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IC Delta Green: Operation GREEN HAWAII

Harrowed

Nyarlathotep's Bitch
Validated User


Operation GREEN HAWAII
A modern horror opera for the Delta Green system.

She says beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything
- Scars To Your Beautiful, Alessia Cara


Chapter 1 - Introduction​

18MAR16
A Dark Room
Agent SAUL


The phone ringing was a sharp and painful noise. Who the fuck was calling on the first decent nights sleep that he'd had in a week. The sleeping pills laid a haze on him and he fumbled once for the phone.

The computer generated voice on the other end informed him that he'd won a trip to Bermuda on Orange Cruise lines. He was just ready to hang up the phone when the cold flooded in. Orange. It was March. Orange was the Program codeword for the month's activation code. Climbing out of bed he pulled out his other phone, the one with just the factory applications and Signal.

Cueing up the app he dialed the only number in memory and punched in his passcode. A recording on the other end played ...

Proceed to Washington, DC. The Lafayette Hotel. Briefing in Room 412 at 1000 on 19MAR16.

He was up.
 
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NoMessiah

Registered User
Validated User
Friday, March 18th, 2016
Intersection of Winfield Lane and Reservoir Rd.
Washington, DC
Agent KING


Special Agent Benjamin Cook was turning left onto Reservoir Rd. on his way home from the grocery store after a long week of work when the dashboard screen indicated an incoming call. He had a different ringtone for every contact on his list, one more for numbers not on his list, and still another for unknown or blocked numbers. This call was of that third variety. Most nights, it was a toss up as to whether he'd answer or not, but the radio was only playing disco B-sides on one station and local high school basketball on another. He hit the phone icon on the screen which connected to his phone through Bluetooth and routed audio through the car speakers. The only sound on the other end was a muted Beatles song in the background. "You ... you know ... you know my name ... Look up the number."

Ben grumbled. At least someone had a sense of humor tonight. He hit the End Call button and pulled over. Opening his briefcase, he took out his other phone and hit the speed dial #1 button. Once connected, a computerized voice asked him to enter the extension he was trying to reach, and so he did; a six-digit extension. That done, the computerized voice continued, "The Program is activating Task Force GREEN HAWAII. Proceed to Washington, DC. The Lafayette Hotel. Briefing in Room 412 at 1000 on 19MAR16."

Well, there it was. Obviously, that was the same recording every other member of Task Force GREEN HAWAII would hear, because he didn't need to proceed to Washington. He lived there. And 10:00 am on a Saturday. If it had been anyone else, he'd have given them a string of expletives that would make George Carlin blush, but the Program never called unless it was vitally important. There went his weekend. At least.
 

Mr Teufel

Dashing
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Friday evening
Home Studio of
AGENT SAMUEL
Dick Melnick, M.D.


The Program is activating Task Force GREEN HAWAII. Proceed to Washington, DC. The Lafayette Hotel. Briefing in Room 412 at 1000 on 19MAR16.

Dick stared at his phone after the recorded message completed, a hollow foreboding forming in his chest. Did he really want to do this again?

After the last mission they had let him go home rather than join the 'clean-up squad'. In the weeks since he'd seen articles about deaths in the news, and had wondered, "Was this one, one of hours? Or just a co-incidence?" He stopped watching the news. He dived into research, how to improve and strengthen the mind. And he spoke to a therapist. He found one he'd never met, but still had a good reputation. He spun a tale, converting many of the more surreal elements of his experiences into 'dreams' that he related in therapy. He knew this could neuter the whole process, but hoped that he could filter his therapists advice through his own understandings. Amazingly it worked, as much as talk therapy ever does.

Now he stared at the glowing screen... perhaps this one would be different. Perhaps this one would lead him to greater knowledge of the human mind.

He started to tap at the screen to book the air ticket.
 

Motorskills

Member
RPGnet Member
Validated User
4pm Friday, March 18th, 2016
USAMRIID compound, Fort Detrick, Maryland
Agent SOLOMON


The LARGE EGRESS laboratory complex was sequestered away from the routine military operations, but the staff shared a canteen and parking. That always made him smile. It was nominally a Homeland Security / CDC / Army co-production, but doctors are doctors the world over, and the regular military quacks could tell there was something.... abnormal ....about what was going on behind the layered security. They didn't buy that there were worse things than weaponized Ebola, but they knew better than to ask.

'Hotzone Level 5' they joked.

He'd even had a poke from Charles Forzini, his mentor at CDC. He brushed the enquiry away, bought himself some time there. Emerson's deeper cover story, not yet required, is that they were developing a variant of the tobacco mosaic virus to target coca and poppy fields, with all the diplomatic blowback that could potentially bring.

....

His work week hadn't been a typical one for many months, but this one was drawing to an end, polishing up autopsy reports on a small offshoot Skoptsi family that had put up some resistance some weeks back. He was prepping for his flight back to Atlanta, would be good to see Eloise, been three weeks since the last visit, Skype was a poor substitute.

A priority message tab flashed up on the screen, this one was carrying more than the usual deathcurse security warnings. He performed the retina scan and the message opened.

Emerson sighed. He opened Skype, dialled Jen's number, and prepared for war.

....

He figured it was good that they are bringing SAMUEL along, psychiatry is exactly his kind of gig. And at least he didn't have to deal with this, he waved his hand across the stack of autopsy photos.

....

The research on Dudley MA amused him, what's that - a Green Box from the American War of Independence?

Hell, I guess a musket would be just as effective as an M-16 against an armoured shoggoth. Bzzzt.

In April 1776, on his way to New York City from Boston after his victory in the Siege of Boston, General George Washington camped in the town of Dudley with the Continental Army along what is now a portion of Route 31 near the Connecticut border. During the trip, it is rumored that a "large cache" of captured and recovered British weaponry and supplies was ordered "concealed in the grounds" in the rural area along the route. The cache, hidden to resupply reinforcements from Massachusetts or to cover a retreat from the south, were never used or recorded as having been recovered.[2]
....

Something on the local sites made him roll his eyes.

A proposal to create a Muslim cemetery by the Islamic Society of Greater Worcester on 55 acres (22 ha) of farmland elicited intense community opposition when discussed at a public hearing in February 2016.[5] The Islamic Society sought to establish a closer burial place than Enfield, Connecticut.[6]
If only these people knew what the real religious threat was, they would be begging Allah for help....

An hour later his SUV was packed. The two tiny skulls, painted on the bullbars, served as a reminder it was gametime.
 
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ncc2010

Blue Blaze Irregular
RPGnet Member
Validated User
4:10 pm Friday, March 18th, 2016
5864 Windsor Street, Philadelphia, PA
AGENT SALLY


The phone rang...buzzed, more. Melody had set it for vibrate only and sat it to the side, just to keep it out of her line of focus. She was actually working a job, something more than key duplication, and the wiring on the security system in question - a custom job based on the frame of a rather expensive unit from Japan - was a bit tricky, especially since this was something she was adding in just...for personal extra-curricular use. It was a secure, encrypted transmitter on limited frequency that would allow her complete and total access to...

The damn thing kept buzzing.

Carefully pushing up the magnifying glasses to her forehead, she looked at the message.

What it said wasn't as important as what it meant, and her mind clicked through it quick. Proceed to Washington, DC. The Lafayette Hotel. Briefing in Room 412 at 1000 on 19MAR16. Her shoulders sagged for a moment, then she squared them.

Over the next hour, she secured her shop and...packed up her books. She made sure they were safe and secure, and considered as to whether she really needed to keep them in a better place than under the floorboards in the back of the old, cheap shop that she had paid up rent on for the next few months.

She loaded her laptop, her regular phone, a charger, grabbed a few burner phones from the back room, picked up the little .38 left from when...was it...okay...yeah. It was Uncle Vanya's revolver.

Pulling on her gloves, Melody tossed her bag into the passenger seat of the '86 Yugo, you know, the one that had been parked a block away and that had plates that she was pretty sure weren't the real ones and that had been left a month ago by...Uncle Vanya...stowed the pistol carefully away. She carefully pulled her stocking cap down on her hair, tucking it all in, just like she'd been taught, and then drove carefully and cautiously to Washington.

Once there, she found a cheap place within walking distance of the Lafayette, parked the Yugo on the street and, leaving the windows down and keys in the ignition, gathered up her stuff, gave the car one more once-over for anything incriminating, then walked to that cheap place. If nothing else, Uncle Vanya would be appreciative that she'd finally gotten rid of the car.
 

Harrowed

Nyarlathotep's Bitch
Validated User
19MAR16, 1000
The Lafayette Hotel
Room 412


The hotel has seen better days. Not nearly to the end of its lifespan but certainly past due to be updated. The wallpaper and carpets are a little dated but this is Washington and the capital serves all kinds.

The door to 412 opened and closed after the string of agents filed in. The majority of them unsurprised to see the other Agents from that god forsaken Emporium mission and the bloody aftermath.

KING could feel that as a minute ticked by 1000. These agents had all been through the shit together and he was the outsider.
 

JobotBobica

Registered User
Validated User
18MAR16
A Dark Room
Agent SAUL


The phone ringing was a sharp and painful noise. Who the fuck was calling on the first decent nights sleep that he'd had in a week. The sleeping pills laid a haze on him and he fumbled once for the phone.

The computer generated voice on the other end informed him that he'd won a trip to Bermuda on Orange Cruise lines. He was just ready to hang up the phone when the cold flooded in. Orange. It was March. Orange was the Program codeword for the month's activation code. Climbing out of bed he pulled out his other phone, the one with just the factory applications and Signal.

Cueing up the app he dialed the only number in memory and punched in his passcode. A recording on the other end played ...

Proceed to Washington, DC. The Lafayette Hotel. Briefing in Room 412 at 1000 on 19MAR16.

He was up.
Mike felt good. Sleep was hard for him, but the routine of business trips, and private business trips did him good. His situational awareness took a hit from all the mental wear he was going through though, so it took him good five seconds to realize he was not home. The latest meeting he had was in Portland, ME; and he felt sleep in his bones so he took a room and a weekend flight in stead of pushing it.

First he called Aladdin, the guy's name was Wayne Caraway but he looked like Aladdin form the cartoon and he couldn't shake the nickname. He carried it for so long he had friends who didn't know his proper name. It was a short call to excuse himself from Sunday's BBQ. The group was good, they carried each other well enough to form a social bond outside the hospital. And the state he was in, Mike didn't want them worrying if he just didn't show up. Then he called a micro brewery they liked to make a surprise delivery for the guys. Finally he rescheduled his flight to take him home with a stop in DC.

19MAR16, 1000
The Lafayette Hotel
Room 412


The hotel has seen better days. Not nearly to the end of its lifespan but certainly past due to be updated. The wallpaper and carpets are a little dated but this is Washington and the capital serves all kinds.

The door to 412 opened and closed after the string of agents filed in. The majority of them unsurprised to see the other Agents from that god forsaken Emporium mission and the bloody aftermath.

KING could feel that as a minute ticked by 1000. These agents had all been through the shit together and he was the outsider.
Walking in he nods to his know team mates; then he realizes none of them saw him in this edition - fancy business suit, clean short & tie, all well above a public servant pay grade. But his stride takes him towards the new guy in the room.

"SAUL" he says, a warm smile on his face and a friendly hand reaching for a shake "pleased to make your acquaintance.", the eyes betraying the cold indifference inside.
 

ncc2010

Blue Blaze Irregular
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Walking in he nods to his know team mates; then he realizes none of them saw him in this edition - fancy business suit, clean short & tie, all well above a public servant pay grade. But his stride takes him towards the new guy in the room.

"SAUL" he says, a warm smile on his face and a friendly hand reaching for a shake "pleased to make your acquaintance.", the eyes betraying the cold indifference inside.
SALLY, clad in jeans, worn running shoes, a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt topped with a zip-up hoodie, stepped up to him and ignored his hand. She reached up and gripped his ears lightly. "Fuck you, SAUL," she said, and gave him a kiss, open-mouth, hard, then let him go and went and found herself a chair.
 

NoMessiah

Registered User
Validated User
Mike felt good. Sleep was hard for him, but the routine of business trips, and private business trips did him good. His situational awareness took a hit from all the mental wear he was going through though, so it took him good five seconds to realize he was not home. The latest meeting he had was in Portland, ME; and he felt sleep in his bones so he took a room and a weekend flight in stead of pushing it.

First he called Aladdin, the guy's name was Wayne Caraway but he looked like Aladdin form the cartoon and he couldn't shake the nickname. He carried it for so long he had friends who didn't know his proper name. It was a short call to excuse himself from Sunday's BBQ. The group was good, they carried each other well enough to form a social bond outside the hospital. And the state he was in, Mike didn't want them worrying if he just didn't show up. Then he called a micro brewery they liked to make a surprise delivery for the guys. Finally he rescheduled his flight to take him home with a stop in DC.



Walking in he nods to his know team mates; then he realizes none of them saw him in this edition - fancy business suit, clean short & tie, all well above a public servant pay grade. But his stride takes him towards the new guy in the room.

"SAUL" he says, a warm smile on his face and a friendly hand reaching for a shake "pleased to make your acquaintance.", the eyes betraying the cold indifference inside.
KING had been quiet, patient, and observant up until this point. His briefcase was tucked neatly against the wall beneath the table where he sat, and his left ankle rested on his right knee. He appeared professional and businesslike, from the buttoned jacket of his black suit down to the recently-polished shoes. KING leaned forward and stood when ...

SALLY, clad in jeans, worn running shoes, a Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt topped with a zip-up hoodie, stepped up to him and ignored his hand. She reached up and gripped his ears lightly. "Fuck you, SAUL," she said, and gave him a kiss, open-mouth, hard, then let him go and went and found herself a chair.
So ... it was going to be that sort of an operation. Whatever. His weekend was already shot, and whatever the hell these people had been through together, they'd probably earned the right to be casual.
 

Mr Teufel

Dashing
RPGnet Member
Validated User
SAMUEL enters, looks around the room. Seeing someone he doesn't recognise, he flicks on a friendly grin and proffers his hand.
"Agent SAMUEL, at your service," he says.
 
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