Krobar enjoyed a sip
of the hot coffee while warming his hands above the radiator. He looked up at
the map with the blinking lights, then at the guys hunched over the
Secure-Line. It had been a while since they’ve done anything together, even Klaus
was missing so it wasn’t really the same as before. Sure, he had met up and had
a good time with Kodiak, but this was an Opera…
Still, ball-freezing cold as it was, this beat making up inventory of Green Boxes with Klaus. Then again, that was exactly what Kodiak was doing at the moment, sending through the contents of Green Box 224 to A-cell. Or someone else who was bored enough to spend their afternoon receiving messages from Kodiak.
Still, ball-freezing cold as it was, this beat making up inventory of Green Boxes with Klaus. Then again, that was exactly what Kodiak was doing at the moment, sending through the contents of Green Box 224 to A-cell. Or someone else who was bored enough to spend their afternoon receiving messages from Kodiak.
January 5th, 1997, 11:07pm
Krobar tore the condom off the small cylinder and flushed
it, pocketing the tube. He walked out, washed his hands and joined the others
at the bar in Lambert Airport, St. Louis. Kodiak slid a plate with steak over
to him and he dug in.
“So… where’s Klaus?”
Kodiak shrugged and Knight kind of shook his head.
“It’s just us, Krobar.”
He nodded. “Figures… was bound to catch up with him one day…”
Kodiak raised an eyebrow.
Krobar lowered his voice “You know… Klaus… his grandfather,
and the whole situation.” He continued, noticing the blank look he got from
Kodiak.
“Right, so you didn’t know. Klaus’ grandfather, he was on
the Other Side during WWII, doing all weird stuff, medical experiments and all.
Seems like Klaus might have been flying under the radar for a while, but the
skeletons are out of the closet now. Come on, let’s go, Knight’s off already”.
He grabbed his kitbag and followed Knight, chewing the last piece of steak.
A Friendly, Private Kellerman, had taken them to one of the
trucks and showed where they could sit. Then he had taken them to their gear in
a neighbouring building, where they had changed into FEMA gear. Nothing
interesting, as usual, just some clothes, fake IDs and a Secure-Line. Then they
had moved out, close to midnight. The trip had taken forever, but, although
very uncomfortable, they all were able to catch some shut-eye along the way.
January 6th, 1997, 7:07am
They ID’ed themselves and Tanya Cambria, a woman in her fifties
let them into the building and guided them through the building to Mill’s office,
which would be their base of operations. When she opened the door, the were
blasted by a wave of hot air and a musty smell, which was kind of familiar, but
Krobar couldn’t put his finger on it.
After a few more pleasantries they closed the door on her,
turning the heater of and had a look around. Just a desk, two computers, a bit
map with lots of flashing light, which seemed to show which houses were going
without power. They checked the cabinets for the source of the smell but couldn’t
find anything. Kodiak went through a few of the drawers but didn’t find
anything.
Kodiak was having a look around the room, while Knight was
inspecting the desk. He was sure he knew this smell, it was a bit like… after
one of their parties? Yeah, that seemed to ring a bell. Knight cursed and
pulled his hand from under the desktop, covered in something “What the hell?”
He others came over “What’s that?”. Knight shook his head, “It
was underneath the desktop… it’s… semen…”
Krobar did his best not to laugh out. Yup, that’s right, one
of the parties. That was what Rancid’s basement had smelt like, the dirty pig. Knight
washed his hands frantically, and gathered
some cleaning products, while Krobar procured a few jars of instant coffee and
a water boiler, doding a barrage of questions from guys in the kitchen. This
would end badly, if they weren’t able to give them answers soon.
Kodiak had been digging through the pc and had figured out
that Skip Mills hadn’t answered any email since January 3rd, but had
spent a LOT of time going through porn after sending a last email. So… Skip had
gone out to check the Green Box, had returned and rather than doing his job, he
spent all his time redecorating the underside of his desktop. Public servants…
Kodiak set up the Secure-Line and contacted A-cell while
Krobar picked up car keys, and since it looked like Kodiak wasn’t getting
anywhere, they decide to brave the ridiculous cold and drive over to Mill’s
home, which was closer than the Green Box.
January 6th, 1997, 9:24am – 11:39am
Krobar had insisted on driving, not trusting the other guys skills
to drive a vehicle in this weather. It took them a while to get there, and
even Krobar wasn’t able to get the pick-up there without a scratch. Another car
was badly parked outside and when they got out, they could hear some faint music
coming from one of the houses, probably Mills’. Prior to entering, he siphoned
petrol out of Mills’ car into a jerrycan, refilling the truck as well as having
the can filled as well. Kodiak was adamant about not splitting the party, so
they all went through the front door, much to Krobar’s chagrin. The door
opened, only locked by a light chain which gave way when they applied pressure.
Indeed, the music came from here, loud jazzy noise, with some moaning in the
background. They were greeted by the
same heat, the same smell as in the office. They turned the lights on, and
cleared the room, which was filled with porn magazine all over the floor,
furniture, stuck up on walls. Boxes and boxes of the stuff. They carefully
proceeded, Knight checking corners with his gun, Kodiak holding his MagLite as
a club and Krobar hefting the crowbar he had liberated from the National Guard
truck.
As they moved carefully, a noise made them turn, and a man
was visible in the doorway from where the sounds of a porn movie were
originating. He was wearing an open nightrobe and clearly very happy to see
Kodiak, as he started to stumble/charge towards him. Mills (at least that’s who
we thought it was, as the guy was visible on some of the photographs on the
wall, in between stuck-up centrefolds, literally dropped his jaw and some fleshy
tentacle with pincers forced itself out of his mouth. Krobar flanked him to the
left, while Knight tried to take aim at the guy. It lunged for Kodiak, but
missed him, while the big guy put all of his weight behind the MagLite and
cracked him one across the face. Before the thing/man could recover, Krobar
swung his weapon and embedded the crowbar into the guys skull. Knight opened
up, perforating the tentacle, which now was freeing itself out of the guy’s throat,
with multiple shot. The sight of the thing made Krobar’s stomach turn, all he
could think of was Rancid’s basement and god know what fucking filth the guy
was up to, as he hit Mill’s head again and again with the crowbar, splitting
it, spattering bits of bone and brainmatter all over the floor, walls, boots
and Kodiak’s face. He stopped for a second, noticing Skip wasn’t moving anymore
and straightened up. He looked round, wiping some gristle off his cheek and saw
a deathly pale Kodiak heading for the sink.
“What? What’s wrong, Kodiak?” He cleaned the dripping metal
bar on Skip’s robes and stepped back. “and watch your step… looks like you’re
standing in a puddle of Skip’s swimmers…”. Kodiak cursed and rubbed his foot on
a kitchen towel. Then they noticed another smell. Something dead. Dead for a
while.
Once Kodiak had composed himself, he went out to get the
jerrycan and began dousing the whole place in petrol. He clearly had had enough
and cleansing it by fire would make him feel a lot better. Knight and Krobar
made their way down the hallway, leaving the big guy to focus on a bit of arson.
No need for him to see some rotting carcass behind door number 3...
Some of the rooms were relatively untouched, others covered
in more filth. As they opened the last door on the left, they found a scene of
carnage. Something once human was laying on the bed, seemingly exploded by
something that must have burst out of her. Something a LOT larger than a
chestburster… This probably was Skip’s mother, or what was left of her. Looking
closer they saw small puncture wounds all over her legs and arms, which were
the only relatively intact body parts to be seen amid a mass of intestines and
organs. It clearly bothered Knight, but he was professional enough to go ahead
and inspect the scene. They immediately noticed the bloody handprints on the
wall. All the way from the bedhead, up to the ceiling, where a hole was punched
through. Krobar took five minuted to go through the room and gather Mum’s
jewelry and a small amount of cash she had hidden under her stack of
nightclothes in the wardrobe. Not a heap but enough to cover his next Opera
expenses.
They called out to Kodiak and regrouped. Krobar was pretty
blunt about it. If there was any chance that thing was up in the attic, he
wanted to make sure the bastard was 100% dead, rather than relying on fire to
destroy it.
With a rickety stack of coffee table and stepladder they investigated
the attic, Kodiak leading the way. They immediately found another opening in
the roof. Clearly the thing had gotten away.
Sirens started to sound in the distance, so Kodiak torched
the place. Krobar told them to make their exit through the back and head up to
the parallel street. He would join them by car, unless he couldn’t shake the
cops. With quite some skill, he was able to drive the vehicle at speed into a
side street, before being noticed by the cops, then turned and slowed down so
the others on foot could catch up with him. As soon as they closed the door, he
took off, in the general direction of the Green Box, leaving the sirens and
smoke of the burning house behind them.
January 6th, 1997, 12:24pam
January 6th, 1997, 2:21pm – 3:30pm
Two trips were enough to get everything from the vehicle to
the office, which they locked. By then it was well after 2pm. They sorted the
items, bagging all weapons and ammo, which Knight started to check and load,
while Krobar went and got some goulash from the kitchen. He handed them all a
plate and pulled a bottle of Jack out of his kitbag, pouring them all a
generous portion. Kodiak entered all of the odd pieces, receiving feedback from
whomever was at the other end of the line:
- large nonahedron (nine-sided shape) decorative box, carved from some unidentifiable hardwood. Appears to be a puzzle box.
- A: SECURED
- Three very old, very battered BETA videocassettes of the Porky's trilogy. The second tape isnoticeably more worn than the others.
- A: SECURED
- A large list printed on yellowed computer stock, accordion-folded. It is easily forty inches thick. The list seems to describe exacting descriptions of pairs of hands.
- A: SECURED
- A crudely carved mannequin head. A hatchet is lodged in the cranium and there are scorch marks around the base.
- A: SECURED
- The files of one Abner Lebowitz consist primarily of maps. The maps appear to be yearly surveys of the Stockyard District in Chicago from 1910 to 1924.
- A: SECURED
- An unopened 50th-anniversary edition of Monopoly.
- A: SECURED
- An antique violin and bow in a cracked leather carry case.
- A: SECURED
Nothing out of the ordinary until Kodiak entered the next
batch.
- Hundreds of yellow legal pads contain failed drafts of “Escaping Altimira”, along with fouraudio cassette tapes. There is also an ammo box with Portuguese lettering on the side.
- A: Box?
- K: Ammo box?
- A: Ammo box closed?
- K: Closed
- A: Locked?
- K: Negative
- A: UNSECURED
- A: K-CELL CLEARED HOT
- A: ELIMINATE VECTOR
- A: NORWEGIAN CONTAMINATION PROBABLE
- A: COUNTDOWN COMMENCED
- 24:00:00
- A: DUCK SOUP INBOUND
“What the fuck? Norwegian contamination? Duck Soup?”
January 6th,
1997. 3:25pm
Krobar drained the
plastic cup of whisky in one go and took a deep breath. The stared at the
second terminal, with all the flashing lights, while Kodiak and Knight were
discussing something in the background.
Fucking hell… why can’t
these guys call something what it is. Ducksoup? Alright, they’re sending a
cleaner. In 24 hours. To do what? Clean up the town? Us? What the fuck… why can’t
they just have a little bit of faith in us, and let us handle shit. That
fucking counter really felt like a threat.
Not a nice “ok guys,
we’ll send someone to come and clean up, ‘s all good, just take it easy”.
No… it had to be a
fucking countdown, now down to 22:31:12 and an inbound ducksoup. Fuck you,
Adolf!
He kept staring at the
terminal screen, watching it without really seeing it, as he got himself a
refill. He thought he should call Irish in regard to this. Make sure he knew
that that last raid in Rhodes Island could have had something to do with those
inbred amateurs using the electricity grid, and someone noticing the high
output of electricity at that address. Clearly it would be safer to use a
generator to keep all those lamps going. Cops were bound to have access to City
Utilities records…
He smiled
“Hey guys… I think I have
found a way to figure out where Toasty Skip Mills Junior might be hanging out…”
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