On a Cold Thursday morning at about 8.15 in the morning Agent Jagger's plane landed at Boston airport. stepping out onto the tarmac Agent Jagger pulled his jacket closer around him and raised his scarf. quickly collecting his baggage he headed for the customs cue which was slow moving but flowing.
getting to the front of the line a bored but fierce looking woman examined his leather carry all with interest. pulling him aside the ask him to explain the contents.
despite flashing his bureau credentials this seemingly takes ages meaning he only gets to the taxi rank at 8.45 with fifteen minutes to get across town before the meeting with the "Group" was supposed to be starting arrival was going to be tight and being late to the first briefing was not the impression of himself that he wanted to put forward especially since he had no idea who he was expecting to meet.
hailing a cab and offering the drive double if he can get him there in less then ten minutes he puts his earphones on and listens to some music to pass the time.
arriving about 2 minutes late he still tips the driver while donning his hat and heading for the door opening it slowly and going to try to close the door with as little disturbance as possible, however the wind has other ideas and whips the door from his grip and it slams shut. allowing time for his eyes to adjust he views the area around him seeing a seemingly totalled family car itching to examine this he instead heads towards the rear of the warehouse where three others are two people very obviously on edge as there hands are hovering over where he can only assume are side arms and one person sitting at a table with an over flowing ashtray on it and some sort of book or folder wrapped poorly in black plastic with signs of fire damage.
taking a seat next to the seemingly calmer older gentleman who introduces himself as agent Jason who immediately asks what each of us bring to the table Jagger responds skills in examination his eyes rarely moving from the book upon the table. agent Jason runs through the rules of engagement for our cell and then progresses onto a mission briefing within which he asks the FNGs as he refers to us to neutralise four Russian Orthodox charity workers one of them isn't allowed to even speak before being taken out feeling way out of his depths and just plain uneasy agent Jagger isn't on board with cold blooded murder. taking the chance when the agent was distracted Jagger Grabs the folder from the floor where it had fallen to and was about to open it when hes firmly told replace it onto the table not wishing to anger anyone he complies and resumes listening. the old man then sends the other two to his car to retrieve some maps an places the folder in-front of Jagger informing him to read it. what Jagger reads is horrid and seems to resolve his issues with the mission instead instilling within him as sense of urgency to get the mission done. the other two return and planning resumes where they decide to hire a van and head to Springfield for more information. hitting up some group supplies or a green box Jagger grabs some first aid kits with a suspicion he will need them in the near future some battery acid to help with body disposal and a Remington shot gun. next they head ti the library to get as much information to the charity location house and occupants as possible to little or no effect. they head out to the location and book into a hotel resupply with some non descript boots balaclavas and a trip to the vet where Jagger's medical knowledge helps to gain some sedatives before they hit the target. waiting until night falls they head up the road and park near the target house and head into the woods where they discover some spikes which luckily are avoided and the reach the tip of the hill and are scouting the location where its reported that there is some sort of Russian bearded lady with a cattle prod and a rodent watching the children play in the rain with out a scope Jagger is uncertain to the bearded lady being true but hears panting he attempts to drug the dog with steak laced with them but the dog seems un interested instead he bites one of the others in the leg and cops an axe to the ribs with little chance of survival it limps off into the night and Jagger under stress attempts to bandage the wound but puts to much pressure on the bandage and makes the wimp scream out like a girl drawing the attention of what seems to be a grounds keeper...
Wednesday, 26 April 2017
Session 01 (Agent Jude)
Over the course of my career I have encountered things that I cannot explain, things that are for lack of a better word ‘alien’ to me.
It was these experiences that drew the attention of a strange group, a government agency who claimed to specialise in this sort of thing. I was approached by a representative of this agency with the request to join in an exercise to test my abilities and aptitude for the group’s operations.
If I was to agree to their terms, I was to select for myself an alias starting with the letter ‘J’, a name to identify myself by, a name separate to my real world, I am Jude. Taken from the patron saint of lost Causes as those I have worked with over the years have often had that opinion of me. I am Jude.
Even with my history, I still seemed to require testing, I agreed to the terms of the assignment and before I knew it, I was already one of them.
It was the 19th November 1998,I had received my first mainline communication from the Group known as Delta Green. I had been summoned to an address in Boston, I was to meet with someone unknown to me regarding some sort of special assignment. The Trip from Miami was clear, no signs of incident or delay, I arrived in Boston at 0815, I was to make my way to 430, East First St, South Boston by 0900, where the meeting was to take place.
I took a cab from the airport, arriving on East First street at approx. 0845, I sat in the cab a block down from the address given to me, the outside weather was cold, a far cry from the temperatures I am used to experiencing down south, it was about 3-4 degrees Celsius, the industrial area I found myself in was already bustling with activity of workmen and alike, all of them seemed relatively acclimatized by the bitter chill in the air.
As the time for the meeting came closer a second cab pulled up a block further down the road, its passenger exiting the car, a lean man, about 5’11, high forehead with heavy clothing and a ruck sack on his back. He slowly observed his surroundings and began walking slowly towards the address.
I also exited my cab, paying the fair and throwing my overnight bag over my shoulder, by jeans and jacket doing little to protect me from the elements, as long as my hands were warm in my gloves, that’s all I could think about, I didn’t know what I was walking into, I needed my hands ready, just in case.
Advancing on the address I met the strange man, he seemed as curious as to who I was as I of him. Exchanging mild pleasantries, my excuse of a meeting was as thin as his of meeting friends, both giving off the aura of agency types, I allowed him to advance first to the building. A large red brick warehouse, a large roller door at its centre with a small regular door to the right.
We entered the building, from the outside, it looked like an enclosed factory, from the inside, a different story, a derelict space, filled with scrap and junk. The curious sight for us however was the destroyed BMW car in the centre of the space. I emerged from behind the stranger to inspect the vehicle, my left hand never leaving the underside of my jacket, I didn’t know this man or these surroundings, my grip on my sidearm relentless.
He followed me, his curiosity clearly peaked by the vehicle also. Looking carefully, the BMW had been in a massive head on collision, its front end caved in and destroyed, what seemed amiss, there were no signs of what it had hit, no blood, no external scrapes, no dust or stone fragments, just the car. The interior was also destroyed, yet it was intact, someone had done a thorough clean on this car, inside and out, no finger prints, no dirt, no signs of anything, just a wreck.
I continued on through the empty warehouse, scanning the surroundings, in search of any signs of another person, it was clear to me that my compatriot was just as curious and ignorant as I was as to the situation.
Looking towards the back of the building, a room with glass windows and an open door revealed a table and chairs, a lone dark figure sitting and smoking. As the figure took my gaze a loud slamming of a door spun me on my heal, my sidearm all but pulled from my holster. At the entry way to the building, a man entered towing a large suitcase, his suite and fedora casting a peculiar shadow on the wall.
I called to him to identify himself, he only approached with no response, it was clear my fellow cab patron was equally as nervous, his hand also moving to his side, clearly carrying a sidearm of his own. I caught the glint of a 1911 tucked in a holster, far from standard issue, making me think he was also a fed of some kind.
The new entrant approached with a nod and removed a set of headphones from his ears, only asking if he was late.
Clearly not a threat, his British accent and soft spoken nature setting my mind at ease slightly as I turned my attention to the shadow at the table who had since risen and emerged from the room, his old, gaunt appearance barely concealing the slight limp he walked with, he summoned us to the table.
As I approached the table, on it resided a single ash tray, almost full to the brim with burnt cigarettes, and a black garbage bag, looking closer, some sort of folder resided within.
It was clear that everyone was nervous, although to my surprise, the Brit was the most forthcoming.
I kicked a chair away from the table and sat down, giving myself some distance from the others, the Brit sat next to the old man, the lean guy remained standing, leaning on the empty chair in front of him. A cool silence took over the air, no one wanted to talk. It was the old man who first broke the silence, asking us if we knew why we were here and what we bring to the table.
The lean man standing spoke first, his eyes darting from man to man, I think he was more concerned about someone drawing down on him. He explained that he believed we were all carrying and wanted to reassure everyone that there was no threat between strangers at the table, he also explained that he was also summoned here for a meeting and that he brought with him a solid fortitude and ability to kick in a door. The old man called him by name, my name, asking if he was Jude, to my surprise he replied, Jasper.
I then spoke, explaining I was Jude, I was summoned here and I bring with me a fast on the fly attitude and the ability to get the job done, no matter what.
The Brit followed, stating he was Jagger, as if a J name from England would be anything other than the name of a creepy old rock star with a big mouth. He then went into detail about himself, it was clear he was a nerd, medically trained, the only part of his explanation that took my interest was his claim to have taken part in Desert Storm.
The old man followed, Jason, he claimed to be, his tired eyes betraying a severe boredom for young blood and clearly a man with more knowledge than us on what we were to be doing here. He brought to the table a knowledge of history, occult and oddity. Something didn’t feel right, immediately making me think of the curious activity I had encountered in my past that defied explanation.
Jason went on to tell us of the rules, if we wanted in on this outfit, we were
to carry no government issue gear, no ties to our own lives, no friends or family complications, we were to be ghosts. Always have back up identities ready, always be prepared to leave everything in your possession and move on. Simple, it was a purely black bag operation, no traces, no witnesses.
He spoke at length about this, reiterating the same thing over and over, our lives were gone, our new lives of men with no names and no ties were to be who we are now, if we accepted the responsibility.
It was made clear however that there was no backup, if we get stuck, we are on our own, escape and evade being the operative concerns once things go bad. Another interesting topic, you do not lie to the group, we were now J Cell, there was to be trust without cause or proof, trust in all things.
Never do anything alone, another rule, there are no cowboys in this group, no heroes, when tailed, wait for counter tail before losing it, never go into a place without knowing how you are going to get out.
Shocked and surprised, the black plastic bag containing the folder slid across the table and made a deepening crash as it hit the floor. Jasper took a step back and instinctively, I went to draw my pistol without thinking, catching myself as my holster napped open.
Jagger stared at the bag, curiosity in his eyes. Jason instructed us to leave it, no one was to touch it. The more I observed him, Jasper to me seemed to be from a similar station to me, possible ex-military, his explanation of what he does blending with my own in terms of being a door kicker, some sort of tactical operative was my guess.
Jason went on to tell us of the operation we were here to conduct, a Russian orthodox school for children, four hostiles inside, two men and two women, one an old lady, one a young woman. They were to be neutralised, the old woman first, she was not allowed to speak. That was the directive, Jagger threw up much resistance, not sure if he was comfortable with the idea. I ignored him and asked very simply, are there children, are they in danger?
Yes, was the response, enough to cause my agreement with the op, Jasper too. We were in, we continued to ask what kind of danger, what kind of crime warranted termination, no answers came, only that it needed to be done.
Turning our attention back to Jagger, We noticed he had picked up the black bag containing the folder, Jason barked at him to put it down, just the touch of it had clearly shaken Jagger. He dropped it on the table immediately. Turning his attention back to myself and Jasper. He continued his briefing, Wayfairer’s Home for Children, Jasper and I were to retrieve some road maps from Jason’s car outside. We left Jagger and Jason to stew in their own juices, I thought it a prime opportunity to find out more about this guy,
Once out of earshot of the others, I started talking to Jasper, he was FBI, or so he claimed, Hostage Rescue. We were both edgy about the Brit, Jagger, he seemed a little, sheltered for this type of work. We thought that based on the information of two men and two women, we resigned myself to the fact that we may need to do all the heavy lifting, both of us being from backgrounds requiring that kind of work.
We located the road maps and headed back inside to find the Brit, white as a sheet, he had looked in the folder. Whatever reservations he had about what we were going to be doing, were gone.
Once we were all on the same page, Jason began telling us of what were known as Green Boxes, places where gear could be left and taken, s safe area used by the agency. Somewhere ID’s can be left and collected.
We were to travel to Springfield, about three hours away, then on to Pittsville, where the target was, pick up a second vehicle in Springfield and plan from there.
Jasper was to stick with me once we hit Springfield, definitely my preference, someone with a somewhat tactical background, we were tasked with locating a rally point and staging area for the operation.
The car ride to Springfield was painful, Jagger was blaring his rolling stones music, Jasper and I were in the back while Jason drove. I couldn’t help myself, I had to give him shit about it, I could tell that I would reduce him to water if left alone with him for too long.
Once in Springfield, Jason and Jagger were to look into the city records for plans regarding the structure we would be breaching, while they locate a second vehicle, Jasper and I were to begin studying the road maps for the fastest way to and from the target location.
We hit Springfield at about 1400, we dropped the two nerds off at city hall, Jason was going to swing his first fake Id of a real estate agent in order to get the building plans for the Children’s home, Jasper and I however had far more practical plans, we went for lunch.
Once we had eaten and picked up Jason and Jagger after retrieving blueprints, Jason drove us to the Springfield Green Box. E-Z Storage facility, a series of storage containers. As we headed down the lines, we were the only people in sight, entering the locker Jason pointed out, it was full of furniture from an old house with blankets everywhere, however upon removing one of the hanging cloths, a tunnel to the rear of the container emerged. We all moved through to reveal a treasure trove of contraband. My eyes however were drawn to the Glock 17 with loaded mags and the Remington Shotgun laying on a table in the centre of the space.
Jagger however let out a slight gasp, he all turned to see a severed head in a jar labelled ‘Hobo Head’, after checking my pants I regained composure. Walking around the space, there were books, buckets of keys, bottles of acid, assorted ammunition, the two firearms, medical kits, and a bottle of whisky with a note ‘compliments of J Cell’. This told me one thing, we were either the second J cell, or the first one is now gone, permanently.
We each took what we needed and began loading assorted items into the trunk of Jason’s car. Jagger took the acid, medical kits, the whisky and the Remington shotgun, probably the best weapon for someone who would most likely close their eyes to pull a trigger. Jasper retrieved some assorted ammunition, a large black fire axe and one or two other trinkets. Jason, the books, always the nerd, some sort of occult texts that were lost on me, along with a basic rifle scope that also resided on the table of arms.
I slung the glock around my shoulder, its fully loaded magazine and two spares hanging under my arms in a thick, old leather shoulder holster. I also took some zipties that lay about.
Before leaving we all removed our Government issue weapons and ID’s, each bagging them individually and placing them in hidden locations around the room. We would be back before leaving town I would guess. The only thing I kept on me, my body armour, under my clothing, my Kevlar slim vest, I wasn't taking that off, not so long as I am in the field.
Leaving the container, we dropped Jagger and Jason off to rent a van, a vehicle we had chosen as best means of quick entry and exit with the ability to blend in.
Jasper and I again rode together, discussing operational tactics, and sharing our concerns about the other two did seem to swing a little as Jagger’s sudden change of heart after looking at the inside of the folder.
We decided to begin looking for our staging area, looking at the large reserve about a 15 minute drive before the target house. It was a large reservoir, multiple exits and entrances, at night, the cover of the vegetation would completely conceal us. This was the spot, we continued on, deciding to do a drive by of the target area, we drove past the driveway of the target, the house was not visible, instead a long dirt driveway, we didn’t slow down, blending into the light traffic and continuing on a slight incline up the winding landscape. The house itself was hidden behind a dense woodland all around the property. If we were going to go in, it was going to be at night, through the woods, on foot. Not great considering the warning of guard dogs hanging from the semi destroyed mailbox.
We linked back up with the other two to find them with papers and maps in hand and driving an inconspicuous white van. The kind I had busted doing runs from Mexico across the border.
Jason gave us both a verbal for conducting a drive by, he was certain we should have gone there as a four-man team, not two.
We sat in our hotel, arranged by Jason, Jasper and I were on food duty, picking up a bag of grease to pass around.
The evening was quiet, we looked over the plans, a single storey house, no bigger than that you would find in suburbia, no room for children though, multiple entry points, multiple windows. This should be easy.
Jasper and I explained the surroundings, the property was dense, trees and woods on all sides, possible guard dogs.
Jagger spoke at that point, wanting to lace steak with sedative to incapacitate the dogs, I’d only ever seen it done in a movie, was worth a shot if we couldn’t go loud.
We dispersed for the night, Jason bunking with Jagger, me with Jasper. I collected all of our firearms for inspection as we knew we were going in within the next 24 hours. Our inventory consisted of, a Smith and Wesson 38 revolver that Jason never gave up, A Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun, my Glock 17 9mm, an old Remington 700 hunting rifle in 30-06, ideal for hunting in these parts and an Ithica 12 gauge pump action shotgun. The Ithica and 30-06 came from the trunk of Jason’s car.
I cleaned and oiled everything, Jason was to carry his pistol and the rifle, Jagger the Remington 12guage, Jasper the Ithica and myself the Glock, not that I felt under armed, I knew I could take anyone on with less than that.
The morning was quiet, we headed to the local home depot, it was clear to us, no traces. I bought boxes of latex gloves, balaclavas, basic work boots, everyone gave me their sizes and some cash, and some heavy duty sandwich bags. It was my intention to tie one around my gun hand, no traces, if I had to fire the Glock, the shell casing would remain in the bag.
We left for the reservoir around lunch time, we needed to show the nerds the staging area, they agreed it was a good spot. As the sun began to set, we decided two vehicles, one short of the driveway, the other past it, we would park and meet on foot across the road from the entrance and head in on foot.
The plan went smoothly, vehicles parked, everyone wearing their protective gear, darkness had fallen and we moved in.
We scurried across the road, moving quickly into the cover of the woods, Jason had taken point, he had brought Night Vision goggles, only one pair, so he was to lead with them.
It wasn’t long before I saw it, I told everyone to freeze, long rusty steel spikes protruded from the ground. It looked like a long series at least 20 feet long of 6" nails, semi concealed in the dark, the glint of the steel catching my eye in the moonlight.
Once we had successfully navigated the spikes, we moving along a slight incline to a small ridge looking over the house. However we were met by more troubling sight. It was cold, really cold, we gazed down upon at least a dozen children barely clothed dancing and running around. Two extra buildings had been constructed, a shed to the far right and a small cottage between the house and the shed.
It was these experiences that drew the attention of a strange group, a government agency who claimed to specialise in this sort of thing. I was approached by a representative of this agency with the request to join in an exercise to test my abilities and aptitude for the group’s operations.If I was to agree to their terms, I was to select for myself an alias starting with the letter ‘J’, a name to identify myself by, a name separate to my real world, I am Jude. Taken from the patron saint of lost Causes as those I have worked with over the years have often had that opinion of me. I am Jude.
Even with my history, I still seemed to require testing, I agreed to the terms of the assignment and before I knew it, I was already one of them.
It was the 19th November 1998,I had received my first mainline communication from the Group known as Delta Green. I had been summoned to an address in Boston, I was to meet with someone unknown to me regarding some sort of special assignment. The Trip from Miami was clear, no signs of incident or delay, I arrived in Boston at 0815, I was to make my way to 430, East First St, South Boston by 0900, where the meeting was to take place.
I took a cab from the airport, arriving on East First street at approx. 0845, I sat in the cab a block down from the address given to me, the outside weather was cold, a far cry from the temperatures I am used to experiencing down south, it was about 3-4 degrees Celsius, the industrial area I found myself in was already bustling with activity of workmen and alike, all of them seemed relatively acclimatized by the bitter chill in the air.
As the time for the meeting came closer a second cab pulled up a block further down the road, its passenger exiting the car, a lean man, about 5’11, high forehead with heavy clothing and a ruck sack on his back. He slowly observed his surroundings and began walking slowly towards the address.
I also exited my cab, paying the fair and throwing my overnight bag over my shoulder, by jeans and jacket doing little to protect me from the elements, as long as my hands were warm in my gloves, that’s all I could think about, I didn’t know what I was walking into, I needed my hands ready, just in case.
Advancing on the address I met the strange man, he seemed as curious as to who I was as I of him. Exchanging mild pleasantries, my excuse of a meeting was as thin as his of meeting friends, both giving off the aura of agency types, I allowed him to advance first to the building. A large red brick warehouse, a large roller door at its centre with a small regular door to the right.We entered the building, from the outside, it looked like an enclosed factory, from the inside, a different story, a derelict space, filled with scrap and junk. The curious sight for us however was the destroyed BMW car in the centre of the space. I emerged from behind the stranger to inspect the vehicle, my left hand never leaving the underside of my jacket, I didn’t know this man or these surroundings, my grip on my sidearm relentless.
He followed me, his curiosity clearly peaked by the vehicle also. Looking carefully, the BMW had been in a massive head on collision, its front end caved in and destroyed, what seemed amiss, there were no signs of what it had hit, no blood, no external scrapes, no dust or stone fragments, just the car. The interior was also destroyed, yet it was intact, someone had done a thorough clean on this car, inside and out, no finger prints, no dirt, no signs of anything, just a wreck.
I continued on through the empty warehouse, scanning the surroundings, in search of any signs of another person, it was clear to me that my compatriot was just as curious and ignorant as I was as to the situation.
Looking towards the back of the building, a room with glass windows and an open door revealed a table and chairs, a lone dark figure sitting and smoking. As the figure took my gaze a loud slamming of a door spun me on my heal, my sidearm all but pulled from my holster. At the entry way to the building, a man entered towing a large suitcase, his suite and fedora casting a peculiar shadow on the wall.
I called to him to identify himself, he only approached with no response, it was clear my fellow cab patron was equally as nervous, his hand also moving to his side, clearly carrying a sidearm of his own. I caught the glint of a 1911 tucked in a holster, far from standard issue, making me think he was also a fed of some kind.
The new entrant approached with a nod and removed a set of headphones from his ears, only asking if he was late.
Clearly not a threat, his British accent and soft spoken nature setting my mind at ease slightly as I turned my attention to the shadow at the table who had since risen and emerged from the room, his old, gaunt appearance barely concealing the slight limp he walked with, he summoned us to the table.
As I approached the table, on it resided a single ash tray, almost full to the brim with burnt cigarettes, and a black garbage bag, looking closer, some sort of folder resided within.
It was clear that everyone was nervous, although to my surprise, the Brit was the most forthcoming.
I kicked a chair away from the table and sat down, giving myself some distance from the others, the Brit sat next to the old man, the lean guy remained standing, leaning on the empty chair in front of him. A cool silence took over the air, no one wanted to talk. It was the old man who first broke the silence, asking us if we knew why we were here and what we bring to the table.
The lean man standing spoke first, his eyes darting from man to man, I think he was more concerned about someone drawing down on him. He explained that he believed we were all carrying and wanted to reassure everyone that there was no threat between strangers at the table, he also explained that he was also summoned here for a meeting and that he brought with him a solid fortitude and ability to kick in a door. The old man called him by name, my name, asking if he was Jude, to my surprise he replied, Jasper.
I then spoke, explaining I was Jude, I was summoned here and I bring with me a fast on the fly attitude and the ability to get the job done, no matter what.
The Brit followed, stating he was Jagger, as if a J name from England would be anything other than the name of a creepy old rock star with a big mouth. He then went into detail about himself, it was clear he was a nerd, medically trained, the only part of his explanation that took my interest was his claim to have taken part in Desert Storm.
The old man followed, Jason, he claimed to be, his tired eyes betraying a severe boredom for young blood and clearly a man with more knowledge than us on what we were to be doing here. He brought to the table a knowledge of history, occult and oddity. Something didn’t feel right, immediately making me think of the curious activity I had encountered in my past that defied explanation.
Jason went on to tell us of the rules, if we wanted in on this outfit, we were
to carry no government issue gear, no ties to our own lives, no friends or family complications, we were to be ghosts. Always have back up identities ready, always be prepared to leave everything in your possession and move on. Simple, it was a purely black bag operation, no traces, no witnesses.He spoke at length about this, reiterating the same thing over and over, our lives were gone, our new lives of men with no names and no ties were to be who we are now, if we accepted the responsibility.
It was made clear however that there was no backup, if we get stuck, we are on our own, escape and evade being the operative concerns once things go bad. Another interesting topic, you do not lie to the group, we were now J Cell, there was to be trust without cause or proof, trust in all things.
Never do anything alone, another rule, there are no cowboys in this group, no heroes, when tailed, wait for counter tail before losing it, never go into a place without knowing how you are going to get out.
Shocked and surprised, the black plastic bag containing the folder slid across the table and made a deepening crash as it hit the floor. Jasper took a step back and instinctively, I went to draw my pistol without thinking, catching myself as my holster napped open.
Jagger stared at the bag, curiosity in his eyes. Jason instructed us to leave it, no one was to touch it. The more I observed him, Jasper to me seemed to be from a similar station to me, possible ex-military, his explanation of what he does blending with my own in terms of being a door kicker, some sort of tactical operative was my guess.
Jason went on to tell us of the operation we were here to conduct, a Russian orthodox school for children, four hostiles inside, two men and two women, one an old lady, one a young woman. They were to be neutralised, the old woman first, she was not allowed to speak. That was the directive, Jagger threw up much resistance, not sure if he was comfortable with the idea. I ignored him and asked very simply, are there children, are they in danger?
Yes, was the response, enough to cause my agreement with the op, Jasper too. We were in, we continued to ask what kind of danger, what kind of crime warranted termination, no answers came, only that it needed to be done.
Turning our attention back to Jagger, We noticed he had picked up the black bag containing the folder, Jason barked at him to put it down, just the touch of it had clearly shaken Jagger. He dropped it on the table immediately. Turning his attention back to myself and Jasper. He continued his briefing, Wayfairer’s Home for Children, Jasper and I were to retrieve some road maps from Jason’s car outside. We left Jagger and Jason to stew in their own juices, I thought it a prime opportunity to find out more about this guy,
Once out of earshot of the others, I started talking to Jasper, he was FBI, or so he claimed, Hostage Rescue. We were both edgy about the Brit, Jagger, he seemed a little, sheltered for this type of work. We thought that based on the information of two men and two women, we resigned myself to the fact that we may need to do all the heavy lifting, both of us being from backgrounds requiring that kind of work.
We located the road maps and headed back inside to find the Brit, white as a sheet, he had looked in the folder. Whatever reservations he had about what we were going to be doing, were gone.
Once we were all on the same page, Jason began telling us of what were known as Green Boxes, places where gear could be left and taken, s safe area used by the agency. Somewhere ID’s can be left and collected.
We were to travel to Springfield, about three hours away, then on to Pittsville, where the target was, pick up a second vehicle in Springfield and plan from there.
Jasper was to stick with me once we hit Springfield, definitely my preference, someone with a somewhat tactical background, we were tasked with locating a rally point and staging area for the operation.
The car ride to Springfield was painful, Jagger was blaring his rolling stones music, Jasper and I were in the back while Jason drove. I couldn’t help myself, I had to give him shit about it, I could tell that I would reduce him to water if left alone with him for too long.
Once in Springfield, Jason and Jagger were to look into the city records for plans regarding the structure we would be breaching, while they locate a second vehicle, Jasper and I were to begin studying the road maps for the fastest way to and from the target location.
We hit Springfield at about 1400, we dropped the two nerds off at city hall, Jason was going to swing his first fake Id of a real estate agent in order to get the building plans for the Children’s home, Jasper and I however had far more practical plans, we went for lunch.
Jagger however let out a slight gasp, he all turned to see a severed head in a jar labelled ‘Hobo Head’, after checking my pants I regained composure. Walking around the space, there were books, buckets of keys, bottles of acid, assorted ammunition, the two firearms, medical kits, and a bottle of whisky with a note ‘compliments of J Cell’. This told me one thing, we were either the second J cell, or the first one is now gone, permanently.
We each took what we needed and began loading assorted items into the trunk of Jason’s car. Jagger took the acid, medical kits, the whisky and the Remington shotgun, probably the best weapon for someone who would most likely close their eyes to pull a trigger. Jasper retrieved some assorted ammunition, a large black fire axe and one or two other trinkets. Jason, the books, always the nerd, some sort of occult texts that were lost on me, along with a basic rifle scope that also resided on the table of arms.
I slung the glock around my shoulder, its fully loaded magazine and two spares hanging under my arms in a thick, old leather shoulder holster. I also took some zipties that lay about.
Before leaving we all removed our Government issue weapons and ID’s, each bagging them individually and placing them in hidden locations around the room. We would be back before leaving town I would guess. The only thing I kept on me, my body armour, under my clothing, my Kevlar slim vest, I wasn't taking that off, not so long as I am in the field.
Leaving the container, we dropped Jagger and Jason off to rent a van, a vehicle we had chosen as best means of quick entry and exit with the ability to blend in.
Jasper and I again rode together, discussing operational tactics, and sharing our concerns about the other two did seem to swing a little as Jagger’s sudden change of heart after looking at the inside of the folder.
We decided to begin looking for our staging area, looking at the large reserve about a 15 minute drive before the target house. It was a large reservoir, multiple exits and entrances, at night, the cover of the vegetation would completely conceal us. This was the spot, we continued on, deciding to do a drive by of the target area, we drove past the driveway of the target, the house was not visible, instead a long dirt driveway, we didn’t slow down, blending into the light traffic and continuing on a slight incline up the winding landscape. The house itself was hidden behind a dense woodland all around the property. If we were going to go in, it was going to be at night, through the woods, on foot. Not great considering the warning of guard dogs hanging from the semi destroyed mailbox.
We linked back up with the other two to find them with papers and maps in hand and driving an inconspicuous white van. The kind I had busted doing runs from Mexico across the border.
Jason gave us both a verbal for conducting a drive by, he was certain we should have gone there as a four-man team, not two.
We sat in our hotel, arranged by Jason, Jasper and I were on food duty, picking up a bag of grease to pass around.
The evening was quiet, we looked over the plans, a single storey house, no bigger than that you would find in suburbia, no room for children though, multiple entry points, multiple windows. This should be easy.
Jasper and I explained the surroundings, the property was dense, trees and woods on all sides, possible guard dogs.
Jagger spoke at that point, wanting to lace steak with sedative to incapacitate the dogs, I’d only ever seen it done in a movie, was worth a shot if we couldn’t go loud.
We dispersed for the night, Jason bunking with Jagger, me with Jasper. I collected all of our firearms for inspection as we knew we were going in within the next 24 hours. Our inventory consisted of, a Smith and Wesson 38 revolver that Jason never gave up, A Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun, my Glock 17 9mm, an old Remington 700 hunting rifle in 30-06, ideal for hunting in these parts and an Ithica 12 gauge pump action shotgun. The Ithica and 30-06 came from the trunk of Jason’s car.
I cleaned and oiled everything, Jason was to carry his pistol and the rifle, Jagger the Remington 12guage, Jasper the Ithica and myself the Glock, not that I felt under armed, I knew I could take anyone on with less than that.
We left for the reservoir around lunch time, we needed to show the nerds the staging area, they agreed it was a good spot. As the sun began to set, we decided two vehicles, one short of the driveway, the other past it, we would park and meet on foot across the road from the entrance and head in on foot.
The plan went smoothly, vehicles parked, everyone wearing their protective gear, darkness had fallen and we moved in.
We scurried across the road, moving quickly into the cover of the woods, Jason had taken point, he had brought Night Vision goggles, only one pair, so he was to lead with them.
It wasn’t long before I saw it, I told everyone to freeze, long rusty steel spikes protruded from the ground. It looked like a long series at least 20 feet long of 6" nails, semi concealed in the dark, the glint of the steel catching my eye in the moonlight.
Once we had successfully navigated the spikes, we moving along a slight incline to a small ridge looking over the house. However we were met by more troubling sight. It was cold, really cold, we gazed down upon at least a dozen children barely clothed dancing and running around. Two extra buildings had been constructed, a shed to the far right and a small cottage between the house and the shed.
It took a lot of looking but what I can only describe as a bearded lady stood guard over the children. It must have been a man, it had the voice of a man, somewhat muffled by the rain that had begun to fall, it was a thick Russian accent, that’s all I could make out. Jagger jumped quietly as we all became aware of a mangy dog standing right behind us, not aggressive, just looking at us. Jagger threw it some steak, drugged, yet the dog remained more interested in us.
As it didn’t seem to be doing anything to give us away, we turned our attention back to the people in the distance. The Bearded lady was holding a large cattle prod of crude design, and a small animal, I think it was a dog but maybe something smaller. Music was playing, some Russian anthem of some kind. A second man appeared, carrying what looked like a small body draped in a bloody sheet, a sight I had become all to accustomed too. The bearded woman barked at the children raising the small animal in the air, the children then all disappeared into the cottage, all but one, who seemed stuck in place, looking in our direction briefly before joining the other children inside.
The second man began to dig, his shovel dirty in the soggy ground. To our sudden surprise, Jasper gasped as the dog behind us had latched onto his leg, drawing blood. I grabbed him by the collar in an effort to silence him, as I did, he swung his fire axe at the animal, collecting it centre mass, sending it limping into the darkness. Jagger then moved to Jasper and began applying a bandage. Jason and I turned our gaze back to the man digging.
Jagger was a rubbish medic, we both held our breath as we heard Jasper let out a not so silent scream as Jagger tightened the bandage beyond firm. The man digging must have also heard it, he had stopped digging and had turned to face us.
Agent CLOVE
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| Agent CLOVE |
The woman known as Agent CLOVE, is an African American, in her late forties. She was the "face" of Delta Green who reinstated JASON after his timely reprieve. Known only as the mysterious, Ms. Green, to the newly enlisted Agents, she recruited them by offering the ultimatum to join the Group, or to walk away forever.
CLOVE instigated Operation SANCTUM outside of the normal Delta Green protocol, tasking the newly formed J-Cell with it's execution. CLOVE had admitted to JASON that she needed to clean house and that she mightn't be around to do this herself. At the time she had appeared stressed and extremely on edge.
CLOVE had in her possession the singed "Hello Kitty" folder that had had an ill effect on both JASON and JAGGER.
CLOVE had in her possession the singed "Hello Kitty" folder that had had an ill effect on both JASON and JAGGER.
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
Session 01 (Agent Jason)
Agent Jason leaned back in the creaking chair, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and looked around the little office of the South Boston warehouse. He had just spent a few minutes re-organizing the chair and table and taped his gun under the dented metal tabletop, within easy reach.
He put the plastic wrapped folder on the tabletop, suppressing a shudder as he felt the bubbled cover through the plastic of the garbage bag. Something's seriously wrong with this Op. Never expected to see Clove like that.
 |
| South Boston Warehouse |
The few times he had met her, she had seemed like nothing would shake her. Just goes to show...
The door opened and two guys walked into the garage. Agent Jason tensed up and observed them. Tall. Seemed to be fit. Military? Not sure. Could be... Let's hope they've got the stomach for this. He watched them wander around the car wreck. They didn't seem to be too much in a rush to make sure the location was secure... something to work on. If they survived that is. Meat for the grinder.
He kept an eye on them as they seem to wander a bit, and the door opened to let another guy in. Hat, suit, the whole lot. Well... that's something different. Definitely not military, that was for sure. The guy with the receding hairline seemed to be a bit on edge and said something to the other two Agent Jason couldn't fully hear. They talked some more and finally the redhead seemed to have noticed the shadowy area in the back and made his way over. Showtime...
They walked in and took place at the table. Agent Jason got straight to it and started with a few basics. No names, no backgrounds, no nothing. Codenames and fake ID's. A quick check revealed that they all were or had been involved with agency work. Good. No civilians. The first two also had seen some action. One of them, Agent Orange (Jude) had been overseas. Let's hope he had been at the front line, not fighting boredom behind a desk. the third guy (Jagger) turned out to be British.
Straight to the point, like Norman did years ago.
"Right. Target is Wayfinders Home for Children, a Russian Orthodox charity in Cheshire. There's four adults on site, two male, one young woman and an old one. They need to be neutralized. Don't let the old woman look at you or talk to you, don't talk to her. Two in the back of the head. Any issues with this?"
He let it hang in the air for a few seconds and observed the reactions around the table. Agent Orange and Fivehead (Jasper) didn't say anything, Luckily they also didn't seem too keen. Good. They might be meat, but they weren't psychos. Van Helsing (Jagger) didn't like this. Was to be expected.
While there was a bit of arguing about the nature of the mission, the folder slid of the table. Agent Jason continued as if he hadn't noticed, but Van Helsing made a move for it and picked it up. Agent Jason told him to put it down and not to touch the thing.
Jason went through a whole heap of Adolphe's Rogers Rules for Ranging. They seemed to be paying attention and if the assassination mission didn't give them the feeling they weren't in Kansas anymore, most of this stuff must have. Once he had gone through the main things, he sent Jude and Jasper out to get the roadmaps out of his car. As soon as they had left the garage he slid the parcel over to Jagger. "Have a look inside. It will explain matters...". He got up and lit another cigarette, walking over to the cracked window looking into the garage. He didn't need to see the contents. Once was enough...
As the other two returned to the garage, he turned and asked the pale looking Englishman if he was ok with the mission now. Jagger nodded, looking as if he was ready to empty his stomach all over the table.
Agent Jason explained more about the Green Boxes and the need to ditch anything that could link to their identities, as well as a heap of rules regarding Intel gathering and scouting. He explained how they would first and before all else head out to Springfield to do this, while also sort out a second vehicle. He took some time to study the maps. Once he had found where Cheshire was, he lit another cigarette. Fuck. Not out there again...
Agent Jason retrieved his taped gun and they all left shortly afterwards, to travel in his car towards Springfield. Jasper threw a few questions at Jagger, who was irritating Agent Jason (as well as the others Jason guessed), by opening the window and playing some Rolling Stones stuff. Agent Jason quickly put an end to question-time and made it clear again that the less you knew about each other the better. He felt like carting a heap of schoolkids around, which did not improve his mood.
Once in Springfield they first headed out to the E-Z Storage Springfield Green Box, where the FNGs left all the sensitive items and papers behind. They all went through the contents of the safe location (after removing a few chairs to get the crawlspace).
 |
| Springfield E-Z Storage |
They took most of the weapons and ammo with them, as well as the jerrycan with acid. Agent Jason grabbed two books (the severed Hobo head in a jar was not taken along). He split the group in two, taking Jagger with him, to rent a van. The others sorted out a motel, where they all met each other a bit later. Agent Jason decided that in the morning, Jude and Jasper would head to Pittsfield, to find a rally point. He sent Jagger to the library to look up whatever he could find on the Home or on Russian Orthodox charities, while he went to town hall to see if he could get any copies of the floorplan of the house. No such luck.
Jagger didn't find anything either, so Agent Jason spent some time to double check, with the same results.
They decided to head out to Pittsfield and check for plans of the house there. Agent Jason was able to get them at the town hall, running the real estate agent spiel, and then decided to meet up with Jude and Jasper. The guys had found a good rally point, secluded and with multiple exits,
 |
| Floor-plan - Wayfinders Home for Children |
which made Agent Jason feel a bit more confident. What didn't please him was the fact that they had decided to do a first recce of the house, driving past it and backtracking and having a look at mailbox and a sign warning visitors about the dogs. He felt like punching them in the mouth, but refrained from doing so. He did repeat that that stuff needed to be handled by the full team. They probably weren't too happy with his reaction, but he didn't give a fuck. Sure, it's the kind of thing you do when you're a cop doing a bit of a stakeout on the local drug dealer. But this wasn't. Who knows who was looking from the woods. Or what...
They started to get ready, as Agent Jason decided they needed to get closer. They studied the plan of the house. Looked like there were multiple entry points, as well as multiple windows. The only thing that didn't make sense wads that there was only one floor, and a few bedrooms. Nowhere near enough be some kind of home for children.
They headed out, in two cars and took the normal precautions. As Jason made his way behind Jagger through the woods across the road of the Home, he stopped a few times to look back. Were they out here? Were they the same?
They joined up with the others and quickly crossed the road, and headed towards a hill when they all noticed they were walking on a stretch of field where the ground was covered with rusty spikes. They went down and slowly crawled up the hill, in the rain. Once they made their way up it, they had a much better overview of the place... and there was more than one building. They saw some kind of cabin next to the house, with a swing, as well as a shack with some kind of fenced area next to it.
 |
| Overview Wayfinders Home Surroundings |
A few floodlights were on... and there were kids playing. In the rain. At night. wearing little more than a t-shirt and shorts. What the hell? There was a large woman... hang on. Was that a man in a dress? It definitely had a beard. As well as a cattle-prod. And a ferret. Some Russian music was playing, sounding like something out of World War II. The Russian shouted something to Stepan, or someone with a similar name.
A noise behind them drew Jason's attention to a dog, some dirty looking mutt that was just standing there. Didn't look like much of a guard dog. One of the others threw some of the meat Jagger had prepared towards it. Jason expected one of the others to take care of the dog, while he kept looking at what was going on beneath, through his sight.
There was another guy there. So these must be the two men. Then he noticed one of the kids looking straight up at them. At him. "Don't freak me out, kid," he thought, "I only need to kill the four adults. Please don't give me any fucked up shit that we have to take care of these kids as well..."
He heard Jasper hiss something and looked back to see that the dog had bitten him. For fuck sake, why wasn't that dog asleep or dead? Jasper rolled over and hit it hard with the axe he had take from the Green Box, chasing it off.
Jason bit his tongue, already going over a few parts of the debriefing, and turned his attention back to what was going on below. He noticed the bearded thing rounding everyone up and gathering them towards the cabin. This was not going to be easy... he looked around, checking the other houses with the scope, while Jagger was doing some first aid on Jasper, who all of a sudden yelped.
Jason turned the scope on the second guy. He clearly had heard something, as he was starting to walk towards them. Fuck it. They were made. "Here they come..." Jason thought, his eyes quickly glancing at the darkness around them, between the trees and the woods behind. "Here they come... beast masks and antlers and all..."
His leg started to ache.
Fucking New Guys....
Agent JOSHUA (Deceased)
 |
| Agent JOSHUA |
Age: mid 40s
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black with silver flecks
Height: 184cm
Weight: 90kg
Description: At first glance John presents as your average upper-class professional, not unlike how you would imagine a Medical Doctor or Prosecuting Lawyer to appear. That look that says, “Yes I have money, but I have more important things to spend my time on than wasting time in the mirror”. He wears glasses, has clean but unruly hair and is neat with a friendly & charming demeanour. He is never without his cell phone, Dictaphones or notepad. As a professional listener, he prefers to collate all the variables before presenting the equation vocally and while he can’t be described as physically intimidating his strength is his mind and has been labelled a genius by his peers and able to get to the truth of people, eventually.
Part of the secret to his genius is that Sinclair’s mind is his library that he can visualise and negotiate in three-dimensional space. He can walk around in it, add and emend information, work theories and draw on information decades old. This place has been filled with the information of his vocation with seemingly endless volumes neatly organised on shelves of rich mahogany and art nouveau brass work with an open round central room with four short wings on each point of the compass and duplicated on two floors. The large round central area has a floor of large ebony and ivory coloured tiles and a high ceiling reaching past both floors. This is where he watches theories, equations, maps and models evolve from the comfort of a high wing back leather chair in living dull brass like a steampunk hologram that appears solid and heavy yet fluid and effortless. The colour white doesn’t exist here, neither does black, with warm tones via yellow lighting it appears a century older than himself and inviting and comfortable.
The events that led him to becoming Agent JOSHUA were not a surprise to him as he already comprehends the possibilities that could eventuate via potential theory and scientific speculation. What Agent JOSHUA isn’t aware of is what exactly is beyond this dimensional veil and he knows it. This simple fact is the catalyst and prime motivator behind his actions.
JOSHUA was executed by JUDE during Operation MONOLITH at the Olympian Holobeam Array, in an attempt to stop the supernatural incursion. JASON removed the fingers and teeth of JOSHUA's corpse to avoid identification and burnt the body in the inferno that engulfed the facility.
Agent JASPER (MIA)
 |
| Agent JASPER |
Age: mid 30s - early 40s
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black, receding
Height: 182cm
Weight: 75-80kg
Description:
Lean and agile frame. Piercing eyes with dead pan facial
expressions. Signs of tactical training. Strong in hand to hand combat. Knows how to handle a firearm.
Agent JASPER's body was last seen being dragged into a Blackhawk helicopter by members of a covert force after the Groversville barn facility was destroyed during Operation MAGENTA. He was shot at close range with automatic fire and is presumed dead.
Agent JASPER's body was last seen being dragged into a Blackhawk helicopter by members of a covert force after the Groversville barn facility was destroyed during Operation MAGENTA. He was shot at close range with automatic fire and is presumed dead.
Agent JAGGER
 |
| Agent JAGGER |
Agent JAGGER
Age: Early to mid 30s
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Blonde with full beard.
Height: 193cm
Weight: 75-80kg
Description:
Stocky but athletic build , has had some form of military
training, although a little rusty.
Medically trained Doctor. No visible tattoos. Can shoot, but
prefers lab work.
Agent JUDE (DECEASED)
Age: 30-35
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Red, patchy facial hair
Height: 190cm tall
Weight: 85-90 kg
Description:
Physically fit with obvious military training.
Pale completion with tattoos showing around the base of neck.
Solid with firearms and good under fire.
Agent JUDE was struck with an alien weapon fired by one of the bizarre wasp-like entities that appeared after he destroyed the facility in the Groversville barn during Operation MAGENTA. The device fired a packet of light which destroyed JUDE's body and scattered what little remained of the agent about the smouldering crater the weapon created.
Agent JASON
 |
| Agent JASON |
Age: late 40s - early 50s
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Salt and pepper
Height: 175cm
Weight: 75-80kg
Description:
Pale, unhealthy looking complexion.
Walks with a limp, which is some days worse than others.
Chain-smoker.
JASPER has noticed that Jason's right leg, hip and lower back are a mass of scar tissue, looking like they have been severely burnt.
The leg looks as if is missing a few chunks of tissue.
JASPER has noticed that Jason's right leg, hip and lower back are a mass of scar tissue, looking like they have been severely burnt.
The leg looks as if is missing a few chunks of tissue.
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