Subj: Delta Green Commercials Date: 99-01-22 18:37:50 EST From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Michael Beck) It was too late, he thought as the waves twisted and warped, falling *downwards* even in the middle of the sea. Three centuries and more Delta Green had battled the forces of darkness, sometimes winning, sometimes not. But in the end, even when they lost it hadn't mattered. People died and nations fell, but humanity had gone on. But not this time. As he picked himself off the deck, he could see Stephen Alzis laughing his head off as he stood on the water as if it were land. It wasn't a pretty laugh, it was the laugh of the villians on the holoes. Or rather, what the programmers strived for. A laugh that chilled the bone, that ate the soul. The situation was made even worse by the fact that the setting was beautiful. A warm August day in the middle of the ocean, even though too polluted to swim in the sea reflected the white sun's rays, unblocked by ozone, magnificently. The hole in the ocean widened, and from it tentacles rose, in numbers beyond counting.. No, not tentacles. *Cilia*. Now a real tentacle came out, and it was horrible beyond words. And through it all, the same silence, with only Alzis breaking it. "I have done as you asked!" he screamed. "I have freed you, Great Cthulhu. Now, grant me my wish. Make me immortal, make me live forever." I WILL GRANT YOUR WISH, YOUR *TRUE* WISH. YOU WISH TO ESCAPE FEAR OF DEATH. AND SUCH WILL I DO. A tentacle came down, and crushed the sorcerer where he stood. There was only one thing left to do. The agent fingered the item in his pocket. It was an unornamented bar made of some material he couldn't identify, and was his only hope. One of a kind, battle.Delta Green had discovered it, in 2035 and put it into a stasis field, waiting for the final He threw it into the pit, in the way a dying man on Mars might struggle to suck on a bit of oxygen. Now there was a scream, one on a million frequences, one within the mind itself. NO!! THIS CANNOT BE. THIS ISN'T THE WAY ITS **SUPPOSED** TO HAPPEN!! The rate of closure began to slow, as Cthulhu fought the power of the item. But it did not stop. Any Mythos creature hated the Elder Sign, and the item he had thrown in was the ultimate Elder Sign. A manufacturing error had created it, produced a material which by pure chance had a unique molecule which repeated the Elder Sign over and over, tens of millions of times. And every one of them was affecting Cthulhu. The scream did not die away, but was cut off as if with a switch. But the Agent knew he would remember that scream for the rest of his life. Slowly he picked himself up, walked past the bodies of the rest of his Cell, went to the quantaphone. He punched a number, and a face came up. "Since we're not all did, I presume you were successful." Alphonse replied. "Yeah. But can I ask a question?" "Depends on what it it." "That item, what *were* they manufacturing, when they produced it by accident?" "There's no harm in telling you. They were trying to produce cheese." BEHOLD THE POWER OF CHEESE
Agent Elena looked through the window. No sign of the hostages yet, they'd only be brought out at the height of the ceremony. Which meant she would have to wait till then. She brought out her automatic and checked it for the umpteenth time. She didn't expect it to have changed, but it was a habit she had no intention of breaking. Below, the chant was beginning. "We call upon you, our Great Lord. We call thee by thy first name. And this name is Rikkophuwmijughfouscadymladniaentaldnelthalkdkcieu ujauatiasudakntiandiutantidsuidy." Elena's eyes bulged. He could *remember* that? True, the cultists were dumb enough to think they could call up an Outer God that was going to behave, but they had just gone up a notch in her estimation. "For thou hast ten thousand names, each longer than the one before. And the second of these name is . . ." NOT GOING ANYWHERE FOR A WHILE? GRAB A SNICKERS
A radar station spins around, then suddenly points in a specific direction. RADAR DISK, PART OF A SECRET NATIONWIDE NETWORK. COLLECTIVELY, 2.3 BILLION DOLLARS In a underground command center, an operator points to a screen. PROJECT POUNCE C&C, 800 MILLION DOLLARS In a locker room, an alarm sounds. Extremely strong looking people grab guns and helmets and run towards the door. NRO DELTA ENHANCED PERSONNEL, 1.8 MILLION DOLLARS We see strangely triangular planes being prepped for takeoff. AURORA INTERCEPTORS WITH ELECTROGRAVITIC PROPULSION, 9 BILLION DOLLARS A technician eats pretzels. PRETZELS, 1.49 A secret door opens up in the desert ground. HIDDEN UNDERGROUND RUNWAY, 119 MILLION DOLLARS The Auroras fly through the air. Suddenly they release a barrage of missiles. AIR-TO-AIR MISSILES WITH NEUTRINO TARGETING, 1.1 MILLION DOLLARS EACH The missiles impact on a *shape*. No other description is possible as it shares nothing in common with that which is built by human hands or conceived with human minds. ALIEN "SPACECRAFT," COST NOT MEASUREABLE IN HUMAN TERMS SOME THINGS IN LIFE MONEY CAN'T BUY. FOR EVERYHING ELSE, THERE'S MASTERCARD.