95
Well
I’d investigated the Dreamlands. Time for my second objective: Figuring out why
a government agency was treating me like a ranking officer, and why they knew
about Grendel.
They’d
called themselves “Scoobies,” which I remembered being the original name of
Lupine’s organization. So I was looking for a paranormal CIA group.
Popped
back to the year 1973, because I feel that any adventures with shady CIA groups
should take place during important years in Project MKUltra’s history. It sets
an appropriate atmosphere.
I
do find the security measures around 70s era buildings to be laughably simple.
Even easier to get through than 21st century stuff. So getting into
the CIA’s stuff wasn’t too big a deal. What was a big deal was searching
through all that stuff for their records on the Scoobies. I thought, hey,
government agency, gotta keep records on everything. And I did find a ton of
interesting (but useless) documents, but barely anything on the Scoobies or
Jacob Marchetti. Which probably should have tipped me off a little to what I
was going to find, but at the time I just thought it meant they were really,
really good at being classified. The only tidbit of info I managed to find that
was any use was an address for their headquarters.
They
didn’t have an office in the CIA building, which surprised me at first. But I
suppose it makes sense not to keep top secret branches in public buildings,
though. I expected they would locate the Scoobies in some super hidden bunker
complex in a heavily fortified location outside of town.
But
when I went to the address… well… not quite what I’d had in mind. It wasn’t a
top secret bunker. At all. It was a single story building in a rundown part of
town. Well… maybe it was a very cleverly disguised secret bunker?
After
going through the front door, I realized that this had to be the best disguised
bunker I’ve ever seen. Or more likely, it was a regular rundown building in the
middle of the city without any secret complexes underneath at all.
There
wasn’t anyone around when I came in. Looked like someplace that had just been
moved into, with a lot of unopened boxes and only scarce furniture. Perhaps
this was the wrong place? No, the address checked out….
Heard
noise from further inside, so I pushed aside some boxes and went to check it
out. More boxes there, but there were also people. Five people. A woman at a
typewriter, and three men being lectured by a fourth with bright red hair. The
topic of the lecture seemed to be about federal funds, and why they should only
be used on federal things, instead of, say, ski lodge vacations.
The
red haired man… he was much younger than the last time I’d seen him, but I
could see some resemblance. Plus it helped that there had been a picture next
to his name in the files.
“Jacob
Marchetti?” I said to him.
The
lecture was put on hold so he could address me. “And what do you need?”
“My
name is I-330.”
Blank
stare. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
Damn.
That usually works. New strategy then. “Okay look I could try the whole
subterfuge route and attempt to trick the information I need out of you, but
I’m realizing that I’m probably not very good at that. So I’m just going to be
blunt and get to the important part. No I’m not part of the government, I’m
basically a freelance paranormal fighter. And I’m kinda trying to stop someone
who might be planning something big involving awakening ancient beings capable
of wiping the world clean of life. So it would be really nice if you could get
together your Scoobies and help me put a stop to all that nonsense.”
I
think that took them by surprise, because no one said anything for a while
before Jacob spoke. “Get together our… what?”
“The
Scoobies? That’s your group’s nickname, right?”
“…
That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all week. We’re the Central Intelligence
Para-Universal Beings Defense Agency. No nickname. Now crazy lady, thank you
for briefly amusing us. But I’m going to need to escort you out of here and
take you to some people who are going to be very curious how a civilian knows
so much they shouldn’t know.”
He
put his hand on my shoulder to lead me out. And I did what I usually do when
people try that. Well, I held back a little. Didn’t want to break his arm. But
a second after touching me he found himself thrown onto the floor.
The
atmosphere in the room suddenly became serious. “Alright ma’am, you’ve just
assaulted a federal officer…” Jacob said as he got up, “That was a big mistake.”
Well.
This certainly wasn’t working out like I had planned. Maybe if I told them that
I was really, really sorry we could start over at square one….
Or
maybe not. Jacob looked like he was shifting into a fighting stance, and the
other men were reaching for their side arms. Perhaps running away was going to
be the best decision here….
Then,
as the tension seemed about to explode in gunfire and violence, the phone rang.
The woman at the typewriter picked up the phone and listened.
“Mr.
Marchetti?” She said. “It’s Mr. Schlesinger.”
Schlesinger?
That name sounded familiar… wasn’t he… wait, wasn’t James Schlesinger director
of the CIA during this time period?
“What?
Why’s a bigwig like him calling?” Jacob said.
“ He’s
asking if we have a woman named I-330 here.” She glanced at me, I waved, and
she said “Yes,” into the phone.
Another
pause as she listened. “Um… he says to do whatever she asks us to do.”
“He
what?”
Well
wasn’t that interesting. So it seems a future me warped to Mr. James
Schlesinger and made him call this place with those orders. Genius, I-330,
genius! I’m so glad I thought of that! Totally what I had planned out from the
beginning, honest!
“Well
you heard your boss!” I said. “I get to be the one giving orders now.”
The
silence of disbelief spread through the room. Jacob relaxed very slightly. “Sofia,
call Mr. Schlesinger back in a few minutes and confirm that order.” He said to
the girl at the typewriter. “Alright, ‘I-330’. I’m still not sure I believe
what that call said, and won’t be until we get confirmation. But while we wait,
what is it you want us to do?”
Not
very trusting. But I could still work with it, so long as that didn’t get in
the way. “I need you to bring your organization together, so I can do some
investigating. How many agents do you have out in the field?”
A
few chuckles from the others. Glared at them, but couldn’t tell which had
laughed. “Ma’am?” Jacob said. “This is
the entire organization.”
“Just
the five of you?”
“I’m
afraid so.”
What.
What. But… I mean… what. When I ran
into them in the 80s, they had helicopters and military grade equipment. In the
21st century they had massive underground bunkers and enough power
to go rogue from the US government. How the hell did they get there from… this?
“But…
I checked the records, you guys have been around for two years!” I was grasping
for some kind of silver lining here. “Surely you’ve got more than this?”
“Well
if you’d come a few weeks ago we would be in a slightly larger building. But
that was taken over for paranormal research purposes by another group. Which is
basically our entire history: getting stuff taken away by larger government
agencies. Just five months after our founding we already had most of our staff
and money transferred to the big players. We can’t do shit against people that
have been around long enough their founding has Lincoln’s signature behind it.”
“So
then what is it you do?”
“Clean
up the scraps. Anything too small for the big leagues to waste resources on,
we’re given.”
“…
Any chance a vast international conspiracy led by an immortal trying to awaken
sleeping gods happens to be one of those scraps you were given?”
He
laughed at that. “No, nothing like that. Think much smaller. Like cleaning up
all the webs after someone else had a fight with a horde of giant spider
monsters.”
I
could feel my hopes sinking down. But there was still hope that I could get something out of this, right? “Do you
guys at least have archives with any information you’ve collected?”
The
grin he shared with the others did little to raise my hopes. “Archives? Yeah,
we’ve got something like that. I can take you to them if you really want to look
at them.”
Not
much. But the best I’d gotten during this whole trip. “Yeah, take me to them.
Maybe I’ll find a tiny clue in there….”
I’m
really hoping these archives have something in them. Or else this trip is going
to end up as a complete waste of time.
I-330
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