Fantasy Delta Green ~One Last Night At The Opera~

[The Faceless King]

Deception is a right
Truth is a privilege
Innocence is a luxury


What is DELTA GREEN?
​

Good question, my friend. Very good question, indeed.

A long time ago, I asked that very same question of a fellow at the Library of Congress. I’ve been asked that same question maybe a dozen times since then. I’d like to tell you differently, but I handed those guys the same line of bullshit that I got served behind the rare-books stacks. It’s the same line you’re going to get today.

I suppose I could wax poetic. You know, like: “If the intelligence community was a family, Delta Green would be the uncle nobody talks about.” Or more accurately: “Being in Delta Green is like being on a garbage scow that’s sinking, and all around the water’s on fire.” Got that one from Tom Waits. After a few Delta Green ops, your life’ll start to feel like Tom Waits' tune. Except when I dream, I’m never innocent.

My dreams — now there’s a subject. They’re like a continuous reel of operational disasters; some real, some imagined. Up until three years ago I was mixing bourbon with prescription REM-sleep suppressants to get through the night. Then I had my first breakdown. A.A. was out of the question — what the hell would I tell my sponsor? What could I say to a therapist? I’d get diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic in minutes. Delta Green isn’t supposed to exist. There are no support groups for agents who unravel. I think we lose more agents from mental burnout than from physical casualties.

So, what is Delta Green?

The good news is, I haven’t begun lying to you yet. As your cell leader, I’ll get around to that sooner or later. You can count on it. You work for Delta Green and you can be sure at some point, someone is going to decide there’s some piece of information your cell doesn’t need to know for its mission, and it’s going to cost lives. I guarantee it.

The bad news is, I haven’t answered your question. And I may never. I’m not really sure I know the answer. There have been times that I thought I knew, and every time I’ve been wrong.

How about an easy question? Like, “Who am I?” Well, I’m just what it says in my file: “Special Agent Henry Dodge has failed his second psychological fitness review and, due to his near-suicidal disregard for personal safety, can no longer be recommended for field assignments.”

So, I’m a psycho-burnout fed with a death wish. Just the kinda guy Delta Green goes trawling for. Just like you’re going to be, unless you get killed first. Why would a covert government agency want a guy like me? Because only a psycho-burnout with a death wish would take a Delta Green assignment.

Did I say “covert government agency?” Is Delta Green a covert government agency? Well, yes — sort of.

Or, at least, once upon a time.

Once upon a time there was a group of men — back then it was almost all men — who could see clearly and who were willing to take responsibility to do what needed doing. They were called Delta Green. However, while doing what needed to get done, they did it wrong. Hence, Delta Green no longer exists. Officially, anyways. Not the way it did in the old days.

We still see, and we still do what needs to get done, only today if we get caught doing what needs to get done, we’ll be doing time. Because no one in their right mind is ever going to believe what needs to get done.

What needs to get done? For a start, books need to be burned, artifacts smashed into powder, and men need to be silenced. Most of all, the future must never be allowed to become the present.

You might hear rumors that the old program has come back. That there are agents and operatives with DELTA GREEN clearance who get tasked with missions that nobody else is allowed to know about. If anybody asks you about that, you don’t know and you don’t want to know. Anybody that you meet with that clearance is going to either turn you into an asset or plant you in the ground. They think they’re doing God’s work and that we’re just renegades and outlaws. They’re only right about the last part.

We have to keep all these things away from humanity. The second someone tells you it’s an official mission, that’s only because someone even higher up wants to make a score. They want to dig up a horror that doesn’t follow natural laws and bring it into a lab. They want to study it and turn it loose on the world. They’re dumb enough to think that they’re smart enough to control it. It doesn’t matter how many times that scheme backfires or how many people die. The scientists will get to look like geniuses, their corporate masters will make billions, and they’ll find a way to cover it up. The agents who did the dirty work get a pat on the back and a pass on the next round of budget cuts.

Worst of all, they tell themselves they fought the good fight.

We know better. Pretty soon you will, too.

Now we’re on to the big question: What does Delta Green want from you? Nothing short of the rest of your life.

Delta Green — the real Delta Green, not the code-word patsies in the DoD — wants you to pick up where I left off, doing what I’ve been doing for the last ten years. I’ve falsified official reports. Lied under oath. Planted evidence. Stolen and destroyed evidence. Stolen and destroyed federal property. Run illegal wiretaps. Abused the power and authority of my office. Gone AWOL. Committed arson, burglary, grand larceny, aggravated assault, battery, and homicide. On three of those occasions it was cold-blooded murder. And all in the name of doing the jobs nobody else can or will. Of saving lives that nobody else can save.

It ought to make me feel untouchable. Above the law. All it does is make my stomach churn and my head pound, and make me want that first drink so goddamn badly I think I’m going to crawl out of my skin. And the really scary thing is that once I’m taken off the FBI active-duty list, I’ll have even more time to devote to Delta Green ops. More opportunities to get pulled apart like a gingerbread man. More reasons to claw out my own eyes. More chances to collect a thousand more memories I don’t want to have.

And once you’re in, you’re in for life. You don’t retire. You don’t quit. Even after you screw up your career with whichever alphabet-soup agency you call home and find yourself with an early retirement, you’re still not out. Not ever. I’ve seen a guy out of the game for over twenty years get the call for one more Night at the Opera. Damnedest thing is, he just packed his bag, kissed his wife, and left with me without so much as a blink of hesitation. He was a good man. A goddamn good man.

It’s your own fault, you know. If that last case report hadn’t had that “paranormal bouquet” we never would have given you the call. You handled yourself well, though. You got the job done. You saw through what should be and saw what was really going on. And when that thing came flapping down from the stars, its wings sparkling with ice crystals it picked up from Saturn’s rings, you kept your cool and put it down. You covered it up well, too. You disposed of what couldn’t be explained, cooked up a decent cover story to match the forensics, and kept your mouth shut. You did good. It’s just that we know what to look for.

So, now you need to decide. Do you close your eyes to what you’ve seen and go back to sleep? Or do you come with this psycho burnout and do the impossible against the unbelievable and keep the future at bay for another day?

What’s it going to be? In or out?

Yeah?

You dumb shit.

Howdy there partner! If you've read this far, you're probably interested in the RP. Thanks for checking it out!

So, if you haven't been able to gather yet, this RP will be following a group of secret agents who work for a mysterious shadow organization called DELTA GREEN.

DELTA GREEN was born of the U.S. government’s 1928 raid on the degenerate coastal town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts, the covert agency known as DELTA GREEN opposes the forces of darkness with honor, but without glory. DELTA GREEN agents slip through the system, manipulating the federal bureaucracy while pushing the darkness back for another day — but often at a shattering personal cost.

So, if this seems exciting or interesting to you, stick around, we’d love to have you. I’m going to take a few days to get setup, so please be patient. If you have any questions, you can ask me or Sunstone ; my COGM.

If you want to express interest, do it in the OOC.

Spoiler: Important Links

OOC
CS
Mission Log
Lore

 

[The Faceless King]

The call came as it usually did. There was no warning, no heads up. There never was. Just a message.

It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling – receiving that call. Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach churned and your balls very nearly were sucked up into your own fucking throat. You would read it, your eyes frantically scanning the page of text for information, trying to discern lie from truth, fact from fiction, trying to understand why you were about to put your neck on the line yet again.

Sometimes you would even linger on the mission texts. You would read that page again and again, looking for cause, looking for reason, and when nothing of that sort was presented, you would read it again. For some, it felt as if you could read that page of text all day, but the reality of it was you didn’t have all day, in fact you didn’t have another second. Snapping out of that daze you would look around like a startled horse, before stepping into action like the well-oiled machine you are. You would reply through hardwires and PGP-encryption, you would say what had to be said, and then you would grab your gun, a bag and your car before driving off to whatever hellhole they were throwing you into next.

Sometimes you had loved ones to say goodbye to, knowing damn well that this might be the last time they see you with all your limbs attached, or without a hollow point rattling around in the back of your skull like a fucking maraca.

Other times there was no one to say goodbye to. The only comfort you got before going on a mission was knowing that your Cell Leader was a lot fonder of you for no other reason than the fact that no one would miss you. As little a comfort as that was, it was something to hold onto. You had to hold onto it, because the call had come.

As it always did, the cryptic message received was nothing short of a god damned natural disaster. No warning, no foreseeable reason. Every word was a landslide of dread, the rocks of reality slowly crushing your lungs until you were anxious enough to jump out of your own skin. Of course, that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was knowing that feeling wouldn’t go away until the mission had either been completed or you were face first in a puddle of your own blood and piss, your brain slowly being turned into scrambled eggs by some voracious cosmic horror. Still, you would follow through with the mission, you had to.

So say goodbye to your family, say goodbye to your friends, say goodbye to the world you once knew, because the call has come.

It’s time again for insanity.

It’s time again for Delta Green.

Chapter One: Breathless Names.
Day One. 2 Hours Outside of Whites City, New Mexico.​

Whites City, New Mexico. Chances are you haven’t heard of it. Chances are you won’t ever hear about it again. In 2010 the population of Whites City was seven souls, as of now, a little more than twenty. It’s what you’d call Podunk, and though they don’t have much in Whites, they do have a cafe, an Inn, an RV Park, a Shell Station, a U.S Postal Office, and as of this year, a church. It’s small, quiet and backwater.

***​

32.1757° N, 104.3766° W, 3,661 feet above sea level, and the heat is sweltering, and the air is so thick with dust it’s a miracle anything can actually breathe. The ground is dry and cracked from thirst, vegetation is ocher and pliant, and the sun’s rays are relentless. The cacti on the sides of the decrepit road are the only smatterings of green for miles, their thriving shapes seem alien in the barren landscape. Bugs as big as your thumb buzz about incessantly, their meaningless droning only being silenced when smacking their fat bodies onto your RV’s windshield.

32.1757° N, 104.3766° W, 3,661 feet above sea level, and it’s hell on earth.

***​

Cutting through desert highways, your large Coachman Mirada barrels towards it’s destination. The once sleek white exterior is coated brown with the desert dust, it’s wheels roll over cracked road, jostling over the many potholes. This is where you find yourself today, in BFE and with a team of agent’s whose faces you don’t recognize. Faces you won’t likely remember.

Much like the landscape, the assignment received wasn’t particularly promising. Capturing a fellow agent was never fun. Nothing Delta Green did was fun.

At 0600 MDT yesterday, you and your compatriots had received a message from Henry Dodge – your Cell Leader – stating that one Giles J. Babcock had officially gone AWOL.

As the story goes, Agent Babcock as well as two other agents, – Agent Palmer and Agent Kurk – had been on a basic investigations mission in New Mexico, though what they had been investigating had not been disclosed to you.

The team of agents had been in New Mexico for about a week, before disappearing. A week later Delta officials had received a distress call from Agent Palmer.

The recording had been unsettling. It was never a good thing when an agent unraveled and it was even worse when they went AWOL. Still, you had complied. Even if it didn’t add up, even if they were lying to your fucking face, you had gotten in your car and driven to the pickup point, before flying to a drop-off point where you got into an RV full of strangers and half acquaintances, full of munitions and gear, full of secrets and lies.

Dodge and the Delta officials had given you information on the town where Giles had supposedly disappeared into, they had given you his file and they had given you your requested gear. Still, not much was certain, as was the case with these sort of things. Anything could happen, and everything that could go wrong probably would, but it’s best not to dwell on those things too much. It’s best to enjoy the car ride. It’s best to crank the AC up to stave off the desert heat. It’s best to get to know your fellow agent’s just a little bit more. But not too much more. Never too much more.

Historical Storyteller Roleplay Skittle shadowz1995 Wandering Grim Hollow Nogoodname CrimsonEclipse Dreamtique

 

[Wandering Grim Hollow]

Agent A.Thompson
Status: Asleep​

A dry road, a dry land, dry and somewhat cool AC. Dry, dry, dry. That was what the place is. Even the atmosphere in the RV can be described as dry. Packed with people who barely knew each other, there wasn't much to talk about. Unless you enjoy discussing the meaning of life perhaps but that sort of topic is best left to armchair philosophers. Not that it mattered to Akito anyway, he was busy doing his favorite pasttime, nap.

After spending the flight over to New Mexico reading the files and listening to the rather unsettling recording, Akito was looking forward to the long drive. It allowed him to check the gear he requested: an M14 EBR rifle with spare ammunition, a scope, and a bipod, a bunch of military grade zipties, a couple of flashbangs, and the most important pf the lot: a candy bar without nuts. It was important alright, Akito hated nuts. Not that he has a nut allergy but he just doesn't like them and the guy in charge of procuring their gear pulled through. He got him a butterfinger. Cheeky asshole. Once the important checks were done, he settled into one of the rear seats and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

 

[shadowz1995]

Dr. Lennex Tellentur
Status: Driving

It was the first time the good doctor had gotten the call for a Delta Green mission. It had been months since he was accepted into the fold and the man did little more then keep up pleasantries with the officials. Lennex mostly just kept to his normal life, going to the hospital for assistance or visiting the university as a guest instructor now and then. Most of his time was dedicated to conditioning of his mind and body.

Lennex was never out of shape but now he looked like a heavily trained athlete despite being in his 40s already. Any patient that argued that at their age it was impossible would get an eyeful of the sculpted masterpiece that was now Dr. Tellentur.

Lennex had been the one that offered to drive the RV to the destination and the group of strangers seemed willing to let him make that long drive. The Doc knew little to nothing about these people. Even some of their names were unknown to him though he could pick out the intellectuals from the combatants at a glance. He could also pick out the ones that had seen the things he had seen half a decade ago or had at least some idea of the horrors that existed. The eyes.... you could tell just by looking at them long enough. The involuntary flicks to their peripherals. The glint of madness deep inside from fear. The inkling of doubt that always seemed to make itself home somewhere within the very vestiges of the soul.

A low growl brought his attention down and to his right side. There, just beside the driver's seat, lay a ghost white husky with ice blue irises. Tinta had lain down next to her master and had been completely still and quiet since the car ride began. One would argue that the canine was far more infelligent than any dog should be and they wouldn't be wrong. But it was still a dog and it had growled because Lennex paused his absentminded petting of her thick fur.

Taking the message with a chuckle, the doctor continued to run his fingers along the back of the husky's neck and head, causing the canine to let out a small, satisfied huff before closing its eyes once more. It felt about as comfortable as Lennex did in a car full of armed strangers.​

 

[Dreamtique]

Dexter let out a cough as he pinched his Adam apple, he could virtually felt his throat cracking, it was then he realized his lips were as dry as sand papers, he was a little too absorbed to be bothered by dehydration. He spent hours scanning through the documents incessantly, revising on them repeatedly even if he knew that at this point it would be unnecessary, his intention was slowly starting to mutate from analyzing to merely distract himself. He wasn't sure if he was nervous, he would say no, yet his mind didn't seem to be coherent with his expectation.

Getting involved in missions was still something that Dexter has to get used to, he couldn't help to feel a little alienated whenever he went on a journey such as this, it felt like a voyage to him, a voyage where he may end up in another dimension, both literally and metaphorically. It's something so bizarre yet so vivid, he couldn't stop but to ponder on what would be waiting on the other end of the path they were heading.

He knew clearly that it wouldn't be something that one would never look forward to face, yet ironically that was what intrigued Dexter enough for him to dwell on it.

Two agents went missing on a mission, he heard of something like that, he definitely did.
Could it be that they end up like him?
Could it be that he ended up like them?

It felt a little odd for Dexter that memories were starting to involuntarily bombard his head as he allowed his mind aimlessly wondered.

The occasional bump from the ride drew Dexter's attention back to the RV, he looked around the vehicle full of familiar strangers, his eyes then turned to gaze out of the tiny window, sand and dust, that was all he could see.
His face contorted slightly to a frown, the unsightly scene instantly made Dexter gagged internally, it reminded him of how much he hates 'bad air', that's one of the main reason that deters him from going outdoor. He was glad that Delta reminded him to bring along a mouth mask.

"Why..."
He took in a deep breath and mumbled out without any control.

"Don't need to overthink this."
A faint beep came from Dexter's wrist, followed by a monotonous voice.

"Huh?"

"Your heart rate is raising, sir."

Dexter was frozen at his seat as he stared into the blank, he remained silent for a solid few seconds.


"Thanks, Delta."
"I'll keep that in mind."

 

[Nogoodname]

Agent Alex Madison
Status: Riding shotgun​

Alex quietly rummaged through the bag she had been given for the supplies she had requested, checking to make sure her gear was in order. The thin black ballistic vest fit perfectly snug under the dark green field jacket she wore, it was hot as a motherfucker under the thing but the added safety was worth it. A sigh escaped her lips as she surveyed the barren landscape before her before catching sight of the group of strangers she was traveling with dressed in casual clothing, seeming bored, some even asleep, it almost felt like they really were just a gang of friends going out on vacation.

But that was hardly the case, as she took a quick glance over the rifle she had been provided, a small little carbine with a barrel that folded downwards in order to make itself more concealable, she thought of the mission she and the others were here to take on. Alex had read the mission statement until it's words were burned into her head, she knew the agents file back and forth, upside down, it always paid to be prepared. It was hard to know exactly how this was going to play out, especially since this would be her first mission working with Delta Green, but she had somewhat of an idea of how to do things, she wasn't some amateur.

When she was sure that everything was in order Alex slid her gear back into the bag, sitting back after completing this ritual of gear inspection for around the 3rd time this ride, her anxious hands having trouble staying still over the long drive. With a deep breath she turned slightly in her seat, deciding to break the ice up a bit. "So... You guys ready to do this?"

 

[Roleplay Skittle]

Vivian Cole​

Status: Lost in thought
​

The look on Eileen’s face was nothing but skeptical when Vivian asked her if she would cover for her at the bookstore. Of course Eileen was just a skeptical person, it was one of the reasons that Vi liked her so much, and Vi wasn’t the type that really kept long term relationships. Whether it was just general commitment issues or some trivial thing she found about the person that irritated her beyond her aptitude for ignoring it - the longest relationships she had were with her family and that was more out of obligation than anything else, after all, they were family.

As for family, she didn’t really need to say anything to them, it wasn’t just because they didn’t need to know, but because they would hardly know she was gone. The only reason that they might eventually find out she was gone is if it was for too long and Eileen panicked and started looking for her. Of course the brunette would start with Vi’s dad since she had used him as her excuse for leaving. Doug had never approved of the whole ‘spy business,’ as he had called it when it was her mother that was involved. He always thought Ava was insane because she had continued on with it even though she didn’t need to. He didn’t understand that there wasn’t an option to say no, not after they had their hooks in you.

Vi wore black hiking boots with hot pink laces, and she wasn’t one to fidget so her feet were flat on the floor beneath the little dining table where she sat with her arms propped on its flat surface, she held a portrait of the supposedly rogue agent with his family between her fingers, the nails of which were painted black with neon green tips. She appreciated the silence in the vehicle; the humming of the AC seemingly the only sound inside, it allowed her to think and try to reason what could have made him do what Palmer claimed he had in the voice recording. Of course there was really no reasoning when it came to anything Delta Green got involved in, it was all totally unreasonable.

The gaze of her light brown eyes drifted from the picture to shift about the interior of the RV and her fellow agents. The corner of her mouth quirked into a slight smile; fellow agents. She shook her head, pressing a few loose strands of her short red hair back behind her ear as her fingers finally released the picture she had requested; a request that had been made in the hopes that Babcock wasn’t all gone, if indeed it was Babcock that had lost it, which she hadn’t been able to entirely convince herself that he had.

Initial impressions were a funny thing, sometimes they could entirely ruin how one thought about that person. Other times it was hard to develop an opinion one way or another. She was already facing the back of the RV so her gaze first fell on the one napping. She could only guess he was either very used to situations such as this one and had developed a relative detachment from the situation, or he was just really tired. In most cases, Vi tried to remain detached. Being detached just made the things Delta Green agents dealt with a little bit easier. It was easier to think clearly and with a level head when one wasn’t completely freaking out over what the mission details implied, and the details of this mission implied the possibility of things that Vi didn’t want to think of as likelihoods.

She put the picture back in its folder and turned her gaze towards the window to her right, her eyes following the telephone poles as they sped past, their appearance intermittently disrupting the steady thrum of the Coachmen’s wheels on the highway as they steadily moved on towards Whites City. There wasn’t a whole lot out here, just a lot of dirt and more dirt, but there was evidently enough civilization somewhere in this sea of cracked earth to allow for electricity. That wasn’t very comforting though.

 

[shadowz1995]

Dr. Lennex Tellentur
Status: Still driving. Chatting.

There still wasn't much in the way of activity. The people he was going to be working with were a very quiet bunch. Lennex didn't mind this. He actually preferred the silence but if he was going to be risking life, limb, and sanity on this, he needed to know who he was working with exactly. He was a doctor as well as a professor but Lennex adopted a different mindset when he was at work. He HAD to interact with people then. It was his job. This.....

This was by choice. Lennex wasnt good at making the choice to talk purely for social reasons. It was one of the reasons he loved Tinta so much. The dog offered companionship, laughs, and comfort without ever having the need to speak to one another. People were a different story.

The medic was preparing himself mentally just before the young woman in the passenger seat beside him chimed up, saving Lennex the effort of cooking up someway to break the ice. Granted, what the girl had asked wasn't much of an icebreaker but it would hopefully get some people talking. He would be damned if he was going to let this chance slip away from him now. "I wouldn't know. This is the first time Ive done any kind of assignment for these people. Im not sure about the others but for Tinta and I, this is our first mission...."

"Dr. Lennex Tellentur by the way. Just Doc or Lennex if you'd like."

Nogoodname ​

 

[Nogoodname]

Agent Alex Madison
Status: Chatting, kind of hoping to pet the dog but unsure if that's cool just yet
​

"Alex, nice to meet you" she introduced herself simply, no need for any huge formalities "It'll be comforting to have a medic coming along for this mission, 's my first time too" she stated. Unconsciously her hand ran along her right arm where her coat covered most of an ugly looking burn that covered most of her forearm and a bit of the back of her hand, a painful reminder of that fateful day. "Anyways I was looking over the map, wanted to see if anyone had any ideas of where we should start looking for our missing guy. The cafe looks like a good spot to chat with locals, maybe we could get some info at the inn too, and I've seen enough horror to know that church is probably worth checking out, what say you?" she asked curiously. Alex was no stranger to planning ahead, nor working with a team, but generally in her past experience she knew the people she would be working with ahead of time. This was all a bit new to her, and it made her nervous, she only had a general idea of the skills of her team, where she could rely on them and where she couldn't, they were working blind and it made her uncomfortable.

At least they had given her the gear she requested, a good rifle and plenty of explosives would hopefully be enough to get her out of any situation they came across, or at the very least she'd be able to go out with a pretty impressive bang... though she tried not to think of that. Delta Green was supposed to be her option to escape death, not run right back towards it, she was determined not to kick it on the very first mission at least...

shadowz1995