"Come see me. The flowers are getting old, but here everything is old."
That's the only thing he said. Vauge and minimalistic as always, but that was a unmarked requirement in this line of business. Like I knew what he was talking about.
Even Dib was mufled by the short transmission and it doesn't fit any of the code sheets - not really unusual for him - though she thought he sounded a little nervous. He did send me a note a while back, with the time of his next call -"There's a quiet little town in the middle of Illinois, quite conveniet for a business deal..." - and a tourist broshure of town named Silent Hill. A cryptic and annoying name, to say at least, but whatever. Ussual contact spot, a cafe in Pariz, where I'll get all the details. I have been waiting for a moment to ask him, if he has some sort of fetish to keep me in suspens with his weird psycho poetry nonsence and for whatever the answer I'm gonna get, he's getting his ass kicked.
Why am I felling like this?
He sends me a photo shot, among other things, depicting some woman - allthough that's quiet questionable - in nurses clothes looking pale, beaten or probably dead and with strange eyes, but I'm not a photo expert so it may be bogus. And the audio tape is fucking disturbing, even by my standards.
Dib did some background on that town, and it looks like some people had a project gone fucked, by some unknown reason. Otherwise nothing special. Just a little holiday resort that becomes a ghost town when off-season and at that time there are some weird religious cults residing, also the reason for so many wacked out reports of random monsters, ghosts and other fictionalized crap. Those cause a high number of poachers, ghost-hunters and what-nots coming there to get their fifteen minutes of fame. She also found some interesting conspiracy theories, I'll laugh at them at my free time.
That's the only thing he said. Vauge and minimalistic as always, but that was a unmarked requirement in this line of business. Like I knew what he was talking about.
Even Dib was mufled by the short transmission and it doesn't fit any of the code sheets - not really unusual for him - though she thought he sounded a little nervous. He did send me a note a while back, with the time of his next call -"There's a quiet little town in the middle of Illinois, quite conveniet for a business deal..." - and a tourist broshure of town named Silent Hill. A cryptic and annoying name, to say at least, but whatever. Ussual contact spot, a cafe in Pariz, where I'll get all the details. I have been waiting for a moment to ask him, if he has some sort of fetish to keep me in suspens with his weird psycho poetry nonsence and for whatever the answer I'm gonna get, he's getting his ass kicked.
Why am I felling like this?
He sends me a photo shot, among other things, depicting some woman - allthough that's quiet questionable - in nurses clothes looking pale, beaten or probably dead and with strange eyes, but I'm not a photo expert so it may be bogus. And the audio tape is fucking disturbing, even by my standards.
Dib did some background on that town, and it looks like some people had a project gone fucked, by some unknown reason. Otherwise nothing special. Just a little holiday resort that becomes a ghost town when off-season and at that time there are some weird religious cults residing, also the reason for so many wacked out reports of random monsters, ghosts and other fictionalized crap. Those cause a high number of poachers, ghost-hunters and what-nots coming there to get their fifteen minutes of fame. She also found some interesting conspiracy theories, I'll laugh at them at my free time.