Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Bonus: Encrypted Memo to H cell, CC'd to M and A cell

Advanced, undocumented lifeform(s) engaging in wholesale bio-experimentation in Groversville.

Profile (unverified):
Psuedopod/ameobic form factor Intelligent, curious Symbiotic/parasitic Resistant to electricity Resistant to ballistics Does not breath, breathes water or merely hyper-efficient Abnormal, enhanced speed and strength Range from benign to malicious when threatened

Preliminary conclusions:
  • It CAN subvert and/or alter the human mind/body (source: B.R. Spivey, Allen fam, various strange behavior and time/memory lapses)
  • It MAY have impregnated human females and spawned undocumented lifeforms (source: Scott Adams reports JA pregnant, 3wks = 6 mo)
  • It MAY be armed, or pursuant to above, subverting armed humans as foot soldier (source: Scott Adams reports 'muzzle flashes')
  • It MAY be able to fly, accompanied by strange lights (or, MAY indicate MJ-12 presense)(source: Bob Gum, resident) It MAY have willing human accomplices (or, MAY indicate MJ-12 presense)(source: bogus YouTube video - fabricated to dissuade genuine investigation?)

Until we learn more, I'm issuing the following precautionary Directives to H cell:

  • Test Kits: Establish and distribute leucopararosaniline spray compound for field testing.
  • Food & Water: No local food or water. Packaged/imported food only.
  • Firearms: Carry unloaded or replace first live round w/ blank. No silencers.
  • Team Screening: Test w/ leucopararosaniline. Infected persons will voluntarily disarm (and disband if ordered).
  • Buddy System: Two-man teams. No exceptions.
  • Comm-Perimeter: Call-in to secure shared band every 1/2 hour. Submit daily activity reports to A.
  • Locals: Do not harm, but do not trust.
  • Pregnancies: Test w/ leucopararosaniline (discreetly). Infected persons will be quarantined.

A, please prepare clean-up resources and spin control. This place needs a serious cover story once we're done. Be advised, containment breach likely.

H, I would say play it by the book, but we're writing it as we go. Stay alert out there.

M, proceed under your own authority. Advise precaution.

Hannibal H-Cell Lead

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Session 10: Convergence

HAROLD, HECTOR and MALCOLM are having breakfast at the diner beside Merle’s Shut Eye Motel. MALCOLM is reading his email (he finds that ALPHONSE has received his report and forwarded it to agents with the appropriate skills for analysis) and HAROLD is reading the local papers (Groversville doesn’t have its own paper, but there are copies of the Nashville & Cookeville daily newspapers for sale). Suddenly, a rental LeBaron careens into the parking lot and stops abruptly. HANNIBAL and MASON step out.

“We’ve got a little time until our meeting with the Sheriff. We have some information,” says HANNIBAL.

MALCOLM looks around for a private booth, away from other patrons, where they can talk.

“Nope, book says we discuss it in the car,” says HANNIBAL, “away from prying ears.” He steps back outside and gets back in the driver’s seat. The rest of the agents get in the car too. HANNIBAL starts the engine and recklessly backs out of the lot.

“What’s that smell?” says HAROLD. “Is someone wearing Brut?”

“You’ve been drinking,” says MALCOLM. “You should let Seth drive.”

“Call me ‘MASON’,” corrects MASON.

“Nope, he’s not on the insurance,” says HANNIBAL, as he accelerates from 55 to 65 mph.

“I’m not comfortable with this. I want you to stop the car and let me out,” says MALCOLM.

HANNIBAL puts on his seatbelt. “Are you calling me a drunk?” he asks, glaring at MALCOLM in the rear view mirror. He accelerates up to 75 mph. A state police cruiser passes by, and HANNIBAL blithely waves his badge out the window.

“MASON’s not on the insurance, and I’m not about to break the law for you,” says HANNIBAL. “Listen, I’ll slow it down, if it makes you feel better.” He drops his speed to 55.

HANNIBAL and MASON relate the details of their morning’s investigation while MALCOLM white-knuckles it in the back seat. HANNIBAL produces a framed picture of Jane Allen, taken when she was about 15. He smashes the glass to remove the photo and hands it to the agents in the back.

“Look, it’s almost time to meet the Sheriff.” They turn around and head to the Sheriff’s station.

A clerk greets them and then summons Sheriff Dan Oakley from his office. He had been told of their arrival the day before by Derringer.

“This is the first I’ve heard of a drug ring in Groversville,” says Oakley. HECTOR assures him that the ring is much wider than just Groversville, probably spanning many counties and possibly other states.

“We believe that the specific type of drug he was on gave him increased strength, perhaps due to an elevation of adrenaline.”

MALCOLM asks to look through the Sheriff’s files for cases in the last year, to see if he can spot any unusual occurrences that may have a bearing on their investigation. Oakley directs him to the file cabinet.

Over the course of their questioning, HECTOR becomes frustrated with the state of Oakley’s investigation. “Didn’t you ask Spivey’s friends about him? He kills someone in your town and you don’t follow up these leads?”

Oakley gets defensive. “Listen, mister, I spoke with the boy’s mother and investigated the house. Her sister and brother-in-law came to stay with her; they’re the only relatives and they’re from out of town, so the kid wasn’t there. I called the girlfriend’s house and her mother says she hasn’t seen him. I figure he’s out of my county, so it’s not my problem anymore. I alerted the state police, filed all the right paperwork. Look it up.”

HANNIBAL remembers that Sheriff is an elected position.

“What line of work were you in before you were Sheriff?” he asks.

“Same as my daddy. Run the Grain & Feed.”

“Oh, I can see how those fields are closely related,” says HANNIBAL, suddenly wishing he hadn’t left his flask in the car.

“Who are Spivey’s friends? Where would I find them?”

“The kids mostly hang out at the reservoir, up the hill from town. Can’t miss it.”

“Have their been any instances of livestock going missing? The reason I ask is that these drug dealers may be living in the woods, and using the animals for food.”

Oakley is incredulous. “Really? Living in the woods? I never heard of such a thing!”

“Then I trust your professional judgment. Never mind. Do you know of anyone who knows the area well, and maybe has a dog with a good nose?”

“Sure, Bob Gum, he’s a local farmer and one of my hunting buddies. I’ll let him know you’ll be calling him.” Oakley goes to his office, pulls a card from the rolodex and makes a call. He brings the number to HANNIBAL. “Here’s his number. He lives on the same side of town as the Spiveys.”

Meanwhile, MALCOLM happens to find some reports of livestock mutilation in the last several months. One of them was filed by Robert Gum himself. “Can you let me know if any more of these reports come in?” he asks. “Here is my card.”

“CDC! Wow, you come up from Atlanta?”

“No sir, Los Angeles office,” says MALCOLM politely.

They leave the station and decide to split up. MALCOLM wants to go back to Knoxville to run more tests on Spivey. MASON decides they need another rental car, so he travels back with MALCOLM to pick one up. H-Cell heads up to the reservoir.

There are a few people around, walking dogs or throwing Frisbees. The agents approach a kid about Spivey’s age.

“Yeah, that kid went to my school. He wasn’t in my class though. My friend Dave is friends with his friend Pete, though; Pete’s in his class. I recognized him in the paper.”

“Anything weird going on in town?” the agents ask.

“Well, except for that stupid YouTube thing. You know, with the UFOs? I never even SAW those guys before.”

The agents ask what YouTube thing he’s talking about. “Don’t you guys watch TV? It was on Jimmy Kimmel. My cousin lives in Nashville and he’s all like ‘Duh, I live in Groversville. I’m a retard.’”

“Do you think there are UFOs?” asks HECTOR.

“Well,” says the kid, philosophically, “I don’t think we’re alone…”

The kid says that there are more people here in the evening, after dinner. Probably some kids from Spivey’s class will be here then.

They return to the motel for lunch. HAROLD searches YouTube for “groversville jimmy kimmel” and finds the clip the teenager told them about. In it, a couple of country rubes rant and rave about a video of UFOs they filmed. The UFOs look like old fashioned pie plates, and at one point Kimmel stops the footage and a hint of string can be seen suspending the discs. Kimmel laughs while Sarah Silverman makes an obtuse reference to their proclivity for barnyard animals. He does some more searching, and finds the website of a Nashville-based UFO newsletter called Watch the Skies! The June issue is available, it says, but subscribe now before you miss the July issue which features a report by crack journalist Scott Adams, on location in Groversville, TN.

HECTOR and HANNIBAL take the car to visit Bob Gum, while HAROLD heads to Groversville District Vocational Institute, the local High School. There’s only one employee in the office, filing paperwork over the summer.

HAROLD asks for information about Jane Allen, and is given her transcript. She’s an average student, probably not college-bound. He picks up the yearbook and locates her grad picture, on the same page as Billy Ray Spivey’s. Looking through the book, he finds another picture of her, this time as part of the Girls Field Hockey team. He writes down the names of some of her teammates and goes through the phone book. Eventually, he speaks with a girl who says she is a friend of Jane’s, Katie McFadden.

McFadden spoke to Jane Allen about four days ago, after Spivey had left town. She said that Jane was very upset, and they talked about going into town to see a movie to take her mind off of it.

HAROLD asks if she ever mentioned if she saw Spivey during the two days that he vanished.

“No… That was weird, but I think it might have happened to her last month. She called me about going to lunch and it was like seven pm. I said ‘don’t you mean dinner’ and she’s like ‘no, it’s only 11 in the morning.’ It was really weird.”

“Was she in good health? Has she noticed any unusual medical problems?” asks HAROLD. McFadden seems a little reticent. “We’re investigating Billy Ray Spivey in relation to a drug ring. Is Jane involved with drugs?”

“No, she wouldn’t do drugs,” says McFadden finally. “She’s… She’s pregnant.”

HECTOR and HANNIBAL arrive at the Gum residence and ask if he knows Spivey or Allen. Bob Gum tells them he doesn’t, but he knows the area pretty well anyway. After having a scotch, he takes the agents out to the barn to see his cow Betsy.

“Damnedest thing,” he says. “I come out one morning and her udder, well, it’s there but the goddamn teats are missing.” HANNIBAL takes a photo of the affected udder. “But that’s not all, a calf come up to suckle, and this teat forms from outta nowheres, the calf gets her milk, and then it disappears again.” He admits he hasn’t drank the milk since the “modification” occurred. “I assumed it was some kinda cow disease, but then my neighbors, they start findin’ their animals cut up in strange ways out in the pasture, in ways a fox wouldn’t do, if ya get me.”

“There’s a lot of talk about UFOs,” the agents offer.

“Yeah, and I’ve seen lights in the sky myself. I think there’s a top-secret Air Force Base around here. You boys would probably know more about that then me though, right?”

“If we did, we couldn’t tell you,” says HANNIBAL jovially. “Which way did these lights go?”

“West, over the hills.”

“Oh yeah, we REALLY can’t tell you about THOSE lights. [laughs] If you don’t mind, we’d like to take your bloodhound out to the highway and see if we can find any trace of the Allen girl.”

Bob Gum agrees, and they pile into his truck with his dog in the back. They return to the Allen house to find an item of clothing with her scent, and are greeted by her mother again. She remembers they were there some hours ago, and is generally aware that time has passed since then. Jane has still not come home, she says. After some prompting, she agrees that that is unusual, and that maybe she should be concerned. The agents head back to the highway and walk up and down, following as the dog tries to pick up a scent.

HAROLD walks back to the motel and asks about a visitor called Scott Adams, flashing his FBI badge. The receptionist tells him that Adams is staying in room 14. There is no answer, so he goes around to look in the window. It appears to have been covered by a sheet. He has the woman unlock the door for him.

It won’t open, as something is blocking it. He pushes it in and finds that a towel had been wedged under the door. The window is in fact covered with blankets and duct tape, there’s a laptop on the bed plugged into the phone line and the power outlet, junk food containers litter the floor, and there are piles of clothes on the bed (folded) and in the corner (crumpled). There is nobody in the room, but there is a faint unpleasant odor. The bathroom door is closed. HAROLD opens it.

[Meta-game moment:
Tony: I don’t want to turn on the lights. There’s gonna be a dead body in there!
Eric: What would an FBI agent do? He’d do his job and turn on the lights.
Tony: But I’m gonna lose sanity points if I do. Okay, fine… I TURN ON THE LIGHTS!]

There is a dead body, but it’s not so bad. The body is of a man about in his mid-thirties, wearing a t-shirt that says “Knoxville Fantasy Con” and boxers, with black, curly hair and a beard. There are numerous slash marks on his wrists. The bathtub itself is filled with bloody water. There is no knife visible. HAROLD notices the body has a large, whitish lump on its forehead, about 3 inches in diameter. He steps out of the bathroom and examines the laptop.

He finds two files of interest. The first is a file called “Groversville Notebook” with the following contents:

Livestock Mutilations
Jeff Owens, (555-1243) 3 cows, 7/1, 7/4, 7/8
Margaret Allison (555-4628) 1 goat, 1/2
Jeremy Dark (555-9528) about 20 chickens, 7/6. Others?
Livestock Alterations
Robert Gum (no phone) 1 cow, missing udder but in good health. Purpose? Others like this—operated on and released?
7/6—spotted three more in a roadside survey, not sure who farmer was
Missing Time
Bud Aldrich (555-4290) 7/8, 1 hour; 7/15, 1 hour; 7/29, 3.5 hours
Louisa May (555-9462) 7/10, 3 hours+?
Chopper Sightings
Ameley's Hills Area (North) 8/6, 9PM; 8/6 11PM; 8/7, 10:40PM (muzzle flash and discharge)
Lights
Many—everyone's seen a few. No correlation I can find, but reports are sketchy and unreliable.
Crop Circles
Bo Larame (555-9473), 7/26; 8/3.
J. A.
P. three weeks = six months
Refuses Rx, got a room for her at the Shut Eye
Allen, Barn, Thomas, Jacobs, Cartwright & Anderson never go home

The second file is entitled “sze,t” and is an odd, disconnected stream-of-consciousness essay of some kind. HAROLD believes that it is a cipher and emails both files to his colleague (and DG Friendly) Harley O’Brian, back at the San Diego office. He calls the police to report a dead body at Merle’s Shut Eye motel.

He goes back into the bathroom to take a photo of the lump on the late Scot Adams’ head, but finds that it is not there anymore.

[Meta-game moment:
Tony: It’s in the water. I’m not reaching in there. I don’t want to look. Okay, fine. I look.]

HAROLD catches a glimpse of something moving under the bloody water. He goes back into the room and pulls the clock radio from the nightstand, plugs it in over the sink, and throws it in the tub.

Suddenly, in the moment before the lights go out, a pillar of whitish mass launches from the water and extends a pseudopod in HAROLD’s direction, smashing him violently in the face. HAROLD fires his weapon but misses, raining ceramic tile all over the bathroom. The mass retracts and submerges again, and HAROLD can hear a loud pounding on the bottom of the bathtub. He crawls back to the light of the hallway.

His teeth and jaw are shattered, and he has a sinking suspicion that some of the mass went up his nose. He dials HANNIBAL’s number but is unable to speak beyond unintelligible grunts, so he taps “S-O-S” into his phone.

“O-S-O?”, says HANNIBAL. “Isn’t that Spanish for ‘bear’? Uh-oh, HAROLD’s in trouble!” He tells Gum that they’ll be needing to borrow his truck, and they race back to the motel, arriving at the same time as Oakley’s police cruiser.

Meanwhile, in Knoxville, MALCOLM orders an epidural for Spivey to help with the pain. He arranges for the CDC to collect Bob Gum’s cow, Betsy, and bring it to Knoxville for testing. (HECTOR is skeptical that the lab can accommodate an animal that large.)

He continues analyzing the tissue throughout the day and into the night, and determines the following:

  1. Conventional toxins and poisons have no effect on it, as it seems to have a detoxifying effect on them;
  2. Strong acids or bases, as well as open flame and electricity seem to disrupt the tissue;
  3. It seems to draw nutrition from its host, but is able to live on its own for extended periods of time with no adverse affects;
  4. Addition of the colorless organic compound leucopararosaniline ([C6H4NH2]3-CH) causes the development of a vivid purple color. This fades within 2-3 minutes as the tissue metabolizes the chemical, but it could be used as a means of detecting its presence. MALCOLM finds that even trace amounts can be detected when this solution is applied with a spray bottle.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Bonus: Transcript Excerpt of an Anonymous Meeting Between Harv Cole and an Agency Appointed Psychologist

My name ain't important. If it helps, call me Hamibal... er, Hannibal. [hic] That's what my friends call me.

So let's cut the chit-chat. My problem is that I drink. I'm a drunk - a functional drunk, but a drunk none-the-less. [winks]

I started drinking when Jane left me for some GQ faggot at her office (Jane's my ex-wife. Told you about her last week). Tell me sumthin. What-the-heck you supposed to do with the Ex's ring anyway? Answer me that. Bitch shoulda kept it. On her fucking salary, she and Matthew Maconau-Gay are gonna need it. [hic]

[pounds a cup of coffee]

Where was I? Yeah, so my wife left me. Shit happens, right. So I drank - a little at first, you know; just enough to take the sting out - and threw myself into my work. Ain't telling you my job, but rest assured, it's the best goddamn job there is. That was - shit! Has it been 10 years already?! [mumbles]"... worst mistake of yer life, Janey..." [hic]

Anyway, coupla weeks after the bitch leaves, I busted this guy for trafficking - guns, drugs - the usual... except for some weird pod-like things in the trunk of his car. They were green and sort of jiggled when you pointed a flashlight at 'em. Not my prob - Gish & Fame took that stuff. Fish & Game - just a little joke there, son.

Anyway, guy was a real bastard; thought he knew the law and liked flashing his cash around. You know the type. I didn't like him much. [hic] Can't recall, but seems he ran into my fist a few times during the arrest, so bozo decides to press charges, but lucky for me, cell mate kills him, Henry Winkler (what? no, that's not the cell mate, it's the guy's name, and he's not the Fonz, just some guy with the same name as the actor, understand?); anyway, he was killed with a sharpened toothbrush before the Judge reviewed the case. [hic] Killed with a toothbrush - heh - still think that's pretty funny. [smiles] Case got thrown out. I got a promotion.

I can't really say what happened after that. I mean, I CAN say, sure, but not sure I understand what happened, is happening. Kind of fuzzy, but got your pencil ready? This is the good part...

I swear to God, I started seeing the guy, Henry Winkler, the Fonz, the supposed-to-be-dead guy, all over the place. It was like he was following me. I tried to run him down twice, but he just disappear, er, disappeared. One time, I trapped him in a dead-end alley, but the fucker got away somehow. Thought I was losing my goddamn mind. But then, a few months later, my partner, Ned, he sees the guy too. When Ned called and told me, well, I just rushed right over to compare notes - finally a break. I relieved, you know?

Found Ned dead, in his boxers, green stuff oozing out of him - his eyes, his skin. It was disgusting. Like nothing I seen or heard about. I called 911 and lost my lunch. Haven't had a real meal since. [hic] When the meat-wagon finally showed up, Ned's body had degraded, decomposed, or something - it just became "goo". The official story is that Ned is "missing".

No no. Don't ask me about my mother or father. It ain't like that. I told you what happened. I ain't crazy. I know what I saw. My only mistake was telling people. Now I get to visit you fucking people every week.

Anyway, like I said, that was five years ago. Lost three more partners since then; Charles, Dave, Marjorie, all of them "missing" too, all good agents, good officers. People "know" something weird is happening, but they won't open their eyes. Truth is too hard. And, me. Well, I know the truth. That's why I drink. Think my chief knows I'm a drunk, but he let's it slide. We go way back. He jus calls me eccentric and keeps the official complaints in his top drawer. [chuckles] No one wants to be ol' Han's partner anymore. Can't blame em.

It's just as well, cause about two years after Winkler, a spook group approached me. Spook? It means "undocumented". Let's call em the Green Meanies for conversations sake - a group concerned with Winkler and a bunch of other strange crap. They had a file on Pod People from Out Space - can't really talk about it...

What you writing? Think I'm paranoid, huh? Delusional? Whatever. Go ahead and shut your eyes and make your little notes, but I belong now. The Green Meanies don't think I'm crazy. In my circle, my knowledge and views count for something. [young male psychologist keeps writing] Arg. You look like a fucking intern to me anyway. Let me tell you sumthing [hic] mister Ivey League, mister Melrose Place, that Winkler character is STILL out there [points indistinctly out the window]. He still pops up now and again. [belches a bourbon-like aroma and manifest a "far away" stare] Sometimes I see him ousside my house - watching, bidding his time until he's broken me, killed me or, hell [laughs], just gets tired of the game. Don't know - can't know I guess. Call it morbid curiosity, but I keep looking over my shoulder, hoping for answers and not finding any.

Look. I hate to cut this short, but I gotta run to my car for, ah, some tic-tacs. You need anything from the vending machine? [hic]

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Session 9: Convergence

Prologue:

Scot Thompson wakes up on his boat one morning, at its usual place in the Marina, to the jarring scent of smelling salts. His hands and feet are bound with zip-ties, and there are four men standing over him. The older man, who appears to be their leader, tells him that he had lately been speaking with Zach Brewer, who gave them Scot’s address, and they are interested in what he knows about alien life-forms. He presents him with a briefcase filled with some large syringes, and casually tells Scot that he will get the information regardless, so he might as well cooperate. Scot complies and tells the men everything he knows.

“And this happened in, what, the last year or thereabouts?” asks the man, as he produces a syringe from the case and carefully draws a quantity of clear blue liquid from a bottle. He injects it into Scot’s arm.

When Scot wakes up, he has no recollection of the men being there, or even anything that had happened since about September of 2006. His amnesia confounds his doctors. With no sign of head trauma, they can only presume that it is the result of prolonged and excessive abuse of marijuana and mescaline.

New investigators:

Deputy U.S. Marshall Harvey “Harv” Cole, 37, H-Cell leader (Agent HANNIBAL). Having recently seen his two partners in Delta Green killed in the line of duty (in an episode he will not speak of), his longtime problem with alcohol has escalated dramatically. He drinks almost constantly with little regard for his health or job performance, and this may be the cause of his frequent abuse of authority. Aware of his fragile psyche, he wants to make sure that his co-conspirators are possessed of a strong sense of will. He finds this in:

FBI Special Agent Cornelius Jones, now inducted into H-Cell as Agent HAROLD;

FBI Special Agent Philippe Sangumbo, now inducted into H-Cell as Agent HECTOR;

Also involved in the investigation are two-thirds of M-Cell, namely:

NSA “Black Bag” Operative Seth Carter, a.k.a. Agent MASON: a highly-trained and highly-paranoid recent graduate of the Naval Academy that prefers to live off the grid and leave no trace of his presence;

Center for Disease Control & Prevention (CDCP) Medical Examiner Ryan Maraz, a.k.a. Agent MALCOLM: a homely 27-year old workaholic. He is very concerned for the integrity of the conspiracy and wants to know as little personal information about other agents as possible, to the point that he travels by himself.

September 5, 2007:

A bicycle courier delivers packages to Sangumbo and Jones at their office. They contain cell phones. They look like the pre-paid kind – nothing fancy. Shortly afterwards, they receive word that they should “Call HANNIBAL”; Jones deduces that he should dial *HANNIBAL and is connected to a man who identifies himself by that name. They agree to meet at a nearby Starbucks.

HANNIBAL introduces himself by code name and real name, and describes some of the background of the conspiracy to Sangumbo and Jones, hereafter referred to as HECTOR And HAROLD. After a brief interview (for HANNIBAL’s own benefit; “Ms Green” has already screened these two), the agents return to the office.

Their boss tells them that they have been earmarked for a “Bureau Special”, i.e. they have been requested by name to be involved with a case out of the Knoxville Field Office. He doesn’t know the details, but they are to travel there tonight on a red-eye and meet with Special-Agent-In-Charge James Derringer the next morning. Their flight and hotel arrangements are made.

On the flight, they sit next to HANNIBAL, who has called ahead to the Air Marshall and is carrying his weapon. He drinks scotch (three triples) on the flight (“I only drink when I fly”) and they arrive late at the Days Inn.

The next morning they arrive at the Knoxville office. Agent Derringer welcomes them to his office, then closes the door and the blinds. He plays a video for them. It is a security video (black and white, no sound) from a gas station or convenience store. A young man approaches the counter, says something with a pained look on his face, and then punches the attendant. The force of the punch collapses the man’s skull, who slumps to the counter and then to the floor, blood spurting everywhere. The young man looks at his bloody fist for a moment and then starts to press keys madly on the cash register. Finally it pops open, and he grabs a handful of bills. He goes off-camera for a moment, and then is briefly seen fleeing the store with an armload of pill bottles. The video ends.

Derringer explains that the young man in the video is Billy Ray Spivey, of Groversville, Tennessee. Eight days ago he left his home at 9:00pm to visit his girlfriend. He returned two days later, 8:30pm, with no idea that he had been gone for two days but in a great deal of pain. His parents called the doctor, who prescribed codeine, but it did little to help. He had a voracious appetite and ate constantly.

Two days after that, he got into an altercation with his father, and in the course of the argument he punched his father with such force that his hand went through his chest, killing him almost instantly. Following this he fled, and over the course of the next four days held up six more drugstores and gas stations, always taking drugs and money. The robbery depicted in the video occurred yesterday morning and got the FBI involved; several hours later a U.S. Marshall and an FBI agent stopped the boy at a roadblock and took him down with a rifle, hitting him four times.

A medical examination, performed last night, revealed that the muscles in the boys arms, legs, chest and back were made up of some strange, foreign tissue. This tissue exhibited some characteristics of human muscle tissue (contracts in response to electrical impulses, etc) but was dramatically stronger. Doctors theorized that the cause of his pain was that while his muscles were exceptionally strong, his bone density remained the same, and therefore his bones were always under strain. While he had no visible signs of scarring, when observed under magnification his skin showed tiny sutures of the same material as the underlying muscle.

Derringer believed there was something unusual about the case yesterday, so put in a call to HANNIBAL, an old acquaintance of his.

The agents go to Spivey’s holding cell. There are two FBI agents there with M16s guarding him, and he is visibly sedated. They question him and confirm Derringer’s recounting. “It hurts,” he says over and over. HAROLD asks the agents to leave and tries to hypnotize the boy, to get him to recall the events of the two “lost days”. He is not able to get any more information out of him about this period, and it seems his recollection of the last seven days has been hazy as well.

HANNIBAL rents a Chrysler LeBaron, and using underground connections finds someone to disable the LOJACK system that was present in it. MALCOLM, based on a message from A-Cell, sends MASON to a “Green Box” in a U-Stor-It facility in a Knoxville industrial park. MASON disables the cameras at the facility and returns with two large camping bags containing:

A Sledgehammer;
A case of lighter fluid;
An unopened carton of Gauloises (French cigarettes not for sale in the US since 2003);
A Prybar;
A single man Battering Ram;
4 Glock 21 .45 ACP self-load pistols + 5 13 round magazines;
1 HK UMP .45 ACP Submachine gun with silencer with 7 25 round magazines;
2 Remington 870 12 gauge pump shotguns with 20" rifled deer slug barrels.;
30 rounds (6 boxes) 12 Gauge 00 Buckshot;
A small bundle of what appears to be 6 sticks of TNT taped together with a makeshift timing device and detonator;
A First Aid kit;
A bag of seven zip-tie handcuffs; and
A wad of cash, totaling $217 in assorted bills.

Left in the Green Box, among other things, was a small wooden packing crate marked “Do Not Open Under Any Circumstances” – MASON listened to this and it seemed quiet enough, but decided to heed the warning.

It is HANNIBAL's belief that the boy is hosting an alien parasite, and he contends that as he is no longer fully human he has forfeited his human rights; accordingly, it should be DG's perogative to exploit him for his super-powers. He passes this opinion up the chain to A-Cell.

H-Cell and MASON drive to Groversville in the LeBaron, while MALCOLM performs his own examination on the boy. He finds the tissue, where it was damaged by the bullets, has almost completely healed. He sends an analysis of the muscle tissue via encrypted email to A-Cell. This occupies his time until the late evening, and he drives out to Groversville himself.

All of the agents get rooms at Merle’s Shut-Eye, a small motel owned by the proprietor of Merle’s Country Bunker, the only bar in town. HANNIBAL visits this establishment while the others grab dinner and retire to bed. HANNIBAL and HECTOR share a room, while MALCOLM, MASON and HAROLD get their own rooms (MASON puts pillows in his bed and sleeps in the closet).

At 6:00 the next morning, MASON receives a knock on his door. It is HANNIBAL, who has already been drinking from his flask. He wants to head out to the Spivey house to look around. Together, they arrive at 6:30 and knock on the door. Several minutes later Spivey’s mother, Angel, answers in a housecoat. Her sister and brother-in-law are there too, sitting on the couch. “Harv Cole, U.S. Marshall’s Service, ma’am,” says HANNIBAL, flashing his badge. While HANNIBAL questions the mother, MASON goes upstairs and flips the boy’s room. HANNIBAL interrupts his questioning several times to drink in the bathroom. Loud banging and crashing can be heard from upstairs. Her husband’s funeral was yesterday, she tells him, but assures him that Billy Ray was not involved with drugs. MASON returns, having found nothing, and the agents leave to visit the home of Jane Allen, Spivey’s girlfriend.

The two agents drive down the two-lane highway to the Allen home. It’s only about two miles away, but the road travels through empty fields and wooded areas – very reclusive. They ring the doorbell and a woman in her late thirties answers.

She does not prove to be helpful: while she is not evasive in any way, she seems oddly disinterested in what’s going on. Jane isn’t here, she says. When asked where she might be, she replies “gone out, I guess.” It seems she hasn’t been home in a few days, but Mrs. Allen is not concerned. There is evidence that a man lives in the house, but he’s not around either.

“Is there a Mr. Allen?” asks HANNIBAL.

“He’s at work,” she tells them.

“Where does he work, ma’am?”

“He’s an alderman,” she says.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means. Does it have to do with trees?”

“No, he works at Town Hall.”

“It sounds medieval,” says HANNIBAL. “Is he like a Town Crier or something?”

“I don’t think he’s crying. He’s just busy lately.”

MASON flips the girl’s room too. All he notices is that the dresser drawers are open, and half empty, as if the clothes had been removed.

Upon leaving, MASON says that Mrs. Allen is on drugs.

"Really? I didn't get that from her," says HANNIBAL, as he takes a swig from his flask and staggers into the driver's seat.

At 9:30 they have an appointment to meet with the Sheriff, Dan Oakley, so they return to Merle’s Shut-Eye to meet up with the other agents.