would have more questions. But there was no turning back now; he was in.

The three contacted Knightley and requested a late night meeting; she'd want to hear what they had to say. Back over at her office they shared most of the info they had - postulating that some person 'clearly insane' was enacting some kind of ancient indian ritual. The exact details were still to be determined; whether they were acting alone and how they inflicted the wounds for starters. But there was a good chance they could catch them on the hop this time. With luck, the case could be wrapped by morning. Knightley was clearly excited by what she heard and arrangements were quickly made. She would arrange for some state trooper back up, and a Phoenix PD chopper to take them down there again that very night. She would meet them at the heliport in an hour's time - giving them time to prepare appropriately - and they should be there within three hours from now, well before dawn.

They agreed. O'Connor and DeVere headed straight out to the heliport - where O'Connor planned to read the book from the library in more detail. Hackett had other plans - he was an experienced ex-Hostage Rescue Team member and he had access to SWAT training facilities and a range of firearms. He wasn't going down there unprepared....

[kinnygraham]

This account describes the session of 'Darkest Calling' that took place on 12th April 2005. It contains SPOILERS for that scenario.



We picked up the action where we left off last time - with our three agents, in the company of a detective and two Arizona state troopers, about to travel back down by helicopter from Phoenix to the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. Armed with the knowledge they had gained from researching the customs of the vanished Kokoham tribe, their aim was to possibly prevent another fatal ritual from taking place - a ritual similar to the ones which had occurred already and claimed the lives of journalist Kate Draper and a young indian mailman from the nearby reservation.

Hackett had decided to see what he could take with him from the arms locker his role as SWAT liasion officer gave him access to. Within three quarters of an hour he had sourced an automatic rifle, with ammo, two 'flash-bangs', a load bearing vest and three kevlar vests. He had considered obtaining stronger ordanance for his two companions - but although their law enforcement background had given them reasonable familiarity with such firearms, neither was really expert with anything other than the pistols they carried.

Soon, all three were able to meet up with Detective Knightley and the state troopers she had summoned out to assist her. Throwing their bags aboard, they were soon in the air - the gleaming grid-lines of the Phoenix streets below soon giving way to the darkness of the desert. All were tired and they managed to grab brief snatches of fitful sleep. Their plan was to make for the visitor centre first to get an update from the park rangers there, before consideration would be given to any plan to interdict any potential ritual. Hackett talked a little with Detective Knightley, asking her a little about her career; although she had been a cop for over 10 years, he was able to establish that she had not been a homicide officer for long.

The flight took them a little under two hours and they were greeted by a handful of the park rangers when they landed. There had been some interesting developments while they had been away. The search for the three Australian backpackers had been fruitless ; all of them had seemingly vanished into the desert without a trace. Hackett, DeVere and O'Connor had speculated that Draper had been held somewhere against her will prior to the ritual and the same thought occurred to them about the three backpackers.....perhaps they were fated to end their lives in the same horrible way ? And there was further news -earlier that evening, a vehicle had been found damaged and abandoned near the foot of a steep drop out in the desert. Apart from some worrying bloodstains, no trace had been found of the driver or any passengers. A check of the visitor permit records was now under way to identify who the missing occupants were.

Knightley immediately organised a meeting of all the park rangers available and told them that their first task was to organise a check on all the known visitors to the park. their priority was to establish who was supposed to be here - and to organise visits to all the known camping spots to check on their whereabouts and to instruct them to go return to the camp site at the visitor centre until further notice. With a bit of luck they might get a handle on whether they had a real problem or just isolated incidents of 'accidents' unrelated to the ritual killings. The mood was sombre and it was clear that every one was getting a little worried - something was definitely out of kilter. The three agents kept their own counsel ; they alone had seen a glimpse of what else was out there.

In an office alone with just the state troopers for company, Knightley invited them to explain again why they thought the knew the timing and location of the next ritual. DeVere did just that - using a map of the area and what they knew of the star pattern sacred to the Kokoham he was able to calculate where he thought the next ritual would occur. There also seemed to have been a three day pattern so far. By his estimate the next ritual should take place in mere hours from now - sometime around dawn.

Hackett, mindful of Agent Judith's warning that they would have to 'run interference' on anyone outside Delta Green who might see too much, stepped in at this point and reminded them all that at present they were unsure as to how many 'bandits' there may be out there. He played up the very real possibility that there may be two or more individuals responsible - certainly the disappearance of the three young Australians might point to more than one determined individual. He reminded the detective of his own Hostage Rescue Team background - perfect experience for a night operation to be conducted in an outdoors environment - and threw in for good measure DeVere's FBI training and O'Connor's DEA agent credentials ; under his direction they were by far the best choice to conduct an initial recce of the site and size up any opposition. He assured her once again that they were not interested in any credit for any bust and that they would be glad for her to take the plaudits ; after all they were 'off duty' and here without the knowledge of their superiors - they just wanted to see this thing through now and make sure these killings ceased. They could see Knightley weighing up the decision, risk versus opportunity, before she reluctantly agreed.

The plan was simple. They would fly for the area now; it was still a couple of hours or more until dawn - when any anticipated ritual was likely to occur. The 'copter would set the three federal men down about a mile and a half or so from the site. From there they would move into position and see what activity, if any, occurred. They would all be in radio contact, and if necessary the three agents would summon Knightley and the two state troopers as backup.

They would leave shortly, but first O'Connor recalled that the 4 x 4 that they had driven down here was likely now at the centre having been retrieved by one of the rangers. The rear held a canvass bag containing a shotgun and SMG and associated ammo, as well as a few other bits and pieces - items obtained courtesy of Hackett's visit to a Delta Green safehouse in New York's Lower East Side. O'Connor recalled his unsettling glimpse of the terrible things in the heat of the desert and threw the canvass hold-all containing the guns around his shoulder.

They were soon airborne again - with Hackett, mindful of DeVere's calculations as to the location of the next ritual, directing the pilot on where to go. It was a short hop this time and the pilot was able to use the night vision capabilities of the police chopper to pick out a safe landing spot. They agreed to check in with each other every half an hour until further notice. Quick good luck handshakes and backslaps were exchanged and the three men set off into the desert - Hackett leading the way off to the the map location provided by DeVere. The moon was bright in the night sky, and they could see fairly well once their eyes began to adjust - but the ground was quite broken and they had to be cautious - especially since they constantly had to make sure that they were not going to stumble into any of the huge cacti that characterised the area.

However, they were soon at the point on the map where Hackett reckoned that they should be ; a group of small boulders on higher ground overlooking the desert around them. They made themselves as comfortable as they could and settled in for an uncomfortable wait. The sweat from their exertions was soon cooling on their skin and within minutes they were beginning to
realise just how cold the desert could be. They quickly decided that they would take shifts to watch while the others tried miserably to grab some more sleep. Every half an hour or so they used their walkie-talkies to check in with Knightley and the
troopers.

Two hours of fruitless watching had passed and they were beginning to wonder if anything was going to happen ; all three were ice cold, stiff and miserable. Hackett had endured similar nights before - but that didn't feel like any consolation now.... But suddenly, DeVere was sure he could hear something faintly in the night air. A faint chanting voice - he was sure of it, even though the others could hear nothing.

He risked raising his head above the stones and sure enough, he could see something that looked like fire-light off away to their left - about a good half mile from their position. Even as they all watched now, another gleam of firelight seemed to spring into being in the same place. Hackett cursed - whatever had happend, they had miscalculated and they were now in the wrong position !

They called in a quick 'stand by' message and grabbing their guns, started moving quickly in the direction of the firelight. They moved as rapidly as they could, Hackett in the lead carrying his automatic rifle while DeVere clutched the SMG and O'Connor the shotgun. Hackett stumbled and he paused, chewing his bottom lip to suppress a grunt of pain from a badly jarred ankle - he'd missed a small hole in the desert floor and he'd twisted it awkwardly. The others paused with him before they all moved on - all of them a little more slowly now as Hackett limped along beside them cursing his misfortune.

Up ahead they could now see that the ground had levelled off and that they were heading for a rough wall of large boulders and stones, about eight feet or so in height, that obviously concealed the fires that they had seen - they could see an orange glow above these rocks and some glints of firelight shining through some small gaps up ahead. They were perhaps only thirty or forty feet way now. The distinctive sound of a single throat giving voice to a Native-American chant could quite clearly be heard, rising in pitch and volume even as they paused to listen.

Suddenly, as if in answer, the night air was was suddenly rent with a hateful, bubbling, screeching noise - something akin to the voices of a dozen scalded animals gargling out their death throes or screaming tortured infants drowning in blood.....All three men froze ; the sound had come from somewhere off beyond the rocks that they were heading for. The night air was incredible still for a second or more as Nature itself seemed to hold its breath - and then the chanting resumed, louder than ever.

Gathering their courage they headed for the rocks. Hackett risked a glimpse through a fair sized crack near the ground and could see that a young Indian man lay at the other side - bound, naked and bleeding from perhaps a dozen small cuts. Even as he watched he could see an older Indian man, barefoot, bending over to inflict a further small cut on his chest. The recipient had his eyes closed and gritted his teeth to endure the pain - but otherwise he did not struggle.

Meanwhile O'Connor had asked DeVere for a lift up on to one of the flat stones over-looking the site. Crawling forward, with his shotgun at his side he could see that the area was hemmed in on the far side by a similar formation - it seemed that perhaps they were in a rough circle of these jumbled stones or at the narrow end of a rough V formation... Directly below him, only feet away he could see the shaman chanting with his eyes closed, standing at the bound man's head. Lit torches illuminated the scene, making the murk much more gloomy beyond. But not so gloomy that O'Connor could not see a glimpse of something large an bulky, lurking on the other side of the stones opposite. The hairs rose on his arms and spine and he suppressed a wave of shuddering...

Seconds later Hackett was up beside him, but whatever it was had by now retreated into the darkness. Below them the chanting continued. Again they heard the terrible rending screaming sound - as if from many liquid throats - off to the darkness to the front and left of them. They reached around and hauled up DeVere to their vantage spot. Each regarded the other. Their choice was clear - they could let the ritual continue and perhaps it would even succeed in banishing the monstrosity that was out there. Or they could act like the law enforcement officers they were and try and save a life. For Hackett, it was no choice at all.

'Freeze ! FBI !' he screamed. Even as he did so, DeVere slipped from his position down on to the ground beside the shaman - taking up position to the right and rear of him, his gun aimed directly at him. O'Connor covered them from where he was. The old man's eyes opened, taking in the scene and the white men with guns around him. He faltered in his chant momentarily - which seemed to prompt a further cacophany of hideous screaming from the darkness beyond the firelight. But he closed his eyes shut again and resumed the chant. Hackett slid off the rock and down beside him. Ignoring the pain from his ankle - he shouted at him again to stop. Ignored, he bowled the old man over on to the ground beside the bound Indian - now struggling in his bonds and shouting angrily and fearfully at them in his native tongue....

The old man lay on the ground with Hackett crouching over him. His eyes were open now and the FBI man could see the sudden fear in his eyes...'Fools !' he cried in desperation, turning his eyes fearfully away from the Hackett and to the waiting darkness. With a dozen screams of hideous fury - a nightmare scuttled on cloven hooves out of the night and into the hellish, revealing glow of the torches. It came straight at them all - malign and determined.

The creature was huge, almost elephantine in bulk - with many long black spiny legs, ending in hooves, protruding from its body -a rounded mass which boiled and bubbled with impossible movment as terrible gibbering mouths filled with dagger-like teeth formed and unformed across the flabby surface. The disgusting mass of the body was matted in the vile orange glue that they had seen before - it semed to bubble forth from the mouths as they sprang into being.

Hackett froze in absolute primordial terror, his mind reeling from the sight, his humanity stripped - boiled away and reduced down to the very essence of fear itself. DeVere and O'Connor were appalled by the sight but somehow managed to accept the reality of what they were seeing. Both instinctively began to fire at the creature.

Even as the bullets were striking it, peppering the flesh, the creature was moving in close. The shaman had tried to crawl forward away from Hackett and was now on his hands and knees before it, looking up in quivering terror at the vast bulk that loomed before him; in an instant the jaws from one of its many mouths had seized on him and suddenly blood was gouting like a fountain from the space where the old man's head had been fastened to his shoulders. Even as this horror was unfolding another of the slavering mouths had swallowed all of Hackett's left arm to his shoulder. With a sudden wrench, it was torn free from the socket and blood spurted forth, dark and sickly looking in the torch-light. Hackett fell forward into darkness - his face a contorted mask of frozen horror.

DeVere and O'Connor took it all in, momentarily stunned - they couldn't quite process what they were seeing. DeVere sprang into action first - crouching forwards toward the slumped body of Hackett. The creature was pausing now over the bound young man staked out before it - his tortured screams rose to the night sky as the hooves crushed down on him and the terrible slavering mouths began to fasten greedily and noisily on his flesh ; blood spattered in all directions. DeVere fumbled for Hackett's flash-bangs, hoping against hope that their concussive effect would do something against this hellish beast. Even as he triggered one and threw them under the thing, O'Connor had fired his shotgun at it again - the shells seeming to rip some of the flesh from it. The devices went off underneath it, and the creature scuttled back a little from the ruined corpse of the young Indian. DeVere staggered backwards - unleashing a hail of fire at it from his SMG. The bullets ripped into the fleshy bulk, but on it came. It paused a second, seemingly unsure of whether to pursue O'Connor lying prone on the rock above it - or DeVere who by now had his back against the stones, his only hope of escape to turn and somehow climb over.

It came after DeVere, scuttling forward hungrily - newly formed mouths snapping in his direction. DeVere instantly decided that escape was impossible and he blazed away in desperation at the creature, emptying the magazine. The beast came at him and he knew within seconds that he would be dead - but suddenly it crumpled in front of him, all the strength seeming to have gone from it legs. It twitched and thrashed - even as O'Connor pumped more shells into it from behind. It gave a huge shudder and moved no more....

Both men were shaking badly. DeVere they moved away from the ruin of the creature. He walked over to where his comrade lay, his blood and the vile orange substance pooling darkly at his ruined shoulder. His glassy eyes stared blankly up at DeVere, the horror of his last seconds etched in his terror-struck expression.

Hackett was dead.

[Fulsrush]

Holy fuck...

Special Agent Hackett's dead...

How the hell do they explain that one away then?

Hmm... blast the shoulder-stump with their shotgun, and claim that the dead Indian blew his arm off.

They can then claim that the arm was carried away by coyotes or something.

Somehow carry the monster's remains away from the scene, dig a pit, put it in, douse it in petrol, then fill the pit again.

Things could get tricky if, say, Knightley and the state troopers in the distance heard the gunfire in the silent desert night.

One of my favourite bits of modern day gaming is trying to cover up the crimes and deaths that you've been involved in.

[silburnl]

Indeed. This mission has turned into one hell of a clusterfuck. I thought it might as soon as I got to the bit where they caught a glimpse of the monsters (Dark Young of S-N???) on the horizon - cell T are way too gung-ho to ignore anything as in-your-face as minor servitors turning up to snack down on sundry passers by.

Attempting a cleanup before Knightley et al turn up is a lost cause IMO, by my calculations they are no more than two miles away which means its practically a certainty that they already know the situation has gone south in a major way. Gunshots easily carry that far, especially somewhere as quiet as the desert. So the backup team are probably already in the air and there's a good chance Knightley is on the horn and calling for reinforcements as they go - multiple gunshots (including full autofire) is bad, bad news when you have agents in play.

Their only hope (on the keeping it quiet front) is if she realises that her authorising three outsiders to take point on an op that has gone as tits up as this one has means that her career is in the crapper if she calls in the cavalry without an excellent cover story in place. So she may hold her horses until she has a better idea of what has gone down.

One important point that might be salient - did the firefight occur over an open mic? If so she probably knows that one of the LEOs is down in which case she'll probably instinctively call for backup before she thinks the situation through. If all she's heard is gunfire in the distance then the PCs have a chance to use some quicktalking as they guide the helo in to contain the situation before it escalates completely out of their control. Assuming they are thinking straight that is - which, given what's just occurred, is a tad unlikely I think.

If they can contain things then the immediate problem is merely how to account for a multitude of corpses and weapon discharges without a Majic-12 team falling on them from a great height. The slightly longer term problem then becomes how to figure out if the crazy shaman was acting alone or in conspiracy with others and the ultimate problem is what to do if (as I suspect) disrupting the sacrifice rituals turns out to have been a really bad idea....

Regards
Luke

[kinnygraham]

All valid points guys - some of which I've already thought through myself.

Just got a concern right now that my players read these write-ups as well so may come across this speculation...

Think I'll need to direct them to look elsewhere for the time being... :cool:

But thanks for the feedback

[Delirium]

Another great write up. I was tense just reading it :)

I'm very sad about Hackett's death. Par for the course in DG, of course, but how did the players take it?

Delta green PC death is pretty topical in my own DG campaign, as we recently lost 2 of 3 members of Cell L in Groversville, TN.

[kinnygraham]

Another great write up. I was tense just reading it :)

I'm very sad about Hackett's death. Par for the course in DG, of course, but how did the players take it?

Thanks - it was a memorable session.

Not sure that I agree with silburnl's assessment of the Cell being 'gung ho' as up till now they've only really engaged in combat when their hand has been forced...

The players were a little shocked I supposed, but they all soon agreed that the death was a result of choices freely made - and also the unfortunate (but very Cthulhu/Delta Green) consequence of good role-playing; the choice for Hackett was a moral one not to let the ritual run its course and he died as a result - proof that the mythos universe is indeed unforgiving. Once the fact was absorbed they concluded that a stark reminder of character mortality added to the real horror of the game - and that 'Cell T' had now undergone a real baptism of fire. All, including the player of Hackett, seem ready for more - so that's a good sign.

Delta green PC death is pretty topical in my own DG campaign, as we recently lost 2 of 3 members of Cell L in Groversville, TN.

Do PM me to tell me more ! Still planning to run that one myself...

[Doc Bosch]

Thanks for the excellent writeups.

Ah, Groversville... site of the only TPK I've had since high school. What a lethal, lethal scenario that is.

-Brent

[silburnl]

Possibly spoiler-ific for anyone playing in this game BTW.





Not sure that I agree with silburnl's assessment of the Cell being 'gung ho' as up till now they've only really engaged in combat when their hand has been forced... Its not that I think that they're unthinking jarheads or anything, just that their response to the situations they've encountered has tended towards confrontation rather than the oblique approach. As they are federal LEOs this is in character perhaps, however given that they are also agents for a covert conspiracy I'm wondering how long they can continue in their current vein before Alphonse decides that their profile is getting too high (or M-12 makes the decision for him).

This op in particular looks like it could brew up into something that could smell really, really nasty for the two surviving PCs - the bald facts already look pretty bad for them (zero jurisdication and blundered into this case whilst on vacation? puh-lease) when you add in that they were the ones to discover the horribly mutilated corpse of the journalist who had been sniffing around their previous many-deaths-in-a-hail-of-bullets escapade and M-12's script pretty much writes itself. A lot will depend upon how Knightley reacts when she sees the aftermath of the firefight for herself.

Regards
Luke

PS
Groversville? Is that the really lethal one from the main book? The one where you need to be Obsessive/Compulsive about food and drink to even stand a chance of surviving?

[Delirium]

SPOILERS







Groversville? Is that the really lethal one from the main book? The one where you need to be Obsessive/Compulsive about food and drink to even stand a chance of surviving?

Groversville is the setting for Convergence, from the main DG book, which is indeed a fairly risky scenario even by DG standards. And, for my money, one of the great scenarios for any game.

[Doc Bosch]

Convergence is indeed a great scenario- just be prepared as a GM to either tone it down, show mercy, or sit through another character generation session afterward.

-Brent

[Doc Bosch]

A note of thanks, kinnygraham! Tonight I did a one-shot for some of my old Star Wars campaigners. I decided to do Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays. My DG book is back in Wisconsin, so I did the whole thing from memory with the aid of your game notes and the resources you linked to at yog-sothoth.

It went really well! Thanks!

-Brent

[kinnygraham]

A note of thanks, kinnygraham! Tonight I did a one-shot for some of my old Star Wars campaigners. I decided to do Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays. My DG book is back in Wisconsin, so I did the whole thing from memory with the aid of your game notes and the resources you linked to at yog-sothoth.

It went really well! Thanks!

-Brent

Glad to have been of assistance - I put a lot of time into the handouts etc so it's great to hear that someone else enjoyed using them.

If you can find the time, please let us know how your session went - I'm always interested to hear how different groups tackle the scenario.

[Doc Bosch]

I didn't take notes on the session, as I knew it would be a one-shot. The two agents involved pretty much paralleled the path that Hackett and DeVere took, with these notable exceptions:

1.) After the DG agent left them the Scientific American article about the meteor shower, they didn't follow up on it... attributing it to some local crank. The next day, they got a similar envelope with the newspaper cutting about Mack Tooley's death and Dr. Brenton Clark's disappearance... only then did they start to trace the Traveller's path.

2.) When the NSA agents showed up, my investigators were actually quite cooperative. They did try to hide the sphere by UPS-ing it to some friends at UC-Berkeley, but the Traveller interecepted and siezed it. That attack led to the final shootout with Santana, after which the agents just handed the sphere over to the NSA.

This ultimately led to the death of all four NSA agents. They were on their way to the hospital to sieze Santana's body from the morgue just as the autopsy went seriously south. That fight saw the Traveller shot to pieces (one agent figured out to aim for the stomach just in time), and when it died the Sphere was in the trunk of their car...

Both players commented on the high quality of the handouts we were using. Thanks again!

-Brent

[ssheftall]

Nice work with the write ups and the handouts!

-S.

[kinnygraham]

Nice work with the write ups and the handouts!

-S.

Thanks for that - appreciated.

For those of you who have been following, I'm behind two sessions with my write-ups. Unfortunately life is very hectic at the the minute - I'm moving into a new house tomorrow (!) - so it may be a coupla weeks before I find the time to get them done.....

[CabbageHead]

I hate to be a jerk, but...It has been more than two weeks. Please update. I'm dying here. I gotta know what happens!

[kinnygraham]

I hate to be a jerk, but...It has been more than two weeks. Please update. I'm dying here. I gotta know what happens!

Sorry - but haven't been able to find the time of late to do the write-ups....

In mitigation all I can say is that I've been VERY busy work wise, have just moved into a new house and have been on holiday for 2 weeks as well....

But hopefully I'll get caught up soon-ish.

Thanks for the interest though :)

[Fulsrush]

Yeah, it's an arse the way the best of intentions die when it comes to writing up entire campaigns. My Dark Ages game never got fully written up, nor did the Godlike game I played next, and I'm two sessions into a WFRP campaign and haven't got beyond the notes.

Damn this whole having-a-life thing...

[kinnygraham]

Ok - still got a few to go, but this is an account of the next session of 'Darkest Calling'



' Point team are u there ? Repeat, point team are u there ?' Detective Knightley's voice broke the desert silence as it sounded out on their radios. There was a distinct edge of panic to her voice.

DeVere stood over Hackett's corpse, numb. O'Connor, looking round disbelievingly at the carnage, keyed his mike to open the channel and hissed at her 'Maintain radio silence ! I repeat again - maintain radio silence ! You are compromising us here !' He'd bought them some time - but now he wondered what they could do with it. The situation was gone to hell - and then some.

DeVere gave himself a shake and after a few quick words with O'Connor decided on a course of action. They had to do what they could to obfuscate what had happend here. O'Connor ran over to the mangled corpses of the shaman and his young companion and started dragging the remains over to the carcass of the creature that they had finally killed. Glancing round frantically he also stated pocketing as many of the shell casings that he could see lying round.

De Vere stared down again at Hackett, noting with grim detatchment how the some of the orange goo continued to eat at the ragged hole where his friend's arm had been. He was steeling himself for what he knew he had to do.

O'Connor now cast about for the dry brush that was abundant on the desert floor. Within minutes he had heaped piles of it on to the stinking hulk of the creature, taking care not to come into contact with the foul pus which oozed from its many mouths. He walked over to DeVere and handed him his shotgun, bending down to retrieve Hackett's unused SMG . DeVere in turn gave him back his own SMG, the one he had fired - which O'Connor also threw onto the pile of debris he had created. Using one of the torches, he soon had the kindling ablaze and he threw everything else that he could find on to it - the shaman's knife, the bloodstained ropes and stakes used to bind the young indian and some clothes he found in a pile nearby - which presumably had belonged to the pair . His fevered prayers were answered when he could see that the flames caught easily on the creature's hide and he stood back as stinking black columns of smoke began to belch forth.

DeVere stared down again - willing himself into neccesary action. How had it came to this ? He brought the shotgun up to his shoulder and blasted Hackett's body - directing the bulk of the blast at the torn arm socket. The shot had the desired effect - seeming to blast more flesh off, and more importantly the remnants of the orange goo. DeVere turned away, a tiny voice inside him asking him over and over if he'd ever forget this night; Hackett's horror-stricken face, the way his corpse had jerked when he'd shot it.....

They decided to move clear of the immediate area and together they dragged Hackett some 100 yards or so. O'Connor keyed the mike : 'Man down ! Man down ! We've had a shooting here !'

All that followed in the next hours passed in a fog of weary shock for the agents . They guided the Phoenix PD 'copter in to their position to meet a stunned Detective Knightley and her two State Trooper companions. The two agents feigned a degree of shock - not hard given the circumstances - and in broken sentences exclaimed that they had been 'ambushed' and Hackett had got seperated and killed. There had been 'lots' of 'them' - hard to tell in the dark - and they firmly believed that they were still in danger. They should get the hell out of here. Knightley was parlaysed with indecision - this was not at all what she'd bargained on - and meekly took their lead. Within a minute they were airborne - en route back to the Visitor Center. One of the troopers made the decision to call the incident in - requesting backup be sent via the Park Rangers at the centre. Hackett's body was covered with a blanket, but not before DeVere surreptitiously searched him for both his personal mobile and his Delta Green supplied encrypted phone. O'Connor clung on to the haversack he had - which now contained both the shotgun and Hackett's unfired SMG. He hoped that it would be some time before any of their fellow LEOs would want to look at the firearms aspects of the night's events They all flew in uncomfortable silence back to the Centre. There was clearly tension in the air between the troopers and Knightley - and both agents wondered what had happend back at the staging point while the horrors of the night had unfolded and the shooting had started.

Back at the Centre, an atmosphere of gloom and minor disaster was unfolding as the serious looking Park Rangers greeted their arrival with first aid kits, blankets, food and serious expressions. The ASP troopers made use of a land line in the Visitor Office to call in to their superiors, explaining further what had happend. Knightley did likewise, her voice sounding resigned and quiet through the half open office door. DeVere requested to do likewise, but closing the door fully, and instead used the opportunity to first call Agent Judith - using a non-secure mobile number he found for her on Hackett's phone. He outlined the events surrounding the death of 'Agent Thomas' and the whole sorry situation to date. She listened intently, shocked at the news of Hackett's death and then asking him questions from time to time about the 'entity' they had encountered and what they had told the other authorities so far. Judith advised him that she would have to and make some calls into Cell A before advising on a definite plan of action - she would be interested to hear how successful the fire had been in concealing the evidence left behind - so meanwhile she advised Agent 'Turner' and 'his friendly' to stick to their current story without giving too much further away.

As it turned out, there was no further talking required for time being; outside in the main area of the Visitor Centre it was clear that until the cavalry arrived then no-one was in charge; Knightley sat in a corner in silence, a worried frantic look on her face as she awaited the arrival of her superiors - the ASP men who had accompanied her down here were talking in low tones with some of the Rangers - glancing at her from time to time and shaking their heads. DeVere put in a call to the Phoenix Field Office and told them what had happend - that Hackett had been killed while they had been unofficially assisting a Phoenix PD bust that had gone South in a major way. He got the impression that this was not news to the duty agent he was speaking to - looked like the ASP or the Phoenix PD had already put them in the picture. He was told to sit tight while an Office of Professional Responsibility investigative team made it's way down to the Park. Similarly, O'Connor made a call to his DEA superiors and was told to await the arrival of a superior officer. Both men settled down in one of the offices at the Visitor's Centre - catching concerned looks from the Rangers outside through the half open door. About half an hour later DeVere was contacted by Alphonse ; he'd arranged for some friends to visit him shortly and he was to be be guided by them in what happend next. Unfortunately, O'Connor was on his own for now ; he should stick to a simple story just now and keep it that way. Could Delta Green trust O'Connor, a 'friendly,' to 'be discrete' he was asked ? DeVere replied that he thought so - he could hardly tell the truth about what had happend could he ?

In a couple of hours, the Visitor Centre was a hub of activity as additional units from the State Police and Phoenix PD arrived first via helicopter and then overland to assess the situation. A party was immediately dispatched to the scene of the 'shoot-out' while a couple of serious looking detectives in smart suits arrived and took Knightley aside - it was clear she was going to be in for a grilling. The ASP guys also left the scene to took to a senior official. DeVere and O'Connor were ignored for the time being - though it was made quietly obvious that they were expected to hang around. Within another half hour another chopper touched down and three men stepped out - identifying themselves to the cops as FBI agents with the Office of Professional Responsibility. After getting a quick update on the events and a situation report, they asked to see Agent DeVere, requesting the privacy of one of the offices to interview him.

DeVere took stock of them. Two were white, the other hispanic. One of the guys introduced himself as Special Agent Donnelly, the hispanic guy as Special Agent Fernandez. Both were in their mid-forties. The other guy was a serious looking guy in his early thirties with a short military style cut to his hair - he didn't offer his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable in his suit and Devere was getting a vibe that he was somehow different to the other two. 'You can relax for the minute Agent Turner' said Fernandez. 'We're friends of Alphonse.'

Over the next minutes, they explained to DeVere what had happend. A reasonable number of Delta Green assets were drawn from the Bureau - so much so that Cell A had reasoned a while back that an additional measure of protection might be afforded if they could place some DG aware personnel within the OPR itself. Such agents would be well placed to deflect any possible attention away from the conspiracy that might arise from the 'extra-curricular' activities of field agents. Hence the slow OPR progress with the Santana case and their presence here now. Agent Judith had alerted Cell A to the the fact that this 'opera' had went badly, and thankfully Donnelly and Fernandez were in a position to take the lead on behalf of the OPR when the name of Hackett and DeVere came up again. Such a strategy was not without its risks though - as their actions could be held up to careful scrutiny by enemies - to wit the powerfully influential 'Majestic' group suspected to have it's tentacles entrenched at the upper echelons of government - or indeed the overly curious bureuacrats, politicians, journalists and Joe Q Publics who took an interest in such things. They would have to move carefully given the circumstances - and unfortunately there were going to be adverse consequences for DeVere's FBI career whatever happend. This was the last thing on his mind though.

This whole set-up implied to DeVere that Delta Green must have some degree of influence within the FBI at least - but he pushed that thought aside for the minute. The two OPR men went on to explain that they were here to do their best to conceal the Delta Green involvement here from the other 'agencies' now assembled to look into this clusterfuck. Their colleague, 'Agent Zachariah', was here to do his best to ensure continued secrecy by completing the op - ie by 'neutralising any remaining paranormal threat' - hopefully with DeVere's assistance.

(Metagaming note: It was at this stage of the game that I was able to introduce the new character created by Steve Emmott to replace Agent Hackett. Steve and I had talked over a character concept and Steve was good enough to do a write-up of 'Agent Zachariah's' background - reproduced here for your reading pleasure.

(Oh and if any of my players other than Steve are reading this, be good chaps and skip this next section in italics !!





'I once had a dream: I dreamt that I had a life. A real life, like regular people have.

Straight out of school, fresh faced, eager, patriotic, naïve. I joined the army, wanted to be like my old man had been in Vietnam, my granddad in WW2. Wanted to serve my country. I got my chance. I got my chance in spades.

I went for every school there was: jump school, Ranger school, Special Forces, all the good stuff. It was during the Special Forces Q course that they approached me. Said I had the right stuff to work for them. Said I’d be doing my country a great service. I was young and dumb, I bought their lies.

They trained me extensively, taught me more ways to kill a man than I would have dreamed possible. I just ate it up. I was good at it. Hell, I was great at it. After a couple of years training and psych evaluations they decided I was ready. They turned me loose on the world. I was a righteous avenger visiting justice on the unjust, on the enemies of the free world. It was dirty work but I didn’t care. I could sleep easy, safe in the knowledge that the folks I was killing deserved to die. They were terrorists and war criminals, guilty of the worst atrocities imaginable.

In retrospect, it was a pretty grey life. More of an existence I guess. I lived in a secret world, one that I couldn’t share with anyone. But then I met Elizabeth.

She worked for the CIA at Langley. We met when I was between ops, hit it off straight away. She worked in the Intel community and knew that I did field ops but never pushed me on the subject of actual operations. I knew that she ran comms on some field ops but I never worked with her. Six months in and we got engaged, planned to get married the following year. At that point I was running a lot of operations, solo jobs mainly. I figured one more year and I’d be able to rotate out of the field, get a desk job. Settle down, start a family.

It was late summer when the tasking came through. Apparently, it was a three man terrorist cell active on the west coast. Intel indicated that they were gearing up to something big. We were on a tight clock. They sent me in to take them out.

I was told that because we had to move quickly on them I wouldn’t have time to conduct extensive surveillance. I was given an address and told that the cell consisted of two men and a woman and that they’d be the only people present.

I moved in on the target in the early hours of the morning. One of the guys was awake, running security I guess, but he was pretty unobservant and I took him out quickly and worked on through the building. Found the second guy crashed out in one of the bedrooms. He was snoring so loud that I didn’t really have to worry about any noise I might have made moving through the house. To be honest, I was more worried that the woman might notice when he stopped snoring. Nevertheless I went to work and then there was just the woman.

As I moved into her room something seemed wrong. I couldn’t pin it down but I was feeling very uneasy. I knew it wasn’t because it was a woman: I’d killed women before and it never troubled me more deeply than killing a man. But this time I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. She was lying on the bed on her belly, her head turned away from me. With some trepidation I moved forward, my knife in my hand. She did not stir. I could hear her breathing, I could tell that she was deeply asleep. My hand trembled slightly, but I steeled myself and moved swiftly, my left hand grasping her hair, jerking her head back, my right driving my knife into her neck, severing her carotid artery. Then I saw her face for the first time.

My world collapsed. The dream ended.

It was Elizabeth’s face that stared at me. In the seconds before she died I saw the confusion in her eyes, the hurt and betrayal. I felt my soul shatter. My mind reeled, I could not grasp how this could be true. I fled from the house as the enormity of the deed assailed me.

I remember only parts of the days that followed. I know that I drove until my car ran out of gas and then I continued on foot. I had no idea of my destination. Looking back I suspect that I was trying to flee from myself.

Days passed. I did not sleep or eat or drink. My mind closed down.

When I came to my senses I found myself in a hospital. Three months had passed. I had been found at the side of a road shouting incoherently and had been subdued by two policemen before being committed to a mental health facility. I had no identification on me and was classified as a John Doe. I suspect that I would have remained that way for the rest of my days had it not been for the intervention of members of the group that I have come to know as Delta Green.

They took me from the facility to a private location. Once there they began the long task of rebuilding my broken mind.

I wanted only to die.

This was not acceptable to them. They explained to me that Elizabeth and the two others that I had killed that night worked for them, that they were not terrorists but, instead that they were engaged in an ongoing covert struggle to safeguard the world against the misuse of terrible knowledge. They explained that I had been used by an organisation that opposed them in this. An organisation called Majestic

At first I believed them to be madmen. Then I believed that they were trying to brainwash me. Then I began to believe that I was in hell being punished for my terrible deeds. But finally, gradually I began to believe the things that they were telling me. They showed me evidence. Photographs of unearthly things. Paper trails showing some of the things that Majestic had done in the past. Evidence of how I’d been used by them. Evidence of cover ups and conspiracies.

I asked them why they didn’t just kill me: I had killed several of their operatives, surely they would want their pound of flesh? My answer came from a man named Alphonse (although I now know that this is not his real name).

He told me that there were three answers to my question: Firstly, that I was more valuable to them alive than dead. Secondly that to keep me alive was, in itself, some form of vengeance, and thirdly, that I should have the opportunity to gain some redemption for the things that I had done.

He asked me to join Delta Green. He told me I would have the opportunity to get some payback on those that had manipulated me. He told me that if I was lucky I would die doing something righteous.

I have been with Delta Green for three years now, and I have killed many times on their behalf. Some of the things I have killed were not even human. I have come to realise that Alphonse did not lie to me. Perhaps one day I will have atoned for my sins. I suspect that before that happens I will die, doing something righteous.'






Agent Zachariah gave DeVere a curt nod. Fernandez went to to explain their next move. All of them would leave now on the pretense that they were taking DeVere to Phoenix for further debriefing. This would free him up to brief Zachariah and provide him with details on everything that had happend to date - and if necessary back him up on his next move. The two OPR men would advise any interested parties that they were taking DeVere to an 'private location' in order to shake off any possible press interest that was bound to accrue. This would free him up to brief Zachariah and provide him with details on everything that had happend to date - and if necessary back him up on his next move. In the meantime though, they needed something to give to the Phoenix PD and Arizona State Police. They brainstormed the basic cover story that DeVere and O'Connor had agreed - their concern that Kate Draper was going to uncover old wounds in San Carlos, her murder, their suspicion of some kind of ritual killings taking place and their determination to stop them - and of a confused firefight in the dark against unknown assailants during which Hackett had been separated from them and killed by a close range shotgun blast.

DeVere had been thinking and threw out a suggestion: people trafficking. They were near the Mexican border - maybe they had stumbled into something like that - or drugs - and the ritual murders were some kind of scare tactic used on the local community ? Assuming that their fire had done enough to confuse the hell out of anybody trying to figure out what had gone on, might they muddy the waters further by 'leaking' this theory in the right ears ? The two OPR men liked it - it was something they could work with and they would see what could be done. The good news was that the update on the 'crime-scene' they'd had from the cops on the way in contained no alarming mentions of monstrous carcasses - just an initial report on a charred site being discovered containing the remnants of at perhaps two unidentified persons. So far, their luck had held.

Unfortunately for O'Connor, he would have to stick it out here just now and keep his story simple when the DEA head honchos turned up.

The plan was put into effect, with Donnelly and Zachariah 'escorting' DeVere out of the Centre to the waiting helicopter. Fernandez lingered behind to confer with the cops and troopers on site, obviously feeding them his 'initial take' on the night's events. He asked to speak to O'Connor - explaining that he'd been asked to pass him a message by his own opposite number in the DEA. Inside the room where O'Connor was waiting (his mind replaying the unreal events of the night before) - he quickly identified himself as a 'friend' of his Uncle Mike and as part of the organisation that Hackett and DeVere were 'affiliated' to - before telling him to sit tight and stick to his story. He also took the bag of weapons from him and slung it over his shoulder, before exiting and hurrying off unchallenged to join the others as they climbed aboard the 'copter.

Once aboard, Zachariah took over. He asked the pilot to locate the site of the shoot-out first - suggesting to the others that they should check how things were progressing. En-route he began to question DeVere in detail about the op to date - with a weary DeVere providing details on everything that he could recall.

Within 20 minutes they had arrived at the site and located a safe spot to land. The surrounding area was being searched by ASP troopers assisted by Park Rangers, while a forensics team were combing over the charred embers of a large fire at the tight end of a large V formation of boulders and stones. Zachariah approached a nearby trooper expalining that he was with the FBI investigative team. He quizzed one of the forensics techs who explained that so far they'd found what looked like the remains of two adult males - one decapitated, plus what appeared to be animal remains of some description - to wit the burned remnants of large, strange hooves, about 14 in all. Zachariah appeared to be puzzled by this, thanked the man and headed back to the copter making a mental note that they were going to have to think about how to deal with this development.

They then decided to head for Ajo - the plan being for Zachariah and Turner (DeVere) to decide on their next steps from there while the two OPR men carried on back to Phoenix. There they intended to make a pretence of having removed DeVere to an unnamed hotel in order to get to the bottom of the 'incident'.

After a short hike into Ajo from the roadside where they were dropped, the two checked into the motel to finish their discussion of the case. Zachariah was travelling under an assumed name with a fake FBI ID badge - and he used these details. DeVere outlined his suspicion that the shaman they had seen was the person identified in Draper's journal and the Phoenix Museum diorama as 'Takoda'. Perhaps there was something they could learn by investigating him in effort to find out just exactly who he was and what he knew ? First they had to worry about the hooves that had been found. Zachariah put in a call to Agent Judith and tasked her with locating something similar with which to possibly switch this evidence should the chance arise in future. To her credit, 'Judith' took this request in her stride; it was obviously not the first time that she'd been asked to source something bizarre in her DG career. She promised to be back in touch.

DeVere asked the receptionist if they knew of a J Takoda that lived hereabouts and was rewarded when told of an address about 15 miles on the road between Ajo and Tuscon. John Takoda was apparently a 'wise man' who lived with his family on a small ranch. Ajo was small, and did not contain any car hire facilities - but the pair managed to find somebody willing to sell them a beat-up old saloon and shortly they were on their way. The journey was sombre - DeVere was exhausted and 'Zachariah' didn't seem to be one for conversation.

They pulled of the main road and onto a dirt track, noting the generally run down conditions of the houses. They were now on the Papago Indian Reservation - which was adjacent to the borders of the Monument Park. Eventually after three miles or so they found themselves at the end of the road at a cluster of low ranch like buildings. Some children ran off into the largest building ahead of them, and as they got out of their cars, a sombre Indian man in his early twenties came out on to the decking, regarding them suspiciously.

'We're federal agents' said 'Zachariah, flashing his badge' 'and we're looking for John Takoda'. The man fixed them with a cold look, replying that he wasn't here and that he'd 'gone away'. Zachariah stared back at him. 'When ?' 'Days ago' 'Where to' ? 'To see friends'. His tone was one of barely supressed contempt. Other eyes were peering at them from behind the curtains of this and other buildings. DeVere realised that they were out on their own in the middle of nowhere.

Zachariah was still eyeballing the man. 'Bullshit' he said.

The man gave a sardonic, sarcastic grimace. 'You don't believe me government man ? Well, let me tell you. I don't care.'

'Fuck this' said Zachariah turning away - and both men returned to their car, raising up clouds of dust as they peeled away, watching the rear view mirror to see more figures emerging cautiously on to the decking of the house.

'Nice interview technique ' said DeVere, 'I think you have a fan. Now what ?'

Zachariah looked across at him. 'These things' he said 'You killed one, right ? It killed your buddy, but your bullets stopped it. Right ?' DeVere nodded yes.

'Well' he said, 'I say we track them down and waste the fuckers'.

[Delirium]

Again, an excellent write up. Many thanks.

Superb recovery from Hackett's death, nicely thought through DG response. I'll be very interested to hear how the DEA friendly (O'Connor?) is treated by the DEA investigative team.

I very much like the new PC's background, which shares some features with PCs we have generated in our own DG games. Looks like a long-term face off with MJ12 might be a possibility.

[kinnygraham]

Again, an excellent write up. Many thanks.

Superb recovery from Hackett's death, nicely thought through DG response. I'll be very interested to hear how the DEA friendly (O'Connor?) is treated by the DEA investigative team.

I very much like the new PC's background, which shares some features with PCs we have generated in our own DG games. Looks like a long-term face off with MJ12 might be a possibility.

Thank's again. I'm several write-ups behind, but the campaign is bubbling along nicely now and there have been several enjoyable sessions (hint: We've just played through 'Love's Lonely Children' - which was a blast). We've also recruited a fourth player and there has been some great role-playing from the group as the characters interact with each other...

Note from your sig that you are both running AND playing DG ? Do tell !

[Delirium]

Kinnygraham asked;

Note from your sig that you are both running AND playing DG ? Do tell !

I am fortunate in that I get to play with two groups :) My weekly DG group (Cell K) meets on Thursdays and I've been running them through a campaign which is very similar to your own:

Puppet Shows, then
Convergence, then
See No Evil

(And again, many thanks for your superb See No Evil handouts - they gave great background to the PCs and keeping track of the movements of NPCs would have been a shocking hassle without them) :)

So far there have been two fatalities, both during Convergence (surprise, surprise). Looking forward to seeing how your guys fare in Groversville.

I also play one weekend night a month in Wicklow. These sessions are usually pretty long. I'm a player in this campaign. We have a stable of characters, most of whom are not DG, but some of whom are friendlies, who all exist in the same continuity. It's a DG-lite campaign with several threads of ad hoc groups who are loosely connected. Currently, of about 15 PCs, only one of them is actually officially DG. Most recently a group has been in Iceland/Greenland in a very memorable homebrew mini-campaign. Another set of PCs played through the Glenridge, Long Island scenario (from DG:Countdown) where one of three PCs died (mine, as usual!).

So, I count myself as very fortunate in that I have two pretty stable groups. Even with two groups there isn't enough time to do all of the things we want to do: Dark Ages, Secrets of Japan, a noir 30s Cthulhu campaign set in Europe, nevermind further Adventure! stories. We're all looking forward to retirement so we can take up roleplaying seriously!

[kinnygraham]

Know what you mean on the 'so many games, so little time' front !

Oh and - feel free to let us know how *your* 'See No Evil' went as well.

[Fulsrush]

Something tells me Zachariah's going to have a very different 'investigative' style to Hackett, DeVere and O'Connor.

Interesting change in dynamic.

(And the GM in me can't help wonder how long before he gets shot, eaten, or sent to prison.)

[CabbageHead]

Thank you! I was begining to despair.....

[kinnygraham]

Ok - here's part 6 of 'Darkest Calling'..




Zachariah and Turner (Agent DeVere) drove back to their room in the Marine Motel in Ajo. Zachariah seemed perfectly serious in his intention to look for the other creatures and to kill them. In a precise manner he took stock of their current 'resources'.

Delta Green Agents: Apart from the two of them, there was Agent Judith - currently in Phoenix, trying to source something with which to swap out the 'hooves / animal remnant' evidence that the ASP forensics team had uncovered back at the site where Cell T had encountered the 'entity'. If required she could probably make it down to them in 8 or so hours of driving. The two 'agents' - Donnelly and Fernandez - that DG had placed within the OPR, were supposedly busy handling DeVere's debriefing and were nevertheless strictly unavailable for active operations. They were too well placed for that.

Delta Green friendlies: DEA Agent O'Connor was currently unavailable - presumably he was still being grilled about his role in the events leading up to Hackett's death.

Weapons: Turner had his service sidearm - a Glock 9mm, with a couple of clips. Zachariah also had a pistol, and had taken the liberty of bringing along the hold-all containing O'Connor's shotgun (originally pinched by Agent Hackett from a Delta Green safehouse in New York) and Hackett's automatic rifle (sourced by the dead FBI man from a SWAT training facility but not used on the fateful night) The hold-all also contained some extra ammo for these two - plus some bolt cutters and masking tape.

'Not much. But it's a start.' mused Zachariah. As far as DeVere was concerned it was enough to start a small war - but he let it slide.

Zachariah explained that they really didn't have any other choice but to go after them: it was only a matter of time before the presence of these creatures was detected, and from then on in they could probably expect some really unwelcome company in the shape of 'their mutual friends' - who he knew from past experience would be 'all over' any credible reports of strange creatures - that's if they hadn't been alerted already. The clock was ticking.

Their discussion soon focussed on two points. First up, they reasoned that the creatures may be susceptible to fire - the little bonfire that O'Connor had got going the night before had seemed to make quick work of the carcass. True, they didn't quite know exactly what they were dealing with and it may be the case that this was only applicable when these things were dead - but it was worth a shot. They were going to source some fuel before they went out looking. Which brought them to their second point - where to look. Reviewing the information they had again, they plotted the positions of the bodies and sightings. DeVere was sure that the ritual sites were significant ; they were based on a symbol important to the vanished Kokoham people - which itself was based on an actual constellation. So far they had dealt with two of the outer points of that symbol - but they had yet to examine its geographical centre. Might that be worth checking out ? According to the map, it was north of the boundary of the Monument - which was welcome from their point of view as they didn't think it would be such a good thing if they were discovered poking around again. Looking at the map, there was supposed to be a well of some kind at, or very near, the location.

They now had a plan, and they weighed up whether to move right away - but much as it frustrated them they decided against it. It was early evening now, and the thought of going out into the desert at night did not appeal. The decision was made for them when DeVere received a call on his cell from O'Connor at about 6 in the evening. The DEA man had just spent an uncomfortable afternoon in the company of two representatives from his own agency's OPR who had grilled him about his role in the events leading up to Hackett's death and at first he had feared the worst. However, as instructed, he had kept his story simple and emphasised the fact that he had acted out of simple friendship to agents Hackett and DeVere who he had befriended in the surveillance operation against The Review in New York. He had agreed to assist them in tracking down the journalist Kate Draper ; had been surprised, shocked and intrigued by her ritual murder and had went along with the (in hindsight very misjudged) plan to assist Detective Knightley in apprehending the perpetrators - thinking that they would be satisfying their own professional curiosity and assisting the Detective. O'Connor hinted at his own frustrations in being only involved in the less glamorous technical side of surveillance operations for the DEA - thereby giving his interviewers some reason for his own role in this little misadventure. Gradually, as his confidence grew - the pressure on him relented. O'Connor began to realise that perhaps the two OPR men were at a loss to categorise just exactly what he had done wrong ; clearly he was out of line calling in sick at the beginning of this little enterprise, but their bread and butter caseload was full of mismatched record keeping in drug seizures, ethical and legal boundary considerations in undercover investigations and the occasional burnout agent who had seen too much of the seamier side of life or who had dabbled a little too much in 'product' while maintaining a deep cover ID - O'Connor's story was pretty unique in their experience and the agent began to detect a political 'bias' as their questions began to emphasise the leading role played by Hackett and DeVere and by implication the FBI. Eventually, he was told to consider himself suspended and ordered to return home to await formal disciplinary procedures taking their course. For now the two DEA OPR men intended to stay around and liaise with the rest of the agencies looking at what had happened.

O'Connor knew that things were unfinished here and had no intention of heading home - he took the rental 4 x 4 that the other two agents had used, leaving his own vehicle at the Visitor Centre after emptying it of the equipment he had taken along. He drove north for about 40 minutes, calling DeVere as soon as his cell could get a signal. Hearing that he and Zachariah were now in Ajo, he was able to join his fellow agents at the Marine Motel within 20 minutes of the call - and he was quickly updated on the visit to Takoda's ranch and their new plan of action. O'Connor certainly didn't like the thought of facing the creatures again and demanded to know from Zachariah just exactly what backup they could expect. They were 'connected' surely - couldn't they get some kind of air-strike or other heavy ordinance called in on the fuckers ? The DEA man was clearly ill informed about the capabilities of the organisation he had recently become involved in; Zachariah laid it out simply by saying that the three of them - and possibly agent Judith, were 'it' as far as this operation was concerned. They were going to hunt these things down and that was it - though he conceded that another automatic weapon would not go amiss now that there were three of them. He certainly didn't fancy just using pistols....

To this end Zachariah spoke on his cell to Judith again; this time asking her to source an SMG and ammo and arrange to have it couriered from Phoenix to their motel in Ajo to arrive by early morning if possible. Judith agreed, also explaining that as a result of certain contacts she enjoyed, she now had a lead on an ex-junkie who worked in an abattoir whom she hoped could be 'persuaded' to source some animal hooves with which to switch the evidence that the Phoenix PD had uncovered. She also told him that once that was out of the way, she intended to head for Ajo to back them up. They could expect her down there at some point the next afternoon. Zachariah explained that they were going to head out into the desert looking for the creatures - but that they would use the motel as their base of operations and should be back before nightfall. He suggested that she hire a flat bed 4 x 4 - and source as much gasoline as it could carry. And another heavy firearm for her own use wouldn't go amiss.

That settled, the three agents spent the rest of the evening buying as many plastic containers full of gas as they could buy from the station in Ajo and from another one about 40km north of the town - using cash in all transactions, they were also careful to conceal themselves from surveillance cameras as best as possible using baseball caps and shades. They ended up with a haul of about 15, containing about 10 litres each. They returned to the motel, ate some food and tried to sleep....DeVere replaying images of Hackett's frozen, terror struck expression before he eventually succumbed to fatigue and slid into slumber.

They rose about 7.00 and checking with reception, Zachariah was pleased to hear that Judith had came through for them; a large package had been delivered by a motorcycle courier who had arrived at 5.30am that morning. He took it to his room - and opened it up to find a H&K MP5, plus 5 magazines. He quickly stripped it and rebuilt it again, satisfied that it was working smoothly.

In silence they set off together in the rental 4 x 4 - the clapped out saloon that they had bought yesterday would be pretty useless if they had to go off-road. Judging by the map, they would be able to reach the spot they were aiming for by taking a back road which left the two lane blacktop some 5 or 6 miles south of Ajo. They soon located this and they drove at a careful pace through the low dunes, scrub and cactus that comprised the surrounding landscape. A little over an hour later they could see a small structure ahead at the side of the road. Getting closer they could see that it was indeed a well; or rather what a tourist might expect from a well. It was faced with sand worn mock brickwork complete with a faded and cracked sign bearing the legend 'Apache Spring'. Beside it stood a small pre-fab structure obviously intended at one time to be a refreshment stand for thirsty tourists. It was closed up now, padlocked and dusty and they figured that the place probably hadn't seen much use since the seventies. An inspection of the well disclosed that it was covered over with corrugated metal. The place was quiet and the heat oppressive - but there was nothing much else

They were stumped until they noticed a small trail leading off north between two dunes away from the road. They got back into their vehicle and followed it, nudging the vehicle over the path - which wound between or sometimes over the smaller dunes, avoiding the larger boulders and clumps of cactii. It was touch and go in places, but they took their time and proceeded without any mishaps until perhaps having driven about three quarters of a mile and having just driven over the top of a small bare hillock, they saw something which caused them to stop immediately.

Up ahead, the trail seemed to lead into a small hollow ringed by other low dunes similar to the ones they had driven over. This area was covered in grasses and cacti. The path itself ended at a low stone ring about 10 or 12 feet in diameter - another well by the look of it. But even from here, they could see splintered planks of wood protruding upwards from over the of the rim - some pieces lay on the sand as well and it looked uncomfortably like something had broken out from within.

They spoke in low quiet tones now; they were going to be exceedingly cautious from here on in. First order of the day was to reverse the direction in which their vehicle was pointing - if anything emerged from the well they were going to get the hell out of there double-quick. After this had been accomplished (which involved a multi-point turn on the slopes of the dune) Zachariah and DeVere got out, their firearms slung handily over their shoulders and began to ready makeshift petrol bombs with the containers they had brought along. O'Connor was now in the driving seat, and he kept a close and nervous eye on the rear view mirror. Carrying two jerry cans apiece, the two Delta Green men began to slowly approach the well mouth. All was still, with the sun beating down on them relentlessly. Nearer now, they detected a faint stench and DeVere was instantly transported to the night before - he hadn't registered it a the time as he had struggled to stay alive, but this was surely the same reek as that of the creature they had eventually stopped.

They were at the rim of well now, ancient stone work baked by the desert sun. Three shards of thick wooden planking, each bearing the sign of strange glyphs and symbols in fading paintwork, pointed jaggedly in the air. Others lay shattered at their feet. They set their cans of petrol down, and motioned for O'Connor to reverse back in order to bring the rest of the cans within easy reach. O'Connor did so, releasing the brake to roll quietly to them before applying it again just feet away. Nodding in agreement at Zachariah's mimed actions, sweat dripping from his brow DeVere lit one of the rags they'd stuffed into a can and threw it over the side into the well. They immediately heard a soft whoosh as the petrol seemed to catch; quickly surmising that the well was probably dry and not deep. They waited for a full minute in taught silence - but nothing happened.

They risked looking over. The well was stone, and had seemingly been capped by some sort of stone or plaster plug which had cracked, crumbled or fallen away. Over this had been set a further seal of wooden planking - the remains of which they had already observed had been broken outwards. A large crack ran down one wall of the well into the depths below - in which guttered the flames of the petrol they had thrown. There was some kind of sandy floored chamber below - but they could not see much else. Beneath the smell of the petrol, the stench that they had detected was strong - something ancient, vile and stomach curdling. They thought back to the stories about the earth tremor and they guessed that the crack which they could see had perhaps riven the stone plug beneath the planking...

The flames were dying out; Zachariah, speaking now, proposed that they should explore the chamber below 'to be sure'. DeVere recalled that O'Connor was the climber of the group - he even had his mountaineering equipment with him. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, O'Connor agreed that he should be the one to go down there. He readied his gear, securing it to the axle of the 4 x 4 and backing up on to the lip, prepared to lower himself down. As soon as he leaned back and put his weight on the rope, there was a small plink as something gave way - and with barely time for a small gasp, the DEA man fell backwards into the well.

The other two jumped forward to peer down; below they could see O'Connor was lying on his back, already cursing loudly - 'fuck this shit but he was goddam SURE he'd attached that rope properly !' He called up that he was a bit bruised but OK and suddenly remembering where he was he climbed to his feet as quickly as he could to look around. He was in a hollow chamber about 30 or so feet across at it's widest and floored with soft sand. If this had once been a well, there was absolutely no sign of water now. The stench was much stronger now and O'Connor tried to do most of his breathing through his mouth. Inspecting the walls he could see that they were discoloured; bearing the familiar signs of the dried remnants of the lethal orangey pus that they had encountered. He tried to imagine 5 of the creatures crammed in here, (dormant until the earth tremor - or perhaps worse, fully awake, alive and seething with hate through all the long centuries ?) . It was possible, but it would have been one helluva squeeze. The only other thing of note were two large stone fragments - what was left of the circular stone plug which had once been above. This bore the faint carvings of some kind of large star design, alongside many smaller ones. These were too heavy to lift so he left them where they lay. With nothing more to see, O'Connor got his two companions to haul him clear.

As O'Connor unbuckled himself, they discussed what to do next. They were running out of ideas. DeVere was still musing about the mines in the area when a sudden screeching racket froze their blood as it echoed amongst the dunes. It was the distinctive many throated cry of one of the creatures - it was somewhere to the north and it was very nearby !

Zachariah unslung his gun, grabbed the hold all with the extra ammo and ran back to the top of hillock that they had just come down from - a plan already forming in his mind. DeVere and O'Connor were right behind him and near the top they all spun back round with their eyes peeled to look to the north. Another scream rent the air again, In the middle distance - there was a quick brown blur as a coyote broke over a low dune just behind a smaller hillock that overlooked the well. It streaked off to their right, disappearing of sight down into the small valley below it... Seconds later, they took in the unholy sight of one of the creatures scuttling up onto the same dune-top. Large and murderous, it paused quivering for a second, then shifted in their direction. It scuttled forward, seemingly renewed in its fury - awful screams emanating from newly formed mouths piercing the desert air. Zachariah and O'Connor still almost refused to believe what they saw - but the sight was too much for DeVere - the primal horror of Hackett's death rose afresh in his mind and became all consuming and all powerful. He could think of nothing else and his sanity and resolve buckled. Throwing down his gun, he turned and fled over the dune.

O'Connor's eyes followed him and Zachariah swore ; but they had no time for DeVere. The thing had disappeared out of sight for a couple of seconds, but now here it was again, closing the gap between them and it as it bore down the hill towards the well and their vehicle. This is what Zachariah was waiting for. He tracked it with his SMG and started to pour a burst of fire first into it - and into their vehicle with it's cargo of jerry cans. O'Connor screamed and started firing his shotgun at it - missing his first shot which blew clouds of dust into the air beside it. There was a huge KERRUMP as the fuel went up in and around the 4 x 4 - and with it the vehicle itself. The creature was knocked sideways by the force of the blast. Burning fuel splashed onto it in an instant and in seconds it was engulfed in flame. But on it came, screaming like a thousand banshees. Zachariah emptied the rest of his clip into it and started backing up the hill, reaching for another. O'Connor fired another blast at it with his shotgun and then it slowed, the legs giving out and then scrabbling ineffectually at the slope of the hillock. It was still screaming, but the cries were weaker and fading now. Zachariah had changed out another clip and he immediately emptied this into it's blazing bulk from about 15 feet away - O'Connor doing likewise. Zachariah signalled a ceasefire and they both regarded the burning carcass of the thing with distaste and revulsion - wary that it would move again despite the thick oily smoke that was emanating from it's seared hide.

Satisfied after a minute or so that the job was done, they suddenly remembered DeVere and they set off over the dune after him, picking up his gun first and then his tracks. They found him perhaps 5 minutes later. He had run until he was spent and they found him sprawled and sobbing in fear on a large stone down the trail. He was covered in cuts and scratches and it was clear that he had pissed himself in his terror. They stood about uncomfortably, not making eye contact with him or each other until gradually DeVere recovered himself. The minutes that had just elapsed were now a dim fog of memory - he knew something extremely bad had happened - that he had seen one of the creatures - but he could not recall how he had got here now. 'Is it dead ?' he asked. 'Yes it is' said Zachariah - and he offered him his hand and helped him to his feet.

Together, the three men staggered off down the trail to the 'Apache Springs' well.

[Snicker]

... Hackett emptied the rest of his clip into it and started backing up the hill, reaching for another...

I see all that sanity blasting is leading to flashbacks. PTSD is an awful thing.

[kinnygraham]

I see all that sanity blasting is leading to flashbacks. PTSD is an awful thing.


:o :o :o

You know I read that back twice before I even realised what you were getting at....

God bless the EDIT function......

Aherrmm.

[CabbageHead]

No new write-ups for a month! You trying to kill me? ;)

[kinnygraham]

Didn't actually realise it had been a month.....

Unfortunately - it's a case of limited time again. The choice of late has been to either do the prep for the scenarios we are playing, or do the write-ups for the stuff we've already played...And running the campaign will win out over writing about sessions already played every time....

That said, I have written about half the write up for the concluding session of Darkest Calling so hopefully it won't be too long before I get to finish it...

Thanks again for the interest though.

[screen_monkey]

Didn't actually realise it had been a month.....

Unfortunately - it's a case of limited time again. The choice of late has been to either do the prep for the scenarios we are playing, or do the write-ups for the stuff we've already played...And running the campaign will win out over writing about sessions already played every time....

That said, I have written about half the write up for the concluding session of Darkest Calling so hopefully it won't be too long before I get to finish it...

Thanks again for the interest though.
This is pure gold. dammit, I want to run Delta Green as WELL as everything else, now.

[kinnygraham]

Ok, here goes.... the last session of 'Darkest Calling'....

It was early evening now - DeVere, O'Connor and Zachariah, tired and weary - and more than a little sunburned, were back in the Marine Motel in Ajo - counting themselves very fortunate to be there.

After the incident back at the well, they had found themselves without transport (their rental 4x4 having been completely torched) and with very little water on a back road bordering the Organ Pipe National Monument Park. Resigned, they had set off back on the road to Ajo - doggedly sticking to the dirt track as they trudged northwards through the desert landscape. Hours passed by under the relentless beating sun and worrying thoughts were just creeping into their heads when, mercifully, they were able to flag down an old Mexican farmer driving along in an beat up flat bed truck. Thankfully, Zachariah now had all their weapons stowed in a canvas hold-all - and the old man frankly didn't seem too interested in their hurried explanations of 'car trouble' - they just looked like a bunch of stupid anglos who'd got themselves lost. They hopped gratefully aboard and after a bumpy ride of just over an hour - they were deposited back in the centre of Ajo - where they headed back into their rooms to clean up. DeVere in particular welcomed the chance to rest - he had been surprised and worried at his earlier display of fear, and embarrassed at the physical manifestation of that terror, but could now feel his mental strength returning. The three men met up again for some food and during their meal Zachariah took a call from Agent Judith, who informed them that she would be delayed in joining them - they wouldn't be able to expect her till tomorrow morning at least as there had been an interesting development back in Phoenix. Saucerwatch - including their normally reclusive backer, ex-socialite Sheridan Dunwoody Smith - were in town. It was Agent Judith's surveillance of this group that had led them into this current op and the news that they were now in Phoenix - doubtless to investigate the death of Kate Draper - was not good. Judith planned on hanging around for at least the evening until she could establish their intentions - but this was all getting a bit out of hand.

There was nothing else for the three agents to do but rest up and wait - they planned to resume their hunt in the morning. They were sure that one of the creatures was still out there in the desert and it was their job to find it and stop it before it killed anybody else - or worse, brought a shitstorm of unwanted attention down on their heads.

They were awakened the next morning by knocks on their room doors. It was Agent Judith. She had hung around in Phoenix long enough to establish that Saucerwatch were intent on hassling the Phoenix PD for the moment - but she figured that it would not be long at all until they would head for Southern Arizona. She'd driven through the night to join them - bringing a rental 4x4 (loaded with a fresh supply of petrol cans as requested). She'd also sourced a rather foul smelling collection of severed horse hooves from an abattoir (now thankfully sealed in a plastic bag) and was looking for guidance on just what to do with them. They all thought about it and then got Zachariah to put a call in to Agents Donnelly and Fernandez - the two FBI internal affairs men charged with investigating Hackett's death (and DeVere's involvement) and who were actually part of the Delta Green conspiracy. They figured that these men would be the best placed to make any evidence switch, since in their official capacity they would be able to access the trace evidence from the scene of Hackett's death. Agent Fernandez didn't exactly sound pleased with the challenge, but this kind of task was well within the remit of the job that Alphonse had tasked them to do, and he agreed that they would give it a shot. He told Zachariah that they were still maintaining the pretense of grilling DeVere at a secret location. The pretence was holding - though he mentioned that there were several law enforcement agencies, including O'Connor's DEA 'buddies', in constant touch with them looking for any further insight. They (with the assistance of Cell A and other Delta Green personnel) had also started planting suggestions that there was a people or drug smuggling ring involved and the idea was simmering away out there in the minds of various people. Laying the blame for this incident at the feet of some unknown criminals had obvious political attractions. Agreeing that the animal hooves could be couriered to them at a the Phoenix field office, the Delta Green agents left instructions - and a generous tip - for the desk porter to do exactly that.

All of them set off in the new vehicle that Judith had brought along, planning to investigate some abandoned mine sites that bordered the north of the Organ Pipe park ; DeVere was convinced that the creatures had been 'nesting' somewhere in order to have remained undetected for so long, and their encounter north of the park yesterday had cemented that belief. With five or so sites to check, they had a lot of driving to do. Naturally Zachariah brought along their little 'bag of tricks' and he was reassured to see that Judith was also taking no chances and had brought a shotgun. O'Connor mused quietly to himself on their prospects ; they had been lucky yesterday and he was wondering how long that luck would hold.

Forty minutes south-west of Ajo found them in a lonely stretch of the desert, well off the main road down to the park. According to the map they had there were several disused mines in the area and the road they were on was winding steadily up into a low range of hills where they hoped to inspect the first site. Despite the air conditioning in the vehicle, all 4 were huddled in the front cab. However, they were alert to the possibility of sighting the last creature on the move - and it was this state of readiness that enabled them to spot the low formation of helicopters that swooped down from the north towards them. They hardly had had time to react - they slowed their vehicle alarmed that the craft may be after them - before the 'copters were roaring over them and then beyond them - flying hard and low to the south. Zachariah counted two large Chinook CH-47 transporters, accompanied by what looked like two Apache AH 64s, and two UH-60 Black Hawks. They were heading straight into the heart of the Organ Pipe park and within a minute they were small receding dots on the desert horizon..... Something had happend down there they speculated - exactly what they didn't know, though it obviously wasn't great news. Potentially, they speculated, there had been a sighting.

O'Connor reached for the radio dial and was rewarded when he was able to locate the frequency for a station operating out of Gila Bend. Within seconds of dialling in they could hear an advisory informing people not to travel to the Organ Pipe Park - and to leave it if camping in the area. The area was now 'restricted' while a search commenced for a 'downed test aircraft' trialling out of the Barry M Goldwater Air Force Test Range. The unspecified aircraft had a 'full payload' of ordinance and was potentially hazardous to the public. They could see from their maps that the base lay north of their position and indeed they had driven through part of it on the road from Gila Bend to Ajo. But they were all thinking the same thing: smokescreen. They had to move quickly.

Within the next 2 hours they visited two mine sites. Each was now boarded up against the elements and surrounded with high chain link fences topped with barbed wire. Prominent signs from the Arizona Department of Mines and Mineral Resources warned potential trespassers of the dangerous equipment within. With nothing to indicate that the creatures had been here they drove on to the third site on their map, which lay nesled in the side of a hill at the end of a narrow dusty trail which wound over steep ground. As they drove over a small rise overlooking this new mine, they knew immediately that they were on to something; the entire site was like the others, a compound of sorts in the shadow of a cliff face, containing some dusty and boarded up buildings and surrounded on it's 'open' approaches by a security fence. A large section of this chain link fence had been flattened and they could see a clear trail of disturbed sand leading off to the steep wall of the cliff where the building housing the mine shaft was located.

They immediately brought the vehicle round to face the other way, and slowly they reversed it over the downed fence and into the center of the mining compound - some 60 or 70 feet from the mine building itself. They could clearly see that the distubed sand was in actuality a myriad of hoof prints. They led up to the small mine building and back over the damaged fence and into scrubland anmd low hills to the west of the road they had driven in on ; they could not tell whether the tracks led to or from the mine - both were present - and consequently they could not be sure whether their quarry was present or not.

They stopped the vehicle, talking very quietly now; each gripped their weapons (Judith and O'Connor both had shotguns, DeVere an SMG and Zachariah had Hackett's automatic rifle). They could see now that in the shadow of the cliff the main building which housed the mine shaft was severely damaged; it looked as if something large had broken it's way through the wooden construction, breaking down the door frame and the surrounding area. All was shadow within.

They left the engine running in the 4x4 should a quick escape be necessary and they opened the back end of the flatbed to gain easy access to the jerrycans of fuel. All crept forward silently until they were at the edge of the hole the creature had created. They could see the broken fragments of wood and a shattered chain and padlock, and in the gloom beyond they glimpsed the machinery which they guessed operated the lifts. Cool air also wafted out - containing a faint trace of the stench that DeVere and O'Connor knew so well. With his rifle slung for easy access, Zachariah retrieved a torch and stepped into the gloom with Judith and DeVere following behind, their guns at the ready. Zachariah flashed the torch around quickly - covering all the corners and above just in case the creature was lurking ready to pounce. Before him lay what was obviously the mine shaft which looked to be wide enough to admit both a lift for men and a much larger lift for retrieving the ore for which it had been built. Neither platform was present from what he could and he guessed that they had either been removed, lowered, or even sent to the bottom of the shaft as a safety precaution. The entire opening, some 50 feet square, had been covered over with several layers of wooden planking, save where the wood had been shaped to admit the cables and other machinery of the lifts - which had support and operating equipment to the left of where the agents now stood. However, it was now clear that their prey had broken it's way through a large section of this covering ; a large, dark ragged hole from which the cool faint stench emanated now lay directly at their feet.

Judith requested the torch from Zachariah and began to inspect the machinery while they quietly discussed their next move. Nobody fancied going down the shaft - yet they wanted to check whether the creature was down there. They agreed that they would set a trap of sorts and brought up all of the petrol cans and left them situated between the shaft mouth and the hole in the wall leading out to the compound (ensuring that there was room for them to make a bolt for it). The idea was they they would then send a flaming jerry can down the mine-shaft. If this didn't work, and the creature wasn't there, then they would plan to wait on it here and ambush it from a position of strength somewhere.

DeVere was designated to do the deed - and they all exchanged nervous glances while he lit a rag with his lighter (since his first op in Arizona, DeVere had become a fervent smoker) and stuck it into a jerry can. Seconds later he threw it down into the shaft. Tensely, they listened for long seconds. They though they heard the echoing sound what might have been the can striking something - the wall perhaps and then....nothing. DeVere leaned forward to look down into the shaft, but could see nothing below. They let out their breath.

Zachariah broke the silence - They'd need to think now about how to ambush the fucker if and when it came back. O'Connor interjected to point out that it might not return - it may have moved on elsewhere and their friends with the helicopters might now be nearby searching for it. Zachariah started to say that they didn't have any choice, that this was their best 'lead' - when Judith shouted at them to shut up and listen. There was a faint, strange noise, almost musical in pitch. O'Connor was instantly reminded of the sound that railway tracks make as a distant train approaches. Judith's shone her torch on to the cables which descended into the gloom of the shaft; they were quivering violently. 'Shit' breathed DeVere - looking over, he could see a faint glow of flame rapidly ascending the from the inky darkness belowt. 'It's here ! ' he screamed. O'Connor immediately started sprinting for the 4x4 as Judith backed off to the exit. Zachariah grabbed one of the cans and immediately started dousing the rest, kicking some over so that the ground around them was covered in fuel. DeVere grabbed another and upending it so that more of the petrol spilled out he launched this down the shaft. Blood curdling screeeches echoed from below. 'Let's get the fuck out of here !' screamed Zachariah. Both men ran after Judith who had rapidly caught on - she was already on her way.

Outside, O'Connor was soon at the flatbed, flinging open the door to jump in the driver's seat. Behind them the three of his companions were out of the building and running hell for leather to catch up. Behind them there was suddenly a frearful explosion of flame, noise and fury as the creature burst into the open - sending further shards of the wooden frame scattering in all directions. Wreathed in fire and screaming like all of the tortured souls of hell, it charged towards them like a herd of stampeding buffalo. O'Connor heard the noise but willed himself to stare ahead out of the window and not in the rear view mirror - he just didn't want to look. Zachariah felt the heat behind him and twisted round to see it and - my God - it was close. Even through the flames he could see the jagged teeth of the many impossible mouths. Something in him snapped and he stooped to unleash a hail of furious fire from his automatic rifle - emptying the clip in seconds as he screamed in defiance of it. The creature barrelled into him knocking him flying through the air. DeVere had ran to the side of the vehicle and he now turned and swept it with a burst from his SMG. Judith leapt on to the flatbed truck and screamed at O'Connor not to drive yet. She shouldered her gun and pumped a shot at the beast - which by now had skidded to a halt in cloud of flame and dust to loom ominously over Zachariah.

Zachariah was on his feet in seconds and he ran to it, clubbing it furiously with his gun, ignorant of the flames that licked his arms. He was a crazy man, screaming and cursing almost unintelligibly while the creature thrashed and bucked on the ground. DeVere guessed instantly that they were seeing its death throes and stood gobsmacked as Zachariah continued to pummel it calling it for all the motherfuckers under the sun. Judith ran towards him and slamming into him, knocked him to the ground away from the thrashing creature, whose throes were slowing now. His weapn was knocked out of his hands and Zachariah was livid with rage screaming that he was going to fucking kill her the fucking stupid cunt and his hands groped for her throat. But his rage was too great, his attack unfocussed and unthinking, and Judith too wily for him - she dodged his efforts and getting her knee in the small of his back she whipped out some cuffs and shackled his arms behind his back. Panting, she rolled clear and climbed to her feet as Zachariah continued to scream in impotent anger while behind him the carcass burned. O'Connor was out of the car now and all stood watching the creature burn and Zachariah rant. His mouth foamed with flecks of spittle and his eyes were bugging out of his head. He promised that he'd murder them all, that he'd take a knife to them and make it slow, that he'd kill their fucking families and their fucking friends and their friends too. He'd killed before and it meant as little to him as rubbing shit off a shoe....They stood in silence taking it all in, unsure of what to do and eventually - they weren't sure how long it took - the manic gleam in his eyes diminished and he rolled over, his face turned to the sand away from them where they could hear rasping sobs - whether of despair or exertion they didn't know.

Eventually, Judith approached him and asked if he was OK now. He nodded, and tentatively Judith bent over and and unlocked the cuffs - stepping gingerly away. But Zachariah was back in control now. He had been to a red, dark place where had wished only to rage, kill and ultimately to end in oblivion. He rolled over on to his haunches into a sitting position and eyed them steadily one by one before asking with a grimace 'What's a guy supposed to do in this outfit to get himself killed ?'

Judith and DeVere turned away from him and made a quick job of picking up any spent cartridges that they could see. This job done, they climbed aboard as Zachariah sat alone in the back and drove off leaving the burning, much diminshed carcass of the last creature to consume itself under the desert sky- back to Ajo, and then Phoenix - but not to normality. Normality was a distant memory for all of them...........


Post script (the following was sent to the players shortly after the above session)

SLAIN AGENT LAID TO REST

The funeral, with full honours, took place today of FBI Special Agent Scott Hackett, slain last month in a shoot out with as yet unidentified assailants during a secretive 'sting' operation directed against a gang of people and narcotics traffickers operating along the Arizona / Mexico border. Hackett, a 28 year veteran of the Bureau who was present at the Waco siege and Ruby Ridge, was described as an 'excellent agent' and a 'sad loss'. They would not comment on reports that his actions during the operation were now being investigated by the Office of Professional Responsibility - the 'internal affairs' department of the FBI.

Authorities are remaining tight lipped about the exact circumstances of the agent's death, and how things went so tragically wrong, but did confirm that suspects are also being sought in connection with the murders of Kate Draper(33), a Boston based journalist and Paco Yuma (28), a resident of the Papago Indian reservation. They also confirmed that they were investigating other disappearances in the area, thought to be linked to the activities of the gang.

The Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, where the shoot-out occurred, has been the focus of much activity in the last month, it also being the site of a high security US Air Force operation to recover a downed test aircraft trialling from the nearby Barry M Goldwater Air Force base.

Agent Hackett was survived by his ex-wife, and two estranged children.

Phoenix Chronicle
July 1998


You are nearly getting used to the bullshit now, the lies, the cover ups. It’s all in the cause. Like the death of Hackett itself.

It’s been over a month since you killed the last creature out at the mine.

The USAF set up camp out at the Monument Park for nearly 3 weeks, closing the place to visitors while they searched for the wreckage of a ‘downed test aircraft’. What they were actually doing in there is anybody’s guess - but Cell A really think that they were in there looking for the creatures. Certainly, you’ve had confirmation that they were showing a more than usual interest in the ‘Hackett case’ - the DG men in the OPR have been asking questions back about why anyone else in the USAF or back in Washington would be interested in an internal FBI matter, and those requests for information have now dried up.

Detective Knightley of the Phoenix PD was busted back down to uniform - judged to have been over-ambitious in her desire to collar a murderer, her lack of rudimentary planning and decision to let Hackett take the lead was severely criticised - as were her panic and indecision when it was clear that things were going badly wrong.

Agent Turner (DeVere) has been formally disciplined and allocated a job driving a desk up in the Washington field office. It will be a while before he officially sees the field again. Cell A is concerned that his profile is far too high after both San Carlos and Organ Pipe and they are using the fact that his career is under a cloud to run a counter-surveillance operation to see if anyone else is interested in him. After all, Delta Green’s ‘rival organisation’ - ‘Majestic’, will be all too interested in someone who has been connected with two cases involving ‘strange entities’. The OPR have good reason to keep him under watch - which provides a perfect opportunity to see if anyone else is taking an interest. And so the dance goes. So far, there has only been a hint that anyone may have been trying to follow him - and there has been nothing now for weeks.

Agent O’Connor has also been reprimanded by the DEA - but his technical skills are too valuable to leave him out of the field for long where no crime was proved and where his motives were judged to have been misguided but genuine. He has been transferred to Baltimore. Warned by Cell A, he has also been on the lookout for prying eyes - but O’Connor, well versed in counter-surveillance himself, is sure that nobody has been on to him.

Agent Zachariah and Agent Judith have not been in contact with either of Cell T since they parted company back in Arizona.

[CabbageHead]

Didn't actually realise it had been a month.....

Unfortunately - it's a case of limited time again. The choice of late has been to either do the prep for the scenarios we are playing, or do the write-ups for the stuff we've already played...And running the campaign will win out over writing about sessions already played every time....

That said, I have written about half the write up for the concluding session of Darkest Calling so hopefully it won't be too long before I get to finish it...

Thanks again for the interest though.

Ia Ia Cthulhu ftaghn...my prayers have been answered. Thanks!

[kinnygraham]

Ia Ia Cthulhu ftaghn...my prayers have been answered. Thanks!

We played again on the evening of your post - and my players were pestering me to do the next write up as well.

Thanks again - it's positive feedback that encourages me to keep going with these...

[Delirium]

Graham,

Great write up, many thanks.

I take it Zachariah failed a SAN check? Can't wait to see what he gets up to in Glenridge.

The posthumous email was very well done.

[Fulsrush]

Yup, I was right. Zachariah's a liability...

So, is the campaign continuing from here, either with the same players/characters or with a new team?

[kinnygraham]

Graham,

Great write up, many thanks.

I take it Zachariah failed a SAN check? Can't wait to see what he gets up to in Glenridge.

The posthumous email was very well done.

Cheers.

Yeah - a failed SAN for Z.

I'd actually been toying with the idea of going back over these and adding some commentary about where the mechanics of the BRP rules influenced the outcome of events - but the 'edit' button is now no longer an option on those older posts. Not sure whether to start doing it now....

Glenridge is proving....interesting (!). But write-up wise I've got to get 'Love's Lonely Children' done next.....

[kinnygraham]

Yup, I was right. Zachariah's a liability...

So, is the campaign continuing from here, either with the same players/characters or with a new team?

Richard - you might be interested to know that Zachariah's player has noticed your comments about his character before - and doubtless will be reading this soon. Do try not to encourage him ! ;)

As alluded to, we've played on since then and in the next scenario introduced a new player and his (not quite) new character....

[Aran]

We played again on the evening of your post - and my players were pestering me to do the next write up as well.

Thanks again - it's positive feedback that encourages me to keep going with these...
It's these writeups that have me wanting to run Delta Green! So keep it up, you're doing a good job. And I would like to see how the mechanics influenced the story as well, but only if they don't hold you up from posting :D

[Steve TM]

[QUOTE=Fulsrush]Yup, I was right. Zachariah's a liability...

Hello, I'm the guy that plays Zachariah. Not too thrilled about your comments mate...

[EvilBrennan]

Awesome stuff!
I was transfixed for two days reading these write ups!
Now here's a question: When is the reprinting coming out? Is there a date for it at all?
I've never been involved in DG before, but now I'm totally sold!
Also, is there a picture of the DG recruitment poster?
Thanks!

[Fulsrush]

Delta Green have recruitment posters?

Cool... :)

Citizens!

America needs you to join an illegal conspiracy dedicated to maintaining national security through criminal and terrorist acts!

See the world!
Meet interesting and insane people!
Learn new things, and wish you hadn't!

Join Delta Green today.

Your closest recruitment office is: Level 4 of the multistorey car park on Henson & Fifth.

[Snicker]

Fulsrush, you are a genius and I am sigging that.

[kinnygraham]

Awesome stuff!
I was transfixed for two days reading these write ups!
Now here's a question: When is the reprinting coming out? Is there a date for it at all?
I've never been involved in DG before, but now I'm totally sold!
Also, is there a picture of the DG recruitment poster?
Thanks!

Thanks for the praise - very gratifying !

The word on the Delta Green re-print (a hardback with both BRP and d20 stats included) is that it will be available 'soon'. Pagan and Eos I believe have had it reprinted (in China I think) and hoped to have it available for GenCon. This proved not to be the case with the word there being that it would take anything between 'several weeks' and 'December' for it to hit the shelves.

However, you can still obtain the second main DG book 'Countdown' from a lot of stores or mail order companies; (my FLGS here in the UK had a copy on the shelves just the other day) if you're stoked I'd suggest you get it now because I'm sure there will be a 'rush' on them when the original reprint is finally out.

Other DG material can be found in a couple of other sources like The Unspeakable Oath and Pyramid magazines - and Dennis Detwiller (one of the three main authors of DG) will shortly be making new material available through a 'ransom' model..... and there are a handful of quality web-sites both 'official' and fan written which a search should throw up.

As for the 'poster' I did see that it has been put up on a DG fansite at one time. I think it was here: http://www.semper-vigilus.tk/ but it doesn't seem to be opening for me at the minute: YMMV.

[EvilBrennan]

Yesterday me and the fam hit a mall that was being reconstructed. I stepped out of the car to hear the scrabbleing of metal treads on little stones and I couldn't help but think about multilimbed creatures with hooves...

[Fulsrush]

Fulsrush, you are a genius and I am sigging that.

Thank you.

(I don't think I've ever been sigged before.) :) :cool:

[Fulsrush]

As for the 'poster' I did see that it has been put up on a DG fansite at one time. I think it was here: http://www.semper-vigilus.tk/ but it doesn't seem to be opening for me at the minute: YMMV.

I managed to get it open as far as the site title appearing in the Firefox tab at the top of the window, but then it came up with a 'The document contains no data' message (Firefox's equivalent of a 404.)

[CabbageHead]

We played again on the evening of your post - and my players were pestering me to do the next write up as well.

Thanks again - it's positive feedback that encourages me to keep going with these...

Well if that is the case then let me say that you are a god among men.

Just doing my small part to keep these write-ups coming.

[Fulsrush]

[QUOTE=Fulsrush]Yup, I was right. Zachariah's a liability...

Hello, I'm the guy that plays Zachariah. Not too thrilled about your comments mate...

I was thinking from the point of view of the other agents.

I know I'd have an aversion to standing next to someone as gung ho as Zachariah. No offence intended.

[kinnygraham]

[QUOTE=Steve TM]

I was thinking from the point of view of the other agents.

I know I'd have an aversion to standing next to someone as gung ho as Zachariah. No offence intended.

I'll be running some more DG this evening - so I'll take a vote on this from the other three players to see if they agree with your take on Zachariah ! ;)

Cabbagehead - I've commenced the next write-up for the next scenario we played after Darkest calling so hopefully I can get that finished soon...

[Steve TM]

Oh, that's okay then.

When I generated Zachariah the other players asked me to do a character that was a little more robust and capable (from the point of view of physical confrontations) than we had in the group up to that point.

Graham told me that he wanted the character to be a DG veteran and I wanted to play someone that was fundamentally pretty flawed and whose outlook on life was very different from Hackett's. (I guess that much is probably obvious from the character background that Graham posted a while ago)

I guess Zachariah has the potential to be something of a liability. Certainly he is far too ready to resort to violence, coercion or illegal activities to achieve his mission objectives: This is an aspect of the character that I'm thinking of toning down a little. Having said this, I think part of the enjoyment of playing this character is that he is so flawed and I think I'd be cheating myself and the rest of the group if I made the character much more even tempered. My guess is that over time (If he doesn't get shot, arrested or eaten..) I'll be playing up on the fact that Zachariah is pretty conflicted and desperately wants to do the right thing both for DG and the rest of his cell.

I think he'll become a real liability if (when) the group come into contact with Majestic.

Anyway, sorry for getting on your case over the "liability" comment.

Thanks for bearing with me while I rambled on about my character.

[kinnygraham]

As for the 'poster' I did see that it has been put up on a DG fansite at one time. I think it was here: http://www.semper-vigilus.tk/ but it doesn't seem to be opening for me at the minute: YMMV.

This site is now up and running again - well worth checking out.

Am image of the DG recruitment poster discussed above can be seen by checking out the Downloads and Recruitment Poster sub-section.

[Winston Smith]

Oh, that's okay then.

When I generated Zachariah the other players asked me to do a character that was a little more robust and capable (from the point of view of physical confrontations) than we had in the group up to that point.

Graham told me that he wanted the character to be a DG veteran and I wanted to play someone that was fundamentally pretty flawed and whose outlook on life was very different from Hackett's. (I guess that much is probably obvious from the character background that Graham posted a while ago)

I guess Zachariah has the potential to be something of a liability. Certainly he is far too ready to resort to violence, coercion or illegal activities to achieve his mission objectives: This is an aspect of the character that I'm thinking of toning down a little. Having said this, I think part of the enjoyment of playing this character is that he is so flawed and I think I'd be cheating myself and the rest of the group if I made the character much more even tempered. My guess is that over time (If he doesn't get shot, arrested or eaten..) I'll be playing up on the fact that Zachariah is pretty conflicted and desperately wants to do the right thing both for DG and the rest of his cell.

I think he'll become a real liability if (when) the group come into contact with Majestic.

Anyway, sorry for getting on your case over the "liability" comment.

Thanks for bearing with me while I rambled on about my character.

I understand you concerns with playing such a violent and aggressive character in Delta Green. I played a similar character a few years back in a DG campaign, although he was an Ex-Soviet military Friendly who was being "Handled" by a State Department PC. He was also a very "Burnt Out" character, he suffered from post traumatic stress disorder and was as ruthless and prone to violence as Zachariah seems to be. Despite all the problems this posed and the added complication that he was basically being blackmailed by Delta Green, he worked wonderfully in play. Speaking from experience, I'd recommend you not tone Zachariah down too much. Characters like him are demanding and difficult to play, but can be very rewarding for everyone involved.

Keep up the good work everyone, your game sounds terrific and this thread has me seriously eyeing my DG books and thinking about putting together a campaign of my own.

[kinnygraham]

The following describes the next session we played in my ongoing Delta Green campaign. My free time being limited, the structure of my game has been built around published Delta Green and Cthulhu Now material. This time I used the scenario 'Love's Lonely Children' by Richard Watts which, like 'Darkest Calling', can also be found in the Chaosium collection 'The Stars Are Right' .


The scenario opened in August of 1998 - some 6 to 7 weeks since the characters had left the wilds of Arizona behind them.

'Agent Turner' aka FBI Special Agent Peter DeVere (played by Martin Tulloch) was now based in Washington. Suspended from field duties he has continued in the statistical profiling and computer analysis work for the Bureau that he is so very capable of. 'Turner' has also decided that a more subtle phyical profile would now be in order; previously described by colleagues as 'like Lyle Lovett 'cept uglier and geekier' he now cuts his hair much shorter and has paid for a procedure to straighten his once crooked teeth.

'Agent Travis' aka DEA Agent Patrick O'Connor (played by Nick Clements) has now been relocated to Baltimore where he continues to ply his trade as a surveillance technician. In the weeks since Organ Pipe, and against his better judgement, he has now been fully inducted into the Delta Green conspiracy. It has been divulged to him that his Uncle Mike, a senior DEA figure, is a 'friendly' of that organisation who has used his influence in the past in the furtherance of its goals. O'Connor's choice of 'Travis' as his Cell T codename is indicative of his fondness for movies and the black humour he uses to deal with his new situation. He used to be fond of going off climbing prior to his visit to the Organ Pipe Cactus Park - but the thought of going off into the wilds alone no longer appeals.

'Agent Zachariah' - real name unknown (played by Steve Emmott) has been living the quiet anonymous life that he is wont to do between his 'jobs' for Delta Green. He sustained minor burns to his arms on the last op and has devoted his efforts to healing them fully in the intervening weeks - preferring not to think about how he got them and just about anything else other than his loss of control - and the darkness it revealed within him.

Agent 'Turner', with little social life to speak of, is in the frequent habit of working weekends, obsessing on his mathemtatical and statistical models - and on a Sunday morning arriving in the Washington field office, was very surprised to see an e-mail in his inbox from the night duty desk informing him that a 'Doctor Guiturrez' had been in touch on a 'personal matter' - leaving a contact number and requesting that he get in touch right away. That got Turner moving out of the door of his office, out the building and - checking that he wasn't being followed - walking several blocks to a pay-phone. The doctor had in fact been a Medical Examiner for Graham County Arizona, and was present when the parisitically animated 'corpse' of an ex-special forces Apache deserter and suspected mass murderer had spring to life and attacked him and his buddy Agent Hackett. The good doctor had freaked out during the incident and was only thought to have been semi-conscious at best throughout the whole ordeal. Subsequently he had apparently informed the investigating authorities that he could recall nothing of the events in the morgue and the whole episode had been written off as the consequence of an attempted body-snatch by unknown vigilantes - even although Turner, Hackett and certain men describing themslelves as NSA agents knew rather different . Since that summer over a year ago, Agent Turner had heard nothing of what the the good doctor was up to.

Turner put some change in the phone and dialled the number.

'Doctor Joseph Guiturrez' (played by 'Newt', aka rpg.net's 'Mr Wrong') had not been sleeping well since that post-mortem over a year ago back in Arizona. Not well at all. Yes, he had freaked out - he had screamed himself hoarse in mortal fear. But he could remember every single thing that had happend - had heard Santana's dead voice speak and had even glimpsed the THING that had been nestling in the gut of his cadaver before it was shot to a messy pulp by the FBI agent Hackett. And he had seen the men in suits who had arrived and scooped up the remains. Sedated by a team of surprised medics who had arrived when the shooting had died down, he had quickly sensed which way the wind was blowing when he had come around. Nobody was asking him about dead men walking and impossible creatures being killed and their slimy remnants being spirited away by governmentt spooks. Instead the questions, seemingly based on what the two FBI men had claimed, were about vigilante assailants trying to steal or damage Santana's corpse. The doctor took his time until he was sure that there was a cover up of sorts going on, before starting to respond to the questions and claiming that that he had perhaps been struck, and that was why he could remember nothing....He quickly concluded that he would have been an idiot to start babbling about the walking dead. Sticking to his line, his questioners had eventually seemed to be satisfied that he had nothing solid to contribute......Over the next weeks, the nightmares began and he lost all quality of sleep - and although he steeled himself to return to the duties of his profession there was always a part of his mind that expected every corpse he was working on to leap into horrendous 'unlife' like Santana's. His relationship with his fiancee floundered and died over the next six months when he refused to acknowledge his problem and seek pyschiatric help - after all, he surely couldn't tell the truth could he ? Hoping that a fesh start would help, he resigned from his job and took up an Assistant Medical Examiner's position in Las Vegas. There was a gradual improvement, and although he was still not sleeping anything like he used to, he found that he couuld work properly again. Although a nagging, persistent voice in his head insisted that he would never really conquer his demons until he really knew what had happend in that autopsy room, he was doing his best to put his past behind him........Unfortunately, the past was beginning to catch up with him. Several weeks back he had been disturbed to read about the death of Agent Hackett in Arizona and could not shake the feeling that hearing his name again was a bad omen....

And now, well now he sat in his office waiting for a phone call. A phone call from the only person he could think of who might just be able to help explain what exactly had happend - and, sweet Jesus - was still happening, to the dead girl in pieces in his mortuary. His phone rang.

Turner / DeVere opened up the conversation by saying that he presumed that this was not a social call ? The Doctor explained that he had that right. He was facing a... situation. Connected with what had happend in the Santana case ? Not really, he thought - but it was something equally 'unusual'. Put it this way - when he realised what he was dealing with he had thought of Hackett and DeVere immediately. With Hackett dead, he had tracked down DeVere through the Bureau. He needed his help. Could he make it out to Vegas ? DeVere told him he would need a little more information. Could he be more specific ? The Doctor said he preferred not to - it was not something that he wanted to talk about over the phone and he really should see for himself. The FBI man told him that he would see what he could do and promised to be back in touch soon..

Turner immediately contacted Call A - using the emergency number that he had been provided with. He reached 'Agent Alphonse' immediately and outlined what had happend in the conversation - and his three concerns. 1) The Doctor was a 'loose end' from the Santana case. They needed to establish just exactly what he knew and whether he could be relied on to keep his mouth shut. 2) From what he had said, it was possible that he had encountered something of a nature that would require Delta Green intervention and 3) It might just be a trap set for him by their friends in Majestic. Alphonse shared all of his concerns but after some consideration, outlined a plan. Agent Travis and Agent Zachariah would also travel to Vegas; both were skilled in counter-surveillance techniques and while their enemies might already have made a connection between Turner and Travis, their connection to Zachariah was 'almost certainly' not known. For Cell T to continue to operate, they would need to establish if they were being watched. Zachariah would be watching for the watchers and if necessary - could take any required steps should things turn ugly. It was potentially a dangerous game, but they had to try and establish if Turner was at risk.. Both men of course could assist Turner if it turned out that he was not under surveillance and they were facing an 'unnatural threat' which required the type of attention that Delta Green specialised in. Alphonse told Turner that he should proceed to Vegas and that he would arrange for Travis and Zachariah to be there to follow him. Turner called Guiturrez back and told him that he was flying out to Vegas and would contact him again upon arrival.

Within the next half an hour, both Zachariah and Travis had been contacted on their Delta Green cellphones; the message familiar to the former, new and strangely foreboding to the latter: 'You are formally invited to a Night at the Opera.' Within minutes both had accessed a secure server containing their instructions: shadow Turner from Vegas, check for and report in any hostile surveillance, and assist him in countering any paranormal threat.

Back in Washington, Turner returned to his office and booked out some leave - and a flight to Washington. There was a flight leaving at 3pm and the flight to Vegas would take five to six hours. His decision to book a flight from here was deliberate - he wanted to leave a trail and had decided that he would have a fall back story for his employers should they question his reasons for going there; he planned to fake a partial 'burn-out'.... Agent DeVere was off to Nevada to play games of chance and to drink himself into a stupour to try and forget about the death of his good buddy Agent Hackett. He went home and packed some casual clothes and en-route to the airport he hit up a dispenser for $500 - he might need some to throw some cash around over there.

Several hours later, he touched down in Vegas. Zachariah and Travis who had already flown there, were there to make him as he cleared the Arrivals hall. So far, they hadn't observed anyone else who they thought might be spooks. Turner withdrew a further $500 cash, rented a vehicle, and drove for the Strip intending to check into a hotel. His fellow agents followed on behind, also in a rental car. The atmosphere was tense; Zachariah seemed on edge - but as far as they could determine neither Turner or their own vehicle was being followed. All three were oblivious to the neon bathed attractions of the city that would normally interest first-time visitors - they felt themselves a breed apart from the tourists and the various characters, legitimate and not so legitimate, who existed to sponge up their dollars. They were on the look out only for signs of people taking an unusual interest in them - and when nothing of the nature happend these people, and the world they inhabited, were instantly dismissed from their thoughts.

After checking in to one of the big hotels, Turner contacted the doctor and got directions to the County morgue building where he worked and told him that he would be there shortly. He used his DG phone to contact Travis and told him that he was heading out there. So far so good - there was nothing to report and the two men tailing Turner were able to follow him north away from the main strip. Travis instructed Turner over the phone in what driving measures to take that would mitigate any attempts to follow them and having drove a round about route, Turner eventually pulled up outside his destination; Travis and Zachariah, now also parked up, watched him enter the building from about half a block away.

Inside the foyer, a tired looking Doctor Guiturrez awaited him in the foyer. The doctor had always looked overworked in Turner's brief experience of working with him - the events of the Santana case had stretched him to the limit over a few short days as multiple victims had been discovered - but there was now a haunted look in his eyes and he'd lost a lot of weight since last year. The doctor signed him in as a guest to the bored looking security man on the desk and motioned him to follow through a security door. The doctor led him down a corridor, down one flight of stairs and into an office, closing the door behind them both. Ok said Turner - what have you got ?

The doctor explained that early that morning the dismembered corpse of a young woman - a known prostitute - had been found in a park area some 2 or 3 miles away from the main strip. The area was popular with workers during the day, but had a more sinister reputation during the late evening and night time; the police knew it to be a gathering place for whores, pimps, pushers, johns and junkies. Guiturrez had been called to the site in his official capacity when the body had been discovered by municipal workers. She was in several pieces (eight to be precise) and these had been placed in trashbags in several of the park bins near a small ornamental lake. It was her severed head that had fallen out of one when disturbed by the workers emptying the trash that had led to the discovery. So far all very unpleasant, but sadly not too unusual in the annals of crime explained the Doctor. It was only when he had taken the opportunity to examine the remains back at the morgue that he had spotted something really unusual. There were bite marks. Human....but also...large. Very large. Freakishly large. This had Turner's attention. Explain, he asked. Put it this way, said the doctor, they show every sign of being human in general shape and structure - molars, incisors and so forth, but I've performed some calculations and I would reckon that this human - if the size of his teeth are anything to go by, and if the rest of his body is of a proportionate scale - would be anywhere between 10 to 12 feet tall.......

Turner paused, absorbing this. 'And there's.......... something else' the doctor added. 'Come this way'. They went out a room and through a door further down the corridor. Inside an ante-room, he passed Turner a green gown and likewise climbed into one himself. He took Turner further inside through another door. Turner realised with a slight chill that he was back in an autopsy room. Not his favourite of places. The doctor went to one of the many drawers in a recessed area away from the main steel table and the slightly sinister equipment surrounding it. He produced a larger clear plastic bag from the a number of similar objects within the drawer ; each, including the one that Guiturrez now held before him, was smeared a dark red - enough to conceal the pale, disturbing shapes within. The doctor opened it and lifted out a large piece of what had once been a human being - the upper torso of a young girl Turner realised after a moment of slight mental numbness. It was smeared and slippery with what looked like fresh blood - the bag still seemed to contain a large pool of it. The doctor watched him for a reaction. 'Look' he said, wiping a cloth over one of the breasts. Turner peered closer. The doctor's cloth had smeared the skin clear of most of the blood ; Turner could clearly see what looked like the deep indentations in the skin, and perhaps beyond, of large teeth marks in a rough semi circle. He could tell that this was from an unusually large mouth. Even as he watched these welled crimson; slowly, but unmistakeably, fresh blood trickled out of the small wounds. 'She's been dead for about a day or so at least I reckon ; but she won't stop bleeding from those marks. I have to drain the stuff away from time to time - there's been well over eight litres already - and she was hacked to death when she got here' His eyes bore into Turner. ' When things don't know that they are dead it makes me think of you, Agent DeVere'.

Back in the office, Turner took stock. Whatever else was happening, they clearly had an 'Opera' on their hands. That changed things. Gathering himself, he plunged onwards. First, he explained to the doctor that he was with some 'influential' people - surely after the Santana case that would come as no surprise to him ? Some of them were nearby and they specialised in investigating, and covering up where necessary 'unusual and dangerous manifesations'. The doctor was openly unfazed so far - he had expected as much when the Santana case had turned into a whitewash - but the hint that there were other 'manifestations' was exciting to his inquisitive mind . The critical thing, Turner explained, was that they must not let a hint of such things get out into the wider world - knowledge was a dangerous commodity in the wrong hands and there would be plenty of people willing to abuse it. The doctor agreed, but inside his mind was racing, more concerned with the fact that he was finally beginning to get to the bottom of the questions that had been haunting him - questions about the secret world that he had glimpsed.

Turner now turned to some burning questions he had. Who was the girl ? The doctor divulged all. A prostitute by the name of Cathy Hammond - her fingerprints obtained from a previous soliciting arrest a couple of months ago had provided the necessary identification. She had been discovered, as mentioned, in Caulfield Park - her body parts strewn throughout some waste-bins surrounding a small lake in the park. A Detective McIntyre of the Las Vegas PD had been assigned to the case. The doctor knew of him by reputation - he was fat, cynical and lazy - and about 2 years from retirement. He didn't think that he would be busting a gut to solve the case; he hadn't been to the morgue as yet, preferring to deal with Guiturrez by phone so far. The doctor had told him nothing about the most 'unusual feature' of this case - the blood - but had told him that the perpetrator may suffer from a 'facial deformity'...and about something else he had found; the girl had a substantial quality of pure heroin in her bloodstream (strangely - even the 'new' blood samples he had tested had read the same). Cause of death seemed to have been rapid blood loss as result of dismemberement by means of, most likely, an axe - although it was likely that she was also suffering a system breakdown from the heroin she had in her. He could not tell if the bite marks were inflicted pre or post mortem. McIntyre now seemed to have his sights set on the girl's boyfriend - a young punk musician from a band called 'The Rising' who went by the name of 'Spider' Holloway - a known drug abuser, he'd been arrested yesterday afternoon, though released later in the evening. The doctor had a news clipping covering the arrest.

This was enough to be getting on with for Turner - he could share this information with his colleagues. But he then asked the doctor if it was possible that any 'mistakes' could be made with the disposal of body parts ? Could a clerical error result in such a thing ? The doctor allowed that it was unlikely - given the procedures they had in place. But such things were not unknown.......... 'Well, let's get her in the incinerator then and make it happen' Turner said 'This is evidence - and we need to lose it'. The doctor hesistated - this was a big step. But he knew he ws on the threshold of strange new world - and his curiosity got the better of him; he had to know. Minutes later, with a form altered and the signature of a colleague forged, he had wheeled the body parts of Cathy Hammond in a covered gurney down to the incinerator. They both threw them in - Turner doing his best not to think about the contents . The doctor was surprised at how untroubled his conscience was.

'Now what ?' he asked. 'Now we go to my hotel room and you meet my friends. And then we find out what did this to Cathy Hammond'.

He phoned Zachariah: 'Do we have something here or what ?' asked the Delta Green man. 'I think you could say that' said Turner. 'Follow us'. In the car outside, Zachariah relayed the news to Travis - who wondered what the hell he would be getting involved in now.

Within the hour they were all back at Turner's room in a downtown hotel. The doctor had taken his own car - and both had been followed in the other rental vehicle by Turners two 'shadows'. All were sure that they hadn't been followed and they decided to take the risk of meeting up to discuss the case. En-route, the FBI man was again struck by how the neon-bathed patrons of the many casinos were going about their unthinking pursuit of pleasure - oblivious to the dark secrets wrapped up in his head.

Introductions were made, the doctor tactfully ignoring how these other two men seemed to refer to DeVere as 'Turner'. They went over everything that Turner and the doctor knew or had seen about the case - discussing everything at length. Both Zachariah and Travis, the latter especially, were a little incredulous at first: 'We're talking about a 12 foot axe murderer with a mouth like fucking Jaws who leaves wounds that don't stop bleeding ? Is that it ?' he asked at one point. This Delta Green shit was getting weirder and weirder.

At the end of the discussion, they agreed that they had a number of possible leads or avenues of investigation that they might follow:

The park where the body was found.
Cathy Hammond herself - dig further into her life, her johns, pimps etc.
The drug angle. Surely it was unusual for a prostitute to be in possession of high grade Horse ?
Spider Holloway and his band, 'The Rising'.
Other similar killings - either in Vegas or elsewhere. Maybe 'their friends' might know of similar murders ?

Travis had brought his lap-top and got onto the internet right away. He found out some stuff about 'The Rising' - they were an up and coming Vegas 4-piece who specialised in 'anarchic, exhiirating, heart-breaking, post-modern punk with an all-embracing anti-establishment vibe'. Whatever the fuck that meant. But he hit a piece of real gold. Apparently, they were playing in Vegas that very evening.

Quickly, their plans were formed:

Travis would stay put, hitting the 'net and using his law enforcement contacts to establish if there had been any similar murders.

Guiturrez, something of an insomniac, would return to the morgue - to try to rest up, but also to be on hand if any fresh reports came in - this killer, whoever or whatever it was, might strike again. He took a note of Turner's FBI cellphone.

Zachariah and Turner were going to the gig.

[CabbageHead]

Woohoo, another update. Thanks.

By the way, I see you've been posting at Detwiller's blog. I'm excited he is getting back into DG stuff as well.

Thanks again, and keep up the good work!

[Delirium]

Again, superb.

It's also good to see your group going from strength to strength with the addition of a new player. I very much like how he's tied in with the Cell's history.

Keep 'em coming :)

[Fulsrush]

Yeah, it was a nice touch, was that. Ties the different cases into a wider continuity than just the PCs's lives, without actually having any kind of ongoing plot.

[kinnygraham]

Again gentleman - thanks for all the encouragement. Both myself and the players are always interested to hear your comments on our game..

We are about 4 sessions ahead in the 'real time' of the campaign than what is written here - so it might be a while before I catch up - if ever, but I'll do my best. But the good news is that we are having an absolute blast. If there's one thing I'm not getting across its probably some of the good role playing that is going on - the guys are really doing a great job with some of their characters - in trying circumstances as you shall see ! ;)

Likely to be next week at least before I get the next one up I'm afraid though - Real Life Stuff intrudes for the minute I'm afraid...


EDIT : Wow, my rpg.net kilo-post !!

[Delirium]

Quick question - I like Agent Zachariah a lot and do not consider his methods to have become unsound (indeed, he reminds me of one of the PCs in my own campaign) but he is clearly very different to his predecessor (Hackett, I think). Here's my question - has this change resulted in a significant in-game difference in the Cell's patterns of investigation, such as techniques, planning, intra-Cell debate etc,., i.e. has the Cell's investigative 'centre of gravity' shifted, do you think?

[kinnygraham]

Quick question - I like Agent Zachariah a lot and do not consider his methods to have become unsound (indeed, he reminds me of one of the PCs in my own campaign) but he is clearly very different to his predecessor (Hackett, I think). Here's my question - has this change resulted in a significant in-game difference in the Cell's patterns of investigation, such as techniques, planning, intra-Cell debate etc,., i.e. has the Cell's investigative 'centre of gravity' shifted, do you think?

While I have my own opinion on that question, I think it's best to let you observe the group in action (via these write-ups, which I try to make as accurate as possible) and then you can draw your own conclusions....

Note to my players - if you do want to comment, try not to include any spoilers for 'current and recent ops' that haven't been written up here yet...

Anyway Delirium - how are your own cell(s) faring ? :) Did you run 'See No Evil' yet ?

[Delirium]

While I have my own opinion on that question, I think it's best to let you observe the group in action (via these write-ups, which I try to make as accurate as possible) and then you can draw your own conclusions....

That's fair enough. I read through Love's Lonely Children last night in order to compare and contrast the scenario as written to that which you ran. Good call on the Gutierrez link driven by the still-bleeding wounds - very slick. I'm looking forward to an account of the finale which I can only imagine will be as vicious as anything this Cell has come up against to date. Agent Zachariah's skills and temperament would have come in very useful, I imagine. I hope he survived.

Anyway Delirium - how are your own cell(s) faring ? :) Did you run 'See No Evil' yet ?

As regards the campaign I'm running, It's all going very well - 2/3rds of the way through See No Evil as of last Thursday, although my 'Rules of Engagement' inspired modifications to the scenario and consequent player activity have resulted in a situation which is almost certain to cause a DG/MJ12 frank exchange of views.

[kinnygraham]

That's fair enough. I read through Love's Lonely Children last night in order to compare and contrast the scenario as written to that which you ran. Good call on the Gutierrez link driven by the still-bleeding wounds - very slick. I'm looking forward to an account of the finale which I can only imagine will be as vicious as anything this Cell has come up against to date. Agent Zachariah's skills and temperament would have come in very useful, I imagine. I hope he survived.



As regards the campaign I'm running, It's all going very well - 2/3rds of the way through See No Evil as of last Thursday, although my 'Rules of Engagement' inspired modifications to the scenario and consequent player activity have resulted in a situation which is almost certain to cause a DG/MJ12 frank exchange of views.

Sounds intriguing....any chance of a PM with a quick summary of your Rules of Engagement inspired mods to SNE and how it will bring in MJ-12....?

[Chroma]

The doctor watched him for a reaction. 'Look' he said, wiping a cloth over one of the breasts. Turner peered closer. The doctor's cloth had smeared the skin clear of most of the blood ; Turner could clearly see what looked like the deep indentations in the skin, and perhaps beyond, of large teeth marks in a rough semi circle. He could tell that this was from an unusually large mouth. Even as he watched these welled crimson; slowly, but unmistakeably, fresh blood trickled out of the small wounds. 'She's been dead for about a day or so at least I reckon ; but she won't stop bleeding from those marks. I have to drain the stuff away from time to time - there's been well over eight litres already - and she was hacked to death when she got here' His eyes bore into Turner. ' When things don't know that they are dead it makes me think of you, Agent DeVere'.

I've got a pretty good idea who your "axe murderer" is and, I must say, having the wounds continue to bleed even after death is absolutely brilliant! I had never thought of that before and broke my lurking just to tell you that!

Keep up the *excellent* work!

Be seeing you...

[kinnygraham]

........ broke my lurking just to tell you that!

Keep up the *excellent* work!

Be seeing you...

Really appreciated Chroma, many thanks :)

[Delirium]

Sounds intriguing....any chance of a PM with a quick summary of your Rules of Engagement inspired mods to SNE and how it will bring in MJ-12....?

Roger, wilco.

[Fulsrush]

I've got a pretty good idea who your "axe murderer" is and, I must say, having the wounds continue to bleed even after death is absolutely brilliant! I had never thought of that before and broke my lurking just to tell you that!


Ah, yes, of course... I think I've got it now as well.

But my Cthulhu Mythos score is slightly higher than the DG characters, I suspect.

[CabbageHead]

Well, I've had some luck in the past...so here goes....

Kinnygraham,

Any chance of an update? :)

[kinnygraham]

Well, I've had some luck in the past...so here goes....

Kinnygraham,

Any chance of an update? :)

Putting the finishing touches to the next one as you write !!

Patience old chap, patience !

[kinnygraham]

The next part of 'Love's Lonely Children'

Turner and Zachariah took one of the rental cars and headed off in search of the venue where 'The Rising' were playing their gig. The Doc headed off back to his office, while Travis continued to research the MO of the murder - using the internet and his access to various law enforcement databases in an attempt to establish whether there were any other dismemberment + 'unusual bite mark' homicides troubling the minds of police departments across the States.

According to the info that Travis had uncovered, and a detailed guide they purchased, the gig was happening in a suburb of the city west of the main strip. Here, they were far away from the glamour and glitz of the big casinos and the high rollers. This Vegas was a home to the 'ordinary joes' whom the tourists never really got to see. The area they were in seemed particularly deprived if the housing was anything to go by - many of the windows were boarded up and seemed to be in a poor state of repair. Gangs of sullen youths stood around on the corners drinking from plastic bottles of cheap booze. They did a drive-by of the location - an old dilapidated building that looked like it was once a theatre and now went by the charming name of 'The Pit' - and could see that it was the convergence point for groups of gaudily dressed teenagers who were drifting in from the surrounding neighbourhood towards the peeling, poster adorned front to join a small, steadily moving queue. They parked up about a block away and walked back to join it - quickly realising that they were going to have no chance of blending in with this crowd. Turner and Zachariah were both in their early thirties and although casually dressed their clothes marked them as 'outsiders' here - Turner looking distinctly 'preppy' in jacket, slacks and casual shirt, Zachariah only slightly 'better' in faded green combat trousers and padded jacket and a black T-shirt . The kids beside them in the queue sported a wide assortment of multi-coloured mohawks and other outrageous styles. Spiked multi-coloured hair was in. As were tattoos and facial piercings. The occasional Goth - white faces, black make-up and long leather coats - rounded out the menagerie. Nevertheless, the pair ignored the occasional stares they were getting and decided to press on - paying their $10 to the anorexic punk chick behind the booth. They could hear a wall of noise coming from the door beyond and they plunged through into a murky, noisesome melee of heaving bodies. The smell of sweat, alcohol and reefer hung heavily in the air. The din was tremendous Ahead, up on stage, they could see four skinny females - all with shaved heads, multiple piercings, vests, shorts and combat boots laced to the knee. One of them who was sitting on an amp was rubbing a piece of corrugated iron down her electric guitar - which held between her legs like a cello. Her companions were screeching enthusiastically - one pounding away on a drumkit with no discernible rhythm or skill. The ad that Travis had found had mentioned the support act 'Nutcracker Suite' - this must be them. It had to be perhaps the worst fucking sound that Zachariah - not exactly a music fan at the best of times - had ever heard, maybe even including those things in Arizona.

Through the haze, they spotted a bar at the far side. Zachariah motioned towards it and he muscled his way through the crowd with Turner behind him. The crowd whooped in appreciation of the act as mercifully, the racket from stage suddenly ceased. The girls stomped off, even as sparadic shouts of 'The Ris-ing ! The Ris-ing !' were taken up by more and more voices. Even at the bar, which was slightly less thronged than the rest of the place, the two Delta Green men could barely hear themselves speak - the crowd were jumping up and down screaming for the band. They had a look around and could see a door at the side of the stage where people were coming and going from. There was a further crescendo of noise as four young men - three white, one black: all with spiky hair and dressed in ripped black T-Shirts and jeans - took to the stage and readied their instruments. 'Kill the Law' announced one - and the throng howled in approval as a heavy base line, then drums and then guitars kicked in at a furious pace. They could feel the floor vibrating at their feet as the crowd threw themselves against each other in wild appreciation. Youths were bouncing off them even at the bar as the 'dancing' - if it could be called that - broke out all around them. Turner was struggling to get close enough to Zachariah to make himself heard - he wanted to go backstage and wanted his fellow operative to cover his back. Exasperated, he forced himself to the bar and pulled out a notebook - intending to scribble a note and pass it to him. Just as he started, a young punk grabbed him and pulled his head close to his face. He was screaming right in his eardrum ' - ou a fucking music journalist man ? Cool ! These guys FUCKING ROCK.!! WRITE IT DOWN !!' Turner nodded at him but within seconds he was gone - bouncing off into the maelstrom of flailing limbs and spilled beer. Zacharaiah shoved his way closer to him and Turner managed to make himself heard. Zachariah nodded and they forced themselves towards the dim light of the open door at the side of the stage.

There were perhaps 6 or 7 sullen youths standing cluttering up the little corridor - most of them intent on the throbbing music, nodding in rythm. Two of them looked completely out of it - their eyes like pinholes, their jaws slack. They squeezed past them and could see a toilet sign above a door off to the right. Both stepped in for a quick look. The place was filthy - stagnant water covered the floor and the sinks and urinals were clogged with toilet paper and worse. Three young punks were puffing on a huge spliff. Zachariah fixed them a stare and they turned away. Turner moved down the cubicles whose doors looked to have long ago been ripped off - two held male occupants, one sitting on the porcelain looking completely gone - his eyes rolled back in his head. The next held another punk, who was injecting something into his arm, his teeth clamped on a belt wrapped tight around his arm. His eyes met Turner's but he never wavered as he he continued to depress the plunger. The last held a young couple - entwined in a sweating semi-naked clinch, oblivious to Turner who stepped away to move back out to the door. The small corridor bent around to the right and Turner hoped that it would lead him backstage - or maybe to a dressing room. Zachariah took up position at the door to the toilet - making sure that nobody could get beyond him to where Turner was headed.

The FBI man's further exploration was short-lived. The corridor gave into a mirrored room, on the other side of which were stairs leading up - he could hear the furious sounds of 'The Rising' quite clearly again coming from here. Unfortunately, the 'Nutcracker Suite' barred his way. Two of the girls were kissing passionately, while another was just throwing a T-shirt over her head. The fourth stood topless, chugging on a beer and looking directly at Turner. 'The fuck you want you jerkoff ?' she asked. The others turned round to fix him with aggressive stares....Turner mumbled a quick sorry - feigning drunkenness and retreated backwards..

Meanwhile, Zachariah had decided on the direct approach. He nodded towards the least wasted of the punks that he could see. 'You. Where can I score some H ?' The punk kid shrugged, smiling stupidly. Another piped up ' I can smell me some pig, man' and giggled like a girl. Zachariah thought about busting his mouth open to see if he would still laugh like a pussy when he was spitting teeth, but thought better of it. Turner appeared, shaking his head to indicate that he had had found nothing. 'We're getting nowhere here' Zachariah said. Turner had to agree. They pushed past them back into the noise of the main hall. 'The Rising' were announcing that they were gonna play something called 'Go Home Homophobe' and the music kicked in again. Turner fixed his eyes on Spider Holloway, whose playing, of all of them, seemed slightly distracted and less animated. A dead girlfriend might do that he mused - especially if he knew something about the killing. They forced their way through the crowd again, out into the relative quiet of the night. Both men were agreed; they were going to have 'a word' with this kid 'Spider'.

Meanwhile, Travis's research had proved fruitless. Despite making many phone calls and accessing various datas bases, he hadn't turned up any other murders with a profile that fitted the MO that they had. An e-mail to Cell A requesting information on whether Delta Green had encountered anything matching this had so far not received a response. He had nada for his two companions when they arrived back at the hotel and they hit the sack agreeing that they would start early.

Doctor Guiturrez had decided to head back to his office to await any possible news of further murders. But there was nothing of interest so far, and the Doc decided to use his contacts in the Las Vegas PD to see if he could get a look at the file they had so far on Cathy Hammond. He already had a reputation as something of a workaholic insomniac and he had an 'official' connection to the investigation since he was assigned to the murder in his capacity as one of the assistant MEs; within half an hour he was down at the precinct where a fellow 'night-bird' (a detective colleague of McIntyre who was burning the midnight oil on a mountain of parperwork) was able to point him to the file on Hammond. The doctor explained that he wanted to see if there was anything about her that would corroborate certain deductions he had made about her lifestyle from the autopsy; but the speech was lost on the harrassed cop who seemed little interested in what he had to say. The file was thin, and the doctor found a photocopier and ran off the documents within minutes. He was back at his desk in his own office at a little after one, where he attempted to get his head down for some sleep.

Zachariah and Turner rose early the next day - they had serious business in mind. First stop was the airport, where after a little scouting around, Zachariah was able to steal a car. Next up, they went on a little shopping expedition; within an hour of stealing the vehicle they had sourced two tasers (from a 'home and personal security specialist', a roll of tape, a roll of polythene/plastic sheeting, some plastic tie-wraps, superglue, soap powder flakes, a shovel and a couple of cans of kerosene.. Turner found a small pawn shop and purchased two .45 automatic pistols along with some ammo. The clerk looked scruffy and bored and after paying for the guns in bills, Turner offered him $500 cash straight up to lose the paperwork (which he'd falsified anyway) and the video tape for the surveillance camera in the store. It took the clerk all of three seconds to overcome his qualms, and Turner left with tape and the guns - one of which he handed over to Zachariah.

They rendezvoused with the doc and Travis (driving in the doctor's car) and they all proceeded to Spider Holloway's address, which they had obtained from the police file. Their plan was simple - they, (Zachariah and Turner) were going to grab the kid, take him off somewhere, and find out what he knew. Travis and the doctor would enter the apartment when the snatch was made and search it to see if they could find anything. It was now about 10.30 in the morning - they figured that Holloway wouldn't exactly be an early riser - especially after his gig - but if he was then they would just stake the place out till he returned. Guiturrez was only made aware of this plan in the vaguest terms - he would be accompanying Travis after the other two took Holloway away for questioning. Nevertheless - he agreed to go along. This is what he wanted, to find out what happend.... wasn't it ?

Travis and the doctor parked up across the street, as did Turner and Zachariah in their stolen car. They all got out and looked around. They were only 5 or 6 blocks from the theatre where the gig had happend last night. The sun shone brightly, but there were few people around and they were quite a ways down the road; Vegas was a night town - even for the poor human flotsam and jetsam that inhabited this neighbourhood. They entered the communal stairwell and went up two floors in search of Spider's apartment - stepping over festering piles of refuse and broken glass. They found the door with a faded number painted on and rapped it briskly. Zachariah held the taser in his pocket - he meant to hit Holloway with it, first chance he got. Turner stood behind him, looking left and right down the corridor while the other two stood in the stairwell just off to his left behind him. The air smelled faintly of dope, fried food and stale sweat. Nothing. Zachariah knocked again. This time there was a faint sound behind the door - he thought he could hear faint mumbled swearing. He rapped again and was rewarded with the noise of movement. 'Las Vegas PD' said Zachariah. There was a fumbling, and the door opened back to reveal Spider Holloway - his mohican all over the place, bleary eyed and his skinny white body naked as the day he was born. He stank of stale cigarrettes, sweat and booze. Zachariah brought the taser up and touched it on his hip, depressing the trigger. Nothing happend. Spider was instantly awake and he turned and bolted like a rodent. Zachariah was after him, inwardly cursing the piece of shit taser. Turner swore and headed for the stairs shouting 'In! In !' at Travis and Guiturrez.

Zachariah was in the bedroom at the back dodging a TV that had been pulled over onto the floor. He vaguely took in a room with a matress on the floor awash with junk food wrappers and filthy clothes - but he had no time for that. This skinny little runt was already through the window and onto the fire escape outside. He pulled his piece and moved through the opening; stepping onto the grille, below he could see Spider heading for ground level. Fuck but he was fast ! He descended a flight himself, trying to move as quickly as he could. Back at the apartment door, Travis and the doctor moved quickly in and closed it behind them.

Zachariah was in the alley now, in his stride and beginning to make up some distance on Holloway. The kid was pulling over dustbins and other junk in an effort to slow him down, but the Delta Green man was leaping over it all, gaining speed. Seconds later, the punk was out of the alley and tearing across the road, running towards the pavement of the next block. Turner was in his car and could see the kid, his skinny ass running hell for leather. He roared forward and seeing that Zachariah was in pursuit, he decided to hang a left and drive parallel along the road behind, hoping to get ahead and cut him off. Halfway along the block, Spider was slowing; years of abusing his body must have taken a toll and in desparation he turned left into an alley. Halfway down was a chain link fence and he leapt at it and started hauling himself over. Zachariah slowed at the fence and aimed his gun at Holloway - just as the skinny punk hit the other side and made to run on. 'One more move and I swear to God I will shoot you in the FUCKING FACE !' he screamed. Holloway took him at his word and froze - eyes wide at the gun pointed at him just feet away. There was a screech of tires as Turner, who had spotted them, brought the car up behind him. 'Is this about Cathy ?' Hollloway whined, 'Man I don't know nuthin !'. He was told to shut the fuck up, the gun still trained on him while Turner moved to tape his mouth and then bind his legs and feet with tie-wraps. Seconds later he was bundled into the plastic lined, equipment filled, trunk by the FBI man while Zachariah scrambled over the fence. A minute later they were moving, Zachariah giving Travis a call to let them know that they had secured their 'package' and that they would be back in touch. They headed for the outskirts and out into the desert.

Back in the apartment, the doctor and the DEA man had the unenviable task of searching through Spider's filthy flat ; too put it mildly he wasn't big into hygiene. The barely functioning fridge contained empty vials with their lids punctured: methodone if they were any guess. The only food in the place was of the freeze-dried variety and the only items that seemed to have been given a degree of respect were a CD player and a small collection of albums - and an electric guitar in a leather carrying case in a small cupboard. Travis found a 'cooking up' kit for heroin - scorched spoons and a small gas burner; but he didn't think that these had been used for a while. They weren't seeing any female clothing. Maybe Cathy Hammond hadn't stayed here ? The doc had the fairly unpleasant task of searching the mattress but was duly 'rewarded' when he found a pornographic magazine under the pillow. It was folded open at one page - a section in the mag where amateurs could send in their own little snaps. The doc's eyes fell upon one picture - a young girl dressed in a provocative 'school uniform' and posing uncomfortably, her eyes dull and narrowed. He was sure it was Cathy Hammond - maybe a couple of years younger than the picture he had in his file - but he was sure it was her. She wasn't identified in any way - but underneath the pic was a note saying that it had been submitted by a 'Mr C Hammond'......They took this with him and left, closing the door behind them.

Three quarters of an hour later, Turner brought the car to a halt out on sandy ground; he'd pulled off the highway onto a dry and dusty back road - and he'd pulled off that into something little more than a trail. They opened up the trunk. Spider was lying uncomfortably amongst all the equipment - his body sheathed in a layer of fresh sweat, his eyes big as saucers. They hauled him out. Zachariah, grabbed him, looked him in the eye and spoke to him: 'You are going to talk, and tell us what we want to hear - or we will shoot you. Fuck with us and we will shoot you. Backchat us and we will shoot you. In fact, you should work on the assumption that we ARE going to shoot you anyway. You are in the middle of nowhere and you are in a world of shit and hurt - and your only chance of seeing tomorrow is if by some miracle you tell us something that might interest us.' Behind him, Turner looked at him coldly and lit up a cigarette. The tape was ripped from Spider's mouth. 'Cathy Hammond. Talk.'. He talked. He knew nothing about it - he'd told the cops that. He'd seen her earlier that night, but she was off working and he was rehearsing with his band. Swear to God. 'God ain't watching kid - you're gonna learn that real soon' he was told. Turner shook his head. 'I'm not hearing anything' he said to Zachariah.' The Horse - where did she get the Horse ?' Spider looked puzzled - 'Think we really care about your whore ? We want the heroin. ' added Turner. He didn't know anything about that either. They'd both been clean for weeks. Turner looked unimpressed and told Zachariah to cut his hands free and reached into the trunk. He threw Spider a shovel. 'Start digging' he told him. Spider looked sick with fear - but he started digging in the sand. 'Who was her pimp ? ' asked Zachariah. She didn't have one - there was another woman another hooker who kinda looked after her. Rose her name was, Honey Rose or something like that'. She have any regular johns ? Any rich ones that liked a bit of skank ? No - he didn't think so, he didn't ask but she would have mentioned. Where were her folks - surely they didn't approve of her turning tricks and seing a punk-ass piece of shit like him ? She and her folks didn't get on, they were in Vegas somewhere but she'd run away - her mother didn't care and her father abused her - he'd even taken pictures of her - he owned a porno place - but she didn't want to talk about it much at all...'We're learning nothing here' Turner opined. Spider quailed again at this words but then seemed to find a piece of backbone. He threw down the shovel and looked Zachariah in the eye.'If you're going to do this, man then fuckin do it. I don't have anything anyway...' his words trailed off. 'Son, you will regret those words' said Zachariah. He cocked his pistol. Turner asked him whose turn it was anyway. 'Mine I think' said Zachariah and aimed the gun. Holloway started to tremble in fear, screwing his eyes up awaiting the shot. Piss dribbled out of him, pooling in the sand at his feet. The two Delta Green men looked at each other. They'd done enough. More than enough. They were convinced he was telling the truth. 'Ok. Here's the deal. You leave town. You never come back. We see you back, you get a bullet.' Holloway collapsed, sobbing and retching. They regarded him. 'Get moving now. You've got a long walk.' He was naked in the sand and it would indeed be along walk back to the main road. But they were convinced he would get there. They cut his bonds on his feet and pointed off down the trail; he started walking. 'Did you love her ?' Zachariah called after him. Spider turned back - desperate and exasperated, perhaps beyond caring now. 'The fuck you care you piece of shit ?'. Zachariah stared him down with a cold scrutiny. 'Yes, yes I did' he sobbed, and gathering himself turned, and walked on. Thirty seconds later they pulled past him - a forlorn figure in the dust cloud thrown up by the wheels of their vehicle.

[kinnygraham]

And the next segment (which took me over the word count on the last post !!)





An hour later, back in Vegas they all met up to compare what they had found. The doctor had discovered a reference to a Colin Hammond - Cathy's father - in the police file. McIntyre had apparently visited him yesterday to inform him of his daughter's death. They checked the name Hammond in a Vegas business directory and found a Hammond's Porn-O-Rama listed: it was the same address as given in the police report. Like Spider had said, her father was in the porn business and had very likely abused her as well. It was a little before twelve in the afternoon and they decided to go check it out. They took both the stolen car and the doc's vehicle and headed for the area another low rent run down district in North Vegas. They found Hammonds Porn-O-Rama in a rubbish strewn street, sandwiched between a place selling cheap and second hand electricals and a halal butchers. All of the buildings seemed to have a retail unit below with a flat above. The facade of Hammonds' was peeling and the windows were painted out - with maybe even hardboard or something behind them. A sign advised patrons not to enter if 'nudity offends'. The doc parked his car up opposite and then they hit a nearby coffee house while Turner went off to recce the joint on foot. He entered through the boarded up door and found himself in a smallish dimly lit space with a counter to his front with a beaded doorway behind. Behind the counter stood a small weaselly looking man, with scraggly receding hair dressed in a sweat stained shirt. He nodded at Turner, who turned away. The walls were lined with bookshelves crammed to overflowing with pornographic magazines and there were several revolving stands containing more of the same. Two male teenagers stood flicking through the goods in one corner, while a burly middle aged man did the same in another. Turner pretended to browse for several minutes - noting that he could occasionally hear the creaking tread of heavy footsteps above. The two teens made a couple of purchases and left - their goods wrapped in brown paper - but it looked as if the other guy was using the place like a library.

Turner left and rejoined his companions. Zachariah drew up a plan. They would enter, close the joint - deal with any civilians as necessary and interrogate Colin Hammond and his wife if it was her that was upstairs. Turner would remain outside as backup keeping watch - just in case. They all agreed. Travis in particular was itching to get his hands on this pervert.

They headed down the street again, Turner in his stolen vehicle, the others on foot. Zachariah had the other taser in his pocket. Surely this one wouldn't fail on him ? Just as they got about 50 feet away they could see someone leave - the customer that Turner had spotted earlier. But then a hugely fat woman in a floral print dress also waddled into the street, closely followed by the small weaselly man who by now they figured was Colin Hammond. She had to be on the plus side of twenty stone easy. He appeared to be locking up. Quickly they changed their plan in hurried exchanges under their breath. Zachariah kept walking past as the two of them paused at a small car to climb in. Her could hear her calling Hammond a 'pathetic slow fucking worm' as he breezed past, only getting a mechanical 'Yes, Edith' in response. This guy was under the thumb and no mistake. Turner followed them, picking the others up - and soon they had stopped at a grocery store some four blocks away. They followed them in, overhearing more of 'Edith's' domineering condescending attitude to her husband who by her account was a useless prick of no great worth. Most strange - and they definitely did not seem like a couple in mourning for a lost daughter. They tailed them back to the shop and made ready to strike. Zachariah and Travis stepping in close as the Hammonds fumbled at the door with their groceries, the doctor on the sidewalk looking about nervously with Turner heading round to checkout a back alley he had spotted in case anybody should make it out a back door.

Zachariah and Travis timed it well. The Hammonds were just stepping through the door into the shop when they stepped up behind them. Edith Hammond turned and opened her mouth and began to say that they weren't ready yet when Zachariah stepped forward and screamed 'Get inside you fat fucking bitch !' She dropped her groceries and he decided to hit her with the taser - applying it to one of her meaty arms. She shrieked and reeled backwards into the darkened interrior - sending a couple of racks tumbling - the magazines spilling out. Travis had his gun out and advanced into the shop - spotting Colin Hammond standing stunned beside the counter. The doctor was shocked - he grabbed the keys which were still in the lock and closed the door behind them, shouting towards Zachariah 'Is this really necessary !' as he locked them in. Travis advanced round the counter towards Hammond who was backing rabbit-like into the corner. Edith Hammond still wasn't down and Zachariah tasered her again - she went down in a heap, her dress riding up to afford him an uninviting glimpse of rolls of fat and pubic hair....Travis had his hand around Colin Hammond's neck and a gun pointed in his face 'Tell me...what kind of a fucking pervert molests his own goddamed daughter ?!!' For a brief second all was still. The doctor was looking at Zachariah like he was a madman. Hammond's face was white with fear. And then there was a low moan from Edith Hammond. Zachariah couldn't believe this big bitch was still in play. 'Oh ! Oh ! HE won't like this...HE won't like this at all...' she moaned. There was a sudden change in the room - a sudden feeling of electricity and foreboding that wasn't there before. There was an evil mischievous gleam in Colin Hammond's eye that wasn't there before either - Travis didn't like it one bit. 'Who...' the doctor said...'who is she talking about ?' Colin Hammond answered, jutting his chin up to the ceiling, his eyes closed ...'Yi - Gholl - o - nack' he gargled....

And within seconds they were all in Hell. There was the sound of popping bones and tearing cloth and Travis screamed in utter horror as Hammond's head seemed to disappear into his shoulders. Even as he took this detail in, his mind reeled to see that the man's body had swollen to enormous size before him in an instant - corpse green flabby flesh bursting forth through shreds of clothing. A thing now towered over him where only seconds below a small man had stood. It was dead as well - he knew that in an instant. A living dead thing. But even worse, he sensed the naked malign intelligence which radiated from it. He was an insect, an amoeba. But it meant to take him all the same. His mind quailed even as he saw the hand - such a huge flabby hand - reach toward him. Impossibly, a hungry mouth with blood tinged teeth opened hungrily in the palm. It closed over the top of his skull and he began to scream.

The doctor was struggling at the door - his mind was staggering from sight that he had witnessed and the terror that he was feeling and he was fumbling at the lock which wouldn't open, My God why wouldn't it open ?!!

Zachariah wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing but he knew that it wasn't good. He tried to shut off the noise of Travis's sceams - a voice inside his mind telling him that in all his years of war and blood and guts he'd never heard a man scream like that - and moved as his training had taught him ;he pulled his gun and fired at IT, but the bullets seemed to have little effect causing small holes in the flabby flesh but little else.

Blood was pouring down Travis's face in torrents - and oh sweet Jesus he could feel the teeth, the teeth grinding into his skull as IT held him and oh my God the pain, the pain - it was the unbearable pain that got him moving. He wrenched his head away from that impossible hand with a wet tearing sound and staggered for the door - which only now the doctor had opened.

Zachariah looked at the corpulent thing again and fired again to little effect - it seemed to now turn towards him and he knew it was time to leave NOW, and he started backing towards the door, thinking Turner, Turner's going in the back. He closed the door over, stepped back on the pavement over the fallen groceries and fumbled for his phone.

Out back Turner had his shotgun out and was advancing from the alley towards the back door of what he reckoned was the Porn-O-Rama. He could hear gunfire - and screaming. He blasted the lock and kicked the door open, and for a second, all was strangely quiet. His DG cellphone went off, and he grabbed it - panicking about the noise. And then he heard Zachariah scream 'Get out the house !' even as the glowing pale green THING squeezed it's way through the beaded opening and came at him, the teeth in the mouths in it's hands snapping hungrily. Turner thought better of a fight - he dropped his phone and bolted, vaulting his parked car in the alley and thinking 'the fuck was THAT ?!!' as he ran around front.

There in the street, Travis stood dazed and staggering, his face a mask of blood. He put his hand to his head thinking, that's bone, sweet christ that's my skull I can feel my skull and no skin no skin ! The doctor was fumbling at the door of his car - now parlaysed by an overwhelming sense of dread and fear. Zachariah was backing off - wary of the thing emerging.

Gradually he realised that there were some onlookers at the windows - they must have heard the shots. But he didn't want to abort with out a fight. He pushed the doc out of the way and spotted Turner running towards him. Together they started the car up from the outside and aimed it at the shop front - but a bounce on the kerb meant it missed, only partially striking the shop front and only doing a little damage in cracking a window. Sirens wailed in the distance. It was time to get the hell out of here. Zachariah carjacked the first vehicle to come along - waving a gun and screaming at the terrorised occupants to get the hell out. He pushed the doc and Travis - who looked like something out of a nightmare - into the back and with Turner in the front, put the pedal to the metal and drove off like a demon.............

[Gogmagog]

Holy smokes! Having read the adventure your agents are in, i must say that they've smegged things up royaly. I was dissapointed that they went all hard-assed on Spider and such a brazen daylight assult will no doubt get them attention they can't afford to have.

edit: Something the group is definatly lacking in, is a faceman. Someone who can wrangle info out of someone without having to draw a gun. Since the group is most likely going to need a new member(getting yourself scalped is a career ender) Having the newcomer have good social skills will be very helpful.
With this happening, the scenario will no doubt come to a screeching halt. The maiming of a member and the fact that they will no doubt be ID'd by people to the police will force them to leave the area. If they do try to go back for a nighttime raid, i recomend that Spider and his band try to ambush them in retaliation for the kidnapping.

[Fulsrush]

Holy fuck, Travis is <i>so</i> screwed, even if they do get him to hospital.

[Delirium]

Another superb write-up - thanks very much for sharing that with us!

Poor Spider!

Poor Travis - I hope his medical insurance policy covers this kind of contingency because I suspect he may need ongoing treatment.

[kinnygraham]

Another superb write-up - thanks very much for sharing that with us!

Poor Spider!

Poor Travis - I hope his medical insurance policy covers this kind of contingency because I suspect he may need ongoing treatment.

Thanks again - I was really looking forward to getting that session written up and I think I captured the essence of it. I can still remember the look on the players faces as the events in the porn shop unfolded.

Watch this space for the very interesting aftermath.... ;)

[kinnygraham]

Holy smokes! Having read the adventure your agents are in, i must say that they've smegged things up royaly. I was dissapointed that they went all hard-assed on Spider and such a brazen daylight assult will no doubt get them attention they can't afford to have.

edit: Something the group is definatly lacking in, is a faceman. Someone who can wrangle info out of someone without having to draw a gun. Since the group is most likely going to need a new member(getting yourself scalped is a career ender) Having the newcomer have good social skills will be very helpful.
With this happening, the scenario will no doubt come to a screeching halt. The maiming of a member and the fact that they will no doubt be ID'd by people to the police will force them to leave the area. If they do try to go back for a nighttime raid, i recomend that Spider and his band try to ambush them in retaliation for the kidnapping.

Just noticed your edited comments... I won't give too much away but will say that some of the points you have made have come up in subsequent sessions...(FYI - we are about one scenario - and several sessions - ahead in the campaign).

Thanks for the interest - it's always good to get feedback on this as I think it helps generates discussion with other interested DG Keepers.

[CabbageHead]

Well, I've had some luck in the past...so here goes....

Kinnygraham,

Any chance of an update? :)

Damn, will you look at that.

Of course, I write it then get sick and go home and miss the updates.

Oh well, I'll save them for lunch tomorrow. Carne asada quesadia, the Mythos...what more could a guy need?

[kinnygraham]

Oh well, I'll save them for lunch tomorrow. Carne asada quesadia, the Mythos...what more could a guy need?

'Carne asada quesadia'

I initially thought that this was the opening chant of some esoteric ritual to Contact He Who Should Not be Named (NB My Linguistics Skill: 01%)

But now my limited google-fu tells me its an exotic sandwich or something....? :)

[CabbageHead]

'Carne asada quesadia'

I initially thought that this was the opening chant of some esoteric ritual to Contact He Who Should Not be Named (NB My Linguistics Skill: 01%)

But now my limited google-fu tells me its an exotic sandwich or something....? :)

LOL!

It is marinated beef in a tortilla with cheese (cheeder usually) and pico de gallo (http://www.mex-recipes.com/pico-de-gallo-recipes.html) and usually a hot sauce/salsa.

Anyhow, I'm off to eat one and read your write ups. Thanks!

Update:

First, a quick addendum to the quesadia, you can also include avacado as well.

As for the write up all I have to say is: Fan-freaking-tastic.

I should have seen the Ygolnac thing coming, but I didn't. Great work. I felt dirty just reading about Halloway's apartment and the porn shop.

[kinnygraham]

Just for those who have been following - I'm off on holiday this weekend for the best part of a fortnight, so won't be able to get any write-ups done for quite a wee while...

However, I am determined to get them all done eventually - there have been some more great sessions since the events described in the last write-up, including one on Tuesday just past which I reckon to be the best single evening's play of Call of Cthulhu that I've ever been involved in - so thanks for following so far, and watch this space for more mayhem.

Be seeing you ;)

[CabbageHead]

So how was the vacation?

Okay, okay I admit this is my attempt to see if you are back and how the write ups are going.

There, now that is out of the way, was it a good vacation?

[deClench]

So how was the vacation?

Okay, okay I admit this is my attempt to see if you are back and how the write ups are going.

There, now that is out of the way, was it a good vacation?


Thank you CabbageHead! As a recent casual lurker, I hadn't seen this thread.



Thank you kinnygraham! I've recently become interested in DG and this has been wonderful as I was planning on starting up a DG campaign when the new edition hits.

[kinnygraham]

Thanks again for the interest folks.

The write-ups are progressing slowly I'm afraid ; partly because of the aforementioned vacation, partly because I am working out my notice period in work in preparation for for a move to a new job, and partly because I recently became sidetracked preparing and running 'Machine Tractor Station Kharkov - 37' for my old friends from my school days at our bi-annual get-together/gaming weekend...

(Though set in the 30s, the scenario does have a Delta Green 'connection' since one of the organisations that some of the PCs covertly belong to is found in Delta Green Countdown. For an idea of how it went, see this:

http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=226774 )

But the vacation was great thanks - mostly spent lounging beside a pool reading some modern horror stuff (ie Radiant Dawn and Ravenous Dusk by Cody Goodfellow - well worth checking out if you like DG)

But I'll see what I can do to get something finished - the campaign is over now, so the end is in sight....

[CabbageHead]

Speaking of modern horror have you read The Atrocity Archives? It was a wee bit slow at the begining IMO, but finished pretty strong, IMO. If you haven't read it, it should go in your stack of things to read.

[kinnygraham]

Speaking of modern horror have you read The Atrocity Archives? It was a wee bit slow at the begining IMO, but finished pretty strong, IMO. If you haven't read it, it should go in your stack of things to read.


It's on my list of 'must gets' - will see if I can track it down soon.

[CabbageHead]

Make sure you read the afterword as well, when you do get it.

[CabbageHead]

By the way Kinnygraham, I've heard you had another actual play thread. Do you have a link? Something about the Soviet Union in the 1930's.

[kinnygraham]

Not a proper Actual Play but more of an account of what happend....and the link is in my post above of 2nd Nov !!

[EvilBrennan]

More please!
:D

[kinnygraham]

Five blocks away from Hammond's Porn-o-Rama Zachariah calmed down enough to realise that the car they'd jacked was hotter than the surface of the sun - he slowed the vehicle and Turner nodded in agreement guessing his intentions. In back, Travis looked like something out of a slaughterhouse - he was clutching his blood matted head and moaning in pain - only stopping now and again to whimper in a panicky, quavering voice that he could feel the bone up there and oh Christ it hurt so god dammed much. The doc seemed was oblivious to his suffering and sat pale with a dazed expression on his face.

They found a quiet alley and parked the car - ears straining to hear the sirens in the distance. Zachariah ran off to find another car to steal balancing up his desire to be quick with the need to appear casual - and for the new car theft to go undetected for as long as possible. Turner pulled the other two out before deciding it was best to torch the car - there was blood from Travis all over the back seat and he wanted to stall, if not completely frustrate, any forensics checks. Although for all he knew there would be plenty of blood for the techs back at Hammonds. Within 3 minutes Zachariah was back with another vehicle and they drove off leaving the other behind as the blazing rag they'd stuffed into the petrol tank ignited sending smoke billowing into the air from the alley.

They'd salvaged an old blanket from the other car and this was placed on the backseat. Turner tried to make the doctor understand that he needed Travis down out of sight and that he should be doing what he could for him. The doctor still seemed almost oblivious to his surroundings but he seemed to snap out of it somewhat when Turner leaned over and got in his face loud. He got Travis on his side and started to make an examination of the gory tangle that comprised the DEA man's scalp - or what was left of it. Travis had recovered himself enough to know that he was in a fucking mess and he begged the others to get him to a hospital. Zachariah and Turner exchanged looks up front - a hospital was out of the question. They knew that and so should Travis - he obviously wasn't thinking straight. They headed for the outskirts to the North of the city, Zachariah concentrating hard to make his driving look as 'normal' as possible.

Within an hour they had found a cheap motel just off one of the quieter arteries into Vegas. Zachariah went in to pay for two adjoining twin rooms using a fake ID he carried for use in emergency situations. And boy was this one clusterfuck of an emergency situation he thought to himself. He could hardly think about the THING they had encountered but replaying those moments of madness in his head he knew that his shots had struck home into the flabby corpse green bulk - unfortunately to little effect. Job done at reception they waited for a few moments unobserved in which they could hustle Travis out of the car and into one of the motel rooms. Turner moved to lock the door behind them but the doctor looking aghast begged him not to lock it. Turner exchanged a look with Zachariah again and grudgingly agreed to only closing the door over. They unlocked the inter-connecting door to the next room and an exhausted Travis staggered over and collapsed on to the bed - the doctor joining him in the room, sitting numb at the end of the other bed.

In the other room, Turner and Zachariah had a low discussion about what to do next; they both agreed that they would need to call Cell A. Zachariah made the call to the emergency number and within moments Agent Adam was on the line. He listened as Zachariah outlined what had happened in the op to date and in the last couple of hours, asking questions from time to time in a direct and succinct manner. He was particularly focussed on the 'thing' that had 'manifested' from Colin Hammond. Zachariah was wary here - he recalled that the 'transformation' had taken place after Hammond had gargled out some strange syllables. They were etched into his mind... 'Yi - Gholl - o - nack'...but he dare not even utter them aloud for fear that they held the key to horribly transform anyone who dared to give them voice. He cautioned Adam accordingly and advised that he would send him a written approximation of the phrase when he got the chance. Adam thanked him for the warning and advised them to sit tight until the situation became more clear. It was certain from what they had said that they had summoned up a shitstorm - the next few hours would be critical in deciding whether they would have to bug out and abort the op altogether. What about Travis, asked Zachariah. What does your friendly say countered Adam - he knows medicine does he not ? To be honest, said Zachariah, I'm not so sure he's fit to judge - he looks pretty shook up himself. Adam paused before advising; Look, we all know that seeking 'official' medical assistance is out of the question. We can possibly arrange back-up assistance - but it will take time to get our assets ready. Unless his situation becomes critical I'd suggest you have your friendly do what he can. Give us a couple of hours on this end and I'll see if I can get a line to what's happening with the Vegas PD. And they would have to have a serious think about the fact that the doc's car had been abandoned outside the porn shop. In the mean time sit tight. There was nothing more to be said and the call over, Zachariah ran the conversation back for Turner's benefit.

In the next room, the doctor had recovered sufficiently to start to take an interest in Travis. The DEA man had got off the bed and stumbled over to the sink where he had done his best to wash most of the gore from his head and face. He now had a very real sense of how maimed he was; he could feel the ragged flaps of skin and matted hair around the crown of his head and he quailed at the awful damage that had been done. Even as he regarded himself unbelievingly in the mirror, fresh trickles of blood ran down his face from the ruined flesh above. Aghast he had sat down on the bed opposite the doctor and demanded him to do something, anything for him. Jolted back into action, Guiturrez sponged more of the blood away, examining the damage closely. A nagging suspicion had formed in his mind and he was thinking back to the body of Cathy Hammond - and how it had refused to stop bleeding even in death. His heart sank when he regarded Travis's wounds - it looked like the results of a tiger attack straight out of the pages of some big game hunter's memoirs - and there was absolutely no sign of the bleeding having slowed any. Mercifully, the penny had not dropped with Travis and pathetically he sought reassurance on whether he could be 'fixed up'. The doctor assured him that he could and ripped up some towels to bind his head as well as he could - advising the man to get some rest.

Through the door, Turner and Zachariah had found that they were making the headlines. A top of the hour news bulletin on the TV showed a taped off cordon and police and around Hammond's Porn-O-Rama the sight of a carjacking subsequent to an 'attempted homicide' of the owners had taken place. Both Edith and Colin Hammond were thought to be 'safe'. Strangely, nothing about Hammond being a headless Incredible Hulk on steroids with mouths in his hands. Nothing about any police leads on the perps - though that was unsurprising at this early stage. They turned the sound down but left it playing in case there were any further developments.

The next hours were extremely strained in the confines of the two small motel rooms. Both the doctor and Travis attempted to get some sleep but both had been damaged in ways that their colleagues were only now beginning to realise. Travis would wake suddenly just about every hour - seemingly in a fit of barely suppressed panic. He would head for the bathroom where he would begin to scrub vigorously at the palms of his hands. They were itching he would explain and it was very important that they were kept clean - very important. Satisfied that they were scrubbed raw, he would retire for some more fitful sleep, now seemingly oblivious to the blood slowly seeping from underneath the towel scraps wound round his head. The doctor stayed out for longer, but would cry out loud and often much to the unease of Turner and Zachariah who were wondering just when the hell that Adam would get back to them. When awake, the doctor was always keen to 'double check' that none of the doors - especially those leading out - had been locked.

[Metagaming note. The above is just a summary of the events from when the characters arrived at the motel. The players of both the doc & Travis had corresponded with me on their respective mental afflictions and both were excellent in playing them out while Turner and Zachariah tried to discuss their next moves and worried whether these guys were really going to flip out on them. It is a testament to the role playing of both players - Nick and Newt - that the couch on which they both sat during the game was thereafter referred to as the Couch of Madness ! ;)]

Eventually - it was now about 10.00pm - Zachariah's DG cell phone rang with news from Adam. Something had happened with the Las Vegas PD investigation. Something that the press hadn't got wind of yet. The Hammonds were now considered to be prime suspects in the murder of their daughter. His source didn't have all of the inside track but the rumours had it that there was some pretty weird shit uncovered at the flat - including something that put the Hammonds directly in the frame for her murder. Even more interestingly, they had been sent to a psychiatric facility for immediate assessment. Briefly Adam named the location - a psychiatric unit attached to one of the large City hospitals. The doctor, awake again in the next room, recognised the name when Zachariah said it aloud. The Hammonds were seemingly as 'crazy as batshit' - the words used by Adam's source who was apparently someone with an inside track to the Las Vegas PD. The development was unexpected and would perhaps divert attention - at least for a while - from their own activities of the afternoon. 'What are your instructions ?' asked Zachariah. 'I think it's clear from what you have told me that Hammond and his wife present a threat of a paranormal nature.....' Adam left the sentence hanging. 'I'll see what I can do ' said Zachariah 'But be warned. I shot the fucker already and it didn't seem to make a damned bit of difference. What about Travis and our friendly ?' Adam explained that he had made arrangements - they could rendezvous with some assets across the border in California the next morning. Further instructions would be issued if and when they had taken care of their 'current problem'. Zachariah hung up - he was getting the message loud and clear.

With Travis asleep on the bed they talked over the problem they were now faced with ; getting at the Hammonds. The doctor knew the place, which was a start, and was able to broadly describe the wing where the Hammonds were likely to be housed. Getting close might be the issue. Zachariah and Turner quizzed the doctor on his contacts in the medical community in central Vegas and got a name from him of a doctor who would be a likely attendee the next morning to make the assessment. For good measure, they took his pass which identified Guiturrez as a County official and did their best to alter it with a photo of Zachariah taken from one of his fake driver IDs. It was a rough and ready plan and after Zachariah set off on foot and returned with a change of clothes - a cheap suit from an all night store and another stolen car they did their best to clean up the motel rooms, roused Travis (who by now was looking distinctly feverish to their general dismay) and set off - with the doctor insisting that the windows in the vehicle be left open.

It was now very early in the morning and the traffic was light as they approached the hospital and drove down to the psychiatric wing of the hospital - a large L shaped building some ten stories high. The reception for the psychiatric wing was most of the building length away from the main hospital entrance. All seemed quiet. Zachariah checked his guns and the taser and put them in the deep pockets of the coat he was wearing and stepped out. Turner, in the driving seat, readied his phone in case Zachariah needed to call for assistance.

Zachariah entered the foyer - trying to minimise exposure of his features to the security camera he could see. Up ahead was a receptionist, a tired looking woman in her late forties. He flashed the badge he had been given and quickly explained that the he was an intern working for Doctor Ramage - the name given him by Guiturrez - and that he had been given permission to carry out a preliminary interview of the Hammonds. He immediately noticed her glancing to the corridor at her left and was decide that he was heading there regardless. However, the receptionist seemed to accept his story - even if looking slightly put out at the unusual combination of heavy padded jacket over a suit and tie - she pressed a button to open the secured door to his right. Through the corridor he let the doors close behind him before taking out a baseball cap and pulling it down low. Stepping off briskly he held the gun inside his pocket. Up ahead he could see a young uniformed cop talking to a youthful female nurse. Both were laughing and didn't seem to notice him until quite late - by which time he had produced the gun and had aimed it squarely at the cop, who froze in surprise. 'I have no intention of killing either of you', he said in a level voice ' but you must co-operate with me.' Both stood stock still - he could see the resentment in the cops eyes and he knew he'd have to be careful here or someone would end up dead. He reached into his pocket and threw a set of cuffs to the nurse. 'Ma'am, I'd be obliged if you cuff this man's hands behind his back'. She looked to the cop who nodded to her. She cuffed him. He ordered him to sit down, and he complied. Next he threw her the taser.'Very slowly, I want you to use this on the officer'. She looked aghast.'Ma'am, it's either that or I may have to use this gun and I don't want to do that. But make no mistake. I will if I have to. Now do it.' Hand trembling she placed the device against the officer - who closed his eyes in apprehension. She depressed the device and he kicked out momentarily before slumping over. 'Now take me to the rooms the Hammonds are in'. Realisation dawned over her 'You can't do this' she said 'It's wrong' - but even as she protested she moved off under the cover of his gun down towards a door on the left. Numbly she slid her pass down the security strip and the door opened. They were in a small secure area and glancing through a small window of toughened glass he could see that at least one of the rooms at least looked to be a cross between a hospital room and a cell. There looked to be eight of these rooms in the small corridor - all had keypads beside each door.

Zachariah froze for just a second as he became aware of a pale broad face at one of the door windows just off to his left. Edith Hammond's fat jowly face was pressed against the window, her glazed eyes following him slowly as he moved in front of the door. 'Open the door' he commanded - shouting it again as the nurse seemed reluctant to comply. Cringing, she punched in a code and he heard a bolt click back. Carefully he pushed the door back. Edith Hammond shuffled backwards, her mouth hanging open, drool pooling at the corner of her lip. He could see that she was dressed in a simple surgical smock. Her eyes were gone and she barely seemed to register him. He brought his other hand up to steady his aim and double tapped her in the forehead sending blood and brains splashing against the wall behind her as she crashed to the floor. The report from the shots echoed in the corridor - mingled with the sobbing gasps from the nurse who had folded up in fear. 'Now Colin Hammond' said Zachariah sharply, adding 'this will be over soon'. He pushed her down the corridor.

Out in the car park, Turner thought he could see some activity down at the hospital entrance. Looked like uniforms gathering. Security ?

Through her tears, the nurse tried to reason with Zachariah. 'It's wrong. This is cold blooded murder. These people are sick' she said. But Zachariah was implacable. Through a window he could see Colin Hammond - sitting up looking slackly and curiously at the window. 'The door' the Delta Green man insisted. Resigned she punched in the code. Zachariah braced himself for the THING in Hammond to make itself known. The weedy little wretch was sitting up half reclining against his pillows on a his bed. Zachariah noticed that there were restraint straps across his lower legs, thighs, waist and chest. There were tears in his eyes and they gleamed as they followed Zachariah's progress into the room. Gun drawn he advanced as close as he dared. It was now or never. He put two through his heart and watched Hammond fight it for a second, straining at his bonds - before he slumped and let out his death rattle. The silence that followed seemed even louder than the shots which had preceded it. He left the nurse shattered and sobbing in the corridor and moved quickly back the way he came. He got a call from Turner advising him to head for an exit on the north side of the building if he could find one - they had company.

The reception was empty and he took another corridor within a minute or so had located a fire escape door on the other side of the building. Turner found him seconds later and Zachariah jumped into the car. Turner drove aggressively down the rear of the building, completing a circuit. He was pulling out into traffic amongst other cars,as he saw the first of the police cruisers approach in the opposite direction. They headed for the airport.

Five hours later they had rendezvoused with Agents Peter and Paula at a comfort stop just over the California border. They had stolen a motor home out at the airport judging that it would be a) innocuous and b) suitable for transporting Travis - whose condition was really beginning to worry them. He was slipping in and out of consciousness and his body was wracked with tremors and drenched in sweat. Peter and Paula looked like brother and sister - and 'typical' bronzed Californians to boot. They assured Turner and Zachariah that they would do their best to get the other two looked after and instructed them that they were to contact Cell A again - the op might not be over. They drove off in a van with a weary Doctor Guiturrez too tired to protest - and with an unconscious Travis sprawled out in the back

The call made, Adam explained that he wanted them back in Vegas. Delta Green were still not clear on what had caused the manifestation from Hammond that they had witnessed - they were to return to Vegas and find out what they could. Zachariah and Turner didn't like it one bit. They knew they had rode their luck already and figured that it might not last ; they had been following coverage of the 'executions' out at the hospital and there was a lot of public interest in the case. Worse, it was possible that the police might now have a mugshot or two of Zachariah from the security cameras. But they hadn't jioned Delta Green for an easy ride and reluctantly they agreed to return. Turner also had his own suggestions about how Delta Green might throw up a smoke screen on recent events. He suggested that DG contact some of the Vegas press with a claim that the Hammond murders had been conducted by some radical fundamentalist Christian sect with an anti-pornography agenda. Quote some chapter and verse, leak some inside info on the killings and perhaps the theory would catch on. Adam liked it a lot and promised to get right on it.

Figuring that they would travel even more anonymously the two men caught the Greyhound into Nevada and Vegas. By this time Turner was due back at his FBI desk and feigning drunkeness he put in a call 'apologising' for his absence. He'd already planned on covering for his absence with the pretense that he was still traumatised over Hackett's death. Deep down he figured that perhaps one day soon he and the FBI would be parting company.

They made a careful surveillance of the Hammond place, intent on seeing if any cops had been posted to watch the premises. They saw none and they approached the place from the rear - seeing that it was covered with police tape. They cut some and let themselves into the darkened interior. Downstairs they found a grubby, smelly kitchen and simple dining room wuth cheap furniture. The shop front was empty - it looked as if the stock had been removed by the cops. Upstairs they found two grubby bedrooms and a room which echoed with the horrors of the past. It was clearly a temple of a kind - like something out of a cheap paperback about black magic. There was a pentacle drawn on the floor in dark red paint and melted candles stood at each point. the floor was littered with refuse and scraps of decaying food. A lectern stood in the corner - but it was empty save for a police evidence marker. It was clear that something had been removed by the cops. Another marker sat in a corner. It was clear that something else had been removed - but it was impossible to say what. But they were glad to leave the room - it gave them an umcomfortable feeling and they knew with a certainty that evil had been committed here. They searched the Hammonds bedroom again and this time found a photo album secreted under a wardrobe. They flicked through it with mounting disgust ; herein was charted the constant abuse, from the age of about four onwards, of Cathy Hammond at the hands of Colin and Edith, her parents. Zachariah was glad he had shot the bastards. Chillingly, the last photograph in the book showed Cathy Hammond as she must have been up until several days ago. She was naked, bound in chains and in mortal terror - terror of the half glimpsed pale green Thing that lurked in blurred shadow in the background. They were certain that these were her last moments and that they had occurred in the room they were just in. Shuddering they headed for the stairs and for the sunlight of the alley - Turner choosing to take the book with them.

They reported their findings to Adam again. Mention of something being missing from the lectern made the Cell A man uneasy. Was there any chance of finding out what it was ? It could be the key to what had happend to Colin Hammond. But that meant breaking into a police station to get at an evidence locker and Zachariah pointed out that they were pushing it even being back here. Breaking into a police lockup was not an option. Adam reluctantly agreed with his assessment ; things were too hot just now but perhaps another opportunity would present itself in the future. Turner told him about the photographs and Adam advised that they should be despatched to Cell A - providing a postal box address for that very purpose. They would be useful to leak to the press to hopefully deflect any interest in the 'vigilantes' who had killed the Hammonds. But in the mean time the op was over ; the death of Cathy Hammond was solved, at least to some extent - but as they parted company at the airport both Delta Green men wondered just exactly what it was they had encountered hiding in Hammond - and at the cost to Guiturrez and Travis...........

[CabbageHead]

Woot and update! Yeee-haw. I'm off to get a burrito and read.

Okay, I'm done reading and damn...that was rather disturbing. I feel vaguely like taking a shower as well...strong work Graham, strong work. Same to your players who really seemed to get into the spirit of freaking out, each in their own way.

Oh...correction, I think you meant Colin Hammond in the seventh paragraph, not Cathy, who last we checked was still oozing blood in a Vegas morgue.

[Fulsrush]

Fucking grim...

That was superb.

[kinnygraham]

Woot and update! Yeee-haw. I'm off to get a burrito and read.

Okay, I'm done reading and damn...that was rather disturbing. I feel vaguely like taking a shower as well...strong work Graham, strong work. Same to your players who really seemed to get into the spirit of freaking out, each in their own way.

Oh...correction, I think you meant Colin Hammond in the seventh paragraph, not Cathy, who last we checked was still oozing blood in a Vegas morgue.

Thanks for pointing out the error - I've now corrected.

And thanks for the feedback. You are right to credit the players - they did a superb job. The scenario is well written and from what I've heard most groups find it quite memorable due to the grimy subject matter. There are certain aspects of it that my group didn't experience due to the choices they made (believe it or not I think they got off rather lightly !) but overall it hit the right tone that I was looking for from it.

[kinnygraham]

Just to say - I'm afraid there's likely to be another delay before the next update.....

I'm going to be 'PC-less' for the next few weeks - and will also be settling into a new job.

But I'm still stoked to get these finished - the campaign is now over and I have two further scenarios that we played to write-up ; both were very enjoyable and the latter proved to be a fitting finale....

Be seeing you, Graham

[CabbageHead]

Just to say - I'm afraid there's likely to be another delay before the next update.....

I'm going to be 'PC-less' for the next few weeks - and will also be settling into a new job.



Aahhhhhh! I think I'm going to go insane!

[paperstreet]

The below short is based on Graham's excellent DG campaign (of which i was a lucky participant, cheers G), and if you've been following it you should recognise the character narating the piece...
____________________________________________________________ ______

I'm standing in front of the mirror and the reflection smiling back at me isn't mine. It doesn't have my crooked teeth or the same fly-away hair i'd had since school. It has neat, orderly teeth, enamel white soldiers standing to gleaming attention. He has a short, smart haircut, the kind a guy in a government job or a middle management climber might have. The reflection isn't attractive, just plain, anonymous, and not mine.

A wave of nausea hits me and I retch into the sink, the reflection disappearing. I stare at the bile being waltzed away by the running water and hope its my reflection looking back at me when i straighten.

It isn't.


*************


It was almost three months ago since I unloaded a shotgun into the nearest person I had to a friend. Three months since I lied to the authorities about how he died. I can still see the look of terror on his face, frozen at the moment of his death, the recognition that everything he had seen and done couldn't prepare him for that moment.

I'd lost any faith I might have had that there was anything after this life. The muzzle flash reflected in his dead eyes exposed oblivion not rapture.

On the helicoptor ride back to base I'd taken his cigarettes and his lighter. My hands had come back from the corpse covered in a thick, dark, iron scented treacle. I'd wiped my hand on the leg of my already bloodied khaki's and peeled a cigarette from the crushed paper packet.

I turned it over in my hand now. Scuffed, matt black, the paint flaking a little from it's constant hide and seek games. The insignia of his unit in Nam' stamped into the buckled metal. Dark stains lurking in the hinge and on the wheel, dead organic reminders.

I fought back another wave of nausea and took a deep drag on the cigarette. Dizzy spell, the first of the nicotine hitting me.

The reflection looked back at me through a halo of exhaled smoke and smiled.


**************


As soon as i'd stepped off the plane in Vegas i'd taken $500 out of my account and added it to the roll of notes i'd taken out in DC. The kind of purchases we might need to make couldn't appear on credit card statements.

The money came in real handy in the pawn shop the next day. I'd picked up four handguns, all .45s, big punch. Real good for putting fist sized holes in things. I'd payed the guy in the store an extra $500 for the video tape. He was more than happy to oblige. I wouldn't have been surprised to find him at one of the cities tables loosing it all, but I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

I'd burned the tape in the motel sink, making sure to dismantle the smoke alarm in the bathroom first. I lit a cigarette off the curling, shrinking tape and watched black smoke spiral upward and out of the meshed bathroom window.

A day later the guns were used in a double homicide at a secure mental unit. I didn't pull the trigger but didn't do anything to stop it. I drove the killer to the hospital and away again. Do i regret it, not for a second. Operational necessity.

I'm in different bathroom now, in a different flea pit motel. The small strip-light on the medicine cabinet flickers a little and buzzes. Soft chattering, accusatory whispers, half heard and quickly forgotten.

A gun sits on the toilet cistern, it's serial numbers filed off, an anonymous blue steel killer. A large calibre revolver, last thing you need is a jam at the critical moment.

Operational necessity. The reflection looks at me in the spider cracked bathroom mirror, a fractured grin spreading across its shattered face. It likes me using that phrase. I see it raise the cigarette to its lips. I can taste smoke.

[kinnygraham]

Thanks for posting this Martin - really moody and perfectly in keeping with the DG tone - and for the kind words about the game.

I consider myself a lucky Keeper indeed to have had great players who took the time to do great little pieces like this, and the work on character backgrounds etc etc that you all did.

If my next player group are as good as you all were I'll be a very happy man indeed.

Cheers, Graham

[comrade pointdexter]

I had to exhale deeply after reading your game write-ups. I can't believe I hadn't run across the thread much earlier, as it's the kind of thing I search for on Open. Superb gaming, from Keeper and players. It's balm to my heart to find another GM who obsesses as much as I do over detail, atmosphere and flavor (or at least seems to, it may be effortless on your part, in which case, you earn my envy, sir).

Now, of course, I am jonesing to run me some Delta Green. Unfortunately, during a long hiatus from gaming, my books were left in various town house and apartment basements, and I discovered a couple of years ago that my DG core rulebook was utterly ruined by water. :mad: And I never did get any of those chapbooks. I suppose I could get my fix by running CoC contemporary and use Count Down, but it would feel incomplete. *le sigh*.

You wouldn't be considering running a play by post DG game anytime would you? :D

Anyway, thanks for an absorbing read for a rainy night!

[Fulsrush]

You wouldn't be considering running a play by post DG game anytime would you? :D

Seconded.

Time allowing, of course.

[kinnygraham]

I had to exhale deeply after reading your game write-ups. I can't believe I hadn't run across the thread much earlier, as it's the kind of thing I search for on Open. Superb gaming, from Keeper and players. It's balm to my heart to find another GM who obsesses as much as I do over detail, atmosphere and flavor (or at least seems to, it may be effortless on your part, in which case, you earn my envy, sir).

Now, of course, I am jonesing to run me some Delta Green. Unfortunately, during a long hiatus from gaming, my books were left in various town house and apartment basements, and I discovered a couple of years ago that my DG core rulebook was utterly ruined by water. :mad: And I never did get any of those chapbooks. I suppose I could get my fix by running CoC contemporary and use Count Down, but it would feel incomplete. *le sigh*.

You wouldn't be considering running a play by post DG game anytime would you? :D

Anyway, thanks for an absorbing read for a rainy night!


Comrade,

many thanks - I'm a 'fan' of the UA Play-By-Post that you are running so coming from you, these comments are high praise indeed. As ever though,credit must also be given to the writers of the scenarios I've used ; I've run those pretty much 'out of the box' and they are the main meat of what I've done.

Seconded. Time allowing, of course.

While not ruling this out, I would say that my main focus at the minute is in sorting out another face-to-face group. I've made some contacts here in Belfast and optimistic that they will work out. However, timewise, it's unlikely that I would be able to do both a face-to-face game and a play-by-post......though you never know...........

[comrade pointdexter]

Comrade,

many thanks - I'm a 'fan' of the UA Play-By-Post that you are running so coming from you, these comments are high praise indeed.

:o You make me blush. Credit goes to the players as well, though. A lot of the stuff that happens in what had been meant to be very short prologues came from digging into their characters' backgrounds, or from unexpected actions they took in-game. But thanks! It's good to know we have fans.

As ever though,credit must also be given to the writers of the scenarios I've used ; I've run those pretty much 'out of the box' and they are the main meat of what I've done.

That may be, but prewritten scenarios don't mystically empower GM's with superior gaming skillz. :D That, I'm afraid, is all your fault. Also, I believe the handouts for your game did not come with the scenario, yes?


While not ruling this out, I would say that my main focus at the minute is in sorting out another face-to-face group. I've made some contacts here in Belfast and optimistic that they will work out. However, timewise, it's unlikely that I would be able to do both a face-to-face game and a play-by-post......though you never know...........

No worries. I'm learning how difficult it is to run a table-top game and PbP, so I definitely understand. If you ever do decide to run a game here on-line, though, you have some players.

[kinnygraham]

This is the next instalment of my Delta Green campaign. As ever, I am reliant on published materials and at this stage in proceedings I decided to use 'A Victim of the Art' by Dennis Detwiller from 'Delta Green: Countdown'. As usual, this account will contain SPOILERS for that scenario and for Delta Green and Cthulhu Now material.



Some eight weeks had passed since events in Las Vegas; none of them had been comfortable for the men who had taken part in that 'operation'.

'Agent Zachariah', a man with so many aliases that he had almost forgotten his real name, [played by Steve Emmott] had half expected to be told to return to Vegas and to be tasked with somehow getting at the evidence locker that may have contained the key to the abomination that he had encountered in a seedy porn store. But the call never came and he briefly wondered if some other agent somewhere had been (or would be) asked to do it. Instead he spent his days wondering what had happend to 'Travis' and to a lesser degree, to Doctor Guiturezz - the 'friendly' who had led them to Vegas in the first place. But at night he constantly replayed the events of the secure unit; the murder of two drooling idiots he had committed for Delta Green. He had justified the killings to himself on many levels; the threat that Colin Hammond potentially contained, the abuse he had visited on his daughter. But he always heard the voice of the nurse - the nurse who had pleaded with him not to do it. The voice of a good person confronted with evil and man's inhumanity to man. In the quiet hours of night he would ask himself what he was, and could not answer.

'Agent Turner's' (real name FBI Special Agent Peter DeVere) [played by Martin Tulloch], 'smokescreen' suggestion to Cell A had borne fruit in the days after he had left Vegas. He had followed the story of the Hammond murders closely and felt a grim satisfaction when press speculation - and then police efforts, had focussed on suggestions that far-right Christian fundamentalists - vehemently opposed to the pornographic trade - had been responsible. Revelations that the Hammonds were the number one suspects for the murder of their own daughter - and as a leaked set of photographs had shown - a daughter that they had sexually abused, meant that no-one was going the extra mile to get to the bottom of what had happend. There were even suggestions that it was child abuse that had made the Hammonds the targets for 'vigilante action'. Security at the mental facility where the killings had occurred would be reviewed of course - but a month after the killings the story had lost its legs. Turner had been forced to attend several psychiatric evaluations since he had given his employers the impression that he had been in Vegas on a 'lost weekend' of alcohol abuse and gambling. His stock in the Bureau, who had once regarded him as a very promising agent, was dwindling; but that meant so much less to him now than he could have ever thought possible - what were human conceits such as 'career' and 'ambition' in the face of the horrors that he had witnessed ? He sat day after day in front of his terminal, ignoring the pitying glances from his colleagues, and waited for the next call from Delta Green.

'Doctor Joseph Guiturrez' (played by 'Newt', aka rpg.net's 'Mr Wrong') was wondering just down what fearful path his curiosity was taking him. Following the barely remembered horror that had unfolded in Las Vegas, he and 'Agent Travis' had been taken to California and left in the care of two blonde, sun bronzed individuals who had went by the names of 'Peter' and 'Paula'. They had immediately been taken to a private health facility - where exactly he was unable to determine, since they insisted on blindfolding him en-route - where he was asked to help in stabilising the unfortunate Travis. He was assisted in this by a young, nervous, unshaven man who was allegedly a doctor; he would not give a name and he insisted that he did not want to know his. Travis had them all worried for the next 24 hours - his head wounds bled slowly but steadily and refused to heal until Guiturrez suggested that more radical steps were required ; with Travis well sedated, they cut off even more of his scalp - an inch at least back from the edges of the ragged shreds. Guiturrez insisted with revulsion that these should be incinerated as soon as possible. He was able to see that this tactic has worked - that these new wounds healed as normal - but was then instructed that he had to return to Vegas immediately where he was wanted for questioning in connection with events surrounding a double homicide. His car had been found outside Hammonds Porn-o-Rama after an abortive raid. Someone had put a couple of slugs in each of the Hammonds less than 16 hours later. The Vegas cops took it slowly at first - he was known to them professionally after all - but seemed to get annoyed when he stuck to the story that Peter and Paula had fed him ; that he had reported his car stolen on the morning of the attack and that he had rented another and travelled to Phoenix, Az to assist the FBI in some wrap-up questions about last year's Santana case. Guiturrez was only half surprised when his bullshit checked out. Computer records validated his stolen car report, and his rental. And two FBI agents by the name of Fernandez and Donnelly claimed to have been with him in Phoenix for the last couple of days. The cops didn't like it one bit - but there was nothing they could do. It seemed that Turner, Travis and Zachariah had friends that knew something about covering their tracks. Since then, Guiturrez has been tired and exhausted - not sleeping well and on edge constantly. He'd seen something awful in that small shop front...but he just preferred not to think about it. He wondered if he'd hear from any of the others again. The thought made him anxious.

'Agent Travis' (real name DEA Agent O'Connor) [played by Nick Clements] has been off on extended sickness absence for the last 8 weeks. As far as his employers are concerned he met with an unfortunate freak accident while climbing in the San Diego Ranges of southern California. Travis has met some new friends called Peter and Paula who confirmed that that was exactly what had happend. All Travis can remember is freaking out in a motel room after realising how much damage the awful THING had done to him and then only the most godawful nightmares until waking up, weak and thirsty and about two stones lighter, in a San Diego hospital - with his head swathed in bandages. A week had passed. Agent 'Paula', whom he had never met before, was there to give him the good news ; he was badly disfigured, perhaps for life. The most he could hope for was that a succession of painful grafts could be used to replace the missing skin. Failing that, he would be left with his skull exposed for all to see - a freakshow. It seemed that he would have to countenance cosmetic measures of some form or other - but only after the exposed bone had been treated sufficiently to ensure that it would not become a vector for further infection - apparently he had been very ill as a result of one already. He recuperated for a further 3 weeks and was then sent home to Arizona. Here he settled into a mind-numbing routine while recovering his strength; regularly changing the dressing on his ruined scalp, applying the salves they told him to use and ensuring that it was kept clean. Despite the fact he didn't like to think back to Vegas (and his occasional certain conviction that the itch in his palms would result in mouths forming there), it wasn't in his nature to hide away forever; in fact he wanted to know how he would cope out in the real world again. And besides all that he really was getting bored.

Agent Turner was the first to get the call again - the anonymous voice on his cellphone telling him that he was invited to 'a Night at the Opera'. The call left him with the now familiar feeling of excitement and queasiness. He left his desk at work, went to an internet cafe and accessed a secure server where he found his instructions.

At 10.00am the next morning he found himself at Grand Central Station New York, where he was able to rendevouz with Agents Travis and Zachariah. They hadn't seen each other since Vegas but they didn't have time to chat; they were in 'business' mode now. Besides, they all had reasons to feel a little awkward around one another. Turner and Zachariah tried not to let their eyes drift to Travis - they could see that he still had bandages underneath the woollen hat he wore and they figure that he had to be still pretty messed up. Nor were they completely comfortable with each other. Turner's instructions from Cell A had contained a little post-Vegas advice on how to 'handle' Zachariah. Turner was to consider him as he would a loaded gun - ie effective at getting a certain type of job done, but he should be the one thinking about the if, when and where of firing. Likewise Zachariah had been advised to consider his own performance and whether he had been too aggressive too early with the Hammonds - another approach might have got them valuable intelligence about the Hammond threat and how it had arisen in the first place. He was also instructed to defer to Turner in decision making where possible and he couldn't say that he was happy about that.

They also had to consider the possibility that their actions were being observed. 'Turner' had been involved in not one, but two cases where strange, possibly extra-terrestial, creatures had featured - and he had perhaps attracted the attention of Delta Green's 'rival faction', whom they referred to as 'Majestic'. Zachariah - edgy and intense at the best of times - was keeping a close eye out for anyone taking an interest in them.

With Turner in an FBI vehicle he had signed out and driven to NY, and the two others following in a rental they'd got using Zachariah's false ID, they headed out of the city per their instructions - which were to drive north-east towards the Hamptons on Long Island. Zachariah had driven to New York and had taken the precaution of bringing along his own 'operational gear' - held in a large sports bag. Shortly after 11.00pm, Turner received a call on his DG cell. A voice, as expected, identified itself as 'Agent Marcus'. Marcus instructed Turner to drive to a pay-phone outside the Mattituck Aviation Club in the town of Glenridge, Suffolk County, Long Island. There would be a mobile phone taped under a small shelf in the booth ; he was to locate it, press the dial button and Marcus would issue him with further instructions. He rang off. Turner puzzled over the cloak and dagger stuff; after all, weren't the DG cellphones supposed to be secure ?

Ninety minutes later they had reached Glenridge - a small, affluent looking community on the north-eastern spur of Long Island which overlooked the scenic Peconic Bay. The weather was a little cold, but that aside it was a fine day. Turner found the phone booth outside the airfield and located the phone. Dialling, he was speaking to Marcus again with seconds. Marcus spoke quickly - almost as if keen to get the conversation over with as soon as posible. Turner was here in his official capacity as an FBI agent and was to identify himself using his real name. His fellow cell members were also to operate under the cover of FBI agents - though no ID would be provided. They were to report to Detective Gregson of the Glenridge PD, who would facilitate a case hand-over with two other FBI agents already present in Glenridge. Turner/DeVere and his colleagues were expected - so there should be no issues over ID once he presented himself. Whenn they took over the case they would understand why it was a DG op. Their instructions were standard - identify and deal with any paranormal threat and ensure secrecy. Turner didn't have any questions and doubted that more information would be forthcoming if he had. Marcus hurriedly added that he'd 'be in touch' and hung up.

Turner broke the news to his fellow Cell members and they decided that there was nothing to do but to visit the Glenridge PD. The building was just over a mile away and they located it easily enough. It was small, but modern and well equipped. The cruisers parked outside looked new, clean and shiny. Turner flashed his badge at the desk and a minute later, after brief handshakes, Detective Gregson (a lean fit looking man in his early forties) had ushered them through from reception to an office. He quickly explained en-route that their 'fellow agents' would explain the case to them but added that he was glad to see them and hoping that they could 'lend their expertise'. He would be available after the briefing of course should they need anything and he would arrange for coffee to be sent through. In the office were two individuals; a man in his mid-forties who had 'Bureau' written all over him and introduced himself as Agent Coleridge, and a serious looking female in her late thirties who introduced herself as Agent Lewis. There was a fat file on the desk in fronto of them. Turner introduced himself using his real name and the others as Agents 'Smith' and 'Taylor'.

'What do you know about the Glenridge Chiropracter ?' asked Coleridge. Turner frowned. 'That's what the press call our perp' added Lewis. Turner shrugged - and explained that he knew nothing. 'Good' said Coleridge. 'Perhaps best to work from a clean slate'. He motioned to the file and then pulled off three documents from the top of it and handed them out. 'This summary document is where we are so far. I'd suggest you read this, look at the file and then we can take any questions. After which, it will be over to you.'

They settled down to read.



Originating Office: New York

Date: 23rd October 1998

Distribution: Assigned agents and supervising agent only

Subject: Glenridge Homicides

There have been three unsolved (and very unusual) homicides in the vicinity of Glenridge, Suffolk County, Long Island, NY in the last weeks.

Victim # 1: Doctor Carl Maretti

Doctor Carl Maretti was a WCM, aged 45. Interviews with relatives and pertinent medical records indicate that he was a fit, ‘health conscious’ man of 6ft 1in height and approx 190 lbs. He is survived by his wife Caroline (39) and daughters Donna (10) and Cathy (8).

His body was found in a culvert in Peconic Park on September 15th by Glenridge police officers at 11.47pm after the location of the remains had been reported by a male jogger; the police department were already on the lookout for Dr Maretti as his wife had reported him missing a couple of hours earlier when he had failed to return home from his dental practice nearby. His wife has stated that he had called at about 7.30pm or so to say that he was on his way.

Cause of death has been attributed by the Suffolk County Medical Examiner as arising from ‘severe’ wounds from some form of blunt, yet powerful, cutting tool (see below). These wounds, seven in all, were all delivered to the chest and lower front abdomen area.

Post mortem mutilation of the body, thought to have been inflicted within minutes of death, was extensive. The spine had been forcibly removed, severing all major muscle groups in the back and neck and shattering the ribs and hip bones - indicative of considerable strength. The head was missing from the body, but was located some 50 yards away after a detailed search of the area which was commenced the next morning. The lower jaw was missing, apparently ripped or torn from the skull, and has not been recovered. The eyeballs of the deceased were missing, apparently as if gouged from their sockets. Portions of the corpse were also marked with long (approx 30cm) indentations from an as yet unidentified thin, serrated weapon. These marks seem to have been inflicted both pre and post mortem.

All wounds were inflicted through the clothing worn by the victim.

Formal identification was achieved through dental and fingerprint records.

Traces of an as yet unidentified substance were detected beneath the finger nails of Maretti’s corpse (see below).

A second autopsy made subsequent to the discovery of the body of Vanessa Hatvan (see below) concluded that other blunt trauma injuries to the body were also consistent with a fall from a considerable height.

Extensive interviews with his family, friends and business associates and examination of personal and business financial records have yielded no leads on suspects or motives for his murder.




Victim # 2: Vanessa Hatvan

Vanessa Hatvan was a WCF, aged 41. Hatvan was unmarried and her next of kin are her elderly parents (Michael, 81 and Lucy, 74) now living in a retirement community in Orlando, Florida.

Her body was discovered by police officers at 8.15am on the morning of October 7th after being reported by groundskeepers working in the vicinity of Glenridge High School. Ms Hatvan was employed as a librarian at the school and was last sighted leaving the building at approx 7.15pm by the school janitor. Her car keys and handbag were found discarded in the car park some 80 feet or so from her car.

Her corpse was found hanging in the branches of an oak tree in the grounds, some forty feet or so above ‘ground level’. Cause of death was the same as that of the first victim with eight individual wounds recorded. Mutilation of her body was also extensive. Her spine had been forcibly removed in the same manner as that of Maretti, and her body also bore the same serrated marks. Again, all wounds seem to have been inflicted through the clothing worn.

The head was also missing from the body, but has not been located.

Other injuries on the body were also consistent with a fall into the tree-top from a great height; a detailed forensic examination of the tree in which her body was found has divulged no sign (trace evidence such as blood or hair from the corpse, rigging marks etc) that her body had been somehow dragged up or manoeuvred there.

Formal identifaction was achieved through fingerprint records.

Traces of the same as yet unidentified substance were also detected beneath the finger nails of Hatvan’s corpse (see below).

Glenridge PD and our subsequent enquiries have uncovered no discernible motive for the killing.



Victim # 3: Lauren Harrogate

Lauren Harrogate was a WCF, aged 17. She lived alone with her widowed mother Sandra (43).

At 11.18pm October 21st, officers from the Glenridge PD responded to a burglary alarm activation report (most residents of Glenridge have their alarms routing to the local station) arriving at the Harrogate residence at 11.26 pm. Here they were forced to break down the door into the house where they found Mrs Harrogate upstairs in what has since been diagnosed as a state of severe mental shock (she has subsequently lapsed into catatonia). There was major damage to the French doors leading from a small external balcony into Lauren Harrogate’s room (the officers concluded that the doors had been smashed in and subsequent crime scene analysis would seem to bear that out). No evidence of a ladder, ropes or other means of access to the balcony were discovered. Mrs Harrogate was able to communicate sufficiently enough to indicate that her daughter had been ‘taken’ and a search indicated that Lauren Harrogate was now missing from the house having seemingly retired to bed at some point.

Mrs Harrogate who was previously receiving out-patient psychiatric counselling and medication for depression (arising from the death of her husband from lung cancer the previous year) and is now being treated at Swansea Psychiatric Institute where her catatonic condition persists.

Lauren Harrogate’s body was subsequently spotted by a patrol vehicle at 7.44am the next morning (the 22nd October). Her corpse was hanging from an electrical tower just off the town's Middle road, and she had suffered grievous injuries consistent with those of the other two victims and a fall on to the electrical tower. Like Vanessa Hatvan, her head was missing from the corpse and has not been recovered.

Formal identification was made through fingerprint records.

Again, trace evidence of the unknown substance (discussed below) was located under the fingernails.

No motive for the killing has been established.



Points of interest/inquiry

‘Falling trauma’. Investigations have examined the possibility that he bodies have been dropped from a helicopter or other aircraft. Checks with the local airport and aviation authority logs have uncovered no leads, as have checks on both aircraft owners and relatives. There have been no witness reports of any unusual aircraft activity.

‘Blunt cutting tool’. Dr Santorini, The Suffolk County Medical Examiner, has theorised that these injuries might have been caused by a tree-limb cutter or similar tool.

‘Serrated weapon’. Dr Santorini has observed the similarities to these markings and those that may be caused by a bear trap or other animal disablement device. However, he remains convinced that they originate from some kind of animal, although consultation on this point with experts at the American Natural History Museum in NY has so far yielded no match with any known species.

‘Animal predation’. There are no known natural predators (bears etc) known to be inhabiting this area of Long Island. There are no reports of any missing animals from public or private collections.

‘Spine removal’. The spinal cord appears to have been removed violently, from base to neck, in all three instances. This would require 'superhuman' strength or a specialised device of some kind.

‘Unidentified substance’. The labs at Quantico have tentatively identified this material, found beneath the fingertips of the victims, as a complex organic polymer previously unknown to science. It is composed of chains of molecules layered and interwoven in a manner remarkable similar to the construction of ballistic armour such as kevlar. Further analysis has yielded further traces of tiny pieces of debris (embedded in the ‘openings’ within the chains), fluorine in nature - with traces of chlorine and ammonia. The significance of these findings are as yet unknown.

‘Behavioural profiling’. Despite the secondment of specialised resource there has been as yet no satisfactory profile developed which would account for these slayings. The novelty of the M.O. and the ‘animalistic’ brutality have no previous parallels in the literature and as such no credible model has been posited.




A personal note; with 22 years Bureau experience between us we can say that we have never encountered anything remotely like this so called ‘Glenridge Chiropracter’ case. This one has us absolutely baffled. Good luck with it.



Special Agent Delbert Coleridge

Behavioural Analyst Sandra Lewis



After reading the document they exchanged glances with each other. At least they knew why they were here now. And yes, they had questions.


(Session account to be continued)


Edit: Having checked, please note that the scenario is by Dennis Detwiller, and not Adam Scott Glancy as I originally stated.

[kinnygraham]

That may be, but prewritten scenarios don't mystically empower GM's with superior gaming skillz. :D That, I'm afraid, is all your fault. Also, I believe the handouts for your game did not come with the scenario, yes?

Again - many thanks for the kind words. And yes, I did put a lot of work into the handouts. I like getting good ones as a player and try and put the effort into the ones I give to my own players. I think it's especially important in a Cthulhu game where there's a long tradition of excellence.

Cheers, Graham

[Private Eye]

As one of the players in the game (agent Travis) can I say that the handouts were uniformly excellent and really helped build the atmosphere.

The remainder of the Group (Graham has moved away) are about to start a Cthulhu Rising scenario, which I will be running - I can't tell you all how nervous I am, and how painfully aware of my shortcomings in comparison to Graham - anyone who plays with him is in for a treat.....

[Fulsrush]

*bing!*

I think I've picked the prime suspects for this case. Of course, I may be completely wrong, but the fingers seem to be pointing in a particular direction.

[kinnygraham]

As one of the players in the game (agent Travis) can I say that the handouts were uniformly excellent and really helped build the atmosphere.

The remainder of the Group (Graham has moved away) are about to start a Cthulhu Rising scenario, which I will be running - I can't tell you all how nervous I am, and how painfully aware of my shortcomings in comparison to Graham - anyone who plays with him is in for a treat.....

Nick - too kind mate, and am sure you are too modest as I'm certain the Cthulhu Rising stuff you plan to run will be excellent (the synopsis of the game you ran for your lads sounded like a blast).

Let me know how it goes !

[kinnygraham]

Mini-update:

The attached map was also issued to the agents along with the FBI file summary.


http://img230.imageshack.us/img230/284/glenridge1ft.th.gif (http://img230.imageshack.us/my.php?image=glenridge1ft.gif)

[Honken]

I have to thank you for your AP thread, i have never myself played (until recently at least) played CoC, but has fair knowledge about BRP. A good AP thread is just inspiration waithing to happen. :P

I have a question though. How knowlegeble are your (former) players in the Cthulhu mythos? And how knowlegeble were their characters?

/Honken

[kinnygraham]

I have to thank you for your AP thread, i have never myself played (until recently at least) played CoC, but has fair knowledge about BRP. A good AP thread is just

I have a question though. How knowlegeble are your (former) players in the Cthulhu mythos? And how knowlegeble were their characters?

/Honken

Thanks for the interest Honken

Of the four players who participated in the campaign, I'd say that all of them were familar with the Cthulhu Mythos ; they'd read Lovecraft and most, if not all, of them had played a fair bit of Call of Cthulhu in the past - I know that a couple of them have played through such epics as 'Beyond the Mountains of Madness', 'Horror on the Orient Express' and 'Masks of Nyarlathotep' before for instance.

Their characters didn't really gain much in the way of the actual 'Cthulhu Mythos' skill - never much above the 5% given for the first instance of mythos-induced insanity.

The reason I feel lucky in having ran the game for that group was that this previous game experience never showed up in a way that spoiled the game. The players were all focussed on playing up their characters ignorance of the things they came up against.

In fact Steve (the guy who is playing Zachariah at this point in the write-ups) told me a story when I first met him about a previous experience playing in a 20s era Cthulhu game. Their characters were on a train and apparently the Keeper did a great job of describing this mysterious and alien flaming ball of light which appeared and hovered outside the compartment keeping pace with them. Player X immediately goes: 'Oh - it must be a Fire Vampire. My character heads toward the carriage with the water tender'. Thus proving that there are people out there who know a lot about the content of role playing games, but know fuck all about how to actually play them.

When Steve told me that story and about how that statement had punctured the atmosphere the Keeper was trying to build, I knew that our game was gonna be good because we wouldn't be going down that road.

[Arch Stanton]

I agree with Private eye (agent Travis); I used to play in games with Graham as the GM and also GM'd a group of players including him on some occasions.

All of them were good roleplaying games (emphasis on the 'role'). He realy can set a scene and get the atmoshere just right (if the players are up to it that is!).

Sorely missed this side of the wall, and now there is a sea between us!

[Honken]

Thanks for the interest Honken


Your welcome. As I was trying to write but somehow forgot, a good AP thread is just inspiration waiting to happen. And it was inspirational. My favourites one are the first two scenarios. I prefer when there are "human" antagonists.

Anyway, i enjoyed it all, keep up the good work.

/Honken

[CabbageHead]

Graham,

Were'd you get the map? I have been reading Countdown and I don't think that map is in the book.

[kinnygraham]

Graham,

Were'd you get the map? I have been reading Countdown and I don't think that map is in the book.

Correct, it's not in the book. I got interested in where the fictional Glenridge is located. From what I could see, it's located at or near where the real town of Mattituck is. So since I didn't like the map in the Countdown book, I got my cuz Scott (who posts on here sometimes as 'Spooked') to prepare that one using the real Mattituck as a template.

I think he did a great job - though if I was to ask him to modify it one more time I'd have the location of the Glenridge PD building added as well.....

[Fulsrush]

Their characters were on a train and apparently the Keeper did a great job of describing this mysterious and alien flaming ball of light which appeared and hovered outside the compartment keeping pace with them. Player X immediately goes: 'Oh - it must be a Fire Vampire. My character heads toward the carriage with the water tender'. Thus proving that there are people out there who know a lot about the content of role playing games, but know fuck all about how to actually play them.

*sigh*

How would I have handled this, as a GM?

Possibly told the player to have his character sit the fuck down in his seat until the Fire Vampire actually gets on board (which it does rather obviously violently - perhaps hitting the compartment behind and incinerating an innocent bystander). Once it's on board and burning stuff/bystanders/PCs, I'd force an Idea roll on him to allow him to go to the water tender.

And if that PC turns out to be the closest one to the Fire Vampire, possibly because he's the one who left the compartment just as it emerges onto the corridor (heh heh heh), bad luck...

[CabbageHead]

Correct, it's not in the book. I got interested in where the fictional Glenridge is located. From what I could see, it's located at or near where the real town of Mattituck is. So since I didn't like the map in the Countdown book, I got my cuz Scott (who posts on here sometimes as 'Spooked') to prepare that one using the real Mattituck as a template.

I think he did a great job - though if I was to ask him to modify it one more time I'd have the location of the Glenridge PD building added as well.....

So...he just tweaked it in photoshop or something like that? It looks pretty good.

[spooked]

So...he just tweaked it in photoshop or something like that? It looks pretty good.

I did a screen cap from Google Maps, then modified it using the GIMP.
Thanks for the kind words. :)

[CabbageHead]

Bumpity...and hoping for an update.

[kinnygraham]

Bumpity...and hoping for an update.

Still working on them, but progress slow with new job Christmas etc etc.

The good news is that I've got a new PC at home now - so might be able to do more work on them when I get the chance.

(The bad news is that I loaded Call of Duty and Rome Total War into said new PC ! ;) )

But expect something early Jan.

[Fulsrush]

I actually uninstalled Rome: Total War when my college course began in September, for the reason that it'd swallow all my time.

[Arch Stanton]

Civilizaton IV eats all of my time on the PC! (thank God for internet access at work!).

[CabbageHead]

Stan: "I know who broke the dam."
Kyle: "Was it global warming?"
Stan: "No."
Kyle: "Was it George Bush?"
Stan: "No."
Kyle: "Was it Islamic Terrorists?"
Stan: "No."
Kyle: "Was it Communist Insurgents?"
Stan: "No."
Kyle: "Was it Chinese Radicals?"
Stan: "No."
Kyle: "Was it Cartman?"
Stan: "Yes. Well, sort of -- "
Kyle: "Goddammit!"

Bump

[EvilBrennan]

Bump
Dang.
You totally beat me to it.

[kinnygraham]

Sorry for the delay guys - but nearly ready with the next instalment

[Omar]

Wow. I sat down with this thread and read it over the past couple of days and just...wow. I need to either get DG or get into one of Graham's games (or both. Yeah both :D) Great stuff from beginning to end, compliments to the GM and the players.

[CabbageHead]

Wow. I sat down with this thread and read it over the past couple of days and just...wow. I need to either get DG or get into one of Graham's games (or both. Yeah both :D) Great stuff from beginning to end, compliments to the GM and the players.

Good luck on getting DG books. On Ebay they frequently go for more than $100. For example, this auction (http://makeashorterlink.com/?J1962257C) started at $19.99 and is already up to $46, and you can expect some pretty hefty sniping, IMO, in the final seconds.

[Rylenor]

I just wanted to say your write-ups are great. Please keep them coming. Seems not only are you a talented GM, but a great writer as well.

[kinnygraham]

Wow. I sat down with this thread and read it over the past couple of days and just...wow. I need to either get DG or get into one of Graham's games (or both. Yeah both :D) Great stuff from beginning to end, compliments to the GM and the players.

I just wanted to say your write-ups are great. Please keep them coming. Seems not only are you a talented GM, but a great writer as well.

First of all, thanks for the kind words. Very, very appreciated. And my (sadly now ex) players read these as well so am sure they also appreciate the feedback.

Secondly, just for those who are waiting for an update - I'm still working on the next one. My memory of events was slightly hazy on some points and I've been in touch with one of the players to clariify. And work has been a bitch lately too. Thanks for your patience....not going to give an exact date as I can't guarantee anything - but the next one is imminent. And hopefully worth the wait.

[CabbageHead]

And work has been a bitch lately too.

I know the feeling, so no worries mate.

[kinnygraham]

Ok, next part:

For the next couple of hours the three Delta Green men grilled the two FBI agents on the case. They had not been informed whether these people were 'in the loop' as far as DG was concerned ; they assumed not, but had to wonder about what reasons they had been given for being pulled off the 'Chiropractor case'. However, Coleridge and Lewis did not seem resentful and were open and forthright. Together, they took the opportunity to go over the facts presented in the summary in a great deal of detail - and to review the rest of the substantial file that had been compiled.

It looked as if the two FBI agents had done a thorough job so far ; the file was carefully organised and covered off all the areas of investigation. There were hundreds of interview statements - not only from the friends and families of the deceased but from the other inhabitants of Glenridge whom the local PD had canvassed. There were copies of the flight logs from the local airstrip, as well as of further interviews conducted with the employees and members thereof. The financial records of all of the victims had been examined in detail. but a report concluded that no irregularities had been detected. It also looked as if they had consulted greatly with the American Museum of Natural History and with the State Ranger Service regards the possibilities of animal predation. But this avenue had proved fruitless. There was also extensive photographs of the damage caused at the Harrogate household - scene of the likely snatching of Lauren Harrogate, and also of the car park of Glenridge High - where some of the personal effects of Vanessa Hatvan were found.

Naturally, there was also a substantial coroner's file. The pictures - both from the locations where the bodies were found, and from the subsequent autopsies - were exceptionally grim. They glanced through the autopsy reports, but although Turner's FBI training had covered such material in the past, none of them could lay claim to true specialist knowledge and they began to wonder if they might benefit from having an expert review this material.

So far, so thorough. Their next line of questioning concerned their only known witness; Sandra Harrogate, mother of the last victim. How bad was she ? The file stated that she was in the nearby Swansea Psychiatric facility. The situation was not good. Lewis had visited her, but she was practically catatonic ; only mentions of her daughter could produce a reaction - but then all she did was scream the place down with her daughter's name and cry. The poor woman had apparently already been in a depressed and fragile state due to the untimely loss of her husband to cancer. The staff at Swansea did not want to seem too down-beat, but apparently it was their considered opinion that it might be months, if not longer, before any headway was made.

Turner had also noticed the lab report from Quantico concerning the 'unidentified substance'. This made him very uneasy. He had previous experience of this type of report attracting unwanted attention. Question was - what could he do about it now ? He wondered if Cell A were aware of this development. Regardless, it emphasised the need for them all to be on their guard during this op.

But for now - they were almost out of questions. Or at least the type of questions they could raise in front of strangers. They did ask the two Feds for their professional opinion on Gregson and the Glenridge PD. Both received solid commendations ; this was a wealthy community and that was reflected in the efficiency of their police force - although homicide was certainly not a frequent occurrence - so they might be feeling their way somewhat in that regard. Lewis added that she would be available for further consultation should any new information come to light and left her contact details.

The two Feds left with a final warning; apparently this case was attracting quite a bit of press interest (some hack from one of the NY tabloids was the one responsible for the Chiropractor moniker) - they recommended keeping a low profile and to let Gregson handle any queries for now. On that note, Detective Gregson arrived back in the room as Coleridge and Lewis took their leave. He asked them what they thought about the case, but was advised by Turner/DeVere that they were still keeping an open mind for now while they reviewed the case in detail. They copied some of the key documents - including the summary and a map of the town showing where the bodies had turned up They intended to check in somewhere to stay and to conduct 'a full review' of their own. They asked him about accommodation in the area mentioning that their concerns regards press harassment meant that they were looking for something a little more 'private'. Gregson gave them the contact details for a realtor in the are who specialised in rental properties and then handed them a card with his own contact details before showing them out of the station. He reminded them that they could contact him at any time if they needed any assistance ; it was obvious that he was eager for a result on the case.

Within the next 2 hours they were able to contact the realtor and put down a deposit and a week's rent on a chalet style property down at the marina. These were usually rented out to visiting yachtsman who may have been growing a little tired of their cabins after their ocean going exploits. They met the agent, obtained the keys and were shortly unpacking. Their rooms were a little on the cold side having not been heated and they could see that as evening approached that a fine mist of drizzle was coming in off the bay. They decided to head out for some food and found a quiet seafood restaurant about 10 minutes walk from where they were staying.

Here, over a welcome meal, they talked in low voices about the case and how they should approach the investigation. There was no mystery over why Delta Green had sent them; there was something vicious out there. And they all thought that in all likelihood it could fly. They thought back to their recent trip to Arizona. The idea of a flying version of the beasts they had encountered did not appeal. Worse, it may even be something that just 'manifested' out of thin air and made off with the victims - Turner had seen a 'ghost' in NY, who else knew what was possible ? Gradually, they drew up some plans to approach this.

Travis would return to the chalet, log online and also make some calls to see if there were any other similar cases going on like this anywhere else in the country. Perhaps DG would have noticed if so; perhaps not. He'd also see if there were any local sources he could use to research if anything similar had happened in this area in the past.

They also decided that it would be worth having some 'independent' expertise with regards to the autopsy reports and other forensic evidence. There was a chance that something had been overlooked by the Medical Examiner - who was presumably someone with more 'conventional' experiences than the Delta Green men. Their thoughts turned to Doctor Guiturrez, who they hadn't seen since Las Vegas. They had his mobile number and it was decided that Zachariah would give him a call. The doctor answered first time. Zachariah asked him if he could talk and the doctor confirmed that he could. After asking him how he was - to which the doctor responded by saying that he was 'OK' - he launched right into it and explained that he 'Turner' and 'Travis' were facing another 'situation' - something potentially similar to what had happened in Vegas. That led to a long silence. Zachariah continued saying that they could really use his 'expertise' on this one. Could he make the time to get up to Long Island ? In Las Vegas, the doctor weighed it up. Deep down he knew that the events in Hammonds Porn-O-Rama had changed him, that the events that his mind skirted around and t could not quite confront, had damaged him in ways he only dimly suspected. He was a little afraid...but he also thought he was a man who should confront his fears. He agreed to travel to Long Island. Zachariah advised him briefly that there had been three unexplained killings lately and that they needed to find out who or what was doing it. He advised that en-route to Glenridge he should stop off at the nearby town of Riverhead - it was where the Suffolk County Morgue was located and where the bodies were on ice. He'd be there as a 'consultant' to the FBI and should mention DeVere's name only. They would fix it so that the coroner down there was expecting him - he should make his own analysis and meet up with them sometime tomorrow in Glenridge. He asked for his fax number and told him they would arrange to send the summary over for him to read. The call ended. Turner put a call in to the Glenridge PD and left a message for Detective Gregson asking him to smooth the way for their 'consultant' with the ME and to request that the summary be faxed to Guiturrez's number.

With that out of the way, Turner and Zachariah decided to visit one of the sites where a body had shown up. They opted for where Carl Maretti's body - the dentist - had been found. They walked Travis back to the chalet and took one of the cars and left him to hit the 'net.

It was gloomy, and the fine mist of drizzle had now become fog. Maretti had been found in a culvert in a park bordering the Laurel Links golf course. They were not sure if they could access the location near a small pond or lake from the nearest road - so they instead parked up on the main road going through the park and set out on foot from there. They were almost immediately aware of how quiet things were - the grass and trees muffled what little noise they were making and with the exception of the occasional mournful chime of a buoy somewhere out in the bay there were few signs of civilisation. The sound of a bird rattling through the branches overhead did little to reassure them as their thoughts dwelled on their suspicions about a flying creature and the two men exchanged nervous glances. Thankfully Turner had remembered to take a torch and after some 10 minutes they found their way to the lakeside and then west to where they knew the body had been found. They could see that the far side of the small lake was actually overlooked by some kind of housing development - apartments by the look of it. They made a note to check to see if anyone from there had been interviewed. The culvert itself ran from the edge of the lake under some kind of access road that wound down from the apartments along the lakeside and into the park - probably to allow a groundsman to take vehicles in there to cut the grass or whatever the hell it was that the groundsman did. It was a quiet spot, and they felt gooseflesh rise as the terrible images from the crime scene photographs came back into their minds. Zachariah, ever cautious, was worried that whatever had done this might just be still around here and approached the actual opening of the culvert itself with caution - going so far as to draw his pistol and asking Turner to do the same. But Turner's torchbeam revealed nothing lurking in the shadows and they were able to relax slightly. They were curious as to whether the body had been dropped here directly - or whether the thing that had killed Maretti had actually been here to maul the body and they climbed down into the dry channel below - talking the point over and trying to remember what the crime scene report had said re blood traces.....Both men jumped startled reaching for their guns again as there was a sudden piercing shriek in the night air - and suddenly they were dazzled by a bright light in their faces. A voice announced 'Glenridge PD ! Hands up !'....Squinting into the light, they obeyed. Turner announced that he was FBI and that he would reach very slowly for his shield - he did so holding it up until the light was switched off to be replaced by the much more subdued flickering blue & red from the squad car they could now see just above them on the road. There were two officers up there with guns drawn. They commanded the two men to come on up closer while they checked them out. Turner gave them his own name and asked them to confirm their credentials with Gregson. They waited in silence as the officers called into their department and within two minutes it was confirmed that they were 'clear'. The officers relaxed and explained that a resident of the apartments had spotted their torchlight and had decided not to take any chances and gave them a call. The officers had rolled along quietly down the gradient with their engine off and got the jump on the two 'feds' - something that they seemed quietly pleased about. They respectfully advised them to keep the station or Gregson posted if they were going to be visiting any more sites, bade them good night and drove off. Zachariah and Turner decided to call it a night and headed back to their own car - glad to reach it after another nervous 10 minutes walking under the trees through the mist.

Back at the chalet, Travis had not been able to uncover any current, or historic, cases similar to the killings they were faced with - so no leads there. He had found out that there was a Glenridge Historical Society which he intended to visit in the morning. Turner fired off a mail to Cell A with a summary of what they were up against so far (though he presumed that they would know already) and asking whether they had any experience of similar killings - or with instances of 'flying creatures' to share. They all called it a night - agreeing to start again the next day.

After breakfast, Travis went off alone in search of the buliding which housed the historic society - a colonial era schoolhouse which had been restored for posterity and which now held all sorts of original documents and artefacts drawn from the local area. He promised to be in touch with the others later that day.

Turner and Zachariah spent the morning going over a map of the area and comparing the locations of where the victims had last been sighted and where their bodies had shown up. They were working on the notion that the creature they suspected was 'out there' somewhere had a lair of sorts from which it was attacking and they spent some time trying to establish where it might be - either in a deserted building (they discovered that there were none of these in such an affluent area) - or in a natural spot such as a cave....but this line of enquiry also proved fruitless. They were getting frustrated now - aware that they were getting nowhere fast. In the early afternoon, they took a call from Gregson who by now had heard about their little adventure of yesterday evening and who politely asked them to keep him informed if they wished to make any visits in future. He trusted his men to be professional, but all the same he did not want any 'accidents' to occur - or for any trigger happy vigilantes to shoot an FBI man instead. They let if go at that. And that was when Zachariah had a little epiphany about cops. 'We're going about this the wrong way' he told Turner, 'We need to be doing this thing the way a cop would. You know law enforcement - shouldn't we be looking at the victims - their last movements, connections - that sort of thing ?'. Turner agreed that he was right - they had a focus now.

Meanwhile, Doctor Guiturrez had travelled on an early flight to New York and from there, after hiring a car, had made his way to Riverhead, and to the coroner's office attached to the hospital there. Here he announced to the receptionist that he believed he was expected. She confirmed that he was, but that Doctor Santorini was not here at present - though was due back shortly. Guiturrez insisted that he had no time to wait and informing her that the FBI would take 'full responsibility' he insisted on being shown Dr Santorini's office - and the nearby morgue room. Asking to be left alone in the autopsy room he donned some scrubs and immediately proceeded to locate and examine the cadavers of the unfortunate victims - preparing to draw his own conclusions before reading over any previous notes.

Taking Gregson at his word, Turner and Zachariah contacted him to take them to Maretti's practice to meet his colleagues - talking to the receptionists and practice partner. The interviews drew a blank. The unfortunate Mr Maretti seemed to have been an all round good guy, and he'd been in excellent spirits the day he left work. And as previous investigations had already concluded, there didn't seem to be any suggestion of financial difficulty or any other problems. They were able to review his appointment book for the days leading up to his death, but there was nothing of note there. The two Delta Green agents also wanted to talk to Maretti's family, but Gregson was keen to protect his widow from further distress ; he asked them to consider whether it was absolutely necessary at this stage and the two agents conceded it was not...but reserved the right to ask again if it did become so. Instead they proceeded go Vanessa Hatvan's apartment. A spinster librarian, she had been the second victim. But a search of her place didn't turn up anything.that they didn't know already about her.

At this point, they got a call from Guiturrez and thanking Gregson they went on to meet the doctor back at the chalet. He looked pale and thin - a shadow of the healthy professional that Turner had first met back in San Carlos. But they didn't comment on this and instead asked him how he had got on. The doctor was able to report an 'interesting' afternoon. He'd been able to examine the pitiful remains of the victims but had little further to offer than what they already knew - although he was somehow convinced that the gouging out of Maretti's eyes had been 'incidental' to the act of tearing off the lower jaw from the rest of his head ; he could almost envision... ....something....sinking it's fingers into the sockets to gain more purchase. Why he thought of these things he wasn't exactly sure. He related this observation to the two Delta Green men. He mentioned that he had also met with the Medical Examiner, Doctor Santorini. What he didn't mention was that they hadn't exactly hit it off. Santorini was an interesting figure - his sloppy and uncoordinated dress sense and wild greying blonde hair belying a keen mind - and an abrupt manner when annoyed. He had been less than impressed to arrive back at his office to find Guiturrez was using his morgue to re-examine the corpses. Worse, Guiturrez was no diplomat, and he riled the Medical Examiner even more by openly admitting that the FBI wanted to be sure that 'a proper job had been done, and that nothing had been missed'. Santorini was barely able to contain his displeasure and the rest of the proceedings had been very curt. Guiturrez had even made it clear that he did not feel under any obligation to share his findings with Santorini - leading to a slammed door behind him as he left. Of course, this was not known to Turner and Zachariah so they suggested that the doc should stick around in case anything else should come up; remembering Vegas, Guiturrez had been prudent enough to bring some first aid supplies, as well as a small but carefully chosen selection of vials and pills containing various sedatives and pain killers. It was Zachariah's experience that such things could well proves useful.

It was now about 6pm in the evening and with no sign of Travis yet they decided to leave the doc at the chalet and called to ask Gregson to show them around the Hatvan residence - the scene of Lauren Harrogate's abduction. Gregson met them at the house - a large and comfortable house overlooking the bay - mentioning as soon as he arrived that he'd just had a call from a very pissed off Medical Examiner. He asked the two agents if they could bear in mind that he would have to work with these people long after they were gone and to have a word with their 'consultant' about his attitude. They promised that they would. Inside the house, they were able to survey the smashed screen door on the small balcony - now sealed over with some thick polythene and police crime scene tape. They remembered that there had been no sign of trace evidence to show what happend here. Turner had been thinking about the age of the victim - some seventeen year old girls were in the habit of keeping a diary and he wanted to have a look for one. He made a quick gesture to Zachariah to get Gregson out of the way. Zachariah took the hint and got Gregson outside - on the pretense of having a look at the garden ground underneath the balcony. Turner hit paydirt when he found a small padded notebook in a space at the back of a drawer after 5 minutes or so. He skimmed through it very quickly. The name 'Chet Mackenzie' appeared a lot - looked like Lauren had a boyfriend. He'd have to check if this was known about and whether he had been 'cleared'. But there was something even more interesting: last entry was on October 21st, the day of her disappearance. Lauren noted that: 'Dengleberry just phoned me to ask me out. As if ! Chet would kick his ass if he knew !'. Turner pocketed the diary and went to join the others downstairs, where they told Gregson they were satisfied for now.

In the car, Turner told Zachariah what he had found. Dengleberry - something nagged Zachariah about the name, but he couldn't think what. But they knew they were on to something - afer all, hadn't Lauren Harrogate attended the same school where Hatvan had worked ? Back at the chalet, they opened the front door to be greeted with a draft of cold air from within. Zachariah immediately spooked and went for his piece - motioning Turner to do likewise. They proceeded cautiously in, and entering the living area they could see that Guiturrez was reading over some papers. He looked surprised when they asked him if everything was OK and said he was fine - and no, there had been no visitors. They had a quick look all the same. Turner went through to the kitchen - where he saw that the back door of the property was propped against the wall - with the screws and hinges, whch had seemingly been unfastened from the door frame, lying on the counter beside. The open doorway had caused the draft of air when they had entered through the front. Turner waved Zachariah in to show him and then nodded out to the direction of Guiturrez. Zachariah nodded slowly and tapped a finger against his temple. They were beginning to wonder just who had been the more damaged by their trip to Hammonds back in Vegas. They'd need to keep an eye on Guiturrez.

They talked about what they had found, leaving the doc to his notes. Reviewing the summary they noted that Hatvan had been taking a detention class prior to her probable abduction and murder. Turner called the police station and asked one of the cops there to check the files for him. The cop rang back with a list of the 'detainees', reading the names out. One of the names got them interested: a Thomas Dengler, aged 15 years. Dengler / Dengleberry. A light bulb went off in Zachariah's head. He'd seen the name before - Thomas Dengler had been one of the patients the very same day that Maretti had disappeared then shown up dead in the evening. He'd been in for root canal work. Thomas Dengler was their connection to all three victims - they were sure of it, but how exactly ? Turner confimed with the cop that Dengler - apparently an average kid whose father had a law practice in Riverhead - had been routinely interviewed - along with most of the town - and had satisfactorily accounted for his whereabouts at the times of the abduction/murders. In all cases he'd been home with his folks and it seemed that the cops had been satisfied at that. The cop asked if they had anything - but Turner did his best to sound disappointed and give him the impression that they'd just pulled another blank.

Travis showed up, explaining that he had been working late into the evening researching the history of the area. He now knew a hell of lot more about the lives of the Pilgrim Fathers and the brave boys of Long Island who had fought the British in the War of Independence - but sadly nothing more that could shed any light on what was happening here and now. He also said he was exhausted. In fact he looked worse than that. He looked pale and was sweating freely. They'd forgotten he'd been a very sick man not so long ago and it was obvious that he hadn't made a full recovery yet. They decided to call it a night and to update Travis on their own findings in the morning.

7.00am the next morning however found Travis to be worse - he was running a high temperature, feverish almost, and was still physically drained. Turner and Zachariah left Guiturrez to look after him - heading out for breakfast to mull over their problem. The kid was at the heart of it. All of the victims, it could be argued, had pissed him off in one way or another. The dentist had given him root canal work ; he'd been held back after school in Hatvan's detention period - and the girl had rejected him (and very likely laughed at him) when he asked her for a date. What was unknown was how the murders were being achieved - especially if the kid's 'alibis' were on the level. They thought about strategy and tactics ; firstly, they needed to test their theory that this was the cause. And secondly they needed to be able to handle whatever the hell it was that had torn up the victims. And they had to make sure that nobody found about any of it. Not an easy order. Zachariah was clear about how they tested the theory - piss the kid off and see what happend next. As for taking care of 'it' - whatever the hell 'it' was, Turner had an idea. In another life he knew places like Glenridge very well - he knew boats and yachts from the days when he still talked to his family, and had vacationed frequently in the 'Hamptons - not so far from here. Why not hire a boat and if something came after them 'take care of business' out at sea ? Solved the privacy problem - and Turner thought that it might give them an advantage if the 'thing' did turn out to fly. Zachariah wasn't sure - but couldn't argue with the privacy aspect. Turner found a local business directory and selected a likely candidate just outside Riverhead. He dialled and giving a false name, told the owner that he would probably be stopping by later that day on his way from NY to look at hiring a craft for a few days.

Zachariah had an idea to get the kid's attention ; interview his classmates using their FBI 'cover', drop Dengler's name as being connected with the Lauren Harrogate murder - that would be sure to get his attention - and then, hopefully, be prepared for the consequences. They contacted Gregson and told him that they wanted to see the kids in Lauren's class - just in case there was any mileage in going over that ground again. An hour later and Zachariah, as 'FBI Agent Smith', had met the assistant principal and she had secured the use of an office at Glenridge High, where he had the singular pleasure of meeting Lauren Harrogate's class mates. He'd decided to go alone as he had volunteered to become the sole focus of Dengler's ire - assuming they aroused it. Turner stayed back deciding to check out what the weather conditions were going to be in the bay area over the next few days. Over the course of the morning, Zachariah talked to three of Lauren's friends who had been summoned from class - establishing that she had been going steady with Chet Mackenzie - 'a hunk' apparently, but also 'a bit of a jerk' for several months. Chet was a bit of a wild child apparently - frequently getting into trouble with the teachers. Zachariah was thinking more along the lines of 'spoilt bastard' but let that one slide. In each interview he mentioned Dengler's name at the end - asking the girls to talk about him. Two of the girls mentioned that he might be sweet - sorry have been sweet - on Lauren. All of them thought he was a bit of a 'dork'. They asked if Dengler was in trouble. Zachariah told them that he might just be, but it was too early to say...and left it at that. The girls were practically rushing out the door to spread the word. Job done, he rendevouzed with the rest of them back at the chalet.

Travis was feeling much, much better by midday and was up and about having had some food and a shower. He's found the time to apply fresh dressings to his head too - a job he'd chosen to do alone, even though Guiturrez was there to assist. Turner and Zachariah filled the two of them in on everything to date. Travis absorbed it all, but started getting restless when they got to the part about the yacht. 'I'll tell you honestly,' he said when they finished up 'The yacht part. That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard in my life.' He went on to point out that they would be out at sea up against God knows what - with nowhere to 'tactically withdraw to' should the shit hit the fan. Uppermost in his mind were the autopsy photos. Whatever had done that had to be strong and could damage the boat - fuck it up bad - and where would that leave them ? Travis, ever the cinema buff, finished up asking them if they'd watched the end of the Jaws movie lately ? Having heard this little spiel Zachariah was now inclined to agree with Travis. Despite Turner's protestations that he knew what he was doing, they agreed to shelve the boat plan....

[kinnygraham]

(cont from above)

Travis wasn't finished - he had his concerns about the way they'd focussed in on the Dengler kid so soon. Sure, it was a solid lead - but maybe they could spend a little time in scoping him out. For all they knew it could be his parents that were involved - or a friend they didn't know about. They talked this over, agreeing he had a point, and hit upon another plan - breaking into Dengler's house to see if they could uncover anything that might shed any light on whether he was at the heart of it all.

The next half hour was spent information gathering from the file and from other sources. Dengler's father was a lawyer, his mother a medical receptionist ; both worked in nearby Riverhead. They made some anonymous calls to confirm whether they were at work. Travis did a pretty good impersonation of an annoying telemarketer. And while that was going on, Turner set off in a car for a quick drive past of the property - it was only a 10 minute drive from where they were, further up on the slope over looking the bay. As hoped for, both the parents were at work, and Thomas himself should be at school. There was no time like the present and they all set off for the Dengler house. The planned to leave Guiturrez out of the actual break in; Turner had told them the house was at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac and his job was to drive up, drop them off, and be ready somewhere nearby to pick them up again. Travis had packed his 'bag of tricks' which would gain them entry into the building.

As the doctor drove off, the other three men approached the house in a round about manner which took them through a steep forested plot that bordered on to the housing development - they wanted to approach from the rear, just in case there was someone there they didn't know about. They found themselves at the rear of the large garage, beside an empty swimming pool, looking through some glass patio doors that seemed to lead into a large kitchen. It all looked quiet inside. Travis had a look at the lock and decided he would have a look at the front door in case that was an easier option; if there was an alarm he would likely have a grace period with which to disable it, whereas if he entered from the rear, it might register as an intrusion immediately. It meant being exposed to the front of the property, but the entrance was elevated from the road - and it was a quiet cul-de-sac anyway. In less than forty seconds he was in through the door, closing it behind him quickly. Travis was in his element here - he'd had to enter property on numerous occasions to place wire-taps and bugs. Within another 10 seconds he'd located the alarm panel and had made the model. Working quickly, he had it overriden in another 40 seconds. He made his way through to the kitchen and let the others through the back door. They had a quick look around the ground floor, noting the expensive furnishings on offer. Nothing seemed suspicious - though in a family photograph, they did get their first view of Thomas Dengler; a slight, awkward looking young man who looked to be about 13 or 14 when the shot was taken.

Upstairs they found first his parents room, and then his - decorated like that of countless thousand teenagers with gridiron posters and baseball pennants. There was a games console and quite a few books as well. The books - actually library books got their attention - most were on historical explorers. And most of them seemed to be about South America. Unusual. They checked out a walk in wardrobe and immediately noticed an old battered chest. There was a key in the lock. Travis opened it and they found a collection of interesting bric-a-brac ; yellowing black and white photographs depicting the same man - with a variety of interesting looking ruined structures in the background. There was a colourful, if rather musty, woven shawl. There was a small cushioned case which was empty, but which looked as if it had held jewellery of some description. And there was a hand-written journal of some kind - judging by the dates visible, it had been written mainly in the twenties and thirties. They skimmed through it over the next 20 minutes or so, sure it was somehow relevant.

It had been written by a Derek Wheeler, an archaeologist and anthropologist with a particular passion for the early cultures of South America, through which he had travelled extensively. At some point in the late twenties, Wheeler had become interested in the Chavin - a now long vanished people - and their legends pertaining to mythical creatures called 'Ai-Apa' or 'Silent Ones'. These creatures were supposedly their servants and had helped them advance their civilisation before its eventual collapse. The later entries inferred that Wheeler was wondering whether such a creature could actually exist. But despite further investigation, his search proved fruitless. The final entries were apparently written back in the United States and seemed to suggest that Wheeler had been somehow rendered unfit for further active travelling. This was tantalising stuff, but the three agents thought that they would have to read the journal in greater detail when time allowed. They decided to keep it, hoping that Thomas Dengler would not miss it immediately.

Downstairs again they decided to retrace their steps to be safe. They called the doc on the cell - telling him to come back immediately. Travis let them out the back while he prepared to re-set the alarm and leave by the front. Job accomplished, he had just closed the front door and was turning to walk round the side of the house to rejoin his comrades when he saw that he was being watched. There was a skinny youth standing stopped in his tracks at the top of the stairs leading down to the road from the door. Travis noticed at a glance that he had a had a bruised eye and a swollen lip - and that it was Thomas Dengler. Travis strode towards him. 'Hi Thomas' he said, trying to force a relaxed smile, 'I was looking for your folks actually....'. But the kid wasn't buying it - he could tell from the look on his face. He'd seen him leave the house. He was up close to him now though and a quick glance told him the street was clear. Without hesitating he got his arm round his shoulders, cupped a hand over his mouth and despite Dengler's struggles, he dragged him round the side of the house to the rear. Zachariah took it in at a glance: 'Shit ! Keep his head down !' He pointed to his face and Turner's, the meaning clear - he didn't want them made. Though he suspected it was too late for Travis.. The DEA man held the boy down while he shrugged off his coat and got ready to throw it over him. As he did so his eye caught a necklace that the boy was wearing. It was a leather strap, and it was threaded through an unusual stone of some kind which was hung at the front. Travis snapped it off his neck for a closer look. The boy was shit scared - his quavery voice was begging them not to hurt him and he was struggling to get his head up to look out and around. Zachariah decided that this was no time to fuck around - they had to have control here and quick. He waved his gun under the boy's nose and told him that he'd be fucking dead in a second if he did not shut the fuck up and do what he was told. That got him still and quiet, though he was trembling badly and still whimpering. Travis looked at the stone - it was a worn carving of a man entwined with some sort of winged creature of equal size. There was something here all right. He put it in his pocket.

They were reacting quickly now - almost panicked by the turn of events. They had to get out of here. Turner had already checked out front, but there was no sign of the doctor. Where the fuck was he ? He reported back - keeping his voice low. Turner tried the mobile again, but there was no answer. Zachariah and he were livid. The doc had left them in a world of shit. Travis, feeling bad about the situation, was doing his best to calm the kid and reassure him - telling him that it would be all OK. For a couple of minutes more they whispered about what to do - and then they heard a car out front. Turner peeked around the front as far as he dared - trying to see, but not be seen. It was the doc. The street still appeared to be quiet, so they quickly made their way down, Zachariah and Travis bundling Dengler into the back seat and pushing him low to the floor. Guiturrez wanted to know what the hell was going on. Turner wanted to know where the fuck Guiturrez had been and told him that he'd be taking over the driving from now on for good measure.

They headed out of Glenridge heading back in the direction of New York, sticking to quieter roads. They had to find somewhere to talk to the kid to see what he knew about the killings. They opted for back roads into the countryside and eventually finding a quieter stretch after half an hour or so pulled of the road onto some kind of farm road, rutted and overgrown. They stopped near a copse of trees. Turner told Guiturrez to wait beside the car and warn him if anybody was coming. Dengler was quiet now. They took him over to the trees , making sure that he kept his head down. Turner and Zachariah stood nearest, with Travis watching on with mounting unease. Zachariah did the talking, relentless in his determination to get the job done. He explained to the kid that he was in deep, deep trouble and that only by co-operating with them could he get out of it. Maretti, Hatvan and Lauren Harrogate. All dead. What did he know about it. The kid's face was covered by the coat, but they could see from his attitude that the question had given him pause. Travis's immediate take was that he was surprised as hell. Dengler blurted that he didn't know anything about it, how could he ? But he'd asked Lauren out and she'd said no, hadn't she ? How did he feel about that ? Was he pissed off ? The kid said he had, how did they know ? He'd felt really bad about what happened to her when he heard, but he'd been at home all night from when he phoned her. He thought she was beautiful......he started sobbing. Turner and Zachariah exchanged a look of doubt with one another. 'What about the case ?' asked Turner ' With the photos and the diary. Where did you get that ?'. The kid recovered enough to answer 'From my mom, it's my grandfather's she gave it too me a few weeks back....He was an explorer. I thought it was cool..' 'And your necklace ? Was that his ?' asked Travis. The kid nodded. 'Who hit you today ?' he asked....The kid replied that it was Chet and his buddies. Chet and his buddies said he had killed Lauren. Everyone was saying it, but it wasn't true. Travis gave Zachariah and Turner a look and shook his head. Those two off a short distance, debating their next move. The kid slumped to his knees - tired and exhausted. Travis, feeling like an utter bastard, tried to tell him that he'd be all right.

Zachariah and Turner were still convinced that Thomas Dengler was the key here. Whoever annoyed him off turned up dead. Whether he actually knew about that or not was another thing. Chet Mackenzie - Lauren's boyfriend - might be the next target. As indeed might they. They thought it would be a good idea if they perhaps kept an eye out on Mackenzie this evening. On past form, whoever annoyed Dengler didn't usually see the next day. But what to do with him in the mean time ? His disappearance might be noted soon, but they wanted to keep him with them just in case there was some unknown factor about his role in this that they didn't yet know. Turner was worried about him being reported missing, and about the fact that Zachariah's visit to the school would be being discussed. He decided to pre-empt things by calling Gregson on his cell. He explained that they'd noticed a minor connection with Dengler and that they wanted to check it out - could he arrange that they saw him ? Gregson said that he'd get on it and call him back. Turner then walked back to the car to find the doctor. He explained that they were sure that the kid was somehow involved, and they wanted to keep him out of the way until they could find out more. He wanted the doctor to sedate him. Guiturrez was doubtful, but sensed a grim urgency in these moments. He realised that he'd already crossed a line a while back when he'd destroyed evidence back in Vegas and resigned himself to trusting that these men knew what they were doing. They went back to quietly explain it to Travis, who felt equally fatalistic, trapped by the circumstances. The doctor readied an injection while Travis told Dengler what to expect. The boy asked them please not to kill him and Travis assured him he'd only be out for a while - nothing to worry about. The boy flinched at the sting of the needle, but within a minute had slumped over - breathing deeply. Travis reflected bitterly; kidnapping and drugging a minor. Christ what had he become ?

It was early evening now and the light was fading fast. They put Dengler in the rear compartment of the car and drove back to Glenridge. Turner took a call from Gregson. Apparently Thomas Dengler had left school today early after some kind of incident with some of the other boys, including Chet Mackenzie. They were trying to find him right now. Had Dengler's name been mentioned when they'd visited earlier ? Turner said he'd check with Agent Smith and asked for an update on progress in the meantime. Turner then phoned the station and told them he wanted Chet Mackenzie's address in case they wanted to interview him. They drove back to the chalet first. Zachariah wanted to get his hold-all containing the other guns he had brought ; if they were going to stake out Mackenzie then he wanted something with a bit of punch. They opted to take two cars, not wanting to attract too much attention. Zachariah and Guiturrez stayed in the car that had Dengler in the back, where he remained so quiet that Zachariah was fearful that the doctor - who sat on the back seat to check him - had given him an overdose, until assured that he was still breathing. Turner and Travis were in the other car, and they all set off to Mackenzie's. His parents were obviously very wealthy; the house and walled grounds occupying a full block.

It was dark now, and they decided to drive around the block at an interval of about 2 minutes apart, keeping their eye on the lit windows of the upper floors of the house which they could see over the wall and through the trees. Turner took another call from Gregson who explained that they were getting very concerned about Thomas Dengler ; he hadn't shown up at home. He might have ran off after today. Turner suggested that they check with the bus companies in case he had. Hanging up, he dialled back to Zachariah - they wanted to keep in touch as they patrolled round the block. Travis was thinking on today's events and was quiet - he was about to say what he thought to Turner when there was a massive thump on the roof which rocked the car. Seconds later, the view from the windscreen was obscured by a barbed monstrosity crouching on the bonnet - they could barely take in the detail, but were aware of something dark and lean with widespread wings like that of a bat - and of mult-faceted red glowing eyes which bore into them with wicked intensity. Even as Turner was jumping on the brakes his mind flashed to illustrations of the gargoyles and demons of European myth. There was a crunching sound and Travis screamed - a taloned, hooked hand had punched through the windscreen and smashed him in the shoulder sending waves of pain through him and black spots dancing in his eyes. The hand peeled back the frosted windscreen like the lid of a can of tuna and threw it aside.

Zachariah heard the panicked screaming from Turner's dropped mobile and stamped on the accelerator.

The two Delta Green men had scrabbled at their shoulder holsters, fumbling to get their guns clear. Travis got off a round, but it seemed to only nick this monster from nightmare..... Turner let off a shot, striking the demon thing. It recoiled, but then leaned forward lightning fast - a hooked beak or snout emanating a deadly cold radiance as it was stretching wide over Travis's face, drowning his high scream as the jaws fastened on him with a crunching, tearing sound. He began to kick and thrash in his seat. A second later and Turner was aware of the stench of faeces as Travis voided his bowels in mortal terror. The thing wrenched back violently, and Travis went with it, his legs still kicking weakly as he went through the space where the windscreen had been. Both hunter and prey went straight up into the air as the demon thing launched itself skywards. Zachariah had arrived just in time to see it, bringing the car to a screeching halt as its broad wings pulled at the night air and it receded up into the darkness. He grabbed an SMG from the hold all and leaped out, firing desperately into the darkness above where it had been.

But it was too late. Travis was gone.

[Aran]

If this is how you ended your play session you are a magnificent bastard! :)

[Delirium]

Awesome!

I've played and ran this particular scenario and I think it's one of the strongest Cthulhu scenarios ever written.

I like all of the incidental detail you've injected and well done to the players for spotting the connection and decisively acting on it so soon.

Many thanks for that comprehensive account, Graham.

[kinnygraham]

If this is how you ended your play session you are a magnificent bastard! :)

It was, and thanks for the compliment :D

Awesome!

I've played and ran this particular scenario and I think it's one of the strongest Cthulhu scenarios ever written.

I like all of the incidental detail you've injected and well done to the players for spotting the connection and decisively acting on it so soon.

Many thanks for that comprehensive account, Graham.

And thank you. As for incidental detail - I've got you to thank for some of that from the description you gave me of your sessions.....(think you know who/what I am referring to).

[Private Eye]

Don't worry fans, Travis will be back...... but he won't be saying much

[Delirium]

Don't worry fans, Travis will be back...... but he won't be saying much

Amazing what you can do with a plastic spatula and a Mi Go brain canister, eh?

But seriously, what is it with Cthulhoid entities and Travis' head? ;)

[EvilBrennan]

yay! This stuff is still Great!
I loved the boat Idea, but yeah. That would have led to a bad place...

[Gogmagog]

Oh no! Damn.. I liked Travis. But thats what happens when the Mythos and humans collide.

Edit: *Darn comp hiccup* I think it's a complete accident on how the killings happened. Dengler gets angry at someone, and the amulet summons the beast to kill them.

[Fiver]

The characters are really screwed now.

They've got a car with the windshield torn out and lying nearby. Dengler is sedated in the back seat of the other car. And they've fired a fair amount of shots in a well-to-do neighborhood.

That could result in police complications really fast. Not to mention the damaged car is going to be fairly distinctive so if they do get away, they'll have to find a clever way of disposing of it. Did someone use his real ID to rent it?

Also, windshields have the VIN (Vehicle Identification Number). Unless they're lucky, that bit of the windshield is lying on the side of the road, trying it to that specific car.

Travis' body should be a major problem for them, wherever it lands. After all, he isn't really FBI, which could lead to a lot of unpleasant questions for Turner in particular from the FBI, the DEA, and the local police. Then there's the amulet which I believe is still in Travis' pocket.

Right now the Mythos seems to be the least of their problems.

[Gogmagog]

Would it be to much to just scrap the mission and run for it/go underground?

[Fulsrush]

Right now the Mythos seems to be the least of their problems.

Always the most fun part of Delta Green...

[kinnygraham]

Again, thanks for all the comments and interest folks.

I'll try and get the next piece up ASAP, when all will be revealed about what happend next.

After I finish with 'A Victim of the Art', there will only be one more scenario to describe the play of - the campaign finale so to speak. So I hope to conclude with that, and perhaps find the time to write up a little summary on choices/reactions I made in running the scenarios, notable places were the game mechanics had an effect etc etc.

I've now moved from Leeds and have actually just recommenced running DG with a new group. I doubt I'll be able to write up their escapades in this format (really, really time consuming) but I may keep this thread going with snippets and updates from that - especially if we play through a scenario not covered already here.... ..

[CabbageHead]

Holy sheep dip, not one update, but two. Hot damn! Now everybody leave me alone while I read.

My mistake, it is a ginormous update which works just as well.

[EvilBrennan]

Bump?

[kinnygraham]

Bump?

Whooaaa, easy tiger....easy.... ;)

I've barely started on the next one so it will be a wee while yet before the next update.

But as ever, thanks for showing such interest.

[EvilBrennan]

I'll show more if you let me!
:D
This thread sold a copy of DG:CD, godlike, and the core delta green book when it's re-printed, so I'd say I'm hooked.
^_^

[CabbageHead]

Graham,

I take it your group for these write-ups are no longer playing/in the area. Is that correct? If so, did you end the sessions with a final session (i.e.--there is a definite ending) or did it end with things "hanging"?

[Newtus]

Hi there

I was one of the players, the good ole Dr, and Graham did indeed finish the game with the group before he fled Leeds for Sunny Belfast.

[kinnygraham]

Graham,

I take it your group for these write-ups are no longer playing/in the area. Is that correct? If so, did you end the sessions with a final session (i.e.--there is a definite ending) or did it end with things "hanging"?

As Mr Wrong / Doc Guiturrez (hi Newt :) ) has said, yeah there was a a final session.....I think I mentioned in a post above that after 'Victim of the Art' - which you are reading about now - I played one more scenario before life took me over to a new job in Belfast.........so, yes there was some 'closure' to the campaign.

I will write it up - just don't ask me to commit to saying when ;)

[CabbageHead]

Graham,

Are you planning on running Music From a Darkened Room with a new group? If so, could you post your thoughts (either here, or if in a new thread link it here if you don't mind). I'd sure appreciate it.

[Private Eye]

I was one of the players as well - there sure was a "natural end" to the campaign.

The fag end of the group has just finished "fragmented sanity" for cthulhu rising - sorry newt, but Div got gutshot - that'll teach you to move away in media res - heh, heh, heh.

Actually Div will probably survive, though whether the nightmares will ever stop is another matter.....

[CabbageHead]

So Private Eye, you gonna write it up?

[Newtus]

The fag end of the group has just finished "fragmented sanity" for cthulhu rising - sorry newt, but Div got gutshot - that'll teach you to move away in media res - heh, heh, heh.

Actually Div will probably survive, though whether the nightmares will ever stop is another matter.....

You are a bad GM. The sensible thing to do would have left Div proping up the bar drinking pints of lager. But oh no you have to use him as GM controled cannon fodder!! I say this forgetting this is Cthulhu though :D

I'd second a write up :D

[Srathnal]

Bump.

I've really enjoyed reading your actual play thread. More please. :)

Srathnal

[kinnygraham]

Bump.

I've really enjoyed reading your actual play thread. More please. :) l

Thank you.

I have been lead unto temptation by the base joys of 'Call of Duty 2 multiplayer' of late :), but I have recently decided to enforce a bit of discipline on myself and devote 1 night a week to game stuff - prep of my new groups campaign and finishing these write ups. Hopefully that means I should be ready with an update soon.

[Private Eye]

for those interested, the group continues, with a new recruit. Once again I have rolled a succession of 90+ scores (usually when trying to dodge), and this time my character has finished the scenario as a stone statue - oh well, no more nightmares I suppose

[EvilBrennan]

Ba-Dump.

[Srathnal]

Bump...

[CabbageHead]

I'm begining to wonder if we need to arrange an intervention here for Graham and his Call to Duty....:p

[kinnygraham]

I'm begining to wonder if we need to arrange an intervention here for Graham and his Call to Duty....:p

LOL - I've just uninstalled the damned game this week because of its addictive qualities.

But no excuses - I've been hopeless of late re the writeups situation........Request noted and thanks again for the interest. I'll see what I can do in order to get the finger out.

[CabbageHead]

*Whistles while looking under the sofa cushions for a loose change and updates*

[Crayne]

I'm only now starting to catch up on the write-ups, but this is brilliant:

"When things don't know that they are dead it makes me think of you, Agent DeVere."

Very good reading, kinnygraham, and it's making me anxious to delve into DG myself. :)

[CabbageHead]

I'm only now starting to catch up on the write-ups, but this is brilliant:

"When things don't know that they are dead it makes me think of you, Agent DeVere."

Very good reading, kinnygraham, and it's making me anxious to delve into DG myself. :)

I sympathize with that last part, but you're going to have a tough time as all the DG books are now out of print. There are rumors of a D20 version, and if it does come out, I'd strongly recommend buying it for the content/ideas alone. Also, check out Dennis Detwiller's blog as well for new stuff.

[Crayne]

I sympathize with that last part, but you're going to have a tough time as all the DG books are now out of print. There are rumors of a D20 version, and if it does come out, I'd strongly recommend buying it for the content/ideas alone. Also, check out Dennis Detwiller's blog as well for new stuff.

Well, I have friends who have a serious compulsion to collect DG and CoC books, so I at least have access to them. I'd love to have them for myself though. Perhaps Spiel Essen will yield some results later this year. ;)

My own actual play thread (http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=196003) for a CoC d20 WWII campaign - that sadly never got past its first session - dealt with something similar to the whole DG approach, with the players being recruited into Operation Sleeping Dog to put an end to suspected occult activity by the nazis in a last ditch effort to turn the tide of the war.

I'm going to read the DG books to tie that into the adventure I had for d20 and then run the campaign again, with a different group perhaps.

[Winston Smith]

This thread desperately needs an update.

[screen_monkey]

This thread desperately needs an update.

Oh, yes. More, please...

[Crayne]

^^ I'm with them. I yearn for more DG goodness. :)

[kinnygraham]

(With apologies for the long delay). Here's the next part:


Zachariah stood staring at the cloudy night sky, desperately hoping for a target, but could see nothing ..... The doctor, sitting behind him in the car, had only caught a glimpse of what had happened, but opted to stay put as he watched Zachariah and Turner, aware that something terrible was abroad in the air that night. The latter was now out of his own car, gun aimed skywards, his mind racing with what he had just witnessed and how close he had been to death himself.

Both Delta Green men forced themselves into action - they couldn't dwell on what had happend to Travis - their position was too exposed and dangerous. The SMG that Zachariah had fired off had been suppressed, but the shots that Travis and Turner had got off had not been. Spent shells from the SMG littered the middle of the road and the shattered windscreen lay nearby the car....They converged, always looking skywards and talked in low hurried voices. They had to assume that the shots had been heard and that the Glenridge PD would be here very soon. They had to get out of the area. One car, the FBI vehicle that 'Turner' had driven up here, was very obviously damaged, the other held the unconcious body of Thomas Dengler - who had by now been reported missing. And they were an agent down. They most definitely had to get the hell out of here.....Turner, who'd shown some talent already at thinking up the 'cover stories' for previous ops was already beginning to cook something up - his mind examining all the angles he could think of - something about the agents being attacked by the 'real' kidnappers of Thomas Dengler - who to their knowledge hadn't seen their faces yet. But to pull it off they were going to need some deperate measures....He asked Zachariah if the gun he'd used had been 'clean' ? 'Untraceable' was the reply. Turner was satisfied for the moment. 'Let's get the hell away from here' he said 'We're going to the marina...Get the doc to drive and follow us. We need to talk.'

Seconds later, they were pulling away, Turner driving the windscreenless Taurus with Zachariah clutching his holdall of guns beside him and Guiturrez following in the rental behind. They drove as quickly as they could without trying to attract any unwanted attention ; however, the roads were quiet and they were soon only a minute or so away from their destination - Turner was barking out his plan to Zachariah as they went. But as they turned into one of the approach roads Turners pulse quickened - there was a police cruiser up ahead coming in their direction. It was dark - but surely an alert cop would notice they had no windscreen ? Zachariah reached into his bag, his fingers closing around the trigger of one of the pieces of cold, lubricated metal within. He didn't relish the idea of going up against some cops. Turner stepped on the gas a little, trying to minimise the time that they would be in view. Even as he did so, the police cruiser leapt forwards towards them and was past them in seconds - the siren beginning to wail and the emergency lights flashing blue and red. A beat later and it had rounded the corner and was gone. They relaxed a fraction and drove on - this wasn't over by a long shot.

A minute later and they were parked up at the end of one of the low jetties in the marina that protruded out into the sound. Turner had chosen carefully - the small boats tied up alongside here were really only used for short day or half-day sailing ; it was unlikely that anyone would be sleeping overnight in these. He motioned the doctor to drive his car on to the narrow planks first and then he stopped his own car just at the start. He and Zachariah got out, walked past the doc and went up to the end, Turner talking his plan through.

'Ok, Here's how it went down. You and I were casing the Mackenzie kid's place in my Fedmobile. The doc is our consultant - and he was along for the ride. We made a suspicious vehicle outside the Mackenzie place - our rental which you got with fake ID back in NY, right ? So no link back to us hopefully. We approach, and some John Doe opens up with a gun - hitting the windshield. We give pursuit, during which I punch out the windshield while you drive - you need to cut me up on the hand for that. We get here and our perp drives off the pier. We go in after.........and we find the kid. He hasn't seen us. If he makes our voices then he's confused and traumatised and obviously mixed up. Travis was off elsewhere - if he shows up dead then the perps got to him and we deal with it. The kid will be talking multiple assailants, we'll be talking about one that got away - which means there are more out there - get us a little manhunt going and throw up some smoke on this. We're the FBI, we're shaken up, but we take the lead and direct what's happening. When we get the chance we get a call in to Alphonse and get them to back us up. OK, Questions ? Things I'm not thinking of ? '

Zachariah was digesting it all - he was primarily a man who preferred to be on the move, in action - but this wasn't quite like anything he'd had to work through before. Turner's plan had a lot of merit - but fuck, driving the car off the pier was dangerous shit. The penny dropped. 'You want me driving the car - right ?'. Turner nodded. 'You're the best choice. I don't know diddly about your background but I'm betting this won't be the first time you'll have been dunked in water. Fuck you could be a SEAL for all I know. Besides, I'll be in there right after you, making sure the kid gets out.' Zachariah had nearly forgotten about the kid. 'Where's he going ?' 'In the trunk. We dove in looking for the perp and the trunk had popped and we found him. ' They glanced back at the car. The trunk had indeed been popped already and they couldn't see the doc - he must have been behind the car, checking him out. A second later he appeared at the side of the car and shouted. 'The child is awake - you'd better come over here !'. Shit - this was the last thing they needed. Hadn't the kid been given enough to tranquilise an elephant ? They both rounded the car, for a few brief seconds forgetting that they did not want to be seen. The doctor must have forgotten too. Dengler was upright, out of the trunk with his backside perched on the edge. His pale young face looked somehow old and drawn in the dim light - his eyes were sunken, hollow and somehow ancient well beyond his years. He stared ahead, speaking softly....'...that killed them all wasn't it ? I killed them all.........I killed them all. I dreamed terrible dreams and....and they died. I can see it all happening now.....IT killed them because of me.' He turned and looked at them, his heavily lidded eyes boring into each of them 'And your friend died too. IT has him now.' This shit was freaking Zachariah out and he threw the coat back over Dengler's head and rounded on the doc. 'Give him another shot and get him under !' The doctor looked at him hesitantly. 'Do it now' insisted the Delta Green man. The doc stared at him for a few seconds then readied another shot before injecting it into the arm of the unresisting Dengler. Even as he slumped forward Zachariah caught him up and put him back in the trunk, slamming it shut.

'If we are doing this then we are doing it NOW !' he said to Turner. The doctor didn't even know what 'this' was yet. He looked on as Zachariah produced an SMG from his hold all and walked back to the Fed vehicle. He discharged a burst of bullets at it - aiming for the upper front of the chassis...The sounds of the bullets popping into the bodywork echoed loudly around. Turner took his lead and walked back a distance - motioning for the doc to stand aside. He raised his Glock and fired two quick shots into the back of the rental vehicle, taking care not to hit anywhere low near the trunk compartment where Dengler lay. The doctor stared open mouthed at this and listened to the shots echoing out across the surrounding yachts and across the dark waters. Lights started to go on around the marina on yachts docked at other jetties. Zachariah tucked the SMG back into the hold all and threw it at the doc. Turner had holstered his piece and now held his right hand out in Zachariah's direction - the latter produced a small pen-knife and gripping the proffered arm, he slashed the FBI man's knuckles and added a couple of cuts to the back of the hand for good measure while Turner stared at him through clenched teeth. Zachariah turned to the doctor, who wasn't at all sure where all this was going, and said: 'When the cops turn up, let us do the talking. We were staking out Mackenzie's, shots were fired, you ducked and stayed down. You didn't see shit till you got here. Got it ?'. He climbed into the rental vehicle and revved the engine, ignoring the sinking, nervous feeling in his stomach. Yes, he did actually believe that he was going to do this. Seconds later he had hit the accelerator and was peeling off towards the end of the jetty - Turner running behind him throwing off his jacket as he went. The doctor realised what was happening and moved off after them shouting - just as the car nose dived into the water with a tremendous splash, taking Zachariah and the unconscious Dengler, down into the cold, rushing darkness. Five seconds later and Turner had leapt off the end too. The doctor could only stand at the edge and and stare.

In the dark waters below, Zachariah struggled to escape. He'd tried to brace for the shock of the impact of the car going into the water but had been winded anyway, and then doubly shocked by the fierce sensation of the cold waters rushing into the drivers compartment. The water here was relatively shallow and he was dimly aware of the car settling on the bottom after a brief weightless sensation as the car went down. There was still a pocket of air and he tried to take as much in as he could before it was gone - he'd have to wait till there was as much water inside as out before he could get out - but he felt a hint of panic even now as he realised he was struggling to get his lings filled as a result of the winding he had taken. As the water closed over his head the thought came to him suddenly that this was a stupid plan and a really fucking stupid way to die.

Some 14 feet above him, Turner was treading water, blood oozing from a nasty gash in his head. He'd struck a hidden pile on his dive in and had immediately been forced to the surface as he tried to revover from his disorinetation. He was dimly aware of the doctor shouting something from the edge of the jetty but his only thoughts were of Dengler in the car below. He had to get him out. Already he could feel the cold creeping into his muscles and cramping them up, but deperate he kicked down below the surface where he could still see the dim headlights of the car...But even as he peered at them, they flickered and died. And there was no sign of Zachariah.
either.

Below in the car, Zachariah's lungs were burning for air - and he couldn't get out the goddammed car. He was fumbling for the handle to open it but for some reason he couldn't find it ! This thing was going to be his fucking coffin if he didn't get out ! He was going to die a wretched fucking stupid death and he was seconds away from just opening his mouth to breathe in air that wasn't there ! His hand found the handle and he pulled it back, shoving the door with his shoulder even as he did so. It opened and he kicked himself free and out, straining for the surface. In a handul of seconds that seemed like a lifetime he rose through the murk and then out into cold clean beautiful air....He gulped it down, spitting the water out and treading water he took stock....He could see the doctor fumbling for something at the side of the jetty - but no Turner, and no Dengler. Shit. He'd have to go back down, but right now it was all he could do to tread the water - his limbs felt leaden. He could see now that the doc had a boathook and stood ready to fish them out.......'Where's Turner ?!' he shouted....'He went back down !' Guiturrez cried back.

Some half a minute passed, with the only nose the splashing of Zachariah's arms and his ragged gasps. Then Turner's head broke the surface, his wound still streaming - before he forced Dengler's head above the surface level too. Turner had been lucky, fumbling in the darkness he had found the release for the trunk and had pulled Dengler clear. The boy made little sound now however - both men feared the worse as they maneuvered him into the reach of the boathook. Guiturrez pulled him in further and all together they manhandled him back up on to the wooden surface of the jetty....Both the Delta Green men made it out too, sodden, cold and exhausted they stretched out on the planking as the doctor crouched over the boy - who suddenly vomited water and made a gasping noise as Guiturrez rolled him into the recovery position. The other two struggled to their feet - thinking now might be a good time to raise the alarm.

There was sudden thudding wet noise as a ruined mass of flesh hurtled out of the darkness and landed messily on the jetty just 15 feet or so from where they stood. All three took the sight in, their minds recoiling in the brief seconds it took them to realise that they were looking at Travis - or what was left of him. His clothes from the waist up were a torn mass and his legs lay at a sickening angle to the rest of the torso which was strangely shapeless and contracted - quite literally spineless they realised aghast. There was no head. Turner heaved his guts up as nausea overcame him. Zachariah suppressed his horror and glancing up thought he caught a blur of movement somewhere in the sky above - he immediately made for his holdall which the doctor, who was cradling the boy, had left down nearby.

There was a second, horribly meaty, thumping noise as something came bouncing down the planks towards them. It rolled unevenly past Zachariah coming to rest just feet away from Turner, Guiturrez and Dengler. Even with the eyes gouged out they could see it was Travis; the bloodied remnants of his dressings were clearly visible. His mouth seemed to be open in a final scream of agony - but even as they suppressed fresh revulsion and alarm they could see that there was, in fact, something in his mouth which made it gape open so horribly......Sickly fascinated, Turner sank to his knees and peered closer - realising that it was the strange worn pendant which Travis had taken from the boy which had been stuffed in there....There was a low moan from Dengler and Turner turned to him to see that though he was still lying prone, the boy's eyes were opened wide and staring - and that he had one arm outstretched towards the severed head of Travis.....Turner's immediate thought was that he wanted the pendant.... Even as Zachariah was ramming a fresh mag into his SMG, Turner had closed his eyes, grabbed a hold of Travis's skull and had pulled the pendant and its leather strap from the bloodied mouth of his friend. He stood upright, shouting 'Fuck this !' and threw the small statuette at his feet as hard as he could - following up with an immediate stamp on it with the heel of his shoe. He felt it crack and break.

Overhead, there was a sudden bestial, keening screech which almost drowned out a despairing sob from Dengler. Turner looked skyward to see something dark and lean with malicious gleaming points of light which he knew were eyes coming down at him with a furious beating of broad, barbed wings. Turner threw himself off the jetty even as Zachariah started to empty his clip at it, sure that his bullets were striking it. A split second later and and there was a dull thudding as the thing crashed into the planking where Turner had stood - just as the FBI man hit the water. Zachariah stood some ten feet from it, only stopping his shooting when his magazine was emptied. He quickly changed over to a new clip - hands moving automatically as his training dictated, eyes never leaving the thing which lay before him. He moved around slightly to ensure that he was hitting it, and nothing beyond. The withering fire rocked it slightly where it lay and when he had finished, there was no sign of movement. Quiet descended for a moment - broken only by the splashing noises from Turner's direction as he kicked to remain above the cold water. Guiturrez only took his eyes from the thing to momentarily look at Dengler who still lay beside him - but it appeared that he had lapsed into unconsciousness.

Both Guiturrez and Zachariah, almost disbelieving their senses, took in the details of the creature again ; a sinewy, unsettlingly humanoid form with cruelly barbed extremeties, clawed hands and feet and large bat like wings lying crushed beneath it. The head bore multi-faceted clusters, which they took for eyes, above a large bony almost axe-like protuberance which they assumed to be a mouth or snout. Zachariah edged over for a closer look, wary of the thing moving again his finger poised on the trigger. There were small marks on it which he presumed to be the places where his bullets had struck home, but even as he took these details in something strange began to happen ; he noticed that the 'flesh' or skin of the thing had began to bubble and blister ; a second later and his nostrils had caught whiff of a bitter, acrid tang which caused him to almost black out so adverse was his reaction to it. He reeled back gagging for fresh air and shouted that it was poisonous. The doc got the message and got to his feet to drag Dengler around and away from the thing, back towards the shore end of the jetty. Zachariah stood back at a distance - watching the blasphemy bubble and smoke and lose shape and form. His fascination with this process cut short by the sound of a distant siren and - the appeals of Turner who was finding it difficult to get back up from the water on to the jetty.

Three minutes later, after a helping hand from Zachariah and a hurried disposal of both the SMG and any visible shell casings (both dumped unceremoniously into the water), all of them were ready to greet the Glenridge PD vehicles that screeched to a halt at the mouth of the jetty. With Turner flashing his badge, both he and Zachariah moved to control the situation and shape their cover story. Dengler was alive, but needed medical assistance. His kidnapper had opened fire on them back at the Mackenzie residence and had driven off the jetty when pursued. They had a John Doe on the ground who looked like another victim of the Chiropracter - it looked like he had been pushed out of, or had fallen from the vehicle prior to it hitting the water. They'd tried to save the perp but had found Dengler instead. The cops were discouraged from going onto the jetty - to allow forensics 'proper access' - but the urgent point was made that their perp was still possibly at large - they ordered an immediate search of the shoreline and other jetties around, asking for as many personnel as they could muster - and a frogman unit if one could be found. Dengler would go to the hospital as soon as possible with the doc - as would they just as soon as Gregson had arrived and could co-ordinate the search. The Glenridge officers were amazed at the turn of events but were eager to collar the kidnapper if they could. Within minutes the place was awash with blue and red lights and bustling with activity.

As requested an ambulance was soon available for Dengler to take him and the doctor (who did not have to act at all really to 'feign' the 'shock' he was suffering from and who had done his best to keep a low profile ) to the hospital in nearby Riverhead. He told the paramedics about the immersion the boy had experienced, but given his own part in it, could not bring himself to tell them about the sedatives he had been given. Back at the scene of the 'incident' Gregson had turned up and had been given the same steer that his officers had ; he seemed very concerned about the health of the two 'FBI' men and was determined to assist in bringing their assailant to justice. Turner briefly wondered why he felt no regret or qualms in lying to the man and pushed the thought aside. Instead he pushed the bounds of his authority further, explaining that he now considered the case to be a full federal matter given the kidnapping and the assault on themselves ; while he was truly grateful for the continuing co-operation of the Glenridge PD, they should be acting under his direction from now on. The 'John Doe' for example, an important lead, would be autopsied right away by 'his man' just as soon as he was able. With instructions to Gregson to keep them informed of all developments they consented to put themselves in the care of the paramedics for now and to be taken to the hospital.

Half an hour later they were in Riverhead, where they had been given some dry smocks and an examination by concerned doctors. The two men continued to play their part - that of focussed FBI agents with a breaking case on their hands - and refusing any medication they insisted that they be allowed to get on with their jobs. They gave instructrions that any press were to be kept well clear. Zachariah went off to get an update on Dengler and to find the doc. Turner found a quiet office to 'call the Bureau' - instead dialling his DG cellphone, unsurprised that it had survived the immersion and was working correctly.

Agent ADAM responded immediately. Turner told him that their Opera had went south in a major way and gave him a brief rundown of the details. As far as they knew the threat was neutralised, but they were in a world of shit. Marcus, their supposed backup on this op, hadn't been in touch. If Cell A could help them cover their tracks then they would need to get moving. Point one - they needed to ensure that the paper trail on Zachariah's rental was definitely cold. He gave them the details of the firm that Zachariah had used. Point two - they had a dead DEA agent on their hands. A clusterfuck. Point three was Dengler - a potential witness. They would restrict access to Travis for now - but they had to ensure that he couldn't be made. ADAM told him that he'd get back to him after he considered the possibilities. In the meantime he'd try and see about getting some backup out there - the local cops would be expecting someone else to turn up from the FBI and it would help them try and contain or drive the story. He'd make sure that whoever came along made themselves know to him and Zachariah. Turner hoped that ADAM knew what he was doing - but since it seemed that DG had pulled the strings to get them on this op in the first place, he supposed he had to assume that they could manage things at that level.

Back outside, Zachariah had found the doctor who had insisted to the staff that he had to assist with the investigation. The word on Dengler was that they could not yet revive him. There was no new developments from the incident site - a more detailed, and safe, search was planned for the morning. So far so good. Nothing was mentioned about anything unusual being found there - other than the dismembered body of course which was presently being photographed and documented by a forensic team from the Glenridge PD. They had to assume that the 'thing' had bubbled away into nothingness - their luck was holding.

[Metagaming note. It was at this stage of the proceedings that I was able to introduce a new character for Nick - aka rpg.net's 'Private Eye' - to replace Agent O'Connor/ Travis. Nick gave me a few notes on his personality and background which I am now providing for those of you who like that kind of thing :


Agent Dominic Baines / Agent Xavier

Occupation: CIA Intelligence Officer (formerly field agent)

Background


American father, French mother, brought up with dual language (French/English). Father a successful businessman, left substantial financial holdings and is reasonably well off.

Studied Psychology after high school, but it was dull, dull, dull, except when he used it, and his natural charm to manipulate people.

Ultimately recruited by the CIA for his language skills and degree, and was assigned to a variety of work, eventually gravitating to infiltration/recruitment relating to a variety of subversive groups mostly in French-speaking areas, including old French colonial holdings.

To aid infiltration and “prove his worth” to the groups he was working with, has developed various skills useful to such organisations, including demolitions and forgery.

When “himself” is slightly smarmy and “know-it-all”, wearing pricey clothes, and with a love of fast cars.

Underneath - not a very pleasant character. He thinks he is superior to others and loves to manipulate people - however, his confidence and self assurance have taken a knock since his involvement in DG, especially the Black Veil op, where he felt lucky to escape alive. Covers it up well at present, but under pressure.......


The next two hours saw the arrival at the hospital of the distraught parents of Thomas Dengler, who thankfully went straight to his bedside instead of demanding any immediate answers from his 'rescuers' as Turner had feared. A Glenridge PD uniform also ushered in an 'Agent Jones' from the FBI's New York Field Office. The guy was dressed very smartly in a tailored Italian suit - which immediately said 'not Bureau' to Turner - and his hair looked too immaculate for someone up and about in the wee small hours of the morning. 'Jones' dismissed the cop with a faintly patronising smile and a 'Thank you officer, I'll take it from here' - motioning all three of the Delta Green team into a nearby vacant office. 'Ok - you can relax. ADAM sent me. I'm XAVIER, but right now I'm Agent Jones of the FBI. I've already told the Glenridge PD that there will be more Feds on the scene soon - because that's what ADAM told me so we can assume that will happen. In the meantime we've got a couple of hours to manage this situation. What do you need me to do ? '

Turner explained that their most pressing concern right now was the imminent arrival of Travis's body. They wanted 'Jones' to run interference with everybody while they managed that - talk to the PD first and foremost and keep everybody off their backs. XAVIER / Jones nodded - he'd been briefed on that. ADAM had a plan. They were to manage the autopsy and the IDing of the corpse. ADAM would have the details they would need. With immaculate timing, there was a knock on the door and the same cop stuck his head around the door to tell them that the 'John Doe' had just been brought in to the morgue. He also mentioned that Dr Santorini, the local coroner wanted to speak to them about them about wanting to get involved. Turner looked to XAVIER - this was what they wanted him to deal with. XAVIER adjusted his necktie a fraction and went out to deal with Santorini. The other three made their way to the morgue. where the torn remains of Travis lay. Turner called ADAM for instructions and having received them, directed the doctor to go through the motions of gathering ID data - fingerprints, hair samples and dental impressions - from his corpse. All of them were silent. Turner thinking back to another morgue he had stood in with Guiturrez and Hackett. And now here he was covering up the death of another.....what ? Friend ? Colleague ? He was too tired to pursue the question or to feel any fear about his surroundings now. Guiturrez thought about the irony of him working on the body of a man whom he had just stood shoulder to shoulder with several hours ago. Zachariah, no stranger to death, just wanted the job done. He hoped Cell A knew what they were doing - there was too much heat out there for his liking. As instructed, the doc faxed off the prints he had taken and bagged up the other evidence and put it in a courier pouch - addressing it to a lab in the New York Field Office. They waited half an hour in weary silence until they were faxed back. It seems that the FBI had identified their John Doe. The fix was in.

One hour later they were not surprised to meet some more FBI agents from the Office of Professional Responsibility who had showed up at the hospital - Agents Donnelly and Fernandez, the same agents that had showed up out in Organ Pipe in Arizona and who were also 'in' on Delta Green - and were publicly told for the benefit of any listening ears that they were being 'relieved' from the case for now while Agents Lewis and Coleridge picked up the investigation/manhunt again. They left via a back door in the hospital where they were ushered into a waiting car. They were driven off into the darkness, not one of them looking back in the direction of Glenridge.

[kinnygraham]

Post script (the following was sent to the players after the final session of the scenario above)



The Glenridge killings remain unsolved. Officially at least. A result for Delta Green.

You have to hand it to the two FBI agents who picked up the case again. They stood up to a hell of a lot of flak for the Bureau's inability to account for the murders - and for their utter failure to catch the abductors of Thomas Dengler despite the firearm and other evidence they had uncovered . Made you wonder if they were 'friendly' - or whether Delta Green had something on them. There was severe criticism for the way that the boy's name had been leaked in connection with the case, leading to him absconding from school - and into the arms of his abductor. All in all quite a bit of a shitstorm up Long Island way, but although DeVere had used his own name when on the investigation it did not seem to have been leaked to the press and his guess was that the information flow was somehow 'managed'. A result for Delta Green.

Thomas Dengler never properly recovered. You learned that his immersion had starved him of oxygen for too long. Brain damaged and traumatised, he's on the next ward to Lauren Harrogate's mother. He won't be talking about his abduction any time soon. A result for Delta Green.

Agent O'Connor of the DEA is currently listed as 'suspended from duty' - supposedly he's suffering from some kind of mental breakdown following his recent disfiguring head wound. His whereabouts are unknown, the issue is being confused by phone calls from a lawyer claiming to represent him. You all know different. O'Connor is buried in Potter's field in some Long Island cemetry - falsely identified as a vagrant bum from New York who ran shit out of luck and into the waiting clutches of the 'Glenridge Chiropracter'. Half true at best - another result for Delta Green.

Concerns were raised about Doctor Guiturrez - his performance on the op was too erratic even by 'friendly' standards. Cell A had the rest of you check him out. It was worse than feared. He'd lost it. His house a testament to his madness. Holes knocked in the walls and floors, locks ripped off doors, windows open to the elements. Cell A arranged for some quiet treatment from an 'understanding' shrink with a nice fat prescription pad and they say he has now made a proper recovery from the trauma of Las Vegas. There will be no babbling about conspiracies and monsters in the wrong ears. A result for Delta Green.

Three days after Cell T left Glenridge, Cell A heard that some 'NSA' spooks showed up in Glenridge with questions for the feds and the PD about the unidentified substance that had been found on the victims and sent to the FBI labs in Quantico. They showed a lot of interest in the case and then left after two days. Cell A did some checking. A certain analyst at the labs had just returned from a long vacation - just the day before the spooks showed up. He'd been one of the first men to view the samples from the Santana case. It was enough for Cell A, who sent Zachariah to work a month later. He shot the man in the head half way through a trembling 'Our Father'. The next day it was reporrted that he had been the unfortunate victim of a 'home invasion'. A leak plugged. A result for Delta Green.

That was months ago. You guess that Cell A have been using other 'resources' for other ops. But you know that sooner or later it won't be too long before you get another invite to a Night at the Opera.

[Fulsrush]

Wow.

Fantastic.

You're a damn good GM, and seem to have a pool of damn good players to bounce off.

[kinnygraham]

Wow.

Fantastic.

You're a damn good GM, and seem to have a pool of damn good players to bounce off.

You are too kind - but yes, kudos to my (old) group who were a pleasure to GM for.

My new group over here is looking promising too - I'll perhaps report on some of their exploits once I finish writing up this campaign. One more scenario to go ! I'll try and be quicker with the next one !

[Crayne]

You are too kind

No he's not, but I'll accept the fact that you had some seriously brilliant players to work with too. ;)

I'll try and be quicker with the next one !

So it's going to be up in about an hour or two, right? :p

[Arch Stanton]

Excellent stuff - up to your usual high standard.

When I read your write-ups I always picture what my DG team would do in those situations - and it's never what your team does!

I look forward to your next post.

[kinnygraham]

Excellent stuff - up to your usual high standard.

When I read your write-ups I always picture what my DG team would do in those situations - and it's never what your team does!

I look forward to your next post.

Cheers Andy* - and to everybody who has been posting showing interest in this. It was reading those comments that 're-motivated' me to get the last one up - and I've just started on the next one.

*PM me and let me know how the old group back in sunny Greenock are faring....

[Gogmagog]

Even though it turned out fortunate for the group that he was unable to talk later, there was no need to put Dengler in the trunk. Just dip him in the water and say they fished him out.

[Steve TM]

Wow Gogmagog, thanks for the advice. I'm sure that if the old group ever gets back together we'll remember to make sure we do everything just right. Oh, wait a minute, we won't have the benefit of hindsight will we?

[Arch Stanton]

My paranoied firewall is blocking PMs today! So i've sent you an e mail instead.

[Fulsrush]

Even though it turned out fortunate for the group that he was unable to talk later, there was no need to put Dengler in the trunk. Just dip him in the water and say they fished him out.

Yeah, that would have been a lot more sensible.

Trust roleplayers to miss the easy way out of a problem...

[Gogmagog]

Please excuse me for sounding sarcastic. It's hard to get meaning straight on a message board

[Fulsrush]

It didn't sound particularly sarcastic to me.

(If anything, my reply to it sounded more sarcastic - and it wasn't sarcastic either.)

[Steve TM]

I didn't actually think that either of your comments were sarcastic.

I do, however think that it's all too easy, with the benefit of hindsight, to be critical of the decisions that we made during play. Yeah, we made plenty of mistakes. Yeah, we were sometimes foolish and when we were Graham made us pay for it. But we played our characters and we played up to our characters shortcomings. And we tried to make decisions quickly if the situation demanded it.

I'm sure that no offence was intended but a couple of Gogmagog's posts do seem to infer that he believes our group to be made up of complete morons

[Fulsrush]

And we tried to make decisions quickly if the situation demanded it.

Good point. I've seen RPG planning sessions go on for absolutely ages, often coming up with plans half as good as the one you guys came up with.

[Private Eye]

It wasn't my fault he was put in the trunk - my head was off by then, so I didn't have much to contribute.....

[Delirium]

Graham,

Superb account - thanks very much. I was eager to see how you and your players managed to rescue the situation after the first Byakhee attack on the PCs' vehicle. Well done to all. As Graham's postscript said, all in all the op seems like a definite win for DG, if not for the individuals involved.

As regard players not hinking of everything - it's very easy to make simple mistakes. I'm playing a DEA undercover specialist in an ongoing DG campaign. Saturday last we were playing, posing as Homeland Security Agents while talking to a local cop (we're playing Dead Letter, from Countdown). In character, I blew a fellow PC's cover by calling him his real name, 'John', instead of his fake id Secret Service name, 'Benjamin'. All of a sudden the cop becomes very suspicious and I didn't even realise my error until another player told me. Embarassing incompetence.... especially for an undercover (i.e. Fast Talk) specialist.

[kinnygraham]

Graham,

Superb account - thanks very much. I was eager to see how you and your players managed to rescue the situation after the first Byakhee attack on the PCs' vehicle. Well done to all. As Graham's postscript said, all in all the op seems like a definite win for DG, if not for the individuals involved.

[snip].... (we're playing Dead Letter, from Countdown)....[snip]

Cheers - would be very interested in hearing how the rest of 'Dead Letter' is progressing........maybe you could PM me ?

[Srathnal]

Bump.

S

[kinnygraham]

Bump. S

It's underway. Am actually planning to write up the entire scenario to post all of it at once..........I'll plead the usual distractions (gaming, both 'online' and Delta Green/pen and paper) and get to it.........

Thanks for the interest.

G

[Crayne]

You have no idea what torture every update-less day has become since I've discovered this thread, do you? ;)

[CabbageHead]

You have no idea what torture every update-less day has become since I've discovered this thread, do you? ;)

Just want to second the above comment.

[Ravenscroft]

Just want to second the above comment.
Thirded. :)

[kinnygraham]

OK - folks, I had hoped to bring you all of this at one time, but its become clear to me that I won't have enough time as I leave on Friday for a holiday in the South of France and won't be back until near the end of June.... (yes, I know, I am a lucky bastard :) ). So in the interests of posting something I've decided to bring you the first instalment instead.

The following is an account of my group playing through the classic scenario 'Convergence' which is in the main Delta Green corebook..........



Some 6 months had passed now since the events in Glenridge, Long Island

Agent TURNER (Special Agent DeVere of the FBI) was still employed in the area where his superiors thought he was now best suited: data recovery and crime stats analysis. He longed for field work again but knew realistically that the chances of that would be slim for perhaps years to come - given that he had recently 'confessed' to bouts of drinking and gambling as cover for his being on a Delta Green op in Las Vegas. He had been to Long Island in a semi-official FBI capacity since then, but he got the impression that DG had pulled a lot of strings behind the scenes to ensure that his involvement in that case had not leaked out into the wider Bureau community. A week or so after Glenridge, he and ZACHARIAH had been asked to check out Guiturrez, and what they had found had not been pretty, but since then there had been nothing from Delta Green. Stuck in limbo, he nervously awaited, and partly dreaded, what he thought of as the inevitable phone call 'inviting' him to a Night at the Opera. Agent TRAVIS had been killed on the last Op - right in front of his eyes. Perhaps that was why it had been 6 long months since Cell A had been in touch ?

TURNER, always an early riser, had been at his desk in the Washington office for about an hour when the phone at his desk rang at about 9.10am. He answered it with his customary gruff 'DeVere', expecting some query or other about the latest report he was in the middle of compiling. There was a silence of perhaps three seconds or so and then a clearly synthesised voice spoke out loudly on the line:

'This is a recorded message Agent DeVere, so it’s no use talking back.

Have you absorbed that sentence ? Good. Get some pen and paper. You might want to write this down. Or better still use that 'record' device in your shiny Bureau phone.

That was very brave of you to use your name in Glenridge. Especially after Organ Pipe. And San Carlos. You and your friends grow bold. Or perhaps they consider you expendable and they really just don’t care about you ?

Billy Ray Spivey. Remember that name. Billy Ray Spivey. If your friends haven’t taken an interest in him by now then I suggest that they do so immediately. He’s a very interesting boy is our Billy - a bit special. But lately he’s gone off the rails. Makes you wonder about his upbringing, about where he was raised. That kind of thing.

Billy Ray Spivey. I suggest you and your friends check him out Agent DeVere. I think you’ll all be very interested. '

TURNER tried to act outwardly unconcerned as the line clicked dead - there were a few colleagues at desks nearby - but his mind was racing as he scribbled down what he could remember of the wording. This was not exactly the type of call he had been expecting - but it was obviously related to the work he had done for Delta Green. It was clear that their fears were realised and that somebody did know about the group and that he worked for them. But the mesage.....what the hell was going on ? Billy Ray Spivey - a distinctive name for sure. He accessed the known felon and fugitive alert databases but the name drew a blank. He decided to leave the office and walked several blocks to think this through. He chose a random route, trying to be as subtle as possible about the counter-surveillance techniques he was employing in the hope of making any possible observers. It was clear that the mysterious caller expected him to go to Delta Green and let them know what was happening - question was, should he play along ? This could be a prelude to some kind of sting or move against them. He decided to call Agent ZACHARIAH instead - leaving the office and using his DG cellphone to contact him on a pre-programmed number.

ZACHARIAH, ever ready for a call to action, answered within seconds. A phone call usually meant something serious - the group usually communicated by e-mail wherever possible. ZACHARIAH had little opportunity recently to exercise his unique skillset in the service of Cell A - not since he had neutralised the perceived threat that had worked in the FBI forensic analysis labs in Quantico. Since then he had performed a couple of simple tasks - checking out the security on a Green Box; delivering a package to the enigmatic Mr Wu of the American Museum of Natural History - but in the last few months there had been nothing at all. He listened to the news from TURNER and talked over the possibilties with him. They already knew that TURNER's DG activities might have come to the attention of certain people ; his profile in the Santana and Organ Pipe cases had been higher than might have been wished for - and there was the recent incident up Long Island way. It was possible that this was an attempt to flush TURNER out towards his colleagues in Delta Green.........ZACHARIAH tried to remain detached and professional while talking about this, but by 'certain people' they were talking about MAJESTIC, and given his past, he could not help but feel a quiet rage grip him. An illogical part of him hoped that they were behind this, and that there would be a reckoning soon.

Regardless they concluded that they had no choice but to call Cell A. They had been assured that the phones they were issued were secure and if they were not.... well it would not need their phone call to compromise DG. TURNER made the call and within 30 seconds was speaking to ALPHONSE. He repeated the message back as best as he could remember it and outlined his security concerns as ALPHONSE listened in silence. When he finished, there was a long pause before the leader of Cell A spoke. 'Billy Ray Spivey. You are quite sure that was the name ?' TURNER said he was. 'Why, you heard it ?'. There was a pregnant pause. 'Yes. Yes I have. Billy Ray Spivey has been occupying my thoughts for the last 36 hours. I can say no more for now. I need to think about this. Stand by Agent TURNER. I may be calling you back.'

Clearly, there was an Opera going down somewhere. Question was, would TURNER be invited to it ? One hour later, he got his answer. This time it was ADAM, instructing him that he was to depart immediately for Knoxville, Tennessee. There he was to rendevouz with Agents ZACHARIAH and XAVIER (the latter whom he had briefly met in the latter stages of the recent Long Island op) and all of them were to then go to the FBI field offfice in Knoxville where they were to introduce themselves to an Special Agent in Charge Derringer, a full member of Delta Green who would brief them on the 'problem' they faced. Derringer was his real name apparently and TURNER reflected that this op must be serious if Cell A were relaxing security in this way. He was also to contact Doctor Guiturrez and ensure that he was on the Op - they'd all understand later, but suffice it to say for now that there was a 'medical dimension' to what had been happening, and some on-the-spot expertise might be very useful. TURNER returned to his office, announced that he was feeling unwell, and left immediately. He headed to his apartment to pack and took the time to phone Doctor Guiturrez.

The doctor had only recently returned to work after a long period of treatment for 'nervous stress'. Just after Glenridge, TURNER and ZACHARIAH had been dispatched by Cell A to assess Guiturrez's state - and whether he was a security threat. They were justified in their concerns. The doctor had become somewhat unravelled, a process that had its roots in Las Vegas and in his unhinged state he had ensured that he could never be 'trapped' in his home by removing all locks and bolts and most of the internal doors. He had also knocked large holes in most of the walls. Cell A had arranged for him to be treated by someone - presumably a friendly - and he was supposed to have made a full recovery. He must have felt somehow indebted to Delta Green as a result and he quietly agreed, no questions asked, to TURNER's request for him to fly and meet them in Knoxville later that afternoon.

By 4.00pm in the afternoon, all 4 men stood in the concourse of Knoxville's McGhee Tyson airport. Despite XAVIER's attempts to lighten things up, conversation was sparing ; apart from a few brief moments back in Long Island none of the others had really worked at all with XAVIER and were not in a place yet where they could relax around him. And both TURNER and ZACHARIAH had last encountered the doctor when the latter was at his lowest ebb. ZACHARIAH was also uncomfortable for another reason; because he'd flown he'd had to leave his 'bag of tricks' behind and he never liked being unarmed - especially with the thought that MAJESTIC might be out there. Only TURNER was armed with his service piece. The three Delta Green men kept their eyes peeled for anyone taking an interest in their group as they made their way to a car rental kiosk, where XAVIER and ZACHARIAH rented two vehicles using fake IDs that the CIA spook and the latter had prepared for such 'eventualities'.

In just under an hour they had reached the Knoxville Field Office where they parked up and asked for SAC Derringer in reception. It seemed they were expected since they were issued with Visitor's passes. After a short wait SAC Derringer appeared from a side door. He had short greying hair, a tanned face and was dressed smartly. Guiturrez thought the man looked tired. In a business like manner, he motioned them down a corridor and into a lift ; seconds later they were descending into a basement level and as they stepped out again, TURNER could see that they were in some kind of holding or prisoner interview area. Derringer swiped them through another door and took them into another short carpeted corridor. He motioned to his left and said 'Well gentlemen, this is why you are here. That's Billy Ray Spivey. Don't look too much does he ?'.Derringer had brought them up outside a glass window looking into a small room - a standard 'sweatbox' with one way mirror where criminals would be persuaded to confess to the error of their ways. There was no table, and in the center of the rather poorly lit room sat a slightly pudgy young white man in his late teens or early twenties at the oldest. His face bore traces of acne and a peachfuzz moustache and his hair was cut into a short mullet. Spivey was also in a straitjacket and appeared to be shackled in at least 5 padlocked chains wrapped all around him. Three guards wielding M16A2 assault rifles and wearing flak jackets with clear FBI lettering stood over his shoulders at each opposite corner and in front of the exit door from the room. All of them had their eyes fixed on him as if he was going to make some kind of move; which looked very unlikely not only because of the restraints, but due to the dazed and vacant look in his eyes. Guiturrez was sure the boy had been medicated in some way.

The four visitors glanced at Derringer who immediately motioned them onwards round a corner in the corridor and into a large briefing room equipped with rows of chairs a lectern and display screen. He ushered them in, told them to take a seat near the front, and closed the door behind him. 'You've seen Spivey. Now you need to see what he can do'. He hit a switch behind the lectern and the lights dimmed ; they heard the distinctive electronic whirr of a VCR as it started to play. 'This footage was taken just over two days ago at a gas station convencience store in Alabama .' The image wasn't exactly crystal clear, but it was typical of the type of footage obtainable from security cameras the country over ; black and white and slightly grainy it was never the less quite watchable when blown up on to the big TV screen it was playing on.

They could see that it showed a wide angle view of a store till and counter from somewhere on a wall above. The guy behind the counter, who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties judging by the paunch and the bald spot at the crown of his head, seemed to be arranging something on the back wall and he starts to turn as someone enters the shot from the right and stands at the counter. It looked like Spivey, complete with stocky frame and bad haircut, wearing some kind of heavy metal t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He appears to be fidgety and anxious, rocking back and forwards on his legs and rubbing his hands. Suddenly his stance is aggressive and he appears to say something to the counter guy. He in turn seems taken aback and then appears to retort angrily. A second later and Spivey has leaned forward and lashed out at the older man with his right fist. The agents could not really believe what they were seeing. In the image, Spivey's fist just disappears into the man's face and a split second later there is a horrible bulge at the back of his head as it becomes clear that shards of bone and skull have been displaced. Blood gouts out both behind the head and onto Spivey's bare forearm. The man's arms jerk spasmodically and Spivey, seemingly horrified, brings his fist out of the ruin of the man's face, staring at the gore smearing it in wide eyed amazement. The body, rendered practically headless now in less than three seconds, topples forwards on to the counter and then back behind it, leaving a smear of blood and other matter on the surface. Spivey recovers in about another 5 seconds, rubbing the blood on his jeans. He steps behind the counter, appearing to avoid standing on the stricken man at his feet. He then presses the till buttons a few times until it opens and then grabs a handful of bills, stuffing them into his pocket. He then turns and after scanning the items on the back wall, lifts several small packets before hurriedly moving out from behind the counter and off camera.

The agents breathed out slowly. This was some Delta Green shit all right. 'Before you ask any questions' said Derringer 'here's what we know so far. Spivey is from a small town called Groversville right here in rural Tennessee. Today is 13th April. About eight days ago, he went missing for a couple of days and then showed up home again showing signs of disorientation and complaining of pains he couldn't identify. He apparently had no idea he'd been missing and couldn't account for his own whereabouts. More of that later. His folks put him to bed after the local doctor had a look at him. The next day he appears to have killed his father by punching a hole in his sternum. We think that this was probably accidental. He took off and robbed the gas station in Groversville, stealing food, cash and painkillers and then a car. He went on the run after that, robbing one more station in Tennessee, then another in Alabama before this one. Same stuff stolen each time. He did one more in Georgia before we got him at a roadblock the evening before yesterday. Georgia state troopers put four bullets in him to take him down after he bent a shotgun like it was made of taffy. The bullets broke the skin but didn't go much further. Right now he's sedated. We've been studying him and we've detected some.....well I guess anomalies is what you would call them. From what we can ascertain, this kid has been operated on somehow and had his muscle tissue replaced with....something else. Something that acts like muscle but is much more stronger and much more resilient. He also has some signs of scarring, presumably from the ops, and the scars, from what we can see, are made of the same stuff that his muscles are made of. So we've got one substance doing two jobs and we do not have a clue how this shit is working. Only that it is. I guess we are talking some kind of bio-technology here - but way beyond what we believe to be possible now.'

The agents digested all this as he spoke and followed up with a lot of questions, filling in more detail from the account they'd had. The information on the Groversville end had come from the Tennessee State Trooper Service who had questioned the Groversville cops and Spivey's mother 'Angel'. It was from her that they'd got the idea that the patricide was not intentional. Spivey had been visibly upset when he had fled and had been screaming that he hadn't tried to kill his Dad before running away. They had other footage of Spivey's spree, but none of it was as good as this and none of it showed anything weird - although he did always appear to be 'agitated'. They went back to Spivey's 'missing time'. From what Derringer knew, the boy had been visiting his girlfriend on the evening of Sunday 4th April. He phoned to say he was on his way back on what should have been a twenty minute drive and didn't show up until the evening of Wednesday 7th, taking off on his spree on the morning of the 8th and getting captured on the evening of the 11th.

'Ok gentlemen here's the cruncher. It may be that Spivey isn't the only one that this has happend to. The gags may not have reached you wherever you are yet, but around here Groversville is a running joke. We are talking about UFO sightings, bug-eyed Martians, Luke Skywalker, ET call collect and the whole nine yards. Local radio stations have been running with it for weeks - wackos in Groversville phoning in to say they have seen all kinds of stuff and other wackos phoning in to wind 'em up some more. It would all be hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that some of the earlier calls were talking about 'missing time'.

The Delta Green men could see where this was going. 'Cell A wants you in Groversville checking out what happend to Spivey and whether anything else is going down. Your cover story will be that you are FBI and DEA agents investigating a drugs link to him. Check in with a Sherriff Dan Oakey down there as a courtesy to the Groversville cops, but after that I'd suggest keeping it low key. We're going to have Spivey checked out here by an expert and we'll send you anything that we find out. I understand that you had to travel light, so here is a key to a Green Box here in Knoxville - the address is on the fob and this note here has the security code. Take what you think you'll need, but remember that we want this investigation to be low key - no cowboy shit.

The agents decided on a course of action: ZACHARIAH and TURNER would go to the Green Box and see what was available, XAVIER and the doctor, with Derringer's permission, would have a look at Spivey. Derringer cautiously agreed and took the pair through to the entrance to the room - unlocking the door and then closing it behind them. XAVIER was mindful of the video he had just watched and decided to keep his distance as he entered - somehow, even the presence of three armed men was not reassuring him. Guiturrez however, to his surprise, went straight over to Spivey and got in his face. 'Feeling bad ?! Needing to eat ? Meat or something else like that ? ' This drew only a low moan from Spivey and a quizzical look from the guards. Guiturrez gave XAVIER a look that said 'I know what I'm doing' and talked again to Spivey in a lower tone of voice. 'Where does it hurt Billy ?' 'Everywhere' groaned the boy.........'And what do you remember about the last few days ?' This produced a look of abject misery 'Killed my Dad......didn't mean to. Didn't know he was there. Strong now, don't know why. Nightmares'.....'What about those nightmares Billy ? What do you dream about ?' 'I don't know - just the pain......Hurts bad.' Tears welled in his doped up eyes and he sat forward sobbing. The two men decided they'd seen enough for now. Guiturrez had wanted to examine him physically, but it didn't seem possible given the restraints he was in. Outside he explained to XAVIER that he was trying to provoke a reaction from Spivey in order to see what he was capable of. XAVIER knew what he was capable of; he'd just see in it on the video, and he wondered at the wisdom of what the doctor had just done but chose not to say anything. They said goodbye to Derringer who advised them that A Cell would likely be in touch soon to provide additional guidance and left the building and booked a room in a nearby hotel to await the return of TURNER and ZACHARIAH.

The other two agents had managed to locate the Green Box within half an hour of leaving the Field Office. Like many others of is kind it was a prefabricated storage unit in a facility which contained 120 identical units on a lot in an industrial park. Thankfully the lighting still worked and they were able to inventory the contents reasonably quickly, finding the following lying propped against the walls :

-1/2 50lb bags of Fast-set Quikrete
A gasoline powered, 16" Chainsaw
A 20' Aluminum Extension Ladder
2 Sledgehammers
2 Shovels
1 Pickaxe
4-1/2 20lb bags of Charcoal Briquettes
4 cases of lighter fluid
1 Full Bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label with a scrawled note attached - "Buy a new one before you leave."
An unopened carton of Gauloises
1 Prybar
A single man Battering Ram - well used by the look of it.
2 5-lb bags of soda lye
1 5-gallon Tub of Roofing tar

In storage crates within the facility they also found:

4 Glock 21 .45 ACP self-load pistols (strangely, these had no serial numbers - they were not filed off - they just were not there at all; pointing to the fact that they were very good copies or had been manufactured illegally ). There were 5 13 round magazines for these.
1 HK UMP .45 ACP Submachine gun with silencer with 7 25 round magazines.

2 Remington 870 12 gauge pump shotguns with 20" rifled deer slug barrels.
30 rounds (6 boxes) 12 Gauge 00 Buckshot

A small bundle of what appeared to be 6 sticks of TNT taped together with a makeshift timing device and detonator attached.

1 First Aid kit.

1 bag of seven zip-tie handcuffs.

A wad of cash, totaling $217 in assorted bills.

Assorted hold-alls of varying sizes.

There was also a small packing crate style wooden box on which was taped a piece of paper and a scrawled message 'Warning, do not under any circumstances open this !! '

TURNER and ZACHARIAH reviewed the contents again and decide to take the 4 pistols & ammo, the SMG & ammo, the zip-tie handcuffs, the first aid kit, one of the sledgehammers and the bottle of Jack Daniels. They mulled over Derringer's advice to keep things low-key but ZACHARIAH thought 'fuck it' and decided to take the explosives too, thinking that he could always bring them back if not needed. All of it went into one of the larger hold-alls and into the trunk of their rental.

They locked up behind them and headed off to find XAVIER and Guiturrez, thinking that there was no time like the present and that they should maybe try and reach Groversville this evening.

[Crayne]

Huzzah! :)

[Fulsrush]

Cool, Groversville...

When I sent my PCs there, only four out of six returned. :D

[Gogmagog]

What was in the crate?

[kinnygraham]

What was in the crate?

A whole other Op ;) :cool:

[PTiKachu]

What was in the crate?
A whole other Op
Ah, I've done that, myself. "Do not fucking open this" on all manner of objects. :D

Great updates, btw. Look for my Actual Play of Artifact Zero real soon.

[kinnygraham]

Great updates, btw. Look for my Actual Play of Artifact Zero real soon.

Thanks. Looking forward to reading that.

And any Delta Green fans who are not aware of PTiKachu's ongoing DG game in the Play-By-Post forums should certainly check it out. Highly recommended.

[CabbageHead]

Thanks. Looking forward to reading that.

And any Delta Green fans who are not aware of PTiKachu's ongoing DG game in the Play-By-Post forums should certainly check it out. Highly recommended.

Graham, you rule.

Thanks for the pointer as well. I'll definitely check it out.

[paperstreet]

At last ive been allowed to post a reply!!! Not sure whether i inherited Steve TM's ludditism or i just had too many different int0rweb names and passwords that i got confused but i can at long last post responses, hurrah.

erm, so erm, what are you wearing? ooops, sorry wrong site!

G's DG games have been awesome to play in (and the credit needs to be extended to Steve, Nick & [when he turned up, slacker] Newt). The pacing was always just right, and it was easy to get stuck into twenty minute in character discussions about "expediency", a word we all became all too familiar with very quickly.

For readers of the post outside the game, it is all too easy to spot where we went wrong, and in retrospect we can see our mistakes too, but we opted to keep moving and as much as possible play events as close to real time as possible, realism (bizarrely) was key to our DG games, it made the alien that much more so!

As Graham subtly engendered in us from early on, no matter who we worked for or how many resources we could in theory draw upon, we were on our own and that secrecy and (here the word is again) expediency were key. You will note that where we could have for instance called in SWAT teams we opted to handle it ourselves (after the botched hostage incident in "Puppet Shows and Shadow Plays"). The essence of Lovecraftian horror was always isolation (and introspection) and if you capture that even in a crowded city your there!

In the literature the characters have ready access to fake IDs, credit cards and miliatry hardware. In G's game we had scrape together what we could and lie and steal everything else, wherever possible we paid cash and bought kit we thought was relatively generic and therefore untraceable. For instance, when we where buying enough petrol to burn out the bug pits in Darkest Calling we made a point of sourcing the gasoline from a whole bunch of service stations and not just one (as that gets flagged on law enforcement databases boys and girls!!!). And it wasn't G that pointed this out, we did, so we could make make the conspiracry as covert as possible. In this instance we got an NPC to fill up jerry cans on her way down from Arizona so we weren't filmed buying that much gas (if you haven't read Gs write ups do it now, you'll know the othe bizzare crap she was delivering then too!). If she wasn;t available the plan to steal a fuel truck from a truckstop was tabled (and never shelved i might add).

It has been commented that our group has been Gung Ho, but i honestly feel the opposite is true. We have never rushed into any situation unless our hand has been forced and unfortunatly the Mythos has a habit of acting unpredictably. Case in point, "Loves Lonely Chldren" we jumped to the conclusion (hands up scum, we arent the only ones im sure) that Spider was involved. Instead of flashing badges and risk him remember our names we played up to Vegas' seedy side and acted the part of mobster, driving him into the desert etc (seriously read the write ups). It may have seemed heavy handed but it cut down on the amount of red tape and, more importantly, possible public exposure if he had turned out to be involved (a lawyer watching a skinny dude "Hulk Out'? in a police station filled with camers and witnesses, thats a too many tranfers to Alaska, early pensions or bizzare accindents to be a coincidence).

As i mentioned above, realism is the key to good horror. If you know a fact about something that (in the above instance the petrol thing) that you dont make a point of addressing yourself, dont ever be upset if a ref (who turns out to be smarter than you, cos sometimes they are [rarely,but it happens]) catches you out withit at a later date. Karma wasn't something invented just for Shadowrun ladies and germs, its ready to even the scales, anytime so play fair.

Like i said, we f*cked up, a lot, but that was the nature of our characters and the game (IMHO). We held back the dark one more day, and thats what matters. No matter how questionable our methods might have been, we never resorted to out and out murder of somebody not convicted in a court of law beyong a shadow of doubt by a jury of their peers (at least not on camera, Zachariah*) even though OOC we knew it was probably the way to "win" our characters werne't wired that way and real people, (discounting the criminally insane, religious fundamentilists or men under orders from an figure of authority in a position beyond reproach) wouldn't either . DG could be played like a Bruce Willis action movie (and im a BW fan), but to be run well it should be dark, and the players should feel as responsible for that as the ref. Kidnapping and drugging a minor, not that i condone it, but expediency...

Oh, and G, my mate Gavron has just written some background music specifically for use in modern horror RPGs, fancy playtesting it for me?

*OK so Turner drove the car, but he was tormented by it afterward (read my journal entry "Reflections" if your even vaguelly interested)

[Crayne]

Honestly, I don't see the point of critiqueing a group's performance anyway. Since there are no "victory conditions" in most roleplaying games (I say most, because games like Rune would have come back to haunt me ;)), what's the use? As long as everyone enjoyed themselves, the game was a success.

[Fulsrush]

Honestly, I don't see the point of critiqueing a group's performance anyway. Since there are no "victory conditions" in most roleplaying games (I say most, because games like Rune would have come back to haunt me ;)), what's the use? As long as everyone enjoyed themselves, the game was a success.

Well, there's always the angle of, "I wouldn't have done it like that. I'd have done it like this."

It's not so much criticising the players as reflecting on how you might have played the same characters.

[Crayne]

I never said criticising. I said critiqueing. I know it's a slight nuance, but still... ;)